Die Twice

by Simon Kernick

  ‘It’s not like that, Max. Honest. I really love her, but I know what’s going to happen. Beatrix is going to make her choose between us.’

  ‘So buy her some flowers or something. Get in there first.’

  ‘No, Max, you don’t understand.’

  ‘I know I fucking don’t.’

  ‘Amanda says there’s something special about girl-on-girl love. It’s more gentle than the stuff you get with a bloke, more sort of tender. Do you know what I mean?’

  ‘Not really, Johnny, no. I’ve never really thought about it, to tell you the truth. I’ve seen women at it with each other in porno films, though, and they always seem to be enjoying themselves.’

  ‘I tell you, Amanda swears by it. Says it’s the only way for her to achieve a multiple orgasm. There’s no way she’s going to turn down that sort of action, is there? Which means it’ll be me who gets the old heave ho. It’s making my life a fucking misery, it really is.’

  ‘I’m sure there are millions of blokes out there who really sympathize.’

  I turned away and stared out the window in the direction of Heavenly Girls, a hundred yards away down the road. It was raining steadily again, which at least was helpful. We’d been parking on the same stretch of road night after night, so we had to be careful about the amount of attention we attracted. Every wasted night increased the risks, not to mention the stiff-legged, claustrophobic boredom of it, blunting our senses and making reaction times just that little bit slower – something that could prove fatal in this sort of operation.

  Johnny continued to rattle on about Amanda, Beatrix, Delia and all his other birds, but I was blanking him totally now. I had enough worries of my own. The waiting around was beginning to lead to the first rumblings of discontent from the others. Kalinski had suggested that snatching him from a place he only visited periodically, and with no obvious advance warning, was tempting fate, which was true I suppose, but there were no other suitable venues. Joe hadn’t helped matters either by remarking, after we’d finished a frustrating four-and-a-half-hour stint the previous night during which Kalinski had stunk the place out by shitting in a Tesco carrier bag, that maybe it might be an idea to knock the whole thing on the head. I knew Joe was feeling a bit spooked thanks to his almost daily visits from the Law, but I hoped it was just the frustration talking. If he – or, to be honest, any of us – pulled out then the whole thing was bolloxed and I’d be back to square one. On the run, skint, and with the near rape of my girlfriend unavenged.

  I took another swig from the water as Johnny recounted how Beatrix was the dominant partner in the lesbian relationship even though she wasn’t good-looking at all, and was, in his opinion, bullying Amanda into dropping him. ‘She’s got whips and chains and everything,’ he explained, shaking his head. ‘Apparently, her gaff’s like a fucking torture chamber. She’s even got a selection of butt plugs. How’s Amanda meant to resist?’ In the back of the van, I could hear movement as they shuffled about trying to make themselves comfortable.

  A Land Cruiser pulled up outside the brothel. It looked familiar. The time was ten to midnight.

  ‘Are you listening, Max, or are you fucking ignoring me?’ Johnny whined.

  Krys Holtz, Big Mick and Fitz stepped out, and the car did a U-turn and pulled away, driving past us. It looked like the driver was Slim Robbie, and I wondered if he’d be coming back.

  ‘I’m ignoring you, Johnny,’ I told him, watching as Krys and his men rang the buzzer, and a couple of seconds later went inside. Johnny hadn’t seen them, which suited me fine. If he’d had half an inkling that our job was to kidnap Krys Holtz, he would have been out of the van faster than Wile E. Coyote and running all the way back to Amanda, Delia, even Beatrix and her butt plugs, without stopping.

  ‘I thought you was a mate of mine,’ said Johnny, sounding put out, but I hardly heard him. My blood was up, and like a youthful Elvis I was ready to rock and roll.

  I banged three times in quick succession on the van’s interior panel, then twice slowly, the signal that they’d arrived. Three more bangs came back to acknowledge that the message had been received and understood.

  ‘Sorry, Johnny, but we’ve got work to do. Start driving.’

  Johnny pulled the Mercedes van away from the kerb and drove slowly along the road until he was about fifteen yards past the entrance to Heavenly Girls.

  ‘All right, stop here,’ I told him. ‘Double park.’

