Reprisal in Black

by Dan Fox

  Jean was only twelve years old at the time and took it very badly. Subsequently she stayed with a variety of relations until her dreadful and frightening behaviour forced them to put her into care. That was where she learned a lot of things that were both illegal and dangerous. Whilst she was reasonably slim she was also very strong and had the most horrendous and uncontrollable temper. Analysts always related it to the trauma of her parents’ death but those who knew her better knew she just wasn’t wired up right.

  At sixteen she joined the military and took up all types of athletic activities but she excelled in those relating to combat and martial arts. She was the Army’s under eighteen female Karate champion and had won awards for both her rifle and pistol shooting, and was deadly with any type of knife.

  In those times she was a thoroughly dangerous and unpredictable woman. Shortly after she became eighteen years old she was dishonourably discharged after a fellow competitor was found half dead in the changing rooms after a training session. There were no witnesses and no one to back up her story that she was attacked. The fact that she had no injuries but her opponent had many and some very serious, led her to her being discharged quietly. The police were not involved. It was not their jurisdiction otherwise she’d have probably done twelve years for Grievous Bodily Harm or even Attempted Murder.

  Following her discharge she shagged her way around the Mediterranean and gradually calmed down a little. She still got into the occasional fight but was never beaten even by fully grown men who were competent street fighters. Anyway, she survived and matured into an attractive woman but there was always that dangerous unpredictable edge. She got to like the south of France most of all having spent weeks or months in virtually every other country bordering the Mediterranean Sea.

  She had recently worked her way across from Italy and had done her fill of waitress, barmaid and general dogsbody jobs. She was for once happily working in a dock side bar in Marseilles which had to be one of the roughest places you could ever be. The owner had spotted the potential and had made her the manager.

  It was while she was working in the bar that she’d been attacked by the eight crewmen from The Bangkok Star, and had been rescued by Marcel Jeveaux. After she’d been patched up well by the special clinic in Marseilles, Marcel collected her.

  Chapter 16

  The Team - continued

  On the fourth day of her stay Jean could barely hobble out of the clinic even with Marcel supporting her and taking most of her weight. She was still in significant pain from her dreadful injuries. No more morphine, too addictive, just on heavier than normal pain painkillers which were not really sufficient to do the job. If she’d complained they would not have let her leave the clinic.

  They were going to Marcel’s apartment out of the town some miles but very near the coast. She had reluctantly agreed to this because she was simply too ill to fend for herself, had zero money and didn’t really have much choice. She would admit that she was not always the best judge of character, but she would take a chance on Marcel, after all he had saved her from rape and probably death and killed three of her assailants. That put him a few notches up the trust stick but she would be careful to watch for unpleasant signs. Her experience of men to date had not been good and she had learned to be wary.

  Fortunately his sumptuous apartment was on the ground floor, no stairs to climb, and had two large, well-appointed bedrooms and two superbly finished marble tiled bathrooms with roll top baths and wet room showers. The huge lounge and more than ample kitchen had beautiful panoramic views of the sea. All in all a very nice place to convalesce and bought by someone with substantial funds.

  Marcel had been shopping and brought her a number of items like pyjamas, shampoos and creams etc., and had stocked the fridge and cupboards for a long term guest. He thought she might be there for several weeks if not months.

  After a few more days she could hobble awkwardly around the apartment as long as it was only for a few minutes. She became fatigued very quickly and Marcel had picked her off the floor and put her back to bed on more than one occasion. She was a fighter he thought, and she thought him a very dangerous but kind man.

  Almost two weeks after her attack, she could move around more easily. She desperately wanted to walk on the beach but it would be a few more days before she was up to that. She needed to get away, needed to escape. Normally if she’d been in trouble, she would lie up for a few days, lick her wounds and then move on.

  This time it was different, she knew she wasn’t quite up to that yet, but there was something else. When Marcel brought her a coffee at ten o’clock the following morning she was still fast asleep, so he put the coffee on the bedside table and started to straighten her bed sheets and tuck her in. Whilst he was doing this, she awoke but didn’t open her eyes, she just lay there feeling very comfortable being looked after by this man and didn’t want to spoil the moment.

  As he went to leave she said, ‘Don’t go’, and patted the bed beside her. Marcel sat on the edge of the bed and smiled at her, ‘What can I get for you? Are you feeling any better today?’

  Tears streamed down her face and she reached for his hand. ‘Thank you.’

  Marcel kissed her lightly on the forehead and said he would get her some fresh coffee. She shook her head and reached for his hand again. This time she took it in both hands and pressed it to her lips. Marcel got the message.

  She moved herself across the double bed with some excruciatingly painful effort and then gestured for Marcel to join her. Marcel was quite surprised but was certainly not averse to the suggestion. When he was in and lain on his back she rolled towards him and put her head on his chest, ‘it will take some time’, she whispered sadly.

