by H E Johnson
I looked at Shaun. “Watch us do what exactly? Dig an escape tunnel?” I shook my head at the thought of digging into packed dirt with bare hands. “We’re here till someone opens that door and lets us out.”
“Fine. Maybe she got hit on the head.” Shaun shrugged. “Whatever. She won’t talk to us so what does it matter?”
“It matters because she might know where we are,” I told him. “It’s the first rule of real estate too. Location, location, location.”
“You know her?” asked Emily.
“Yeah. She tried to kill me. Twice.”
Emily laughed. “This just gets better and better,” she said. “Your gang wants you dead?” Pointing a finger at Helga, Emily sneered, “And this fat slob was the best they could send?”
If the insult had been meant to. arouse Helga, it failed. Emily turned back to me.
She said, “You’ve worked with this gang for how long now?”
I told her.
Shaun broke in. “So what’s the setup? How many of them are there?” He paused. “If this fight’s being staged outdoors, won’t there be an opportunity to make a break for it?”
I considered telling them the truth. Sweet hadn’t given me more details precisely to avoid making the fight look fixed. Still, sharing this info would boost the Wexfords’ confidence. Give them ideas maybe. And I saw no reason to provide my opponents with any advantage. If it came to a fight, I wanted the odds squarely on the right side.
Mine.
So I lied.
“The team that kidnapped you doesn’t know where the fight’s being held. One or two of the main crew transport us to the site. Another team is there to manage the actual event. Our best chance of escape will be during transport. That’s the only time we’ll outnumber them. But it won’t be easy.”
“She’s lying.” Helga’s voice echoed in the cavernous space. From her recumbent position, she stated firmly, “We have no chance. Not here. Not there. Not on the way there either.” Rolling off the bed, Helga stood and faced me. “Killing you wasn’t my job, okay? When you went on that two-week bender, you got everyone freaked. So they hired me to check your reflexes and keep you sharp. That was it. But they don’t trust you anymore, Crystal.” Helga sniffled. “When you die, they’re going to make it look like I killed you and then offed myself.”
That explained Helga’s presence. But there was still something I needed to know.
“Why don’t they trust me?” I asked.
Helga shook her head. “All I know is what Eddie told me. He said you called Dobbs.” Helga stared at me. “Is it true?” When I didn’t answer, she nodded to herself. “Fuck! You think Sweet didn’t know about your stupid go bag? He had Feliks bug the burner phone in case you tried to fuck off with Epstein.” Helga sighed. “That was a really dumb move, Crystal. Really dumb.”
I took a moment to digest these nuggets. The sequence of events made sense now. Federov discovered my call to Dobbs. Federov told Sweet. And Sweet told the crew to grab me before I split.
Helga was right. Using McCord’s burner phone had been stupid. I gave myself a mental kick in the ass.
Emily Wexford snorted. “Why should we believe either one of you?” she asked. “I mean, you’ve both admitted working for this gang, right? Maybe you’re here to psych us out before the match.”
“Yeah,” chimed in Shaun. “You want us to believe our situation is completely hopeless so we’ll get desperate. That way DEAD4U puts on a better show.”
I looked at Emily and then Shaun. The Wexfords gave me icy stares. I turned to Helga. She shrugged.
I had nothing to lose. I took a deep breath. As my mouth opened to explain that I was really a dead cop named Nikita Chen, a shaft of yellow light pierced the building’s semi-gloom.
“Salamander,” I whispered urgently. “SOS.”
The door closed. Big Boy pushed a large metal trolley toward our cluster of cages.
“Feeding time at the zoo,” said Helga.
◆◆◆
Big Boy told us to put our hands through the bars of our cells. Adding, “Show me that your hands are empty. If you want to eat, that is.”
No one objected to being fed. After cuffing us, he opened our cages to deposit. food trays on the beds. Then he went around re-locking the cells and removing handcuffs.
“Eat up,” he told us. “I’ll be back in an hour to collect the dishes.”
Helga gave him a stony look. Big Boy ignored her.
