by Viva Gold
“Sure thing, Mr Woolf.”
“Tal, come with me, please.” Izzy helped me stand.
“Who would do this, Iz?” I asked him in a small voice. “It’s beyond horrible.”
“There are evil, sick bastards in this world, mate, but this feels personal. Like whoever did this knew the worst way to upset you.”
“Upset me?” I cried at him. “Upset me? I’m a little more than upset…”
“Exactly.”
I slumped against him. “Surely Sagall wouldn’t stoop so low. He’s Jewish too, for fuck’s sake.”
“I suspect he probably dropped a few pointed hints to the right people and left them to it. I’d hate to think he’d condone this, but the only religion he practices is worshipping money.” Izzy looked sad. “I need to speak to my Dad.”
I was surprised to hear G snort.
“Yeah, Iz, bring in the big guns.” Izzy raised an eyebrow and G literally crumbled before my very eyes. “Sorry, Sir.” Izzy cocked his head and G grabbed T and the pair of them scurried off to carry out their orders. I was totally in awe of my friend and his ability to reduce even the mightiest of men to scared little boys in his presence.
My adrenalin was wearing off and a weighty fatigue enveloped me. Part of me questioned whether to pursue our plan to snag Doron. We hadn’t even got started yet and I was surrounded by devastation, but then the hideous sight of the swastikas caught my eye and my fury spiked anew. With a righteous sense of fervour, I stood abruptly; pulled on the hem of my jacket and snarled. Izzy rose to his feet beside me. I grabbed his hand. “Let’s do this,” I told him with conviction. “If he thinks he can intimidate me with these underhand tactics, then he’s wrong. Sagall is going down.”
Izzy shoulder bumped me. “You know you sound like you’re in a cheesy gangster movie, right?”
I snorted. Trust Izzy to take the wind out of my sails, but he made me laugh, even so.
“I heard you had a particular set of skills…” I mocked him in my best Liam Neeson accent.
“Let’s make him an offer he can’t refuse.”
I snapped my head around to gape at Izzy. Somehow, him channelling The Godfather was an epic turn on. He popped a finger under my chin and snapped my mouth shut before planting a kiss on my lips. He’d effectively distracted me from the turmoil that was once my office. With a typical arrogant smirk, he led me out of the mess and into the daylight.
We hit the pavement just as Rob and Liam arrived on a police motorcycle. They looked suitably vexed.
“Tal, oh my God, are you ok?” It was disconcerting to have Liam looking and sounding so worried. He was the size of a shed and dressed in his Police leathers, extremely hot. He whipped off his helmet revealing his dishevelled red hair which did nothing to reduce his sexiness. In another life, I would have actively sought out a gorgeous looking ginger such as himself. They were such fun to play with. Izzy cleared his throat loudly. I realised I must have been staring a touch too long. The reason for them being here hit me hard, reducing me once again to a raving lunatic.
“I’m not fucking ok. Nothing about this is fucking ok.”
“Whoa, Tal. Calm down. Rob and Liam are here to help.” Izzy squeezed my shoulder, grounding me once again.
“I’m sorry. God, I’m such a mess.” I ran my hands through my hair. “It was a shock, to say the least. And so fucking horrible. Thanks for coming so quickly.”
They told me they were based in the West End and taking the bike made reaching me an easy task. “Let’s go take a look,” Rob said to Liam and they disappeared into my building. We gave them a few minutes, then reluctantly followed them in. The destruction was no less devastating the second time around. Liam was taking photos of everything while Rob was making notes. We watched them in silence for twenty minutes as they gathered all the evidence they would need. Rob approached us both, but addressed Izzy.
“I don’t like that you want to keep this under wraps. We take racist crime very seriously these days, you know.”
He nodded. “I really appreciate it. I understand what you’re saying but I feel like I can control how many people are involved if I do it this way. I don’t want anyone hurt.”
“Ok, well, we have what we need. Let us know when we can act on it.” Rob was clearly not happy, but compliant for now. Izzy thanked them. He made a quick call to G & T then ushered me back out of my office to the pavement. When the Twins arrived, he handed them my office keys.
