by Perrin Briar
“We’re certainly committed now,” Stan said.
“Stan, take Baldy’s coat. Use it to conceal the gun. It took that boat about ten minutes to get to us. Daniel will pound the engine, so it won’t take him six minutes to get back and alert the guards. Then we’ll be screwed. We have to hurry.”
Jordan grabbed the unconscious Terry by the wrists and dragged him – with much effort – onto Big Daddy. Terry’s head bounced down the few steps to the deck.
Jordan ran down the stairs of Big Daddy into the engine compartment. He bent down and crawled under the engine. There was a series of handles and other protuberances. Even with the guards’ search, Jordan knew it was unlikely the guards would find it. Jordan pulled on an inconspicuous handle. A small black bag hit the floor with a solid thump. Jordan dragged it out and put it over his shoulder.
By the time he returned to the deck, Anne and Stan had laid the dead guards on Big Daddy’s deck beside Terry.
The deck was sprayed with blood. Jordan reached over the side and tossed up some water. Anne took off her jumper and began mopping up the stains. It took about thirty seconds, and though the blood had already run into the grain of the wood, giving it the appearance of angry capillaries, it was at least a little less noticeable.
Jordan cast Big Daddy off and leaned his weight against it, pushing it out to sea. He nodded to the others. “Let’s go.”
67.
They crept through the corridors following Jordan’s lead. The building creaked and groaned and clunked, with each swaying motion of the sea, causing them to pause and peer around each corner and listen for anyone that might be coming. The corridors snaked in jagged lines, shifting from splintered wooden boards one minute, to shiny moulded carbon fibre the next.
Jordan stopped at another corner and listened. His expression turned ashen. “Somebody’s coming.”
“Shall we go back?” Stan asked.
“There’s no time.”
“There’s a door here,” Anne said.
“Try it.”
The doorknob rattled. “It’s locked.”
They could all hear the voices now. They were indistinct and fast approaching. Jordan reached up into Anne’s hair and pulled out a pin. He knelt down in front of the door, inserted the pin into the lock and began jiggling it round.
“I didn’t know you could pick locks,” Stan said.
“Neither did I.”
“Hurry, Jordan,” Anne said. “Hurry!”
One of the voices said, “Man City, now there was a team.”
“You’re joking! They could never hold up to Chelsea’s attacking power!”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”
Stan turned to Jordan. “Hurry!”
The men were going to stumble onto them at any moment. Jordan kept fiddling with the lock.
“Of course, Man City benefitted from having the best manager ever.”
“Did Mourinho manage Man City too?”
“No, you daft ninny. He was always over-hyped anyway.”
The men’s boots thudded loudly on the mesh decking, then turned restrained as they stepped onto the oak deck.
There was a soft click. Jordan grabbed the doorknob, twisted it and pushed the door open. They slipped inside. Jordan closed the door silently behind them. The voices grew louder, then dwindled away as they passed down the corridor.
They smiled at each other. Then their noses crinkled when they caught the smell of excrement and body odour. They covered their mouths with their hands and T-shirts.
“What is that smell?” Anne said. She peered into the darkness around them, but the miner’s lantern hanging on the wall in the corner shed only the faintest orb of orange light.
“Hey,” a frail voice said. “Who are you?”
68.
Jordan spun, gun raised, and aimed at a point in the darkness.
“You’re not one of them, are you?” the voice asked.
Jordan shifted position and aimed at the voice’s origin.
“One of who?” Anne asked the darkness.
“One of them… those men.” The voice had a slightly lilted accent.
“We haven’t got time for this,” Jordan said.
“Take me with you,” the voice said. “Please.”
“Who are you?” Anne asked.
“An innocent. I was betrayed by the man who was supposed to never betray me. He brought me and left me here.”
“We have to go,” Jordan said. “We can’t trust anybody here.”
“On your right, there is a light switch,” the voice said. “See me and decide for yourselves if I am dangerous or not.”
Anne reached for the switch, pulling her hand back in hesitation only once, before pressing it. A harsh red light swallowed the room and for a moment it looked like they were in the belly of some giant beast. A dozen cages lined the walls. Inside each lay a woman. Most sported cuts and bruises to the face and forearms, as if in an attempt to defend themselves, and had ugly-looking needle puncture scars in the crook of their arms.
Only one woman stood, her hands wrapped around the bars of her cage. Anne could see why she wanted them to see her. She was only a few years younger than herself and had dark skin that could have at one time been beautiful. There were black lumps of congealed blood at the corners of her mouth.
“You…” Jordan said, recognising her. “You served us during the negotiation.”
The woman nodded.
“I’m sorry but we have to go.”
The woman in the cage dropped to her knees. “No, wait. Please. Let me out.”
“We don't have time to rescue everyone.”
“I am no junkie!” the woman said, pulling up her sleeves. “Look! See? No holes!”
“We can’t help you.”
The woman turned to Anne. She raised her hands, palms up, toward her. “Please…”
“Jordan…” Anne said.
“She’ll slow us down.”
“We can’t just leave her here, Jordan. What if it was Jessie in there? Or me?”
