March Heat

by Chase Jackson

  I looked up at his menacing face. He tried to put on a soft expression but didn’t look much less scary. I nodded nonetheless.

  He gently removed the tape from my mouth.

  I smiled. “That would be nice, thank you. I promise to be good, sir.” I looked down at my hands and feet. “If we are to trust each other, can I be untied, please? My arms and legs hurt.”

  He snapped a finger at his men. They complied, cutting the tape gently, taking great care not to cause me any discomfort.

  “Now, miss-- please do not get used to making demands. I am fair, but my patience is short. This request I grant as a sign that we can be respectful to each other.” He gestured at a large mattress in the corner of the room. A handcuff was attached to a radiator behind the bed. “Please make yourself comfortable, but don’t try anything. I don’t want to have to chain you up like a dog. You’re too beautiful for that.”

  I felt sick as he unashamedly ogled my breasts through my thin blouse, but I put on a brave face and walked over to the bed and sat down. I then took a long mouthful from a sealed bottle of mineral water that was next to the pillow.

  The leader pointed to one of his men. “Vladimir, you are not to leave this room unless I am here. You are to keep this girl safe. If any of the idiots so much as goes near her, you are to kill them. Understand?”

  The man named Vladimir nodded, and dragged a plastic chair over towards me, facing outwards from the wall behind him. He sat down, arms crossed.

  The leader approached me. “Vladimir is my voice when I am not here. He is not stupid like the others and understands the importance of our…negotiation. He is my most trusted man, and he will not allow the other idiots near you.” He paused, thoughtfully. “If Vladimir tells you to do something, please do it. Thank you.” He turned on his heel. “I have business to attend to now, so I will leave you for a while. Please try and relax.”

  He pointed to one of his men, shouting in Russian. The guy shook his head. The leader screamed angrily, his hand reaching for a mobile phone. He dialed a number and waited, but apparently got no answer. He threw the phone at his men, who flinched. They looked down at their feet, mumbling something I couldn’t understand.

  Well, I guess their assassin didn’t get on very well, I thought. I fucking hope that’s what they’re talking about. Come on Cruz, stay focused.

  The leader left the room with one of his henchmen in tow, following along like a trained dog.

  The other two stood at the door, their hands down by their sides. I imagined Cruz sneaking up to the building, a gun in each hand as he crawled silently through the grass.

  Cruz

  I’d met the contact not long after finishing the telephone conversation, following the directions I’d been given. True to his word, a hard-looking guy wearing dark aviator sunglasses stood nonchalantly on the corner of the street. I was amused to see him holding an ex-army issue duffel bag.

  He didn’t look up as I approached. He passed me the sunglasses and I put them on. I swung the bag over my shoulder in one deft movement. I hadn’t stopped walking; the exchange was fast and smooth.

  I continued on my way down the street, finding the weight of the bag on my shoulder comforting.

  If these guys betray me, or the guns don’t fire, they’ll be next, I thought as I continued on my way.

  I’d done some work for my contact many years ago--had found a target for him who had fled to the USA. Turned out this guy was planning a counter-attack, and I stopped it dead in it its tracks. I had waited to call this favor in, never forgetting. You never knew when it would come in handy.

  My contact knew how mean I could be, and how good I was. He wouldn’t dare fuck with me.

  I pondered the dilemma of how to get near Alexandra’s captors without detection. The hotel was a no-go, the place was too hot, and the car was recognizable.

  I could go back to the airport and hire a car, but that was too risky. They probably had eyes there and would be sending people out soon to look for me when they realized their comrade was leaking his brains out on the floor of the hotel.

  Settling on a plan, I found a large department store. I walked around the block a few times, doubling back on myself. Still no tail. But I needed to hurry. The store was large enough for anonymity, and I entered the front door in a hurry. I quickly grabbed some clothes to change into, heading to the changing room to try them out.