Turning, he walked out. I repeated my SOS as the door opened. Murmuring, “Chameleon,” as it shut.
“Did you say something?” asked Emily. Her tone was suspicious.
I smiled. “Just giving thanks for this food,” I told her.
Emily rolled her eyes.
In fact, my meal was mouth-wateringly delicious. Cooked by someone who’d trained in a culinary school. Preparation and presentation were letter perfect. As requested, I received precisely three scoops of Rocky Road. Plenty of reason to be thankful for that. Especially if this was my last meal.
I finished while my dinner companions were still stuffing their faces. So I checked out their food. Shaun was eating yogurt. Emily drank a revolting smoothie concoction. And poor Helga chewed listlessly at a plain tuna sandwich on white bread.
Yuck.
I sipped my coffee and eyed my now-depleted food tray. The steak knife caught my attention. Pinkish-red juice dripped from its straight-edged blade. Naturally I fantasized about sticking the pointy end into whoever bussed the dishes. This pleasant daydream was, of course, impractical. Sweet and Company weren’t stupid. Handing me a lethal weapon was their way of saying they didn’t fear me. That I was powerless to fight them.
Emily said, “You have to show your hands before he’ll try and cuff you.” When I turned to her, she smirked. Adding: “In case you’ve got ideas about cutting his throat.”
I shrugged. “A girl can dream, can’t she?”
I picked up the knife and wiped it on a paper napkin. Throwing a steak knife wasn’t completely impossible. But with no chance to practise, getting it right the first time would be tricky.
Still.
I considered the ramifications. If I managed to kill whoever came for the trays, the body had to fall close enough to a cage for one of us to get the key. If that cage wasn’t mine, I’d have to rely on Helga or one of the Wexfords to let me out. Given my mad-dog killer rep, I didn’t see that happening.
Emily came over to the side of her cage nearest mine. She whispered, “Have you done any knife throwing?”
In fact, I had. As a kid learning martial arts, I’d picked up a few basics. Hammer versus pinch grip. Angling the knife to adjust for range. Release and follow through. But that had been more than twenty years ago. Trying something like this now reeked of desperation. If I failed, there’d be no second chance.
I met Emily’s eyes. Then glanced meaningfully at the chain attached to my ankle. She nodded to show that she understood.
Question was: could I trust her? There was only one way to find out.
◆◆◆
By the time Big Boy returned to collect our trays, everyone was on board with the plan. Keeping it secret seemed pointless. There was no way to know which of us would get a shot at grabbing the key. Whoever it was needed to be ready to seize that chance-in-a-million.
I watched Big Boy approach. My right thumb was folded slightly to grasp the steak knife by its handle. I’d practised holding it close to the forearm and whipping it up to grasp the blade in a head-high pinch grip for a close-quarters throw. But I hadn’t been able to practise the throw itself.
“Hands through the bars,” Big Boy ordered. He rattled the cuffs. “I don’t wanna have to stun-gun anyone. Okay?”
Shaun got cuffed first. I was next. As Big Boy reached for my wrists, I pulled my right arm up. Caught the blade in a pinch grip. And threw a tight spiral.
Big Boy groaned and staggered backward against Helga’s cage. The hilt protruded from his chest n
ear the left shoulder. Fuck! I’d missed the heart. Helga, grabbing him round the throat, slammed the back of the hulking giant’s head against the bars.
The door opened and in ran Federov and three men I hadn’t seen before. Federov didn’t waste time. A fingertip strike to the throat staggered Helga. This allowed the others to pry Big Boy away and escort him out of the building.
Federov turned and scowled at me.
“No more games,” he said. “Or I’ll have to sedate you.” He bared his shark smile. “Might slow you down tomorrow but I can live with that.”
Fuck it. I let him cuff me.
Sunday, Fun Day
Federov dimmed the lights before leaving. No one spoke for a while. The only sound came from Helga gulping air.
Shaun broke the silence. “So much for that, eh?”
“Shut the fuck up, Shaun,” snapped Emily.
“They’re watching everything we do,” he whined. “They hear everything we say. It’s fucking hopeless, Em.”