“The keys. They are over there.” The woman gestured to a corner. “It takes one second.”
“I’m sorry,” Jordan said, moving for the door and ushering the others through it.
The woman’s expression turned serious. “Take me, or I scream.”
Jordan pulled up short. “You scream, I’ll shoot.”
“You shoot, they come.” She stared defiantly from her cage.
Jordan looked from the woman to Anne, and then back again. “Do you know the way to the docks?”
“Yes!” the woman said, seriousness discarded instantly. She bounced on the balls of her feet. “I know it! I know it!”
Jordan turned. “Stan, get the key.”
The woman squealed with delight, pointing frantically to a corner. “Over there! Over there!”
“What about the others?” Anne said. The other women lay unconscious on their cell room floors in their own faeces. None stirred as Anne banged on the cages and shouted, “Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!”
“Anne!” Jordan hissed. “You’ll alert everyone!”
“Why don’t they wake up?”
“Look at them. They’re doped up to the eyeballs.”
“Why?”
“It keeps them sedate, under control. They’ll do anything for a fix. Anything. There’s nothing else we can do.” Jordan raised his gun and let it drift toward the prisoners. “Except, maybe put them out of their misery.”
Anne stepped in front of the gun. “No! Someone might still rescue them. In fact…” She beamed a mischievous smile. “I suppose we can help them out in that regard…”
69.
“Selena,” the woman said, offering her hand. “My name is Selena.”
Anne couldn’t help but smile at the formality. “I’m Anne. The other guys are-”
“Let’s save the introductions for later, shall we?” Jordan said.
Selena pulled a face. “He is bossy, isn’t he?”
Selena arched her neck looking down each corridor. “This way,” she said, taking the lead.
She never hesitated once as she led them through the maze-like fort. They took turn after turn, too many times to remember. Finally she stopped and put her back to the wall. She nodded to the corner.
“How does it look?” Stan whispered after Jordan had poked his head around the corner.
“Not good. There are two guards.”
“Unarmed?”
Jordan shook his head.
“What about the boat?” Anne asked. “Is it back yet?”
“No. Something must have kept him. The guards look like they don’t know anything’s wrong. We’ve got to take out the guards before the boat returns. Preferably in silence. Does anyone have any ideas?”
They shared blank looks and shook their heads.
“I guess that leaves us with a fire fight,” Jordan said.
Stan’s expression turned ashen. “At least we’ve got the element of surprise on our side.”
“But if we don’t kill them quickly…” Anne began.
“The other guards will surround us,” Jordan completed. “We’ll be trapped.”
“But even if we’re successful,” Stan said, “the boat could be close, hear the gunfire and sail away without us.”
Jordan shrugged. “I don’t like it any more than you do, but what other choice do we have?”
Selena raised her hand like a kid at school. “Uh… I have an idea.”
70.
“You’ll never guess who I saw the other day in the city,” Ben said with a look of excitement.
Aleksy sighed. “Probably not.”
“I was near White City in London – you know, where the BBC centre is? And I saw – you’re not gonna believe this – I saw Jeremy Clarkson.”
“Who’s that?”
“You know – Clarkson. The car guy? You must know him, don’t you? Top Gear. The TV show?”
“I never watched TV.”
Ben rolled his eyes. “The next time you’re off, let me know. I’ll take you to the video room and show you some old Top Gear videos. Bloody awesome, they are.”
“Great.”
Aleksy sighed. They stood armed with semi-automatic rifles in the shadow of the fort at the junction where the jetties met the dock and splintered off. Half a dozen boats of various shapes and sizes were tethered to each quay. There was no land, nor other people, in sight. But still they had to guard the boats. Aleksy sighed again.
Ben’s ears pricked up at something down the jetty. “Hello. What have we got here?”
Two women, their clothes barely covering them, sauntered down the jetty like it was some kind of catwalk. Trailing them were fellow Terry trench coats. One older, one younger.
“Stop there,” Aleksy said. The women did – directly in front of the guns, barrels pointed at their chests. They weren’t perturbed in the slightest. Despite the sores around her mouth, the dark-skinned beauty in front of him was a stunner. She never took her smouldering eyes from his. He found he didn’t want her to.
The younger soldier behind the women stepped forward, letting his gun hang by his side. Relaxed. “Special delivery. One for each of you guys.”
Ben turned and gawked stupidly at Aleksy. “That sure is nice of the boss, ain’t it?”
Aleksy made his expression unreadable. “Terry sent them? He never sent us gifts like these before.”
“They’re a thank-you for all your hard work,” the younger soldier said.
Aleksy cocked his head to one side. “Does Barry know about this?”
“Of course he knows.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” Ben said. “The boss is good to us sometimes.”
Aleksy raised an eyebrow. He’d like to know when. He eyed the soldiers. “How come I haven’t seen you two before?”
“We’re new,” the younger one said. “Came in with this new shipment. Terry thought you lads might like a taste before the punters show up. They’re more… passionate than you might be used to.”
The dark lady put her finger in her mouth and tongued it. The other woman followed suit. She circled the gun barrel with her moistened finger.
