Cautiously, I rose from my bunk. No, my rib didn’t complain anymore.
Could I break the door with a well-placed kick? Upon my arrival, I had had little time to examine the door, the frame and the lock—it had appeared like a robust construction for an ordinary cellar door, only with a better seal against light. Nothing that would let the ordinary craftsman suspect anything but the protection of delicate wine supplies.
So—kick!
With a loud crack, the door flew open. This way never having discarded my martial arts training paid off—one of the few remainders of my old life. My nanos only helped me to precisely place my kick and then keep my balance. The rest was my own doing.
I took my time to listen—no, there were no hurrying feet approaching. The way from the kitchen was long. If they’d come, they needed more time. Time that I could use to run toward them and then find a place to hide and let them pass.
Hide in the playroom? No—I’d never voluntarily enter that room.
At the foot of the stairs, I listened again. There was still no sound, so I went up.
Was I really so lucky? Had nobody heard me? No guard in the hallway? Then I only needed a seaside exit, and I’d be gone.
Then I turned around the corner at the upper platform and gazed right into Bart’s face.
“Who’s there? Hey—freeze or I’ll shoot!”
Chapter One-Hundred-And-Forty-Nine
I complied with the gist of his order and stepped entirely into the hallway. Fleeing back to the cellar wouldn’t have helped me, and I didn’t want to take the chance of him realizing his threat.
Bart took the opportunity to scrutinize my naked body again while informing his mates via radio. “We have an escapee—yes, I believe we have to take other measures.”
Then he turned to me again. “Well, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be sitting in your cell?”
I shrugged. “I’ve been hungry and in search for breakfast. The door didn’t offer resistance worth mentioning, so I simply left.”
From his grim face, I could read that he was far less relaxed than his question had let me hope for. He reached out and gave me a ringing slap in the face. I could have dodged it—only I wasn’t ready to show my quick reaction as long as I didn’t see an immediate chance for escape.
I didn’t have to pretend to cry out in pain and then hold my cheek, where his sharp-edged ring had left a bloody scratch. This only was the appetizer.
“Bloody bitch,” he cursed. “Even cheeky, are you?”
Until his mates arrived, he restrained himself. Then Rifle and Knuckles took one of my arms each, and Bart gave me an extended, not very gentle treatment.
“Here’s your breakfast,” he wheezed between his strikes.
Once he thought to have beaten me up enough, he changed with Rifle and let him continue. Finally, it was Knuckles’ turn, and thanks to the application of his favorite tool, it became truly unpleasant.
I focused on blinding out the worst pain. Later, I wouldn’t want to remember details. When I finally hung between them whimpering, having hardly any spot on my body without bruises, the strikes stopped. Instead, they continued with the mandatory gang rape, during which they didn’t treat me gently either, and when I finally thought I’d be done, they carried me down to the cellar. No—not into another dark cell, but into the playroom!
Chapter One-Hundred-And-Fifty
It was entirely clear to me that I’d have lost once they tied me to any of the torture devices. I wouldn’t be able to tear myself free from the steel shackles, and I didn’t want to imagine what would happen next. They’d probably leave the worst to their landlord, but until then I’d hardly fare better than in Dandy’s hands—and after this treatment, they couldn’t let me go. Put differently—if I didn’t run now, I’d be as good as dead.
Sadly I didn’t feel in top shape now. Just the opposite, I felt as if a Dragon had shitted me out half-digestedly, as the proverb went. Without my nanos I’d already have been unconscious and thus lost. Moreover, the healing of my rib had cost me power that I hadn’t been able to replace yet.
I felt somewhat dizzy, my heart beat so loud that I thought everybody would hear it, I was sweating—in short, I was scared to hell.
“Look how Shortie is trembling,” Bart reported happily. “You’re scared, aren’t you?”
“She’s right,” Knuckles agreed. “Once the boss is here…”
He left the rest to my sadly all too fancy imagination. Oh crap! One short, naked, hungry, through-the-mill woman against three strong, armed men. I knew how I’d have placed my bet.
The first attempt had to succeed. I wouldn’t get the chance for another, so I briefly ran the sequence in my mind and prepared alternative moves for different defensive reactions.
And exploded.
One moment I hung like a wet noodle between Bart at my left and Rifle at my right side, while Knuckles was already opening the first steel wrist-cuff at the large wooden cross. The next moment my knee swung around and firmly hit Bart’s balls.
His grip around my sweaty wet left arm loosened. Twisting to the left on my left foot I dived around under it and levered my right arm out of Rifle’s hands. In the same movement, my left hit hard between his legs. My right leg reached out and scythed Knuckles’ legs away from under his body.
Two strikes against the temples put Bart and Rifle out for a while, then I served Knuckles a small dose of his own medicine—without metallic aids, but just as effective.
For all they already had done to me, and even more for what they had planned, the three guys surely hadn’t deserved mercy, just the opposite—I should have beaten them up at least as systematically as they had done me before. Perhaps it even would have been better to kill them so that they couldn’t cross my way ever again.
