“No. I won’t take a weapon.” When I began to protest, Kane shook his head forcefully. “No. In the first place, I don’t want to leave you without it, and in the second place I don’t want to look like a threat. If they feel threatened, they’ll kill the hostages. You can listen in with your super-hearing so you’ll know what’s happening, and if things go sour you can call the police then. They’ll be able to react much more effectively if they know what’s going on inside.”
“But it’ll take them at least an hour to get here. And we don’t know for sure that all the people in that cluster are hostages; and what if more club members arrive in the mean time?” I demanded.
Kane grinned, a deaths-head grimace that chilled me to my toes despite the heat.
“Then we’ll have a party.”
He turned and slipped away into the forest.
Chapter 43
“Fuck,” Hellhound said, and we stared at each other for a moment.
“I know John doesn’t want us to, but we should call the police now,” I said. “We can tell them to stay out at the road and wait for our signal.”
Hellhound already had his phone out, but a moment later he repeated, “Fuck.” He pocketed his phone with a defeated air. “Woulda been a good idea, but I got no signal at all out here. How ‘bout you?”
I checked my phone and shook my head, my heart sinking.
He sighed. “Ya think the kids are even still alive? The flies mapped that dead guy.”
“He was really fresh,” I countered uncertainly. “They’re attracted to mucous membranes, so once those dried up…” I let out a breath of frustration and fear. “I don’t know.”
Hellhound grimaced and nudged the still-unconscious Murphy with an ungentle toe. “Well, come on then, darlin’. Let’s go.” He knelt and slung Murphy over his shoulders. “We gotta get into range to take out that sentry in the tree-stand before Kane gets there.”
“We’d better not,” I argued. “If this is their normal setup, the guy inside will be expecting to hear the guy outside. Hell, maybe they have a secret password or something. We have to let the sentry challenge John first.”
Hellhound nodded impatiently. “Yeah, that’s fine, but we gotta be close enough so we can see if he’s drawin’. If he does, ya gotta hit him with the puke-stick before he can get a shot off. What kinda range d’ya get with that thing?”
“Reggie says up to thirty metres, but it’s line-of-sight. It seemed to work okay through a few leaves, but we were closer to that other guy.”
We eyed each other in dismay for a long moment.
Then Hellhound heaved a sigh. “Shit. So we’re gonna hafta go back the way we came. Can ya tell if the bears are still there?”
I shuddered at the juicy sounds emanating from my earpieces. “Yep. Let’s see if we can stay on this side of the rise. I really don’t want them to think we’re inviting ourselves to dinner.”
Creeping cautiously, we moved closer. To my relief, the rise provided natural concealment from the bears until we were nearly behind the sentry’s position. From there I could glimpse the quad path through the trees, so the sentry’s tree-stand was perfectly positioned to guard both the gate and the path.
Hellhound had barely lowered Murphy’s limp form to the ground when I spotted Kane striding along the quad path toward the stockade. I nudged Hellhound and he nodded, then jerked his chin toward the sentry. Aiming the ultrasound baton at the tree-stand, I waited.
A moment later Kane rounded the corner of the quad path, nearly under the sentry’s nose. The archer in the tree slowly raised his bow with an arrow nocked, but he didn’t draw.
Kane didn’t even glance in his direction. Striding up to the iron door, he thumped his fist on it a couple of times. “Hey, Scot, are you in there?” he shouted. “Open up!”
“It’s open, dipshit!”
Hellhound and I exchanged a puzzled glance. Not the response we were expecting.
Kane unhesitatingly lifted the latch and swung the door open. As he stood framed in the opening, a camo-clad man with a hunting bow turned to frown at him. Beyond, I could see the corner of a small building, but no sign of the cluster of people the flies had mapped.
“Who the hell are you?” Camo-man snapped.
“New member,” Kane replied. “Where’s Scot? He told me to meet him here.”
“How the hell would I know?” the man replied irritably. “And if you’re a new member, where’s your bitch?”
Kane evaded the question. “Well, his truck’s parked out at the road. He has to be around here somewhere. Maybe he came in when you weren’t looking. Mind if I look around for him?”