  ‘Can you tell me what’s going on now, Max?’

  ‘No.’

  I banged on the interior panel twice to let them know we were in position. The back doors opened and I saw Tugger Lewis in the wing mirror as he walked up the steps to the entrance. It was on.

  I pressed the stopwatch and watched it as the seconds ticked by, knowing that this was it, the big one. Just like the old days. All my senses fusing together into one single core of absolute concentration. It’s life or death, this. Nothing’s got higher stakes. You fuck up, you die. Your life ends, just like that. Kaput! You’re history. But nothing beats it either. Nothing ever beats the pure adrenalin rush, the intensity, the sheer joy of battle. I bet not even one of Amanda’s multiple orgasms comes close.

  Thirty seconds. Forty. Johnny said something to me, but I couldn’t hear him. His voice was just interference, meaningless. Fifty seconds. Time to go. I banged the interior panel five times in quick succession, put the stopwatch in my pocket, and stepped out of the van. I pressed my mouth against the half-open window. ‘Stay here,’ I said. ‘Do not move.’

  I turned away before he could answer and walked towards the front entrance of the brothel, Joe and Kalinski coming up beside me. Joe had a holdall over his shoulder. No-one spoke. As we walked, we took black balaclavas from the pockets of our regulation blue boiler suits, and pulled them over our heads. The rain was coming down in sheets and the street was empty. We didn’t look suspicious, we just looked like three normal kidnappers.

  Kalinski pressed the buzzer and the door clicked open straight away. So Tugger had the reception area under control. Good. Part one had at least gone to plan. We stepped into the lift, and Joe put the holdall on the floor and took two automatic shotguns with sawn-off barrels out of it, handing one to Kalinski. He then pulled out a dozen spare shells which he stuck in one of the pockets of his boiler suit before replacing the holdall on his shoulder. We didn’t want to leave any evidence behind. While he was doing this, I produced the Glock, gave it a quick check, and chambered a round. We were ready.

  The lift opened directly into the reception area and the three of us stepped out, weapons at the ready. Tugger was standing there in his suit, balaclava on, in front of a good-looking young receptionist with strawberry blonde hair. She had her hands flat down on the desk in front of her. Tugger was facing her but pointing his gun at two well-built doormen in dickie bows – one white, one black – both of whom had their hands arrow-straight above their heads, their faces suggesting there was no way they were going to be heroes. I couldn’t blame them. Being a hero can be a very overrated pastime. And you don’t even get paid.

  The receptionist’s eyes widened when she saw us come striding in and she looked like she was going to scream. Tugger put a finger to his lips. ‘Now now, pet, don’t go causing a scene. No-one wants to hurt a pretty little thing like you. Just tell us which room Krys Holtz is in.’

  I saw the white doorman’s eyes widen, like he couldn’t believe we’d be messing around with someone like Krys Holtz. Believe it, my friend. Believe it.

  ‘He’s in the Lovers Suite on the next floor up,’ she stammered, keen to co-operate. ‘It’s the second door on your left when you come out of the lift.’

  ‘What about the other two with him?’

  ‘I don’t know which rooms they’ll be in, but they’ll be on the same floor. They always stay close together.’

  Tugger pulled her to her feet while Joe and me handcuffed the two bouncers under the watchful eye of Kalinski. When they were secured, and Tugger
had got hold of the CCTV tape, we shepherded the three of them towards the room to our left. At the same time a potbellied businessman emerged from it on the arm of a stunning-looking oriental girl.

  ‘Ohmigod!’ whispered the girl. The businessman simply stood there, looking surprised.

  I raised the gun and pushed them back into the room, following them in. Two more men in suits sat in the corner with two equally stunning and scantily clad women, while another girl sat at the bar talking to the lone barman, a baby-faced guy in his early twenties. All eyes went to the door as our unusual-looking convoy entered, but no-one was stupid enough to cry out.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ I said in my best public-speaking voice as we ushered everyone into the far corner of the room, ‘you have nothing to fear. We are here to collect a debt from an individual within the building, and are interested in that man only. If you do as you’re told and co-operate, no-one will be hurt and we’ll be out of your hair within a few minutes.’ I motioned to the barman with my gun. ‘You, get over in the corner with the rest of them. And you.’ The girl sitting at the bar scowled at me but did as she was told, as did the barman.