“Valerie is waiting with lunch,” he announced to me. He handed me a helmet which was when I noticed his Harley. On any other day, I would have rejoiced to be riding on the back of his precious bike, but today I was too depressed and overwrought with my situation.
We thundered down the Finchley Road to Izzy’s parents place in Hampstead Garden Suburb. They had a lovely home and made me feel very welcome, yet my mind was elsewhere. I had an urge to feel Bastien’s smooth, warm skin against my own and yearned to be back at Greenall Manor with him. However, the last thing I wanted was to embroil him in any more drama, or God forbid, put him in danger. In fact, now that I thought about it, it was probably best to distance myself in order to keep him safe. Damn; this was why I didn’t do relationships.
I stood up from the dining room table. “Excuse me, while I pop to the loo.” I smiled at Mrs Woolf. “Lunch was delicious, thank you.” I saw Izzy frown, but refused to meet his gaze. I wasn’t much of an actor.
I did actually use the loo, but merely as somewhere private from which to call an Uber. As soon as it arrived, I made my escape. I knew it was a foolish thing to do, but I had decided that in order to not put anyone I knew in danger, I would have to confront Doron myself and on my own terms. Within ten minutes my phone was awash with unanswered calls and texts. I read the first few from Izzy, G & T and even Adam. There was one from an unknown number which made me hesitate, but I deleted them all without reading them. I would not be swayed.
I considered stopping at my flat, but guessed that was too obvious a move and Izzy would have someone there to meet me. Instead, I stopped by Ron’s and asked him for a favour.
“Can I use your office to make a few calls? Need to be off the grid for a while.” Ron was mid-way through a shave. He grazed his eyes over me from head to toe, lingering on my face for a few moments.
“Fine.” He cocked his head to the back. I walked through a beaded curtain to a small, but well organised and neat office. I sat quietly until I mustered up the nerve to call Doron’s mobile.
“Doron?”
“Who is this?” he asked in his thick Israeli accent. I was a bit miffed he hadn’t saved me to his contacts. Or perhaps he’d already deleted me.
“Tal Roth,” I answered keeping my voice steady.
“Tal, my boy!” He sounded genuinely pleased to hear from me. Bastard. “What can I do for you?”
“Can I see you, Doron? I have a proposal that I think would appeal to you.”
After several seconds ticked by, his deep voice answered me. “Good, good. Where would you like to meet?”
In that moment, my heart sank and I thought I might be sick. Every single meeting with him had historically taken place in my office. The fact that he hadn’t suggested it as a location gave him away. He knew it had been trashed. I had to find out if he had been behind it.
“I’m out and about today – I can come to you.” Doron had a house in Radlett that he stayed in when in England. I had been to a summer party there once. “I can be there in an hour.” Doron confirmed this was ok and cut the call. I left the safety of Ron’s little office.
“Is everything alright, Tal?” Ron looked concerned.
“Not really, mate, but it will be.” I sounded more reassured than I felt.
“Noticed you were dropped off in an Uber. No car today?” Clearly Ron was observant.
“Umm, not today, no.” I must have looked like I was fishing for an excuse because Ron narrowed his eyes at me.
“Can I lend you my car?”
&
nbsp; “Why would you do that?” I gaped at him. “You hardly know me.”
The barber shrugged. “I know enough. It may not be a McLaren, but it’ll get you where you need to go.” He pulled a set of keys out of his pocket and tossed them to me. “Parked out back.”
“I’m grateful Ron, thank you. I…I…”
“Best not elaborate. Just return it when you’re done.”
I was saved from any more awkwardness by the doorbell. A customer had arrived for a haircut demanding Ron’s attention elsewhere. I mumbled my goodbyes and shot out the back. There in the alleyway sat a shiny black Smart car. I chuckled to myself. It was at least the new sport version with a cabriolet roof. I climbed into the miniscule vehicle and took off for Radlett.