She raged back at him. “Don’t be such a pussy! Fuck! Did they snip off your balls, Shaun? Hey. Maybe I could borrow your dick. That way at least one of us could pretend to be a man.”
Bored with their domestic shit, I took advantage of the near dark to use the chemical toilet. The splash of urine rang loud in my ears. I wondered if Federov was watching and if he got off hearing me piss. The memory of his cock in my ass made me want to shit. So I did.
Afterward I wiped myself and found a jar of hand sanitizer beside the toilet to clean my hands.
“All the comforts of home,” remarked Emily.
Way to keep the mood upbeat. “At least there’s a toilet,” I said.
From Shaun’s cell came a grunt followed by a torrent of piss.
“I’m getting a divorce,” said Emily. “If I don’t die first.”
◆◆◆
At some point I lay down and closed my eyes. I woke to a voice shouting. Took a moment before I realized the voice was yelling at me.
“Wakey, wakey!”
I opened my eyes and sat up. The lights had been turned back up. Standing in front of my tiny prison was Federov with three goons whom I presumed were from the grab team. Federov pointed at the bars. I looked around. My companions were standing with hands cuffed. Watching me wake up.
Creepy much?
I went to Federov and put my hands through the bars. He cuffed them. Then he opened our cages and placed a large trash bag on each bed. I could see the bags weren’t empty. Were we expected to clean up?
After re-locking the cells, he uncuffed our wrists. Federov’s shark eyes swivelled to encompass us all.
“Costumes are in the bags. You got fifteen minutes to change.” He smirked. “Anyone not done in fifteen gets a cattle prod up the ass. Questions?”
Nobody had questions. He stood there as we stripped and fumbled in the bags for our costumes. Emily and Shaun turned their backs to change. Helga didn’t bother and neither did I.
I wriggled into the black latex chemise first. Next came the red ballet slippers with the idiotic satin ties. Then the fingerless black lace gloves. When I finished dressing, I looked at Federov.
He grinned back at me. “Looking good, Crystal.”
“Holy fuck,” said Shaun.
I glanced at Shaun Wexford. His mouth hung open as he ogled me. The man was practically drooling.
Shaun was bare-chested and bare-legged. A furry tiger-striped jockstrap covered his balls and dick. On his feet were ankle-length sandals. He had a decent body but nothing spectacular.
“Keep it in your sack, Shaun,” sneered a voice behind me.
I turned to Emily. Emily Wexford’s outfit consisted of matching green leather bra and panties studded with silver spikes. She was struggling to cram her feet into a pair of high-heeled yellow boots. They were supposed to fit over the knees but seemed a little on the tight side. Maybe she’d gained weight in captivity.
“Time’s almost up,” warned Federov. “You need help in there, Emily? Or maybe you got a thing for cattle prods, huh?”
Helga lurched at Federov through the bars of her cage but those thick hands came up short of his neck. Helga was dressed in a one-piece fur as someone’s idea of a cavewoman. She didn’t seem pleased with her makeover. For which I couldn’t blame her.
Federov didn’t flinch. Or bother turning to give Helga a rap on the knuckles. He just smiled.
With a final grunt, Emily managed to stuff her feet into the boots. She stood up and tried walking in them. I watched her wobble slightly. I looked down at my ballet slippers and sent a silent prayer of thanks to Jackie/Novak.
Again we submitted to being handcuffed. Only this time we were told to turn around and keep our hands inside the bars. With our wrists secured behind our backs, Federov and company opened the cages and marched us out.
One of the grab team opened the door for us. The morning air was damp and warm. I smelled gasoline and cigarette smoke. Above us was a grey sky streaked with slightly darker hues closer to the ground. A yellow school bus waited with its engine running.
Going to the zoo, kiddies.
I glanced over my shoulder at our makeshift prison. It was a metal industrial building. Kind of structure that housed tractors or pigs.
One of the grab team guys caught me looking.
“Eyes forward,” he warned.
I did as instructed and trudged on.