  It was exactly three minutes and fifteen seconds from the moment Tugger had entered the building, and so far things were running smoothly.

  Kalinski was tasked with guarding those in the bar, so he stepped forward and stood blankly watching his charges, shotgun pointed towards them, while the rest of us exited and headed up to the next floor, using the stairs behind the reception area. Tugger was leading because he’d gone up that way the other night. When he got to the next floor, he slowly opened the door and looked down the corridor, then turned and gave us the all clear. We followed him in, and Joe took up position by the lift where he could make sure no-one interfered with things. Tugger and me crept quietly towards the second door on the left.

  When we reached the Lovers Suite, Tugger stopped and listened at the door. The rooms were meant to be soundproofed but he could obviously hear something because he motioned for me to have a listen. I put my ear against the wood and immediately caught the noise of some serious humping. The girl was sounding like she was having the time of her life, which, for the money Tugger claimed it cost, was no great surprise. Holtz, meanwhile, was making these horrible grunting noises, sounding like something out of a wildlife documentary.

  Tugger turned the handle very slowly and gently eased the door open. When it was six inches ajar the noise of the shagging was amplified several times over, and so far neither of them appeared to notice that they were being interrupted. Tugger used the barrel of his gun to push it open further and, as quietly as possible, we tiptoed inside.

  The sight that greeted us was pretty fucking horrible, to say the least. Krys’s hairy and surprisingly large arse viewed us like an angry cyclops from its position on the four-poster bed as it pounded up and down, piston-like, while two shapely legs sprouted out like feelers on either side. It was impossible to see the girl’s face as it was almost completely enveloped by Krys’s furry form. A few locks of blonde hair peeped out over one of his shoulders, and that was about it. I wondered if she could even breathe down there. I looked across at Tugger and he grinned at me beneath the balaclava. I grinned back. I was enjoying this.

  The room itself was very flash-looking and worthy of such a high-class establishment. A thick shagpile carpet obscured the sound of our footsteps as Tugger quietly closed the door and we crept up to the bed. Not that it was likely we would have been heard anyway above the noise being made. Krys was grunting like a herd of hungry pigs as he pummelled his way down the home straight, only seconds from the finishing line.

  ‘Aiiieeeee!’ he wailed in a final flurry of activity, lifting his head up as he unloaded his milky cargo. ‘Ooooofff!’

  At that point, two things happened. The girl, her face red and sweaty, courtesy no doubt of being stuck in Krys Holtz’s armpit for the previous five minutes, saw me standing over her. Her eyes widened and she went to scream. At the same time Tugger smacked Krys hard on the back of the head with the handle of his gun. Krys let out a surprised gasp and rolled off the girl, moaning faintly.

  I stuck the barrel of the Glock against the girl’s head and told her not to cry out. ‘We’re not interested in hurting you, so if you keep quiet and do not say a word, everything will be fine. If you do cry out or raise the alarm at any point in the next ten minutes, then we will kill you. Understand? Nod once for yes.’ She nodded frantically. ‘Good. Now turn over, put your face into the pillow and be absolutely quiet.’

  While I was speaking, Tugger whacked Krys again, just for good measure, before handcuffing his hands behind his back, encountering little resistance from the semi-conscious gangster. The girl did as she was told and I handcuffed her, taking a long second to admire her beautifully rounded rear and ponder the question that has vexed so many observers down the ages: why is the female form so much more attractive than the male? And thinking that maybe Johnny’s girlfriend Amanda had got the right idea.

  ‘What the fuck’s going on?’ moaned Krys while his eyes made a bad job of trying to focus.

  ‘Shut the fuck up!’ snapped Tugger, pulling him off the bed by the handcuffs and forcing him to his knees. He gave him a quick smack round the face with the barrel of the gun to establish control. ‘Now, get to your feet. Now!’

  ‘Fuck off,’ snapped Krys. ‘You know who you’re fucking dealing with?’

  ‘Course I do, you prick. Now shut it.’

