Alibi Island

by SLMN

  Rosa lips pursed into a blade-thin half-smile.

  Passion pressed on. “To be honest with you, Rosa, I wouldn’t need the setup of the island and its evil intent to know you have no concept of embarrassment.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. Anyone who dresses like you do must be immune to shame.”

  The blade smile disappeared and the eyes blazed, but Rosa kept her composure.

  “You think you’ll get a rise from me, Ms. Valdez? No. You’ll not lead me into a rage. The clothes I wear are like the chalets decked in Swiss nonsense, the forest of transplanted oaks, my little Hobbit hole in the ground. It’s all for show, window-dressing for the dream we’re selling. The patrons and the residents seem to appreciate the effort I put in, and the cannibals certainly love what I cook up in my cauldron for them.”

  Passion felt the bile rising as Rosa’s tortoise feet lips worked and twisted around those impossible to listen to words.

  “We’re Enchanted Holdings, we don’t bring the magic to you. We bring you to the magic.”

  Rosa paused and turned to Crane.

  “Make a note of that, Stephen. I like it. We could put it on a letterhead or something.”

  Rosa fixed her eyes on Passion once more. “I can see from the disgust on your face it really wouldn’t do to invite you to one of my special barbeques, would it? It would be such a waste of good meat.”

  Rosa licked her lips greedily. Her tongue was slathered in white scum, which moved over cracks and deep crevices. It made the bile in Passion’s throat rise on the wave already there, at the thought of a cannibal barbeque.

  “We find that there is very little consumer resistance from customers to almost any act of depravity we can offer them. As long as we create an environment where they feel safe to indulge themselves. Isn’t that right, Mr. Ralston?”

  “Go to hell.”

  “For five million dollars a day you can set up home in hell if you want. And we have room service.”

  “Why are you telling us all this?”

  “Well, Ms. Valdez, I suppose it is for a number of reasons. One, I don’t get out much. I haven’t left the island for 20 years, so it’s nice to meet and chat with new people to tell them how proud I am of our operations. But mostly I enjoy watching the hope drain out of someone before I kill them. Do you know if you take away all hope, all chance of rescue, all sense of any possible future, a human will literally offer their throat to you to escape the horror of that hopeless thought? We had a girl recently…Macy…she ran from the compound to try to throw herself into a nearby ravine in some pointless act of suicidal rebellion. We caught her, of course. Killed her myself, and then those who paid enough ate her. I’m told she was delicious. But that’s an example of what I was saying. Take away the last atom of someone’s hope and they would rather die than live. I suppose you could say I’m waiting for you to offer me your throat so I can put you out of your misery.”

  “I’m afraid I’m going to disappoint you then.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “I’ll never fucking do what you say again,” Ralston spat. “I’m finished with this. I don’t care what happens to me. I’m not going to be your fucking stooge in Washington!”

  Rosa sighed. “Carla, we need some persuasion. I don’t think Mr. Ralston understands how much a woman of my word I am.”

  Carla nodded to one of the guards, he turned and went to the door, opened it and called out, “Karpov!”

  Moments later a fat guard came in, his face ruddy with sweat and his shirt half undone to his white belly. Walking behind him, pulled on a neck chain, held in place by a black leather collar, was Lainey Ralston. All she was wearing was cotton underwear. Her arms were bruised and there were tears running down her face.

  Ralston got up. “Lainey!”

  The same guard punched him again, this time lowering Ralston to the chair in one movement. The guard stood by the Texan, his hand on his shoulder, forcing him to stay still.

  Lainey’s eyes were full of nothing but contempt for her father, but she seemed genuinely surprised to see Sven. “I’m sorry,” she said to him.

  “It’s okay,” he replied.

  “If you’ve touched her…” Ralston said between sobs and coughs.

  Rosa beckoned to Karpov. “Intact?”

  “Completely, Owner.”

  “Good. You see, Mr. Ralston, your daughter is still unmolested. For at least the next ten seconds. Karpov…you may begin.”