  Once inside, I opened the duffel bag to check the contents. There was a .44 magnum revolver, big, reliable, and heavy. A smaller 9mm pistol sat next to it. A couple boxes of ammo sat at the bottom of the bag. I was pleased to see a bolt action rifle, partially disassembled to fit in the bag. A simple, medium ranged hair sight scope was attached. All three guns were fully loaded.

  I checked that the safeties were all on, pleased to find they had been clicked in place on the pistols. The rifle didn’t have a bullet in the chamber.

  The rifle only had one clip, with no spare ammo. Five .308 bullets, accurate and with plenty of stopping power. Only five, but enough to take down a few targets that were stupid enough to show their heads at any windows.

  Finally, a wickedly sharp combat knife nestled next to the revolver in a tough rubber sheath.

  I purchased the change of clothes and left the store quickly. Now, for Stage 2.

  A quick walk took me on a winding route. Still not being followed, I found a quiet-looking bar end, entered, and quickly ordered a whiskey. The effects of the few drinks I’d had earlier had faded, and I needed focus. One large whiskey would do the job.

  I downed it as quickly as it arrived, nodding at the bartender and passing him some money. I then quickly changed in the grimy bathroom, throwing my old clothes into the trash can. I neatly tore a few strips off of my old t-shirt with my combat knife before discarding the shredded debris.

  Makeshift bandages. Just in case.

  I stuffed the strips of cloth into the side pocket of my recently purchased camouflage-style combat pants. A plain grey green t-shirt adorned my torso, my muscles bulging through the thin fabric.

  I quickly washed my face and slicked back my hair. With my change of clothes and glasses, I hoped I would be a little harder to recognize during my escape from the city.

  I took a deep breath and left the bathroom, exiting the bar quickly. Shortly thereafter, I jumped in a taxi, the driver looking at me eagerly as I entered. I gave him a location near where I needed to be, a couple miles down the road from the farmhouse. I had decided on jogging the last few miles; it would be easy to sneak up on the house from there. The generously donated sniper scope would help, too.

  I sat back in the rear of the taxi as we sped off, quickly eating the chocolate bar and downing the Coke as we neared our destination. I closed my eyes, breathing methodically. In my mind's eye, I visualized Alexandra, scared and alone. I allowed myself a brief moment of weakness as I remembered the intense emotions I’d felt during our evening together. The memories were distant already, faded by rage and adrenaline.

  Whenever I got ahold of her again, I wasn’t going to let her go.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Alexandra

  Vladimir was big, ugly, and boring. I tried to engage him in conversation to no avail. Amazingly, when the fear had faded, I found myself getting restless.

  “Your leader said you had some food. May I have some? Please? I know I’m not supposed to ask but…”

  He looked at me. “Be quiet, girl. You will have food in time.” He looked me up and down, his eyes cold. “Judging from the size of you, you haven’t missed many meals. It will be good for you to not be eating all the time.”

  I could hardly make out his words through his thick accent. No wonder he didn’t want to talk. Ugly miserable old bastard.

  Giving him a patronizing smile, I sighed and lied back on the mattress.

  Come on, Cruz. Get me out of this shithole.

  A while passed as I dozed uncomfortably. Years of expensive mattresses and plush sofas had made
most normal seats and beds tough on my back. I squirmed.

  I wondered absently if Vladimir was right about my weight. I dozed quietly, pondering if I could do with losing a few pounds. But then I thought about how Cruz didn’t seem to mind my curves. In fact, I was pretty sure they turned him on.

  So Vladimir could fuck off.

  Cruz

  The taxi made good time, and we were soon at the destination. If the directions I’d been given were right, I was roughly two miles from the old farmhouse. We had stopped at the side of the road, the taxi driver incredulous that this was where I wanted to go. Large, thick woodland stretched across the road to my right. Open farmland laid to the left. I could make out houses and barns dotted around the countryside.

  I needed to get off the fucking road.

  I paid the taxi driver triple what he had asked for, making my best attempt to explain that he had never made this trip, if anyone asked. His eyes widened, but he nodded at me nonetheless, the serious look on his face letting me know that I didn’t need to threaten him. I got the impression that he would take his vow of silence seriously, imagining me to be some top-secret spy or a mob hitman. He wouldn’t be too far from the truth with the latter.