But I didn’t want that. I wanted to be able to get up in the morning, look into the mirror, and honestly say—I’m no murderer. I don’t beat up people, neither for fun nor out of revenge. I only hit to take someone out, so that I can save myself.
That’s what I did now. I left, safely assuming to have left the guards behind. However, I didn’t refrain from locking the playroom door from outside.
I calculated at least five minutes head start, but briefly after arriving at the ground floor, I already heard shots—at least one of the three was conscious again and opened the door the hard way. Now I should be quick, I told myself and hurried on to the main entrance. As I didn’t know if the window where I had entered was still usable, and as there might be no other unsecured windows to the outside, I had to leave through the main gate now, and then turn to the sea.
I had just reached the entrance door, when the main gate opened automatically. Outside in the dawning morning an expensive limousine waited. Was that the landlord? Then he was darn early—and I was stuck in the trap like between Dragon and Jelly. Three times stirred Dragon crap!
Chapter One-Hundred-And-Fifty-One
Footsteps behind me—the boys were coming!
There was no time to bemoan my situation—I simply dashed off, out of the door and to the side, out of sight, then on toward the gate. The car rolled inside, silently humming, and the gate began to close.
The car’s passengers stared at the naked woman who sprinted toward them. The driver immediately stopped, the wheels locking on the courtyard gravel. Two doors flew open, and two bulky guys jumped out of the car left and right, one of them just into my way. Swiftly, I slipped through under his arms and just so jumped through the closing gate.
From inside, I heard calls between guards and new arrivals. “Here!” — “That’s the slut” — “Shouldn’t escape,” I heard, while hurrying across the rough rocky ground under the walls. Whether sharp-edged stones cut my soles or low bushes scratched my calves—I couldn’t care for that now.
I was glad that the new arrivals had tried to catch me first and didn’t draw their guns right away. That would surely come next, so I stayed close to the wall, where I could
hardly be spotted or hit from the small windows. It wasn’t far to the building’s rear side. There came the hard part—I had to reach the edge of the cliff. No cover.
As soon as I left the wall, the first shot rang. Clever—they had guessed the way I had to take. Doubling over, I approached the safety of the edge. I had no time to look for a cautious climb. I literally had to jump over the edge—and that moment a bullet hit my left lower leg.
My Analogy offered me a good mental image of the cliff, how it looked from the sea side, and also showed me my position. So I knew exactly where I could find a hold below the edge, where I had to hold my hands and feet to catch my fall. An injured leg hadn’t been provided for in this plan, though.
Stinging pain like from an electric shock went up my leg when I reached my landing position, and about a fourth of my weight bore on the shot muscles and strings. Tears shot into my eyes and blurred my vision. Without nanos, the sudden shock would have let me drop unconsciously, now I wasn’t spared to bear the pain fully awake, until the welcome numbing came into effect. On the other hand—the way I remembered the rocks below me, I could well be lying there with battered bones.
That could still happen, if I didn’t hurry up. They surely had followed me around the building, too, and soon a face would peek over the edge of the cliff, followed by a gun barrel, and then…
I had no time to collect my diver suit and the fins. Very likely I also didn’t have time to climb down the cliff. I only had time to stop the bleeding at my leg, shift my weight to the right leg, and forcefully push myself away.
The impulse catapulted me past the larger rocks at the cliff’s base. After diving into the sea, I only had to quickly turn to scratch across the rocks under the surface. Ouch!
More poorly aimed bullets rushed past me on both sides. With a quick crawl, I gained distance and reached deeper water, dived farther down and changed the direction, too. Only a chance hit could reach me now, and even then the sea water would have significantly reduced its impact. I was safe from pistols. With the blood around my leg wound and the scratches, I only had to worry about sharks now.
Chapter One-Hundred-And-Fifty-Two
The thought of these dangerous predators gave me enough motivation to stay the course despite my condition, until I had reached my mission entry point a few kilometers up the coast. In this short section a shallow beach allowed easy access to the sea—and of course also beaching with an injured leg.
I walked—no, hobbled, on cut feet and shot leg a few steps away from the water, then I let myself sink down into the soft sand. I felt so battered! Finally, I could let the pain of the beatings, the flight, the shot wound reach me, could let myself down and simply cry!
“Are you injured?”
The male voice sounded friendly, nevertheless, I flinched like bitten by a Jelly and prepared to jump up. A hand came to rest on my shoulder and pushed me down. “Stay reclined. I won’t hurt you.”
I simply had to believe that. I wanted to believe, I just didn’t have the power for another flight. Now, I could take my time to watch the speaker through a veil of tears. A bulky man in a dark raincoat, with bald patch and gray hair but a toned body, kneeled next to me. He was badly shaved, smiling and his eyebrows were raised, worrying.
“You’re completely wiped out.” He handed me a handkerchief. “There.”
I gladly accepted that offer. First, I wiped the tears away, salt water on salt water, then I thoroughly blew my nose. After I had completed the procedure, I had more or less regained my composure.
His gaze wandered across my nude body. I saw no desire, only worries. “Seems your leg’s caught a bullet. But it doesn’t bleed anymore. Does it hurt?”