A bulge formed in Aleksy’s trousers. He didn’t try to hide it. “From where?”
“Up north.”
“North? You can’t be more specific than that?” His trigger finger itched.
The older soldier stepped forward. “Don’t see why we should.” His voice was rich with Northerner nuance. “We’re all in this shit storm together now, aren’t we?”
“Aren’t you a bit long in the tooth to be in this racket?”
“Never too old, son. Not while it puts food on the table and a women in our beds. But hey, if you don’t want to take advantage of Terry’s kindness, we’ll take the girls where they’re more appreciated.”
“You look tense,” the woman in front of Ben said, raising her finger to the gun and stroking it. “Is there any way I can help?”
“Hot dog!” Ben said. “These girls sure are different to the current lot, ain’t they?”
The painful throb in Aleksy’s pants overpowered the tingling warning sensation at the back of his neck.
“Okay,” Aleksy said, lowering his gun. “Where shall we do this?”
The women laid their hands on the men and pushed up close to them. They ran their hands through the men’s hair and kissed them on the cheeks, the neck, and the mouth. Aleksy shared an excited glance with Ben before he thrust his tongue into the woman’s mouth and closed his eyes.
Crack!
Aleksy was aware of a sickening crunch as his teeth sliced through his own tongue, the taste of liquid iron spilled over his teeth and down his throat, and a heavy flap of flesh fell from his mouth. It was then that he realised that perhaps he should have listened to that tingling sensation at the back of his neck after all – where there was now a dull fuzzy pain that diminished only when his body hit the jetty and darkness took him.
71.
The fort loomed into view, a floating man-made mountain. The hulls of a dozen frigates, ferries and galleons jutted out at various angles. Daniel slowed the nameless catamaran to a crawl as he approached the docks. It was quiet. Perhaps too quiet. As he approached the jetty, he could see the two guards still on duty.
Daniel breathed a sigh of relief and allowed a small smile to crease his lips. “Guys! Guys!” he shouted.
Daniel pulled the boat up alongside the jetty and turned off the engine. He hopped off and tied it up. Daniel chuckled to himself as he strutted down the jetty toward the guards.
Dooo-OOOP! Dooo-OOOP! Dooo-OOOP! The alarm blared.
Daniel slowed. The smile slid from his face. The guards turned.
Daniel’s face bleached white. He’d made a terrible mistake.
72.
Daniel was blindfolded with his arms tied behind his back to a Samson post. His cheek was busted open from the rifle butt he’d received from Jordan. A wet patch spread across the front of his trousers.
“I’ll get you!” Daniel shouted over the piercing alarm. “Wait till I tell my sister what you did! Then you’ll be sorry!”
Jordan jammed an oily cloth into Daniel’s mouth and unshouldered his gun. “Stan, give your gun to… Ser…” He gestured to Selena. “Sorry, what is it?”
“Selena.”
“Right, to Selena. You get the boat started and get us out of here. Take Jessie with you.”
Stan braced Jessie’s arm. “Come on, love.”
Jordan handed his gun to Anne. “Here, take this.”
Anne waved the gun away. “Whoa! I barely know how to shoot!”
“Picture the tin can. Just pull the trigger and make lots of noise. You don’t need to kill anyone. And be careful. It kicks.”
She hesitantly took the gun.
Anne, Selena and Jordan ran along the jetty toward their new nameless catamaran. Jordan hopped off the jetty and int
o one of four small tethered speedboats.
“Jordan,” Anne said, “what are you doing?”
Jordan took something resembling a small brick made of some kind of clay material from the bag. “Get on the boat. I’ll be there in a minute.”
“What is that?”
“Our insurance policy.”
“But Jordan…”
“Just get on the boat.”
Anne and Selena climbed aboard the catamaran. The siren still wailed but there hadn’t yet been a response. Anne watched as Jordan moved to the other three speedboats in turn.
“What is he doing?” Selena said.
Anne gripped her gun close. “Come on,” she said under her breath. “Hurry up.”
There were hectic shouts from the fort. Gunfire rattled off and echoed across the vast space. Bullets thudded into the fibreglass frame not inches from Anne’s head. She and Selena hit the deck.
“Jesus Christ!” Selena said.
The sails bellowed, and the boat began to peel away.
“Stan, wait!” Anne shouted. “Jordan’s still out there!”
Like a wraith out of hell, Jordan bolted along the jetty. Bullets thunked on wood, spitting up tiny columns of water. In some places small pools flowed through the holes and submerged the planks, taking the walkway with it.
“Let’s lay down some cover-fire,” Selena said.
Anne frowned. “Cover what?”
Selena rose, aiming the gun toward the fort. “Fire!”
73.
A bejewelled hand rubbed a sore jaw. It clicked and crunked and moved unnaturally in its moorings. There was a faint throbbing where his jaw met his cheekbone.
Terry scowled as memories from his past life flitted in front of his eyes. A beer can thrown at the back of his head. A hideously drunk man taking a swing and connecting with Terry’s shoulder. A woman smacking him hard across the face. He’d seen his fair share of violence but he’d never been knocked unconscious before. Certainly not in the New World. He ground his teeth.