  Marcel had taken her back to the clinic every week to check on her progress. The ribs were knitting fine and the bruises and swellings had almost gone. The damage to her groin had repaired itself mostly and they were relieved that she would not require any surgery, however, it was still painful to urinate and there was no chance of the other for quite a while yet. All the remnant stitches had been removed and the scars, while still very red, were healing nicely and in time would mostly fade. The special private clinic had done a very good job.

  Marcel was going to have one very awkward conversation though, and that was about her ability to get involved in any action on the returning crew of the Bangkok Star.

  The police’s investigation into the dock-side incident had stalled almost before it began. No-one saw or heard anything, not the crew or anyone in the bar. Just three mysterious deaths put down to person or persons unknown, just suspected as another gangland killing.

  ‘Jean, my sweet, I need to talk to you, are you up for this?’ she nodded, ‘the Bangkok Star returns in three weeks. You will not be ready to deal with them, you are nowhere near strong enough and as far I can see it will be months yet before you can even think about it.’

  Jean knew he was right but she wanted her revenge so desperately she couldn’t think straight. All her spare moments had been spent thinking of evil, innovative ways of disposing of them one by one. ‘What do you think I should do?’

  ‘Let me deal with them.’

  ‘Oh no, you weren’t the one they tried to rape. No, this is my party and I want my revenge.’

  ‘Then you must let me help you. Let me get them into a position where you can deal with them.’

  Jean thought for a minute, ‘As long as I can look them in the eye when I kill them, I suppose that will have to do.’

  ‘We have a deal then.’

  By the end of the fourth week Jean had started to jog on the beach, very slowly and still quite painfully, but she was regaining her strength at a punishing pace. Marcel continued to be impressed by this determined woman and wondered if it was that trait that made him fall in love with her.

  Jean depended on him totally and he began to depend on her dependency. Whilst they were both born killers, cold and aloof, sociopathic some would say, they had th
is strange ability to feel something, maybe even love, for one another, something neither of them had ever been able to do before.

  They had shared a bed since Jean first invited Marcel into hers. There had been kisses and gentle cuddles, but no sex as yet. When Marcel had seen her naked he could not miss the appalling bruises that still showed around her genital area. He was sure he wanted to kill her attackers more than she did.

  At the end of the fifth week Jean made it plain that she wanted Marcel to try. She was so desperate to have sex with him that she was prepared to take an amount of pain.

  Painful it was, very, and when Marcel realised this he stopped only for her to insist he carried on. Fortunately for her it didn’t last very long and like most first attempts it didn’t go very well. She didn’t care, she was happier than she’d been for many years, and from that moment on they were indistinguishable, they were an item.

  Marcel had kept careful tabs on the Bangkok Star’s movements and the latest information was that it would dock in Marseille in ten days. They lay in bed one night talking through ideas of how to deal with the five other men, one of whom was the ring leader, the one who had been the most offensive in the dock front bar and unfortunately one who had survived. Marcel had no idea how to describe them but Jean had each of their faces etched into her brain.

  Would they dare use the same bar as before, the one where Jean was assistant manager, or would they feel safer going elsewhere? Their choice would be limited but there were a few other places. So their first task would be to find out where the sailors would go when they docked.

  Marcel used the internet to ascertain exactly when the ship would arrive. Whilst he needed to be careful, he told Jean he would find out enough about their movements to work out a plan to intercept them. It would be difficult as the only way to get their undivided attention would be to shoot them altogether. Abducting them one at a time would arouse too much suspicion. There had to be a better way which would probably only reveal itself when they knew where the sailors would go.

  Marcel called in a couple of favours and got into the docks in a maintenance van and positioned it about a hundred yards away from the designated berth. Just in time, the tugs had drawn the ship to the quay and the ropes were being tied when he got into position. Jean had given him three good sketches of faces, the best one being the ring leader, so he sat in the van with the sketches beside him and a good pair of binoculars in his hands.

  There would be no loading or unloading that night so after an hour of patient waiting a number of men came down the gangway. They were in small groups, two or three, four or five. None of them matched the sketches. It was quite possible that none of the wanted men had made this voyage. Marcel prayed that wouldn’t be the case as he had no desire to tell Jean.

  He was ready to call it a day when more people emerged from the ship and made their way down the gangway. He would not see their faces well enough until they had reached the dock, the light was better there. He recognised the ring leader instantly, not from Jean’s sketch, but from the arrogant, strutting walk she had described. The face just confirmed it. As they walked towards the van he made out another two from the sketches. This would be the same crew, the same culprits.

  They turned to their left and made for a different bar perhaps half a mile away. They were being cautious. A sensible move on their part if only no-one was expecting them. As they were on foot it would take them a good ten minutes to reach the bar. Marcel had the van and it would take him no time at all. He headed for the bar and parked away from it on the far side.

  He wasn’t sure whether any of them would recognise him. It was very dark and they were otherwise engaged when he fired his three shots. How long do you look at someone who’s shooting at you? Not long he suspected. It was worth the risk. They probably wouldn’t try to rape him anyway.