10
The journey was uneventful and I reached there in good time. I parked a little way down the road from the gates to his ridiculously huge house, and contemplated what I might say. I was weary, so I let my head lean heavily against the seat and closed my eyes. My thoughts immediately went to a raven-haired beauty with pale creamy skin and red pouty lips. My Bastien. I snorted. When had I begun to think of him as mine? The moment he wrapped that fucking sinful mouth around my cock for the first time? Or when he tormented me through the scene last night? Was it when I left this morning, promising to come back as soon as possible? It all seemed such a long time ago, and so far removed from my present reality. I snapped my eyes open and refused to let my focus become distracted from the task at hand. It wouldn’t be long before G & T found me; I had to hurry up.
I decided to leave the car where it was parked and walk the short distance to Doron’s entry gate. As I lifted my hand to buzz on the intercom, a disturbance behind me made me twist around. The next thing I knew was a sharp jab in my neck followed by the call of darkness.
“Wake up, boy.”
My head was fuzzy and my mouth was thick. I grunted, which sent sharp jolts of pain into my head. I tried to raise my hands but discovered they were restrained. I prised my eyes open dubiously.
“What the fuck!” I struggled to compute my surroundings. “Who the hell are you?”
A man I had never seen before stood in front of me dressed in a sharp black suit, shirt and tie.
“I think you will find, I am asking the questions.”
I wasn’t sure of his accent. It could have been Eastern European or Russian.
“Let me go. I think you have the wrong person.” My head was still so fuzzy. I was so confused.
“I assure you not, Mr Roth.”
Hearing my name on this thug’s lips was nothing short of terrifying. Once again, I tried to move but couldn’t. It reminded me of Izzy’s scene, but I felt sure there was no safe wording to get me out of this predicament. My head swam. I needed to piss and I was extremely thirsty. My shoulders burned and my arms ached.
“I need to piss,” I declared.
“So, piss,” came the response.
My chest tightened. I twisted my head tentatively to take in my situation, and immediately regretted it. My balls drew up in fear.
I was hanging by chains from a hook in the ceiling of what looked like a basement. There was no natural light and the air felt cloying. My skin was clammy. I tried to place my feet on the floor to take the strain off my arms but I could only stand on tip toes.
I was naked and exposed. I began to tremble.
“Now you see. I am asking the questions.” The man must have been well over six foot to be able to look me in the eye.
“What do you want?” I rasped. I was frightened beyond belief.
“Sagall’s money.” The man barked out a laugh. I shuddered in horror as it dawned on me that he thought I was someone important to Doron.
“Sagall doesn’t care about me. He certainly doesn’t divulge his finances to me. He set me up, for fuck’s sake!” I cried out. The man turned away for me and reached for something. My eyes widened when he showed me the leather paddle.
“No, please. You’re mistaken…”
I yelled as the flat of the paddle hit my arse. The sting was hideous. He repeated the action four more times. I yelled each time. I was panting hard when he stopped. I was unable to stop swaying. I stretched my toes to the floor for purchase, panicking at the strain in my shoulders.
“Who are you? Please, let me explain. I’m no one.” I was a babbling wreck. My captor hadn’t made it clear what he wanted from me and I felt helpless and afraid.
“You are faggot, no?”
My skin crawled at the disgust in his tone. I refused to answer.
“You are Jew faggot.”
Anger burned from deep within. The way he described me made me certain this was the same person who had wrecked my offices.
“Jew faggot who makes money for Sagall.”
“He’s one of many clients,” I retorted. “It’s what I do, I’m a financial adviser.”
“You are thief.” The man gripped my chin as he spat out his words. Drops of saliva landed on my face.
“Nnnnot a thief.”
“You laundered money for Sagall. He was supposed to give money to my boss. But it has disappeared.”
My stomach rolled. “I don’t have the money.”
“But you know where it is.” The man trailed the paddled down my chest letting it rest on my cock and balls. He pressed down hard making me huff.
“I don’t know where it is. I only just found out that Doron used me for his criminal purposes. I was going there today to confront him.”
The paddle came down hard on my exposed genitals. I retched in agony and screamed as I jerked about on my chains. The sting on my cock and the ache in my balls was too much. I had no pain threshold to speak of, which is why I left Izzy to the kinky stuff.
