The Qadesh Club

by David Lashmar

  Thanos spent the day taking refuge in his office refusing to leave it. Even though he had surrounded himself with some of the biggest and toughest men that he employed he felt no safer! He knew Morton better than anyone else and if his partner wanted to walk through that door and get him no amount of men would stop him. He paced nervously around the office snapping at anyone who so much as looked at him.

  At five-thirty he ordered Grimshawe to drive him home. There was one thing he was sure about and that was Morton would not attack him at home in front of his family. They were practically his family as well. His kids called him Uncle Geoff. At home he would be safe.

  The driver of the small, dark blue Suzuki van sat patiently outside the office of The Local Cab Company. The driver had waited patiently all afternoon watching for Thanos. He followed the silver coloured car to its destination where Thanos got out looking around nervously before hurrying through the dark green door of a very nice house. The driver gently massaged his throbbing finger.

  ******

  Morton sat outside his small apartment block looking for signs of the police. Not seeing any visible police present or vehicles he did not recognise he drove his car onto his designated parking bay and went inside. He was taking a chance, he knew, but he had his alibi arranged just in case the police were there to greet him.

  Letting himself in he braced himself for the welcoming committee and let out a silent breathe of relief at the emptiness of the apartment. Everything was as he left it the previous night except for the bloodstain where the body was. It was no longer there. Whoever they were they were very adept at clearing up any trace of there presence.

  Moving quickly threw a suitcase on the bed and carefully placed some clothes in it and then, lifting out the false bottom of his wardrobe, removed the black attaché case hidden there.

  Thanos had once again retired to his study after dinner with his family but tonight for different reasons. He was thinking hard, very hard! In all his years in partnership with Morton he had never realised how difficult some of the decisions Morton had to make were. Up until now that was! This side of the business was his silent partners domain. He knew that people always credited him with running the business and over the years he had encouraged that misnomer and Morton seemed happy with the arrangement. Occasionally, only very occasionally had he given the order to have someone taught a lesson and as far as he could remember only two of those disappeared permanently. He was okay if it involved slapping around one of their whores or being present as Morton or one of his other heavies was dishing out the violence but tonight he had to make a tough decision.

  Usually he was motivated by greed but now his conscious was nagging at him. Morton was not only his partner but he also considered him a good friend. His dilemma was that he no longer trusted him. He knew that Morton was not going to go running to the police and shooting his mouth off but he no longer felt safe around him and not feeling safe alongside someone who could literally snap your neck if he was in a bad mood did not make him feel comfortable.

  He reached for the phone. He had made his decision and he would live with it. “Shaun,” he spoke softly still not entirely sure that he was making the right choice, “how badly do you want to be number one?” He knew that if this went wrong he was a dead man. No matter how many men he put between himself and Morton it would only be a matter of time. “I have some work for you tonight!”

  Chapter 23

  Grimshawe sat in the front of the black van enjoying his prematurely elevated position. Tonight, for the first time, he was the boss and had chosen his own team to do several very important tasks. Unlike the more experienced Morton, though, who always chose men he knew he could trust Grimshawe had chosen two men he knew posed no threat to him. The driver was a large, beer-gutted man who spent all of his time, when not working, in a pub while the other was a tall, well built man in his early thirties covered in tattoos and sweated profusely.

  If all went well tomorrow people would be looking at him with renewed respect. Tonight he wore his best black suit. In fact it was his only suit but tomorrow he would go shopping and buy some more because from now on he would be going to work in a suit.

  They sat outside Francesca Bianchi`s apartment complex. He was to bring her at all cost to the launderette. The shop was a front and one of the myriad of small businesses that Thanos hid behind. To the casual observer it was a real business dealing with paying customers and to any passer-by was just another small, high street business trying to get by. Down stairs, though, in its cellars was a more sinister side to the business. For here, deep beneath the shop, in a sound proofed room was where Morton interviewed people. Not just anybody though. The unfortunate few who had the mispleasure of being brought down here to have a face to face with the infamous man had done something to warrant his wrath. Those who entered this dungeon very rarely left physically unscathed. On occasions some had not even left alive – whether by accident or design!

  Morton had fitted out the room many years before when he was still building his reputation as a hard man and as his reputation grew so he found it less and less necessary to use the room at all.

  Grimshawe`s plan, like its would be executioner, was simple. He was going to wait until well after midnight and grab her. He figured that getting past the guard would be no problem but the electronic surveillance would be and so he planned a two-pronged approach to this problem; the first was to get the guard out of the way. How he had not quite worked out yet but once he was removed he would then get into the guard room and disable any cameras then up to her place and snatch her while she slept.