  Krys opened his mouth to say something else but I came round the bed, holstering my gun and pulling open a roll of adhesive tape. I bit off a piece and shoved it over his mouth while Tugger held his head still. Krys’s face went red with rage and he started struggling wildly so I kicked him hard in the stomach, doubling him over. It was important to break him quickly so we could get out of the place with the minimum of fuss.

  Tugger pulled him up by his hair and we manhandled him to the door. When we reached it, I fished out the keys to the girl’s handcuffs and chucked them on the bed. No point inconveniencing her any more than was necessary. Krys was struggling again, and in his rage he managed to kick the door, making a little bit too much noise for my liking. So I grabbed him by his bollocks and yanked hard. Twice in quick succession. His eyes bulged and I could almost smell his pain. I put my mouth close to his ear. ‘Struggle again and I’ll have the fucking things off,’ I hissed.

  He seemed to get the message, and we pulled him out of the door without further incident. Joe was still standing at the end of the corridor next to the stairs, shotgun in hand. He nodded in acknowledgement as we came towards him. Krys turned to me as we walked and his eyes narrowed, the message in them clear. I stared right back, daring him to try anything.

  Then, suddenly, it all went wrong.

  A door swung open just behind us and a white-haired geezer of at least sixty came out, saw what was going on, and shouted, ‘Oh dear! What on earth’s happening?’ in tones that made you think he half-expected us to turn round and tell him. However, he decided against waiting around for an answer and immediately jumped back into the room, slamming the door behind him. At this point we were ten feet from the stairs, and fifteen from the lift.

  Krys, sensing the possibility of rescue, tried to slow up, dragging his heels along the floor, but I tugged on his nuts again while Tugger pushed the barrel of his gun hard against his face. It seemed to do the trick, and this time he didn’t resist as we pushed him right up to the lift entrance. Joe had already called the lift and he pressed the button to open the door. At the same time, out of the corner of my eye, I saw another door open further down the corridor. A second later Big Mick’s naked upper half emerged, wielding a handgun that was pointing in our direction.

  There was a deafening roar as Joe pushed us aside and pulled the trigger on the shotgun. A huge chunk of skirting and wall disappeared and Mick leapt back out of sight. We immediately pushed Krys into the lift, and I kneed him hard in the groin to minimize any furth
er disruption. He went down to his knees and I turned and pointed the Glock back down the hall. Big Mick appeared again, his body crouched down, and let off a couple of wild shots. Joe and I held our ground and returned fire, sending dust and skirting flying in all directions. Tugger held on to Krys.

  Then, without warning, the door opposite the Lovers Suite flew open and Fitz appeared in view with a revolver in hand, firing wildly in our general direction. A bullet whizzed straight past my head and into the lift, narrowly missing Krys. It hit the full-length mirror at the lift’s rear, shattering it instantly. Taking advantage of the covering fire, Mick also appeared again, firing off another series of rounds. Joe’s shotgun erupted in return, blowing a huge hole in the doorway where Mick’s head had just been, while Fitz was forced to retreat as I unloaded a steady burst of gunfire in his direction. I then jumped to one side and disappeared into the stairwell while Joe retreated into the lift as the doors closed.

  I dashed down the first flight of stairs until I was in the second floor stairwell. The lift carrying Krys and the others was going all the way to the ground, and from there they were going straight into the back of the Mercedes van. My job now was to make sure Big Mick and Fitz didn’t get a chance to balls anything up. I ejected the Glock’s magazine and replaced it with a full one, chambering the first round. Above me the door on the next floor up banged open and heavy footfalls came down the stairs. Taking a deep breath, I stepped back so I was leaning against the door that led into the reception area, and raised the gun. Behind me, I could hear people crying out and shouting in the bar, and I hoped Kalinski was calm and ruthless enough to keep a lid on things until it was time for him to go.

  Big Mick came crashing into view, dressed only in trousers, almost slipping up in his haste to get down the stairs and intercept the lift before it escaped with his boss. Fitz was right behind him. Mick’s eyes momentarily widened when he saw me, but before he could react I pulled the trigger, holding the gun two-handed.