“Please, don’t,” I begged.
“Tell me where you hid the money.”
“I can’t tell you because I don’t know!” I yelled out the words. I felt the veins in my forehead and neck pop with the strain.
“Liar!” the man roared back. “You will tell me or I will beat it out of you.”
I shook my head vehemently. I begged and pleaded my innocence, but it fell on deaf ears. Each time I refuted my involvement, I received another paddling. My arse was on fire and I still desperately needed to piss.
“Tell me.” The man was relentless.
“Why won’t you believe me? Look, I have Sagall’s number, call him and ask him yourself.”
“Stupid faggot. Dead men cannot speak.”
My blood ran cold. Doron was dead? This thug must have killed him while I was on route. If Doron had been executed, that meant they really thought I knew where he kept his money. Bile filled my throat as I scrambled around in my head trying to think of something I could palm them off with. A tune filled the silence and he reached into his pocket for his phone.
“Tolya.” His eyes met mine as he barked into the mouthpiece. I swallowed. I didn’t know much about how criminals operated, but knowing his name did not bode well for my future. Rapid fire Russian followed. “Dar. Dar. Ok.” He pocketed his phone before removing his jacket and placing it carefully on a chair.
“I have researched on the internet to discover best way to torture gay man. I have watched porn. I have learned many ways to bring you special kind of gay pain.” Tolya smirked. “I am afraid you will enjoy disgusting behaviour, so I buy something you not like.”
I raised my head to see what he had reached for. It was a pot of cream.
“I use. You stay hard for long time.”
My head dropped heavily to my chest. This was pure hell. No one knew where I was; I didn’t even know where I was. And it was all my fault for deceiving Izzy.
Tolya’s face was a mask of disgust. I wanted to ask him why he didn’t just beat the shit out of me, rather than subject me to something he found so repulsive. My head wanted to explode with how helpless I felt and at my own stupidity for thinking I could do this alone. I was so intent on not putting my friends in peril, that I ignored thei
r warnings and landed myself in danger. Tolya snapped on a pair of latex gloves, before squeezing a hefty glob of cream into his palms. He sneered at me as he grasped my cock roughly and began to massage it in. I yelled and cursed to no avail. I was sure there was no way I was getting hard; not under this amount of distress, yet my traitorous body betrayed me. With despair, I felt my cock begin to fill under Tolya’s constant cajoling. Whatever was in that cream burned and tingled excruciatingly, but I couldn’t fight the effects.
“Goddamn, Motherfucker!” I yelled at him. “Get the fuck off meeeeee.” I yanked on my chains so hard I nearly dislocated my shoulders. Tolya laughed at me. “You’re a fucking pervert!” I accused. “Bet you’re hard as a fucking rock. Getting off on this, aren’t you?”
I thought perhaps if I taunted him, he’d stop, and he did, but only long enough to slap me hard around the face.
“Open your fucking mouth, faggot,” he demanded. There was no way I was doing as I was told. He gripped my cheeks and squeezed my nose shut until I was forced to gasp for air through my mouth. Big mistake. As soon as it was open he spat an enormous glob of mucus right into the back of my throat. I heaved and tried to spit it back out immediately, but he clamped a sticky, latex covered hand over my mouth so that I was forced to swallow. Tears streamed down my face. I was humiliated and frightened and repulsed.
“Unless you confess, do not speak, or I make you quiet.” Tolya’s tone was full of menace. I kept my mouth shut and tried to ignore the taste of him at the back of my throat.
Showing me not an ounce of mercy, he continued to pump my cock until I found it impossible to hold my piss any longer “Need to pee,” I whimpered, aware that I was disobeying his order not to talk, however, I really needed to go to the loo.
Tolya narrowed his eyes at me, then he deliberately and with much glee, pushed down on my bladder.
“Oh Jesus. Oh fuck…” I couldn’t stop myself from releasing an odorous stream of urine. It dripped down my legs and onto the floor, splashing Tolya’s shoes. I cried at the shame. I cried for fear of reprisal, but mostly I cried because I was scared of dying and never seeing Bastien or my parents again.