Mr. Beast

by Nicole Elliot

I wasn’t really going to eat him, but I thought it might help the persuasion.

  “You fucking American! Fuck off!” he cried, delirious with pain, half laughing and half crying as he spat a torrent of filthy-sounding Russian words at me.

  I jumped into the air, my full weight coming down on my left foot onto his knee. A satisfying crack and a loud pop resounded through the room, followed by his impossibly louder screams.

  “Last fucking chance!” I said, barely checked rage building within me. An image of Alexandra formed in my mind, being dragged away against her will.

  The Russian sobbed in front of me. Pathetic.

  I went back into the room to grab his gun. I checked the chamber. Loaded. On the way out of the building I coldly shot him between the eyes.

  Then I heard the sound of distant sirens.

  “I told you that you wouldn’t be fucking breathing if I saw you again. Same goes for your friends. They’re all dead men.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Alexandra

  I was bundled into a small space, with no idea where I was. The sack was removed from my head. It then dawned on me that I was in the trunk of a car.

  Great.

  The door slammed shut and the space became airless, instantly making me feel claustrophobic. An image of Cruz came to my mind, and I tried to find comfort in it. I took slow, steadying breaths and thought about the safety I felt in his arms. Convincing myself that I would somehow return to those comforting arms, a wave of calm washed over me.

  The sound of the car’s engine chugging to life reached me in the trunk. I tried to stay calm, but it had suddenly become that much more difficult. Yet, I vowed this would be the first and last time I ever traveled in the trunk of a car.

  As my captors quickly drove off, I distracted myself with thoughts of Cruz and our activities the night before…

  Cruz

  I left the building by the fire escape, my newly acquired gun hidden down the back of my black combat pants. I kept my left hand on the grip as I sprinted into a dark alleyway nearby, my eyes darting left and right as I crossed the road outside the hotel.

  No sign of anyone.

  I supposed they’d thought one unarmed guy couldn’t beat an armed ex-KGB assassin. But that was understandable; this was the first time they’d dealt with Cruz Miller. And it will also be the last.

  I slowed my stride to a jog, breathing deeply as I paced myself.

  I had memorized my Prague contact’s number and decided to jog for a few minutes before finding a payphone. I doubted that I was being followed now they had Alexandra, so my last advantage was their arrogance. They would pay dearly for assuming I was a dead man.

  My mind focused, I began planning my attack, letting my brain process the details as I ran. I formulated a rough plan as I jogged, which I would perfect later.

  Location. Numbers. Weapons at my disposal.

  After a brief stop at an ATM and then a small store to get a can of Coke and some chocolate for an energy boost, I found an old payphone that was luckily still working. I dialed the number from memory, breathing steadily. The run had cleared my mind, loosened my muscles, and expanded my lungs. I felt good.

  The phone rang for a few seconds before a click as it was answered. And then there was silence.

  “It’s me. I need some help. I’m calling in that favor,” I said.

  A voice protested at the other end of the phone, saying something about me not knowing how bad these guys were.

  “I don’t give a shit! Remember what Jean-Jacques said? Tell me what I need to fucking know. Now!”

  I heard fear in his voice as he gave me the location— an old abandoned farmhouse out of the city. Not far. He paused, then reeled off a few details about Alexandra’s captors and Jean’s whereabouts.

  Hearing clearly that he was more scared of Jean than the Russians, I couldn’t help wondering what Jean had said to him.

  “Right. Last favor. I need guns. And a big fucking knife.” I looked around at the blazing afternoon sun around me. “And some fucking sunglasses.”

  He gave me a location not far from where I was, saying one his guys would meet me there. I warned him not to fuck with me, otherwise the consequences would be catastrophic. So, I doubted he would be stupid about it.

  Alexandra

  The car stopped about half an hour later, I guessed, though I had no sense of the time. I had bumped my head often during the undignified transit and was slightly bruised and disheartened. The trunk opened suddenly, low afternoon sun blinding me. The bag was unceremoniously placed back onto my head as I was pulled roughly out.

  I could no longer hear the noise of the city, however, and guessed we were out in the suburbs. Or maybe the countryside.

  I struggled to suppress my rising fear. Cruz was resourceful, but how would he know where I was?

  Or what if he was…

  Steeling myself, I pushed the thought away. I had to keep faith in him. It was the only way I could keep my strength. I didn’t want to turn into a gibbering wreck. I needed to keep my wits about me if I was to help Cruz in any small way I could, even if it was just by staying safe and unharmed.

  I was half dragged, half carried hurriedly across grass. I heard a door squeak open in front of me, and I was pushed roughly from behind, probably by Mr. Broken Nose.

  I was then taken up a flight of stairs, where the bag was removed.

  I recognized my kidnappers. The guy whose nose I’d broken stared at me viciously. He approached, turning me roughly on my feet so that I faced a mean-looking Russian or Eastern European sitting on a plush office chair that looked out of place in the dirty room surrounding us. It seemed that we were in an abandoned building or something. Maybe a farmhouse.

  The guy with the broken nose raised his arm as if to give me a back handed-slap. The guy in the chair rose his arm. Broken Nose froze in fear.

  “Do not fucking touch her, you fucking idiot.” He rose to his feet. He was massive— well over six feet tall, but not muscled like Cruz. He walked forward and poked the guy hard on his broken nose.

  I laughed, amazed at myself. I was no longer afraid. It wasn’t in their interest to harm me. Not yet, anyway.

  Plus, I knew Cruz was undoubtedly looking for me. So essentially, they were all dead men walking.

  The leader turned to face me, amused. Then he looked back at his bleeding henchman. “You have already been fucking stupid once today. You let a little girl break your nose.” He laughed and the other guys in the room joined in until his face abruptly went dark.

  “If you are stupid once more today,” he continued, “I will feed you to the fucking dogs. And I will let her kill you.” He jerked a thumb my way and then turned his gaze toward me. “Now, miss, please excuse my men. They’re stupid. They know how to fight, and that’s it. I, however, will be civilized. If you are respectful, you will not be in danger. I have food, water, and a bed for you. You will not be touched. I will not allow any harm to come to you…As long as your father and I can…come to an arrangement.” He raised his eyebrows, smiling. “Okay?”

  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 f
elt 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 a
sked. 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.