“A little,” I admitted. My healing abilities weren’t his business. “Who are you?”
“You don’t need to know that. Who shot at you?”
“You don’t need to know that,” I defiantly returned. I felt cold, and the guy sat between me and my hidden warm clothes.
“On the contrary, I need to know that, at least if it is related to the shots that could be heard from the villa over there a while ago.” He pointed in the general direction of my target. “I have a strong suspicion that you might have been there, even if I have no clue how someone could escape from there and then swim two miles through shark-infested waters with a bullet wound in his leg.” He seemed to make up his mind. “I’m interested in this villa. I’d be grateful for additional information.”
His pronunciation implied more, more of whatever.
“Okay, Mr. X. Help me up, let me dress in something, and then we’ll talk. You won’t accidentally have a pot of hot chocolate ready?”
He rose and grinned, then he reached out a hand. “Only lukewarm coffee, but sure you can have a cup. Come.”
I let him help me up, resting more on the right leg. My nanos were still repairing the left side, so that I at least could put weight on it. I deliberately kept them from repairing the outer marks. “Thank you. Over there.”
The stranger patiently waited while I pulled a camouflage-colored backpack from under a bush, rubbed myself down with a towel, and then put on a track suit. In the end the backpack also provided a pair of sneakers and a cereal bar.
“Where to?”
He pointed inland, where at closer inspection a minivan was visible under some trees. I made two steps—and my left leg gave in. He very quickly grabbed me and prevented my fall, then he supported me for the rest of the way.
Chapter One-Hundred-And-Fifty-Three
The bench inside the van invited a cozy nap—nothing I’d rather had done. But my host had questions, and it would be impolite to just fall asleep now. Moreover, the lukewarm coffee smelled almost divine.
I quickly drank the first cup in small sips. The stranger refilled my cup without asking. What kind of guy was that? No name, interested in this snake pit, American by language— “CIA?” I asked cheekily.
The answer was a raised eyebrow. “Close,” he admitted, “and you don’t need to know more. Now, what can you tell me? You’ve been inside, have you?”
“Yes. How do you know?” I thought about it. “The guards’ radio, right? Even if the messages are encrypted, you can notice the unusual activity. And some deduction—first there are shots, even outside the building, a little later the sea washes a woman with a fresh bullet wound ashore—that’s talking volumes.”
He grinned over the edge of his coffee cup. “You are good. That’s how it is.”
“As I know that you’re not here for my sake, you’re interested in the landlord. Yes, I’ve been inside. It was a tempting target. Difficult to reach and promising. Sadly, it didn’t match my expectations—nothing to get for myself.”
Should I tell him the whole story? Yes—either he belonged, then I was due, or he really worked for the opposition, then I could tell him. He had me by the balls anyway.
“They wouldn’t have let me go. The landlord has a nice torture chamber in his cellar, and according to the words of his guards he likes to play with young women who are not missed by anyone.”
“Crap.” For the first time, he watched me more closely, showed more than just professional interest. “What did they do to you?”
“Beaten me up and raped me. Before it could become worse, I got away.”
“If I say you’ve been lucky, that sounds ironic, but I don’t mean it that way. You look horrible with the big scratch on your face and the traces all over your body, but at least you can still stand upright. Nevertheless, I need to know if you noticed anything special during your—visit.”
With a nod I held my cup out. He filled it immediately. “Yes. You want to know if he belongs to the Cartel? Corporate Sponsoring? Certainly. His safe contains the plans for a Project Rattlesnake, a ten-year plan with Frostdragon as its target.”
He flinched. He’d almost have poured the coffee over my hands. Shaken, he set down the flask and stared into my face for what felt like three minutes. “Holy Dragon wings. For su
ch information I’ve been looking for the last five years. And a little thief stumbles across it by pure chance and has no clue how hot that stuff is.”
Ignoring the little thief, I leaned forward. “In fact, I have an idea how hot that stuff is. That’s the biggest number that the Cartel ever was resolved to do, and if they manage to get exclusive access to Dragon technology, they’ll have the whole world by its balls. They already own the graduates. Once I had seen that stuff, I knew that my life wasn’t worth a dime if anybody learned about it. Yet I’m telling you. Why? Because my life won’t be much fun if they pull that story through, and because I trust your pretty brown eyes so much. Well, Mr. X, what will you do now?”
His reply didn’t come quick. Finally he lowered his gaze. “What was that about the graduates?”
I explained my knowledge about the recruitments, about which Ulf had told me without unveiling his source. At the same time I asked myself—why didn’t the CIA know about that?
My host rubbed his face with his hands. He appeared very tired now. Then he straightened himself. “In his safe, you said?”
I nodded.
“Crap—how could you open it?”
“Professional secret.”
He clenched his fists and stared out of the window. “Damn. We’ve never been able to open a safe without triggering the burning charge. Damn.” Then he obviously made a decision. “We must strike. I’m sorry. I must make sure that you can’t warn them. For that, I have to lock you up in the car.”
“I’m coming along,” I heard me say to my own amazement. “You’ll need me.”
Chapter One-Hundred-And-Fifty-Four
Loser Page 31