He advanced a few steps, and Camo-man gave him a rough shove to the chest. “Yeah, I fucking mind! You bring a bitch, or you don’t get in.” He squinted theatrically out the gate. “And I don’t see any pussy, so buh-bye New Member. Go wait for Scot somewhere else.”
“I brought one, she’s around here somewhere…” Kane began.
“Well, when you find her, you come right on back.” Camo-man pushed him out and slammed the gate in his face.
Handing the ultrasound baton to Hellhound, I shrugged off my backpack and unfastened my holsters.
“Aydan, don’t,” he hissed. “You’re goin’ in there blind, an’ I know what these guys are like. You’re a piece a’ meat to ‘em, nothin’ more. At least take your gun.”
“I can’t.” I handed him my Glock and the spare magazine. “John said no weapons.”
Kane let out a piercing whistle and shouted, “Hey, Arlene, where are you?” He began to walk back along the quad path as if looking for someone.
“And anyway, he already saw inside. He wouldn’t be calling me if he thought it was dangerous,” I added hurriedly. “His cover will be blown if I don’t go, and then you know he’ll get desperate and do something stupid.”
“He’s already desperate an’ doin’ somethin’ stupid,” Hellhound growled. “An’ I fuckin’ guarantee it’s dangerous.”
“Maybe, but if Daniel’s a hostage and I carry a weapon in there against John’s wishes and something happens…” I swallowed hard. “I can’t risk it. Here.” I handed him my glasses, feeling suddenly deaf without the amplified sounds. “You can listen in just in case.”
“Don’t, Aydan, this is a really bad idea…” Hellhound began, but I dropped a kiss on his lips as Kane whistled and called again.
“Wish me luck,” I said, and hurried toward the quad path as quickly and quietly as possible.
When I emerged from the forest, Kane strode over and seized me by the back of the neck, giving me a shake. “Where the hell were you? I told you to keep up.”
“Sorry,” I mumbled, keeping my gaze on the ground. “I stopped to pee.”
Kane made a noise of disgust and marched me back toward the gate. When we reached it, he lifted the heavy iron latch without knocking and pushed me ahead of him into the stockade.
Camo-man spun, his bow rising, but his frown faded into a nasty grin at the sight of me. “Huh. So you did have a bitch after all.” He circled me, his gaze like dirty hands running up and down my body. “Nice. Haven’t had fresh meat in a while.” He jerked his chin toward the small building I’d glimpsed through the gate. “Put her with the others and we’ll break her in later. Not enough guys here yet, but they’ll be here for the weekend pretty soon.”
A shiver of primal fear coursed down my spine as Kane nodded and pushed me toward the shed. I glanced up at him, but his gaze was darting around, cataloguing the enclosure.
Six quads were parked along the wall next to the iron gate. To our left was a large roofed structure with open walls containing picnic tables and a forty-five gallon drum cut open to form a barbeque grill. A few small cabins dotted the grounds, along with a large open firepit, some archery butts against the far wall, and an outhouse. The shed ahead of us was about eight by sixteen feet, with vertical slits in the walls only a few inches wide. The iron latch on its door looked disturbingly stur
dy, but the door itself was ajar.
I swallowed hard, my mouth going dry.
A man came out of the shed, hitching up his pants. He bolted the door behind him, then turned and noticed us approaching. He grinned and strolled closer, giving me an up-and-down scrutiny out of piggy eyes and wiping his hand across his chin.
As he lowered his hand, I spotted a large smear of blood on the palm.
But his mouth didn’t look injured.
My legs began to tremble and Kane’s grip tightened on my neck.
“So fresh she’s still got her teeth,” the man said appreciatively. “Shit, if I’d known, I wouldn’ta wasted my time on that bitch.” He cocked a thumb back toward the shed. “Well…” he shrugged philosophically. “Let’s prep her. I’ll go get the pliers.” He seized my face roughly, his fingers digging into my cheeks. “Dibs on that mouth as soon as her teeth are gone.”
Kane’s fingers closed convulsively on my neck, making me wince. “This one’s mine,” he growled.