  “Thank you, Owner,” said Karpov pulling Lainey towards him on the chain, undoing the zipper on the front of his pants at the same time.

  24

  Zip-ties are easier to get out of than people think.

  There are enough videos on YouTube to show a person how to bend forwards, bang both fists down on the base of their spine and on the second or third impact the zip-ties will snap apart and the person will be free.

  Ordinary zip-ties that is.

  Tactical zip-ties, those in use by the Police and security forces, are a different matter entirely. They are 2mm thick, made from heavy duty plastic and a person would break their wrists before they managed to snap them apart. Even someone like Sven.

  The last time Passion had been put in tactical zip-ties, it had only been the intervention of a rescuing police patrol in London that had saved her from a severe beating or worse. The Croatian gangsters she’d been investigating for smuggling people and drugs into the city, had just been too on the ball or too paranoid. She’d been blind-sided out of the blue when she’d tried her damsel in distress shtick. Wham. Passion’s attempt to get close to the gangster’s container truck to confirm the shipment had been on board, had gone south quickly and viciously. She’d been zip-tied, generally groped and thrown into the back of a Mercedes. The quick-thinking of her Metropolitan Police liaison officer had brought the team in early and she’d been rescued. But having spent some time trying to get herself out of the tactical zip-ties and failing miserably—only succeeding in scraping much bloody skin off her aching bones—had taught her a valuable lesson.

  Beauty doesn’t have to be just for show.

  Where Passion dressed down from her modelling cover job when she was on Agency business, she always liked to keep a good set of false nails in place. Thick, self-applied Gel-nails, baked onto her own keratin by ultra-violet light and painted any color you like, as long as it was red or black. These false nails were the epitome of beauty, and yet at the same time the very essence of practicality.

  Beneath each thick, easily removable resin thumbnail was a tiny, three quarter inch titanium tool. Under the covering on her right thumb was a wire that would assist picking the lock on handcuffs, and under the left, an equally tiny, but incredibly strong titanium wire saw.

  Passion had been working at the tactical zip-ties between her wrists for the last twenty minutes, figuring she’d be sitting on the canvas chair for a while. While they waited for Rosa to arrive to give her Doctor Evil speech, Passion’s fingers had been busy.

  So, as Karpov moved in on Lainey, Passion’s eyes flicked across to Mary-Joy. The girl had made eye contact several times already, waiting for the signal from Passion to begin her side of the plan.

  In the car travelling to Sven’s apartment, Passion had outlined what signal she would make to Mary-Joy, what she expected of her and what she would do when Mary-Joy began her diversion. She explained the risks to the girl and had not held back on what might happen if anything went wrong. Passion’s sense was these people weren’t playing this for fun; if they needed them all dead, they’d kill them, and they may only have a second to delay that moment.

  “So, we’ll only have one chance?”

  “Yes. And we may not even get that. But we have to be ready, and you have to wait for my signal. Okay?”

  Mary-Joy nodded. “One chance. I get it.”

  And now the chance had presented itself. As Karpov began to slide his hand inside Lainey’s cotton bra, the tactical zip-ties holding Passions wrists
together separated.

  Passion winked her left eye at Mary-Joy. Twice.

  Mary-Joy screamed, a piercing razor sharp sound that froze Karpov in mid-abuse and turned every other set of eyes in the room to the screaming girl.

  Passion flew to her feet, her ankles still held together. She had the gymnast’s sense of balance and the cheetah’s sense of survival and she dove at the guard who had punched Ralston, because he was the nearest. She landed flat on her feet, still upright like someone completing a standing long jump. She didn’t unhook the G36 from his shoulder, she just put her arm around his throat, and her finger in the trigger guard of the machine gun. As she applied savage pressure to his windpipe she swung the guard around, his whole body already a shield, and began firing.

  The air exploded with noise as the bullets chewed across the ceiling, tearing out gusts of plaster. The line ran down the wall and then thudded into the face of the first guard. Passion swung the guard she was holding to the left and the second guard’s chest burst out of his uniform, before he could even get both hands on his own G36.