  I jogged into the trees as he sped off back to the city. A few more fares and I’d be a distant memory.

  The sun was fading into the sky, a red glow illuminating the clouds that hung low on the horizon. The afternoon sun was terribly bright, and I was grateful for the sunglasses I’d been donated as I jogged into the sunset, low sun occasionally peeping through the canopy as I travelled at a steady pace.

  My mind was now clear, and I had a second wind from the whiskey, Coke, and chocolate. My blood sugar was up, and I felt powerful and confident.

  As I ran, I focused my mind, pushing doubts aside and turning my emotions off like a switch. Over the course of a half mile, I became an ice-cold killer-- emotionless and hard. After running for what I figured was roughly a mile total, I took a minute to stop and stretch out my muscles, going through a series of flowing moves that loosened muscle and tendons.

  I stopped to assemble the bolt action rifle, checking the scope and adjusting it somewhat. I slung the rifle back over my shoulder. My combat knife was already at my hip, the glint of the blade well hidden by the rubber sheath. I tucked the revolver into my pants at the back, checking that the safety was on and the gun wasn’t cocked.

  The Tokarev I’d acquired from my Russian friend was tucked into the front of my pants. It was the only gun I definitely knew worked, and I needed it there just in case. I emptied the chamber and clicked the bullet that pinged out back into the clip.

  I held the black 9mm pistol in my hands as I ran, pointed down. Eyes roving the trees for targets. Both hands on the grip, steady. Bullet chambered, safety off.

  The woodland started to thin out suddenly and I saw the edge of the forest ahead of me. The trees petered out down to farmland situated in a long, flowing valley, a steep bank marking the end of the woodland as it leveled out down to the field. The arable parcel of land before me stretched out almost all the way to a big old farmhouse in the distance.

  The road I had arrived on in the taxi had roughly followed my direction, cutting through the fields over to my left.

  I could make out a few figures standing around the farmhouse, patrolling. I ducked down, keeping a low profile as I approached a large tree at the top of the embankment. I clicked the safety on my 9mm and put it on the ground.

  I unslung the rifle and crouched down prone into a marksman pose, finger off the trigger, left arm crooked at the elbow, large hand steadying the gun. Steady breaths minimized movement of the scope as I looked down at the scene in front of me.

  An overgrown lawn surrounded the house. The whole farm looked unkempt and abandoned. Weeds poked through untilled soil and wood hung forlornly off of rusty nails from dilapidated fencing.

  The approach to the house was open on all sides. I could crawl onto my belly unnoticed as far possible, but then would be exposed. Better to shoot from range first. There was no wind or rain, the air was still. I would only have to compensate for the slight drop of the bullet over the reasonable distance to my targets.

  There was an old fence that separated two parcels of land in front of me, one adjacent to the road, and one set back to the right of the farmhouse. The fence ran from the edge of the tree-line, up to an old brick wall to the right of the farmhouse.

  I decided it was the best cover I could get for when I approached the house.

  I shifted, perfecting my stance. Knees steady on the hard ground. Everything went still and quiet as I breathed deeply, looking down the scope. One of the guys was smoking at the edge of the lawn. He looked bored.

  Sorry bro. You’re first. Smoking kills anyway, you know.

  I gently pulled the bolt action up and back, chambering a .308 round into the receiver and clicking the bolt back down in one fluid motion.

  I aimed the center of the crosshair just above his head. This would be a range-finder. If I got him in his forehead, I’d judged it just right. In the face or neck, I’d need to adjust the scope for my next few shots. It would only take one bullet for me to know.

  I breathed in and out once, deeply. Then I held my breath, my finger moving carefully to the trigger. A calmness descended upon me. I took a second to ensure I was deadly still. I squeezed the trigger gently. The rifle bucked in my hands, the butt pushing into my muscled shoulder.

  My target’s head snapped back, a red mist spraying in a cloud behind his head as he flinched horribly, instantly dead.

  Bullseye.