What had Sweet told me? Thirty degrees centigrade. Sixty percent chance of rain. Looking spot on so far. Hopefully Sweet hadn’t changed the venue out of spite. An outdoor fight on rough yet slippery terrain would place Team Wexford at a disadvantage. Emily’s high heels and Shaun’s spiky sandals could easily snag and trip them up.
Then I remembered the nanoplants. I spoke the password that turned them on.
“Heading to fight,” I whispered into my throat. “Extract asap.”
◆◆◆
The grab team loaded us onto the bus and told us where to sit. Then they left and Federov came aboard with Eddie Tilo in tow. Big Boy scowled at me. I guess he hadn’t forgiven me for that steak knife in the chest.
Federov and Big Boy showed us their stun guns. Federov said:
“No heroes. Okay? You’re fighting for your lives today. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”
We sat and waited for a few minutes. Then a car drove up. It was the Mercedes. My heart jumped. Sweet was behind the wheel. I watched him lean across to kiss someone. Then the passenger door opened and out stepped Darlene.
The ex who was maybe not so ex?
Fuck.
Was I jealous? A little. Okay, a lot. Which was stupid considering Sweet wanted me dead. But that’s what happens when sex muddies the waters. People make dumb choices based on survival of the species. Women want leaders. Men want breeders. And nobody stops to ask why.
Duh.
Darlene came onto the bus as Sweet pulled out. She didn’t look at me. She took a moment to adjust the driver’s seat. Then she sat down, closed the bus door and drove away from the building.
◆◆◆
We headed out. The bus wasn’t air-conditioned and felt uncomfortably warm. Windows were shut tight. We travelled over a gravel road set between fields of corn on either side. After what seemed a lifetime, the bus turned onto a small paved road leading north. A road sign had been defaced with spray paint.
Our captors were being thorough.
I knew we were east of the city but couldn’t say where. No speed signs had been touched. But every directional sign had been vandalized.
In case one of us escaped? Hmm. Maybe the opportunity would present itself. However slim the chance, it must exist. Otherwise why take precautions?
“Nikita.”
Griffin’s voice startled me. I did my best to cover my reaction. Federov’s eyes were glued to me. Waiting for me to try something, anything.
If the bus had a radio frequency tracker, I was screwed.
We turned off the road. The ride g
ot bumpier. Dust billowed around us. Bus was back on gravel now. Getting close to the game site. My mouth felt dry.
“Nikita,” Griffin repeated. “If talking’s too risky, just listen. We received your transmission yesterday but couldn’t fix your location till about forty minutes ago. Wolseley and Novak are on the way. Extraction might be tricky. We don’t know the setup yet. When you reach the site, remember to look in all directions so I can see the layout. Um, if you can avoid killing civilians, we’d appreciate it.” He paused. I heard him clear his throat. “If the Wexfords are with you, cough once for yes.”
I coughed once.
Big Boy gave me a frozen stare. He hadn’t forgotten or forgiven that steak knife.
“Good,” said Griffin. Then: “I’ll shut up now so you can concentrate on what’s going on around you. Good luck.”
Good luck? Seriously?
The bus continued over gravel for ten or fifteen minutes. Fields gave way to woodland. Then I saw the splash of water drops on the window beside me. It was starting to rain.
Great.
The bus made a sharp right past an old wooden shed with peeling red paint. And stopped in a small clearing surrounded by pines and birch. I spotted black birds circling in the distance. Vultures?
Darlene got up, opened the door and stepped down. Sweet was there to greet her. I watched them kiss and felt my stomach dripping acid.
Federov caught me looking and smirked.
“Okay,” he hollered. “End of the line. Everybody gets off here. No stragglers.”
Eddie got off first. He held a stun gun. One by one, we disembarked. Helga was first. Next was Shaun. Then Emily. I went last.
Darlene got back on the bus. She waved at me. I held up my handcuffed arms and gave her a double pump back. Darlene smiled. Then she backed the bus out of the clearing and left us in a cloud of dust.
Maybe she didn’t want to see the show.
Hmm.