  The third guard’s neck was torn out by Passion’s wild shooting as he was bringing up the muzzle of his machine gun to fire. He went down with a yell, and Passion’s continuous firing continued around to the fourth guard. This guard had enough time to get his gun ready, aim and pull at the trigger. Two bullets thudded into the chest of the guard Passion was behind before she zeroed her gun on the shooter and sent a line of bullets up his chest, through his chin and exploding the top off his skull like a tin can of rotten meat bursting open on a camp fire.

  The guard Passion was holding, now mortally-wounded, slid to the floor. Passion held onto the gun and brought it to bear on everyone who was still standing.

  Lainey was crouched down covering her ears, Karpov stood like Wile E. Coyote after he’d run out of ledge and was waiting for gravity to catch up with him.

  Crane was laying against the wall holding his bloody shoulder, obviously caught in the crossfire. Carla was nowhere to be seen, possibly running for the door as the firing started. Rosa was sprawled on the floor; a look of complete shock on her face.

  “Please don’t shoot me,” Karpov begged.

  Passion shot him in the face.

  The blast sprayed head matter all over Rosa, as Karpov’s body fell across her feet. Rosa screamed in pain as the heavy body landed on her with full force.

  Focus.

  Focus.

  The guard who Passion had used as a shield had a serrated bowie knife in a sheath on his belt. Passion took the knife, slit open the bond on her ankles and crabbed sideways to Sven, keeping the door covered with the G36. Sven had already turned onto his back and she cut his zip-ties.

  “Thank you.”

  Passion passed him the knife. “Release the others.”

  Still keeping the door in her sights in case Carla came back with another group of armed guards, Passion approached Lainey.

  The girl was sobbing while trying to pull the chain away from Karpov and cover her near nakedness at the same time. She was a wretched sight.

  Focus.

  Focus.

  “It’s ok. We’re getting out of here. I promise. I’m taking you home.”

  Lainey looked up at Passion, her eyes brimming. “Take off the chain. Please. I don’t like the chain…” It was still attached to the leather strap around her neck like a dog collar. Passion could see the girl was suffering psychological agonies she could only guess at. There were too many tears in her eyes, and her mouth was moving like someone drowning. To see this girl, broke whole pieces off Passion’s heart. The kneeling girl looked up at her with terrified, fear-filled eyes.

  Sven appeared, handing Lainey a black shirt. He’d taken it from one of the dead guards after releasing Huey and Mary-Joy. “Put that on.”

  “It’s got holes in it.” Lainey said, her voice cracking, hands trembling.

  “It’s okay,” Passion said taking it from the girl’s quivering fingers, draping it over Lainey’s shoulders. Sven moved gently behind the girl and worked at the leather collar securing the chain to Karpov’s body.

  “I will deal with Lainey,” Sven said, “but I think, Jennifer, you are needed elsewhere.”

  Sven nodded towards Rosa who had managed to crawl out from beneath Karpov and was trying to inch towards the door.

  As Sven slid the knife under the leather around Lainey’s neck, Passion went to the crawling woman and stood in front of her. “I should kill you now.”

  Rosa looked up, her face still smeared with bits of Karpov. “It won’t matter if you do. Do you think killing me will end any of this?”

  “It’ll will end you.”

  “If that’s what you want, do it. I don’t care. I’m 79 years old, and I’ve been doing this nearly 50 years. How much actual life will you be robbing me of? Very little. Kill a child, and then you’re taking something really valuable. Kill me? Not so much.”

  Passion raised the G36. Rosa smiled.

  Focus.

  Focus.

  Rosa had to live. At least for now. She might want to die, but she might provide a useful bargaining chip to get them off the island.

  The sharp crack and thud of a head smashing into the floor turned Passion away from Rosa.

  Huey Ralston was kneeling at Stephen Crane’s chest. His hands around the wounded man’s throat, smashing his head on the floor. “You fucking cocksucker! You played me! You bastard cocksucker! Die you motherfucker!”