The other man snorted. “Nice try, newbie. If she survives the gang-bang, you can have her afterwards.” He grinned and shoved his hand down my jeans, his fingers probing. “’Course she won’t be quite so tight by then.”
Kane reacted so fast I only felt the wind of his blows. In seconds the man was sprawled on the ground. Unconscious or dead; I didn’t know or care.
“This one’s mine!” Kane raised his voice and turned in a challenging circle, staring down Camo-man and two other men who had emerged, one from a cabin and the other from the outhouse.
Camo-man’s bow came up, an arrow nocked in a single fast motion. “Don’t think so. Put her in the shed and settle down, or I’ll plug you and give you to the bears. Haven’t fed them yet today, so they’re nice and hungry.”
My heart thudded against my ribs so hard my head went light.
Kane stood still, apparently calculating the odds, but I already knew he didn’t have a chance. Camo-man was at full draw and the other two were approaching fast, knives in hand.
“Okay, sorry,” Kane mumbled. “I didn’t know. Scot was supposed to meet me here and give me the lowdown.” He moved slowly toward the shed, dragging me along not because I was actively trying to resist but because my legs had stopped working.
“Where’s Scot?” Kane asked, obviously stalling. “If I’d known I had to share her I would’ve done her myself first. Can I do her now? She’ll still be good for the gang-bang afterward, I promise.”
“Too late,” Camo-man sneered. “Put her in the shed, and hurry the hell up.”
As Kane lifted the latch and swung the door open, my mind went blank with horror.
Naked women were crammed into the small space. Some were still lucid enough to cower away but others slumped catatonic, their eyes vacant. Nearest the door, the pig-man’s latest victim dragged herself slowly across the rough wooden floor, leaving a trail of blood.
Unable to move or think, I stood frozen by the monstrous abuse evident in their toothless mouths and the horrific wounds on their bodies.
“Hey, help! Scot’s hurt, come quick!” The urgent call in a familiar raspy voice broke my paralysis and I turned to see Hellhound shouldering through the gate with Murphy’s body in his arms. As everyone spun, Hellhound let go of Murphy and fired a trank dart into Camo-man.
Kane shoved me to the ground and dropped on top of me as Hellhound fired twice more, bringing down the two men behind us.
Snapping a fast glance around the enclosure, Hellhound charged across the intervening space and skidded to a halt as Kane rolled off me.
“Ya okay?” he demanded, and when I nodded he pulled me to my feet and pressed my Glock into my hand. “Here…” He glanced into the shed and recoiled a step, his face blanching. “Jesus Christ,” he choked, then shook himself and jerked his chin at Kane and me. “Clear the buildin’s,” he rasped, slapping the ultrasound baton into Kane’s hand.
Together we rapidly checked the small cabins and outhouse, finding nobody else. We were turning back toward the main gate when a swish-thunk made us dive for the dirt. An arrow vibrated in the wall of the outhouse only inches away.
My Glock was halfway up, my finger already on the trigger when Kane roared, “NO!” and swung up the ultrasound baton.
Another arrow zipped by so close I could hear the fletch feathers hissing through the air, but the baton had done its work. Scot Murphy hit the ground hard, vomiting while he struggled to draw the bow again.
Kane was already on his feet and pounding across the stockade. Hellhound and I scrambled up and followed as he jumped on Murphy, ripping the bow away from him and pinning his hands behind his back.
“Where is he?” Kane bellowed. “Where’s Daniel?”
Murphy said something and choked, his words unintelligible from retching.
“WHERE?” Kane jerked Murphy’s arms up behind him and Murphy screamed as his muscles parted with a tearing pop that was audible even from where I stood a few feet away.
“In the pit!” Murphy shrieked, a fresh flood of bloody urine sparkling around him in the dusty grass.
I sucked in a breath of air that seemed devoid of oxygen and staggered back a step as my heart stopped in my chest. Hellhound’s arm came around me from behind, tight enough to stab daggers of pain through my ribs.
Kane went stock-still, all the blood draining from his face. “The pit…” His voice was barely a breath of sound. “…where?”
Murphy vomited again, his face falling into the mess as if he was too weak to hold it up.
