by JD Nixon
“Get in the car, Benjy,” I ordered and ran to the driver’s side. He buckled up and I threw the 4WD in reverse, screeching out of the carpark, scaring the life out of some pedestrians walking past.
“Which way?” I asked.
“Left.”
I shot out into the street with only a cursory glance for traffic, rudely cutting off a red minibus, the driver making her feelings about my bad road manners clear with various vulgar finger gestures. I ignored her, my focus on driving. My body coursed with fear, adrenaline and anger. If I hadn’t stopped to take a piss, would this have happened? Was it my fault? Or would I be in the van too, dreading my fate?
“Tell me everything that you saw,” I ordered the young man.
“It was a black van,” he offered. I waited patiently for further information, inwardly groaning when he remained silent. That wasn’t going to help – I needed more details than that. But then he machine-gunned out the make, model and number plate of the van, as if worried he was going to forget them. I decided I loved this boy.
“Benjy, you’re a legend! Here’s my phone. Find and ring the number for Heller and tell him everything you just told me. Then tell me everything he says, please. No actually, just put him on speaker phone.”
Though I wasn’t over being angry with him, Heller was my guy and what woman wouldn’t turn to their guy in a situation like this? Especially if their guy was anything like him. It was always a relief when he took charge.
Benjy did as instructed, introducing himself to Heller, surprising me with his calmness when providing him with the details about Bick’s and the clients’ abduction, the vehicle and our current location. Heller must have returned home and been down in the security section because I could hear him immediately barking out orders for a trace on the number plate of the van and for Clive to mobilise as many armed men as possible. It sounded like organised chaos back at the Warehouse.
I sped fairly recklessly in an attempt to make up for lost time, when we hit a traffic jam. Three lanes were suddenly forced to merge into one because of poorly timed road works – a lack of planning typical in this city. We almost crawled to a halt, but the advantage of that usually annoying situation was that so did every other vehicle on the road with us. Benjy and I became very excited when we spotted a black van some way ahead of us. After we cleared the traffic jam, I drove as close to it as I dared, and that was near enough to confirm that it was indeed the van that Benjy had seen our trio being bundled into.
We rang Heller again for advice. He directed me to stay back as far as possible and remain unspotted, obviously not having much confidence in my shadowing skills. I honestly couldn’t blame him for that because neither did I. He reminded me that my vehicle had a tracking device and this would help his team find us, so it was important for us not to lose sight of the van. But he added it was also important for me to remain undetected.
“Okay, I get it,” I grumped, ending the call abruptly. My hands felt slippery on the steering wheel with the stress of three lives weighing on me. I didn’t want to think of what they were going through, how afraid they must be. The thought of Bick possibly being hurt made my eyes water, but I blinked it away impatiently. Right now he didn’t need my tears, but my help.
The PRON men drove circumspectly, not wanting to draw any unwanted attention. It was relatively easy to follow them on this main road with lots of cars around, but when they turned left into a smaller arterial road with thinner traffic, I realised that shadowing them was going to prove trickier. I hung back as far as I could while still having them in view, worried they would spot me. They took a right turn into an even more deserted long road that headed into an industrial area, surrounded by car wreckers, small manufacturers and trade wholesalers. The van turned right again into a cul-de-sac and drove to the end. It crept up a steep winding driveway to a nondescript one-story blockwork building. I didn’t follow as that would have made us too conspicuous, but idled at the entry to the cul-de-sac watching as a garage door in the building automatically opened and the van disappeared inside. I drove into the cul-de-sac and found a secure parking spot in an adjacent building, the 4WD hidden from the road by some scraggly bushes.
Benjy and I sat in the vehicle while I rang Heller again. I told him where we were and where the trio had been taken.
His voice was curt. “Stay in your vehicle until we get there. Do not even attempt to snoop about. That’s an order. Do you understand?”