  I yanked the bolt back and forth in a quick motion, the spent cartridge flying from the chamber. The click of the action readying my second bullet.

  The sound of the gunshot echoing rippled around the countryside a split second later-- the bizarre effect cause by the bullet travelling faster than the speed of sound.

  I could see two more targets that were easy shots in the field. Seeing movement at the window a second later, I decided to ignore them for now.

  I aimed the rifle at my second victim, who’d been looking in shock at his dead comrade. I was amazed to see that he recovered almost instantly, his eyes scanning the tree-line. I doubted he could see me, unless he had the eyes of a hawk.

  His momentary hesitation cost him his life. I fired off the second round, taking him cleanly through the heart. He took a stuttering step backwards before collapsing on the grass, dead.

  I chambered another round, my eyes scanning for my next target.

  Three rounds left.

  Alexandra

  A little while later, the leader returned, waking me from my restless half-sleep.

  “Wake up, girl,” he said, gruffly. Something had him riled, and I guessed it was probably Cruz killing the henchman that was supposed to take him out.

  I supposed he was going to find out the hard way that he probably didn’t even have enough men to compete against Cruz Miller.

  “I am going to call your father. You will speak to him and tell him you are safe. The call will be quick, and he will want to see you. You will video call him briefly.” He paused, his eyes boring into mine. “It is very important that you do exactly as I say. You are going to tell him that you are safe, and that he should comply with our demands. You will tell him that I will hurt you if he does not do as I say.” He smiled sinisterly. “Oh, I should add, Alexandra, you will do as I say, or I will have fun with you first. Then I will hurt you.” He gestured violently to his men around him. “Then I will share you with my men. All twelve of them will be allowed to take their turn and take as long as they want. Then I will hurt you again, badly.” He spat the words of the last sentence out, his anger rising unchecked. “And if your friend from the hotel shows his stupid American face,” he added, “I will kill him. I will fucking string him up and force you to look at his dismembered corpse!”

  Just as quickly as his rage rose, it passed. He smiled pleasantly at me.
>
  I got the impression that he was prone to rages, and maybe even had a mental disorder. Either that or he was just a fucking psycho.

  And even though I hated it, I felt I had no choice but to do as he said. At least until Cruz killed him. So I looked him square in the eyes. “I’ll do exactly what you want, I promise,” I said.

  His eyes roved around my body again. “Good girl. I don’t want to hurt someone so beautiful. It would be a shame. And I have principles. I do not hurt women, as a rule. But this… this is unavoidable.”

  I tried my best to look sorrowful. “I know. We all have to do things we don’t want sometimes. It's just the way it is. When you’re ready, let me know. I’ll do exactly as you asked, sir.”

  He smiled. “I’ll be back in two minutes. I will…speak to your father first. I need to appraise him of the situation. I hope he is a reasonable man.”

  I sat down on the mattress, my mind racing. I knew that if my dad did not meet his demands, or if I did not do exactly what I was asked, I would be in serious trouble. This Vladimir was not a man you messed with.

  I hoped he was the head honcho, and that there was no one else above him who would come after us later.

  A few minutes later he returned, holding a tablet. “Yes. Do not worry. She is safe.” He turned the tablet to face me. I saw my dad at his desk, gripping the ornate wood. Whiskey was poured into a large glass tumbler in front of him.

  “Alexandra! This man said… where the fuck is Cruz!”

  I approached the tablet, looking around to make sure I wasn’t breaking some unspoken rule that I shouldn’t leave my little corner of the room. “Don’t worry about Cruz,” I said. “He isn’t here. I don’t know where he is. He might be dead, for all I know.” The leader smiled behind the camera, nodding at me. I cleared my throat and continued. “Listen, Daddy. I’m safe. These men have been very kind to me. They have not hurt me and will not hurt me if you do exactly as they say.” I started to cry, feeling very homesick all of a sudden. “Please, Daddy. I just want to come home.” I held my hands up in a begging gesture, palms clasped. “I promised to help these men if you comply, so they can get me home safe. Okay?”