Kane jerked his head up by the hair. “Which pit? Where?”
Murphy’s voice was faint but intelligible. “The outhouse pit. There.”
In a single violent twist, Kane snapped his neck.
Chapter 44
“NO!”
Hellhound’s shout came too late. Murphy’s body twitched and spasmed, but it lay on its stomach while his vomit-streaked face gazed emptily at the sky.
I sucked in an inadequate breath through my nose, afraid to open my mouth in case I vomited, too.
Kane rose slowly, his eyes dark wells of torment in the bone-white of his face. He stood staring at the outhouse, fine vibrations coursing through his body while his fingers clenched and unclenched.
“Cap…” Hellhound said cautiously.
“It was a long shot.” Kane’s voice was bleak and lifeless. “I was hoping, but…” He choked into silence and turned away.
Chills rippled through me as he went on after a moment, “Matthew is dead, too. Murphy told me he didn’t realize Matthew was playing behind his truck, and he accidentally ran him over and killed him fifteen months ago. He didn’t report the death; just buried Matthew’s body…” He swallowed audibly. “…in his back yard… in the outhouse pit.”
Hellhound’s arm slackened around me and fell to his side. “Jesus, Cap,” he rasped. “I’m sorry. I’m so fuckin’ sorry.”
After a moment of silence, he went over to lay an arm across Kane’s shoulders. “Let’s call the cops,” he said quietly. “Come on. Time to go home.”
Kane shook him off. “No. I have to…” He shook his head wordlessly and tried again. “Have to…” He turned toward the outhouse.
I found my voice at last, a bare and trembling ghost of itself. “John, leave it. Please. Forensics will have to excavate…”
I stopped. He wasn’t hearing me. Plodding like a robot toward the outhouse, he kept walking even when Hellhound planted himself in his path.
“Cap,” Hellhound said gently. “Come on, we gotta get outta here before any more guys show up…”
He trailed off as Kane detoured silently around him. We followed while he walked around the outhouse to where a shovel stood upright in a pile of fresh dirt next to a sheet of plywood on the ground.
He had just pulled the shovel loose when Hellhound flung out a hand and barked, “Stop!”
There was such urgency in his voice that Kane went still, staring at him as if momentarily jolted out of his t
rance. Hellhound stood with his head flung up as though listening, and I suddenly realized he must still have the sound amplification activated in the sunglasses. He drew the trank gun and moved slowly and smoothly, placing his feet like a hunting tiger while his head turned slightly this way and that.
Listening.
Stalking.
I drew my Glock, staring around but unable to detect the threat.
Hellhound glanced over at me and jerked his chin toward the plywood, then took the shovel from Kane. Glock at the ready, I sucked in a breath, trying to slow my hammering heart.
I gave a sharp nod and Hellhound flipped the plywood with the shovel, jumping away from my line of fire and levelling the trank pistol in a single movement.
A squeak emanated from the pit and two huge grey eyes stared up at me from a mud-streaked face. I swung my Glock away so fast I nearly dropped it.
“Daniel?”
He cowered against the wall of the pit, tears tracking through the dirt on his cheeks. Clutching a single toy soldier to his chest like a lifeline, he stared up at us without a sound.
Kane fell to his knees as if his legs had broken, the sudden movement snapping us out of our immobility.
“The new outhouse pit…” he muttered blankly. “Not the old one…”
Hellhound and I crouched. “Hey, Daniel,” I said softly. “It’s okay, you’re safe now. We’re going to take you home to your mommy.”
I moved forward but he plastered himself against the wall of the pit, his bare feet scrabbling in the dirt as if to burrow to safety. Hellhound eyed his panicked expression and backed away without speaking, delegating the role of comforter to someone whose face didn’t tend to frighten grown men.
“It’s okay, Daniel,” I tried again. “Come on, let’s get you out of there.” When I moved forward, he let out another squeak of terror and cringed into the corner, making himself as small as possible.
At last Kane’s paralysis broke and he dragged himself to his feet to lay a trembling hand on my shoulder. “Let me try.”
The Spies That Bind Page 35