“But –”
“Matilda! I mean it. I’m not joking about this. You will stay in your vehicle and keep in touch if there are any further developments. We’ll be there in about fifteen minutes. Promise me you’ll obey me.”
“Heller, can’t I just –”
“Promise.”
I sighed in resignation. “Okay, I promise.”
“Thank you, my sweet. I’m only thinking of your safety.”
“I know. Thank you. We’ll see you soon.”
We disconnected. I fretted as I waited, nervously strumming my fingers on the steering wheel. Fifteen minutes was too long. Anything could happen to Bick in that time. They could kill him. They could kill all three of them. But I knew better than to disobey Heller. I didn’t want him to be angry with me – that was never a joyful experience.
Each lost in our terrible thoughts, both Benjy and I jumped in fright when someone tapped on my window. My heart dropped with fear when I saw who it was. A lone PRON men, wearing their one of their trademark suits, but this time accessorised with a sneering grin, stood at the door, tapping on the window with his gun.
Chapter 13
Shit! Shit! Shit! I’d thought we hadn’t been noticed and that I’d hidden the vehicle well enough. I’d been wrong on both counts.
The PRON man impatiently gestured for us to get out of vehicle. No fucking way, I decided and went to turn on the ignition. If I had to, I’d run him over to escape.
He shot a bullet through the window, narrowly missing my hand and smashing into the speedometer. Benjy and I both yelped in fright. He pressed the gun muzzle to the window in line with my head, and grinned at us again.
“Get out, Benjy. He’ll shoot us otherwise.”
“He’ll shoot us anyway,” Benjy said, voice trembling. I wanted to deny that, to provide him with some reassurance we’d be okay, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t even convince myself that. Everything I’d experienced about PRON Productions and their staff so far only showcased their complete disregard for human life.
We were screwed.
With his gun covering both of us, the PRON suit marched us over to the ugly blockwork building. He pushed us through a side door into a small, old-fashioned kitchen with scuffed brown vinyl tile floors, brown timber veneer cupboards and chipped orange laminated benchtops. I cast my eyes around trying to spot anything that could be used as a weapon. A kitchen might have knives or roasting forks or boiling water.
I assessed the PRON man. Unlike some of his colleagues, he wasn’t massive. I was confident that between us, Benjy and I could take him on – if we could just get the gun away from him.
He locked the door behind him and pocketed the key, still grinning at us. He evidently enjoyed his job – maybe just a bit too much for my liking.
“In here,” he said, pointing to another door on the opposite wall of the kitchen. I didn’t want to go through it, not knowing what we would encounter on the other side, but fairly sure it wouldn’t be good.
My mobile rang, its cute upbeat tune at odds with our desperate situation. It was probably Heller checking on me. He’d go ballistic when I didn’t answer, but the ringing momentarily distracted the PRON man. He reached into his trouser pocket to check his own phone. I found it hard to believe a thug like him could have the same ringtone as me. I’d have to reassess my musical tastes.
Though feeling a little rusty in my moves after working for Trent, I grasped the opportunity while he looked down at his phone. I elbowed him viciously in the face, not managing to break
anything, but causing him some serious pain. While he clutched his nose, I pushed him to the ground, wrestling with him for control of the gun.
“Benjy! Grab the gun off him!” I said urgently, but in a low voice. I didn’t want to alert anyone else in the building to our presence. I sat on the PRON man’s chest, knees either side of him, pinning his arms down. He thrashed around on the floor, but I pressed myself down harder on his chest, restricting his breathing. He stopped grinning. Maybe I wasn’t his type.
Benjy cautiously approached us as we struggled. He seized the gun, holding it out in front of him with not a small amount of alarm.
“Hand it to me, Benjy. Shit, not like that! Point it away from both of us. That’s the way. Thank you.”
I’d be the first to admit that I don’t know anything about guns, and Heller always refused to teach me, but I’d watched enough cop shows on TV to know how to hold one at least. I pointed it at the grinning evil man’s head. I had no idea if this gun had a safety on it, not even knowing how to check, but decided to be careful just in case.