  Sven intervened before Passion could move. He reached down with one hand and lifted Ralston clear off Crane who was now coughing up blood.

  “Do not be foolish, Mr. Ralston. The old woman will not tell us anything, but Crane might. He may be useful.”

  “I don’t fucking care! We wouldn’t be in this fucking mess if it wasn’t for him!”

  “I think you’ll find…” Crane spat, “That it’s what’s in your pants that got you here, Ralston. I just took advantage of your weakness. If beating up and hurting women and children wasn’t your thing…you wouldn’t have come here to play…”

  All eyes turned to Ralston, his face drained of color. He stumbled back out of Sven’s grasp. “It’s not like that…it’s not…”

  “Yes it is. It’s exactly like that.”

  Lainey was standing, now that she was free of the chain. She pulled the dead guard’s shirt around her shoulders. One thin arm was raised and an accusatory finger pointed at Ralston. “I know what you are. I know what you do. I know what you did here to girls younger than me. You’re a monster.”

  Ralston fell back on his ass with a thud. “Honey…please…I…”

  Mary-Joy held up her arm. The scars livid. “You did this, Mr. Ralston. You broke my arm and elbow because it made you horny.”

  All eyes in the room were on the girls facing Ralston. The man crumbled, then fell to his knees, sobbing freely. He held up his hands in a cross between supplication and begging.

  “I don’t care,” Lainey whispered, but it was a whisper louder than a storm, “and if we get off this island I never want to see you again. And I’m going to make sure you end up in jail. Forever.”

  Mary-Joy crossed the room and hugged Lainey, and Lainey, her back straight, her chin high, hugged her right back.

  Focus

  Focus.

  This family drama was all very well, but it wasn’t getting them saved.

  Passion raised her gun and shot out the widows.

  The full force of the blasting wind outside the stateroom burst in on squalls of rain. They were on the first floor of the building with a drop of maybe ten feet onto ornamental flower beds. “Sven, go first. You can catch and steady everyone else that comes down. Let’s make getting to the helipad a priority.”

  Sven nodded, and without a look back vaulted through the window. To an ex-man of the Swedish Special Service, a ten foot drop onto soft mud was nothing to worry about. He hit the ground with bent knees and parachute-rolled over.

 
Whatever alarms Carla was raising now within the facility had mercifully not brought the security forces running to this section of the building. Passion figured they were waiting outside in the stateroom, ready to meet them on the stairs or in a narrow corridor. They may only have seconds before that situation changed.

  “Mary-Joy, go.”

  Passion pointed to the window and Mary-Joy didn’t need to be told twice. Releasing Lainey she leapt for the window. Sven arrested the girl’s momentum as she dropped towards him and steadied her to the ground. He did the same with Ralston and then Lainey.

  “I’m not jumping,” said Crane.

  So Passion threw him out.

  Sven easily caught the thin framed political operative and dumped him in the dirt.

  That just left Rosa.

  The old woman was still on her backside, but was pushing back with her heels. Passion shook her head, bent down, hauled the bag of bones over her shoulder and jumped down to Sven.

  They were out of the building.

  There were alarms blaring, but weirdly no guards.

  It didn’t feel right. Not at all.

  “I do not like this,” Sven said, looking around.

  “Neither do I.”

  Rosa’s brittle laugh told them that she knew something they didn’t, but Passion didn’t have the time to play games. “Helipad now.”

  Mary-Joy took Lainey’s hand. Sven dragged Crane by the scruff of his neck. Ralston ran alone, his head down, his face a mask of misery and Passion carried Rosa over her shoulder like a sack of sticks.

  The area around the helipad was eerily bereft of guards as well. Sven was looking around like a meerkat, Passion scanned the nearby buildings and the Swiss clock chalets. No one was to be seen.

  It was as if everyone had been spirited away.

  Again, Rosa chuckled.

  The sky was heavy and leaden, the clouds fat with threat. They could no longer see the central mountain, it was hidden by the rushing weather.