  Marcel walked into the bar which was fairly busy and found a stool in the far corner and angled himself so he could see who came in. Perhaps five minutes later the door flew open and the five entered led by the ring leader. He was indeed a nasty piece of work. His eyes scoured the bar and when satisfied called to the barman for five beers.

  Marcel sipped his way through three beers while they had at least ten plus a few shots of Pernod. They were getting noisy and abusive and Marcel could sense they were looking for a target. There were no women in the bar that night. Obviously those that had been in there earlier had already found their customers and gone.

  By the time the seamen left, very drunk, a plan was forming in Marcel’s mind. He would need a little cooperation from friends of old but the more he thought about it the better it sounded. When he got back to the apartment Jean was still awake and anxious to hear his news. He told her chapter and verse.

  When he got up the following morning, he checked his watch and deciding it was late enough made a couple of calls.

  That night he sat on the same bar stool and waited for the crewmen to arrive. They drank, as before, at the same suicidal rate and when two well-dressed and attractive women in their late thirties appeared later in the evening, they were all eyes. Their drunken comments were rude and offensive and the women endured it for a while, then finished their drinks and left. As soon as they’d gone the five crewmen finished their beers, followed them out of the bar and saw them walking along a nearby street heading away from the docks. They quickened their pace to catch up. As they passed a large panel truck, their attention totally concentrated on the two women a few yards ahead of them, they were oblivious to the five heavily built men who got out of the truck and hit them from behind. The Bangkok Star five were all unconscious within twenty seconds and in another minute were bound hand and foot and gagged lying on the floor of the truck.

  The truck drove around to the rear of the warehouses backing onto the docks and stopped in front of one which had been unused for some time. The driver got out and lifted a flap which revealed a slope down into the cellar area. The unconscious five were rolled down into the cellar, the flap was closed and the truck driven away.

  When the five started to wake up with sore heads, they found it pitch black and were unable to move. They were shackled to the steel girders which held up the building. Now they were scared. They had every right to be. They would not enjoy their last few minutes on earth. It was payback time.

  The bright torch shone into the face of the ring leader who shrank back from its glare. Each of the five had the same treatment. It was unlikely that they had ever been so scared. They had no idea why they had been abducted. Their memory of the events of close to a couple of months ago had obviously faded. It was time to remind them.

  The big overhead lights came on and Jean stood where they could all see her. Not all of them recognised her at first, but then they did and wished they hadn’t. Some of them still carried the injuries and scars of their first encounter but they would pale against the ones they were about to receive.

  In the most eerie voice she could muster Jean told them that she had been in touch with their three departed friends and asked would they like to join them. Their friends had insisted that they would and so Jean was going to help them on their way. By now the five were in a state of frenzy, desperately trying to free themselves from their shackles but only causing further injury. There really was no escape.

  She approached the last one in the line, one of the two whose faces she could not recall well enough to draw. When she looked into his eyes and saw the recognition and the terror, she knew and remembered what he had tried to do. They were all wearing only tops or tee shirts and trousers or jeans. She took out a huge hunting knife and slit the tee shirt from the neck to the waist so his chest and abdomen were bare.

  She looked into his eyes as she plunged the knife into his gut at the belly button and waited for his reaction. Even though he was gagged his scream echoed around the cellar. She waited until his screams died down to a loud moaning and drew the embedded knife at first left and then right to create a huge gash. When she
withdrew the knife some of his small intestine followed it out. Blood flowed copiously from the wound and splashed onto the floor. His eyes were on stalks and the first signs of shock were beginning to show.

  She moved to the next in line whose bowels had already voided. The smell was horrendous. He pleaded for mercy desperately trying to communicate through his gag but did not receive any. Jean drew the knife across his throat from one ear to the other and watched as a sheet of blood drained down his chest. He gradually faded into unconsciousness, racked with pain and fear.

  The third sailor deserved special treatment for it was he who had kicked and kicked at her crotch. She used the knife to cut away his trousers and underwear and then proceeded to remove his genitals entirely.

  Even Marcel was impressed and wondered what was in store for the other two. As Jean approached the last but one, he fainted. She waited until he came round and sliced off both his ears. She would finish him off later.

  By now the ring leader knew what was coming and was strangely resigned to it. He just hoped it would be quick. He should have known it wouldn’t be. She cut away his jeans to bare his scrotum and removed it piece by piece. She then took both eyes out and finished off by stabbing the knife right into each ear. The man would now bleed to death unable to hear or see anything. The fact he was in indescribable agony seemed beside the point.

  Jean returned to number four and plunged the knife into his throat and waited while he choked and drowned in his own blood and then went back to the table where Marcel sat and asked for a cigarette. They smoked in silence for several minutes. Marcel got up and checked each of the men in turn for a pulse. Only the ring leader was still alive, barely.