“Benjy, look in the cupboards for something to tie this guy up with. Anything you can find.”
He flung open every cupboard door and searched each drawer. The only thing he found was some cotton twine, which wasn’t ideal, but was better than nothing. I used it all tying the man’s hands behind his back and his ankles together. He began to yell, so I jammed a dirty tea towel in his mouth. I wasn’t satisfied though because none of that would keep him down for long. I searched frantically through the cupboards, finding a heavy old rusty iron frying pan.
I hated doing it, but I had no choice except to swing the frying pan at his head. It hit him with a sickening thudding noise. His eyes rolled backwards and his body went limp. Oh boy! I hoped I hadn’t killed him. Benjy looked at me in horror, not used to violence.
I hurriedly patted the man down for any other weapons, finding a switchblade that I pocketed, as well as the key to the door. I removed the tea towel from his mouth, not wanting to be responsible for him choking to death while he was unconscious.
“He’ll be all right,” I assured Benjy, despite not really knowing if that was true or not.
I unlocked the door and stood at the threshold, hesitating. I should leave immediately, taking Benjy with me, get back in the 4WD and drive away. Heller would be furious with me if I didn’t. But Bick, Barb and Roger were somewhere inside this building, maybe injured, and as I was already here . . . maybe I might notice something that could help them. That wasn’t really disobeying Heller. I had no intentions of putting myself in any kind of danger.
I walked back to the inner door and put my ear against it. All quiet. Holding the gun in front of me like a tough chick, I cautiously opened the door just enough to peer around, relieved to find an empty corridor.
Benjy stared at me, shaking his head in disbelief. He pointed to the outside door.
“Go,” I urged in a whisper. “The key’s still in the ignition. Drive somewhere safe.”
“I can’t leave you here by yourself,” he said, badly torn about wanting to flee to safety.
“Go, Benjy. You don’t have to be involved in this. I don’t know what’s going to happen. These guys are hardcore.”
Various emotions flew across his face, but then he straightened his shoulders and closed the door. “I won’t let you face them alone. And besides, I can’t drive.”
Despite my guilt at dragging the young man into an uncertain and possibly dangerous situation, I had to admit to a flood of relief at not having to do this by myself.
We crept down the hallway until we heard voices coming from an open door at the end. We tiptoed up to the doorway and peered around. It appeared to be a warehouse, one large cavernous space with wooden crates stacked up in aisles around the side of the perimeter nearest us. I rushed from the door to the protective cover of one of the stacks, Benjy at my heels, his face pressed up against my shoulder. There was no fear of leaving him behind – he was going to stick to me like glue. We stealthily moved from one stack to the next without detection until I found a space where we had a clear view. Our snugly hidden vantage point was surrounded by three stacks of crates, with a useful gap between two of the stacks giving an unobstructed outlook of the centre of the large room.
I clamped my hand to my mouth to cut off my cry of dismay when I spotted what was happening.
Roger and Barb were both tied to chairs, Roger up against a wall on the far side of the room, his mouth gagged, blood running down his face from a large gash in his forehead. Barb was situated in the middle of the room in a semi-circle of strong lighting, also gagged. She didn’t look as though they’d treated her kindly so far, her pretty jacket ripped and her hair unkempt. A camera sat in front of her, filming every frightened blink of her eye.
That accounted for two of them, but where was Bick? The strong lighting made it difficult to see the rest of the room, but I noticed a prone, pale shape in a far shadowy corner. A person laid face down, arms and legs flung out randomly, only his face and arms visible, his black uniform and black hair blending in with the darkness. Positive it was Bick, I couldn’t tell if he was alive or not. My first instinct was to rush over to him, but I couldn’t do that. There were – I counted quickly – at least six balaclava-wearing PRON men, not including the guy behind the camera who seemed to be in charge.