  Francesca was already trying on her fourth different outfit of the evening. Her first choice of jeans and a shirt was to casual, the second of a very attractive cocktail dress was too formal and the little red dress that now lay discarded on the bed made her look like a whore. She caught a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror and turned to look at herself in her underwear. She still looked good for her age. My age, she thought, I’m only thirty for goodness sake. She examined her reflection in the mirror and was pleased with what she saw. She still had a marvellous figure size twelve UK size ten US. She preferred US sizes as they made her sound smaller. Ten’s smaller than twelve, she smiled to herself. She cupped her thirty-six inch bust in both hands and squeezed them gently. Still firm, she thought and turned sideways to check her flat stomach. Eventually she chose a knee length skirt with a light coloured blouse and a lightweight cardigan to put over her shoulders should she get cold.

  Several times the big gates opened to let cars either enter or leave the premises. Most of them expensive, executive cars driven mostly by men in suits but then his plan was ruined as he watched as her BMW pull out of the gates and accelerated fast along the road.

  It was an unexpected twist as he had not anticipated her going out but tonight fortune was on his side as she caught a red stop-light otherwise he would have lost her altogether.

  They had arranged to meet at a small Italian restaurant that Ernie often used during the week. He would never go there of a weekend because it was usually full of couples, both young and old, and he was no longer a part of a couple. He hated the memories it brought back to him and so most weekends he lived on takeaways and TV dinners. But tonight was different. Tonight he had company so he would not be dining alone. Tonight he was being joined by a beautiful, young lady. He wondered if this was it. Had he reached the age were middle-aged men tried to regain their youth by chasing after younger, much younger girls and made themselves look foolish. He asked himself if he was secretly indulging in a subconscious fantasy or was this just a harmless meal between two would-be colleagues?

  Francesca tapped the postcode Ernie had given her for the restaurant into her satnav and followed the directions given by the authoritative but friendly female voice as it guided her the on the unfamiliar route. Less than three car lengths behind was the dark van.

  The drive took her to parts of London that, even thoug
h she had heard of, she had never been too before. Blindly obeying instructions she turn into strange road after strange road until turning into one road found her way blocked by overnight road works. Cursing silently she reversed retracing her path as a big van, the driver also not aware of the road closure, turned in blocking her path.

  Grimshawe`s driver slammed on the brakes as he turned into the road and almost hit the back of the car. “Christ,” shouted Grimshawe as he braced himself against the dashboard to stop himself going through the window, “not again!” His first thought was that she had realised she was being followed but then he saw the yellow flashing lights around the works and the bright work lights and realised why she was reversing. Suddenly the thought struck him. It was dark, he could see no workmen and there was no one around.

  “Grab her!” he ordered his two subordinates, “Now, arseholes!” The two henchmen sat there dumbly staring at him, “Now!” The shout galvanised them into moving.

  The fat driver was the first to move falling out of the door as he opened it, he quickly got to the driver side of the car. Grimshawe stepped out of the van and hid himself in the shadows not wanting her to see him as the tall third man slid himself across the double seat and ran to the passenger door of the trapped car.

  Francesca, assuming that the driver had not seen the obstruction, opened her window to explain about the road works when her door was yanked open followed almost immediately by the passenger door a tall man slipped onto the seat beside her and quickly undone her seatbelt and pushed her violently towards the open door. The fat driver grabbed hold of her by the throat pulling her to him while reaching out for her wrist which he

  twisted none too gently behind her back.

  Before she could even scream a huge, foul tasting hand came from behind her and clamped itself over her mouth as his other arm wrapped around her waist lifting her bodily off the ground and carried her to the back of the van.

  It was then that she realised who was abducting her. As her abductor swung her round to force her into the van she saw his eyes. He was standing by the back doors and even though it was only a fleeting glimpse it was all she needed. There was no mistake. It was him!

  Fear swept through her as she was literally thrown like a cheap rag doll into the van and landed with a thud on the hard, wood covered floor. She had no time to even think about screaming as her abductor jumped in beside her at the same time and, from no-where, pulled out a knife pressing it against her throat, “Make a noise and I'll slit your fucking throat!” the voice was rough and gravely and she could smell the foul stench of tobacco on his breathe. Literally frozen with fear she stayed in the foetal position as a hood was pulled over her head and the doors slammed shut as the van jolted as it reversed hurriedly and then the wheels screeched as they spun as it shot off at speed. The gravely voiced kidnapper tied her hands so tightly she was sure he had stopped the blood flow.

  She knew what would happen next and it did not take long before the tobacco smelling kidnapper, without saying a word, started roughly squeezing her breast.

  Francesca was too petrified to cry as unwanted memories were ripped from the deepest recesses of her mind. She felt as though she was in a dream world were the only dream was a recurring nightmare and there was no way of stopping it.

  Grimshawe was grinning from ear to ear as he got behind the wheel of the flash beemer and followed the van back to the launderette.

  Chapter 24

  “What happened?” demanded the military gent his tone severe, as he was not used to failure.

  There was a short silence as the gathered men waited around the table listening to the crackly speaker phone. “Gibby`s dead!”

  There was a stunned silence amongst them, “How?”