A burst of laughter echoed around the room. One of the men stood behind Barb, and while they filmed her, he drew back her transparent red jacket to expose her black bra-clad breasts. From the angle of the camera, it wouldn’t be possible to see his face at all, only his hands. He ran them over her breasts, cupping them, cruelly squeezing them, pinching her nipples and laughing as she struggled uselessly in her chair against him. My stomach heaved when I realised what they were doing. They were going to make an adult movie with Barb as an unwilling participant to humiliate her and teach Roger and her a lesson. Or maybe something even worse. Knowing PRON Productions, they would probably sell it online through one of their many distribution companies. There were probably enough sick people in the world to buy it.
The man untied her halter neck top and flung it over his shoulder, revealing her naked breasts to the camera. He rubbed, pinched and squeezed them again, hurting Barb and leaving angry red marks on her smooth tanned skin. A second man came into shot then and he stood on one side of Barb, the first man on the other side and they both dropped their pants. Roger thrashed against his restraints, wanting desperately to help his wife. One of the men ran over to him and viciously punched him in the face, toppling the chair over. He cracked his head on the concrete ground when he fell and lay motionless. Despite the brightness of the lights, Barb witnessed the assault, tears streaming down her face.
“Wonderful!” said the guy behind the camera. “I’m getting an excellent close-up of the bitch crying.”
How many bullets were in the gun I had? I thought, a sudden desire to shoot every PRON thug in this room flaming up inside me. But I knew I couldn’t – if I ran out of bullets before I ran out of men, Benjy and I were screwed. And that assumed I even had a good enough aim to hit them in the first place, which I highly doubted, considering my lack of experience with firearms.
Somehow I needed to distract them before they went any further with Barb. Unfortunately for me, I made that wish and it immediately came true.
My mobile rang.
I fumbled for it, my mouth dry, and hurriedly switched it off. Dumbarse! I berated myself. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t turned if off earlier. It sounded so loud, echoing around the room. Benjy and I stood frozen, staring at each other in fear. The men stopped what they were doing and looked in our general direction.
“Mike?” one of them called out, perhaps thinking it was the grinning man in the kitchen. Of course there was no response from him – he was out cold.
“Go check,” ordered the guy behind the camera, returning to his task. “Let’s do a couple of oral shots.” With six men in the room the
y could keep going with poor Barb for a very long time. I felt so useless and helpless. Hurry up, Heller! Where are you?
The man ordered to check out the noise poked around the crates near us without much interest, walking right past our little grotto without even looking sideways. I wasn’t complaining, but it was a pretty half-arsed job at looking for something by anyone’s measure.
Benjy and I crouched, huddling together on the ground, watching him stalk past, the gun slippery in my hand. I didn’t know about Benjy, but I virtually held my breath until he returned to the others, shrugging at the camera guy.
“Didn’t see anything.”
“Did you find Mike?”
“Nope.”
“Where the fuck is he?”
“Fucked if I know. Probably in the bathroom taking a dump.”
“He should take his dumps in his own time. Lazy arsehole,” the camera guy muttered. “A couple of you get over near the bitch. I want to get this oral shot finished.”
It must be dark by now, I reasoned. Perhaps Heller was waiting for the cover of darkness to make his move. But if he didn’t hurry up, Barb was going to be molested, and possibly even worse. I couldn’t get the thought that these people made snuff porn out of my mind. I could never let that happen to her, but I had Benjy here to think about as well. Not to mention Bick and Roger. There was no possible way I could deal with six gun-wielding men and assist four people escape, two who were unconscious, by myself. Or could I? Think, think, think, I urged myself.
Night time. Lights. Everything thrown into confusion with no lights. Where were the mains? At the very least that might hopefully stop them from hurting anyone for a while until Heller turned up. But before I could formulate a plan, one of the windows broke and a number of projectiles landed in the room. As they dropped, thick choking smoke billowed from them, enveloping everything. There must have been a dozen of them. Chaos in the room followed, the thugs yelling out at each other.