  “He came home early. Morton. The enforcer. Took us by surprise!” explained the young soldier.

  “He must be bloody good. Either that or bloody lucky!” the military gent’s stone carved face hid his true feeling. Gibson was an old friend. A friendship that went back many years. “Bring him home, soldier.”

  The speaker clicked into silence. The assembled four looked at each other in silence for suggestions. It was the balding gentleman who spoke up, “I think it's time to look for another supplier.” The others nodded in agreement. “Maybe we should suspend the clubs activities for a while. Just until we have made alternative arrangements.”

  “We have a couple of commitments this weekend but after that we can put things on hold.”

  “Okay. It's agreed then,” said the distinguished gentleman. “I suggest we have minimal contact until then. Can we assume that you will take care of the arrangements?”

  All eyes turned simultaneously to the Military gent who nodded, “Leave it to me.”

  ******

  Incarcerated in a moving vehicle but trapped by fears within her own mind Francesca had lost all track of time and direction. Her nightmare could have begun ten minutes ago or an hour ago, she could have been in London or back in New York. She felt the sudden cool rush of night air sweep in as the doors opened and then voices, the first since the abduction.

  A hand wrapped itself around the top of her left arm squeezing so tightly she knew that it would leave bruises but that was the least of her worries. The cord binding her hands was cut as another hand gripped tightly around the back of her neck and dragged her forwards on her knees out of the van. Scared, disorientated and her captors offering no help she lost her balance clambering out of the van and would have fallen to the floor if it had not been for the strong grip of the hand that had hold of her. Hurriedly pushed along a passageway that was so narrow her slim shoulders were bumping into the walls on either side they came to a set of descending stairs that her guide forgot to warn her about and, again if it were not for his firm grip, she would have fallen.

  Suddenly, without warning, she was violently shoved forwards making her lose her balance and landed painfully on her knees on a hard, cold floor. A door slammed shut with a peculiar dull thud. She waited. Nothing happened and so in the silence she carried on waiting trembling on her knees with her eyes closed beneath the hood in anticipation of the sexual assault that must inevitably happen.

  Still nothing happened. No one spoke. No one touched her. She waited hardly breathing. Still nothing. She listened hard straining her ears for any sounds but still nothing. She waited not daring to move until, curious as to why nothing had happened; she slowly reached up and hesitantly removed her hood.

  At first she could see nothing everything around her was completely black until she realised that she was in a darkened room. There was not even a chink of light coming in from around the door frame wherever that was. Totally disorientated she crawled on all fours until she came to a wall. Feeling her way gingerly along she followed the wall until she came to a corner and pulling her knees up in front of her she sat and waited like a frightened child.

  Alone in complete silence, surrounded by the pitch darkness and too afraid to cry in case someone heard her Francesca awaited her fate when suddenly she was blinded by a dazzling bright white light as the door was thrown open causing her to protect her eyes with the back of her hand.

  “Let go of me, you bastards!” a woman was screaming. Obviously she was not going to go as meekly as she did. “He’ll have you for this! Lets see how brave you are then!” There was a sharp slapping noise followed by a sudden scream of pain and then a sob. Francesca tried to peer through her open fingers to see who the new occupant was but the bright light made he eyes water even more.

  The door slammed shut again.

  Francesca waited. She could hear the sound of someone crying from somewhere in the room but it was impossible to see anything. Finally, she plucked up enough courage to call out, “Hello, are you all right?” It was a stupid question and under normal circumstances she would have asked a more pertinent one but her brain was still in shock.

  The crying subsided, “Who's there?” asked the screaming woman. “Where are you?”
<
br />   “Over here,” replied Francesca relieved that there was someone else with her in the dark. She heard a noise in the darkness.

  “Where are you?”

  “Here. I can't see you!”

  “Keep talking,” said her unknown cellmate.

  Francesca heard a sob and guessed she was nearby. She stretched out her hand waving it about blindly in front of her. Suddenly her hand brushed against her, “I'm here,” she said taking hold of her.

  “Hi,” she sobbed in a quiet voice, “I'm Kim!”

  ******

  Ernie waited patiently. He must have checked his watch a hundred times. He tried calling but her mobile phone went straight through to voicemail. He looked around embarrassed at the waiters who would quickly look away from him as he caught their eye. He could see them talking and looking his way as they had obviously guessed he had been stood up. God, he thought, I must look like a lonely old man to these young lads. She was now over forty minutes late and he decided that it was no use waiting any longer and so he ordered yet another meal to be eaten on his own. The only thing that he tasted throughout the meal was bitter regret. Regret that he had been foolish enough to put himself in this ridiculous position. He knew that to her this was just a meal and no more but he had hoped maybe, even prayed, that something more would come of this. He thought he had felt a connection with her something a bit deeper than just a physical attraction. Maybe he was just a lonely man grasping at his last straw of a meaningful relationship so that he did not have to face old age alone.

  He came to the conclusion that her only interest in him was what she could get from him.