by Nick Thacker
“Back of the store, exit door,” Reggie repeated. “Sounds good to me.”
Ben pushed up into a squat, waiting for Joshua to order them to the back door. The bullets, temporarily, had stopped flying.
Which means they’re coming closer, to get a better shot.
“What are you waiting for?” Joshua asked. “You heard the man — back door.”
Ben didn’t need to be told twice, and he started shuffling toward the back door of the shop, on his hands and knees. It was uncomfortable, and the brownish-tiled floor of the back-counter area was sticky with old, crusty yogurt spills and other unknowable brown stains.
He felt a wave of revulsion wash over him, but he pushed it down and continued on.
This is disgusting, he thought. But I guess it’s better than getting shot.
“I wonder if this floor’s ever been cleaned,” Reggie said from right behind Ben.
Two more gunshots rang out, and one clattered loudly into a large metal bowl on a shelf above Ben’s head. The bowl went sailing through the air, landing near a sink overflowing with dirty dishes and silverware.
“Screw this,” Reggie said, rising to his feet and jumping over Ben. “If I’m going to be shot, I’ll be on my feet.”
Ben was about to ignore him when he realized Reggie had already made it through the small kitchen area to the door at the back of the long, narrow storefront. He followed Reggie’s lead, rising to his feet and running the rest of the way.
Reggie was fiddling with the door, which was thankfully out of a direct line-of-sight to the front of the store, when Joshua and Derrick arrived.
“Is it locked?” Derrick asked. “Can you just kick it in?”
“No, and no,” Reggie said. “It’s just old. Stuck somehow, and —” he grunted as the handle finally gave way. “There.”
He pushed the bar inward and down and the door flew open. The bright sunlight of the afternoon spilled in and blinded Ben, but he followed Reggie out anyway, stepping down the two steps that led into the alley they’d run in from a few minutes earlier.
His eyes needed a moment to adjust, so he looked down at the ground and blinked a few times, then lifted them up again.
And saw that they were all standing in the alley, face-to-face with three well-armed men.
All pointing guns toward them.
Chapter FORTY-SIX
THE GUY WITH THE CROOKED nose, Morrison, tried to help the other two men bind Julie to the chair. He had pulled her into the large, open gymnasium, pushed her into the chair, and was now trying to offer help.
His way of ‘helping,’ however, was to reach in and grab at her arms and legs and simply… feel.
It was disgusting, and Julie felt the lump in her throat that she had to force back down whenever he’d come near. The man was sick, perverted, and obviously lacking for female contact. It didn’t help that the man looked horrendous.
His craggy face and crooked nose nearly brushed against her own face as he dove in once again to ‘check’ that she was sitting back in the chair as far as she could.
He reached down, patted at her thigh, squeezing just a bit, then moved up to her waist. He sighed a little, only causing her more disgust, then pushed back. His knobby fingers pressed hard and she felt her gut give way, her inability to move out of his reach causing her to feel suddenly claustrophobic.
She wanted to scream, but she refused. That would allow him to win, and he would know it.
Instead, she stared. Straight across the room at the man who had taken her, Vicente Garza, The Hawk. He was staring back at her, the slightest grin of satisfaction on his face. She reeled, wanting to lash out and punch the pervert feeling her up, destroy the two men using zip ties to hold her to the chair, and then run at The Hawk and rip his head off.
But she couldn’t. She wasn’t a fighter, and she wasn’t armed. She had no choice but to comply, to wait it out, to just sit there and let them do whatever it was they were going to do. It wouldn’t help her to fight, but it would give them pleasure.
So she refused.
Instead, she stared.
Morrison had his hand just under her breast, and he was pushing it slowly upwards.
Do it and die, bastard, she thought. Then she realized that, no matter what this man did or didn’t do, he was already dead. “I’ll kill you myself,” she whispered.
Morrison stopped and looked down at her. “What was that, girl?”
She shook her head. I will remove your head from the rest of your body.
She thought to herself a solid thirty-second-long string of obscenities directed at the man.
He continued his groping, inching ever closer to her breast. She continued staring, dead ahead at the man responsible for all of this.
‘Morrison,’ a voice said. She listened, realizing it was a small in-ear communications speaker Morrison was wearing. The man at the other end of the room had spoken to his subordinate.
Julie stared.
Morrison removed his hand, stepped back, then continued talking to The Hawk.
“Sir?”
She could no longer hear The Hawk’s voice in the man’s ear, but Morrison suddenly seemed upset.
“But sir, we’re ready to begin —”
The Hawk cut him off, as across the gym floor his mouth had started moving before Morrison had finished.
Morrison looked from Juliette to his boss, then back again.
“Yes, sir. You got it.”
Julie trembled, the moment of disgust finally over.
But she trembled again at the thought of what might lay ahead. The Hawk smiled at her from across the room, then crossed his arms.
Suddenly she felt her head being pulled backwards. A rope was placed over her neck, then pulled taut. Her eyes grew wide and she gasped.
No, please no, she willed. Not like this.
A moment later the rope loosened slightly, and she sucked in a deep breath. They weren’t choking her, but simply tying her neck to the chair. It was an effective method, one she knew would be impossible to escape from. Her arms and legs were bound to the chair using zip ties in multiple spots, and now her neck was held back as well, preventing her from even moving her head forward to see her restraints.
She could handle being tied up. She wasn’t afraid of the bindings, nor of the noose around her neck. She hardened her gaze once again and stared down the room at The Hawk.
I’m going to beat you, she thought. And you’re going to pay for this.
The two men and Morrison finished their work and stomped off, out of sight somewhere behind her. The Hawk, too, started walking. He headed directly toward her, staring her down the entire time.
Here we go, she thought. This is the moment I find out what this is all about.
He watched her watching him, neither of their faces breaking. Her eyes were steady on his, not willing to sacrifice even that small amount of control to the man.
He must have known it, because just before he reached the chair he stopped, looked down at her, and smiled.
A genuine, true smile, as if what was happening in this room was the best possible thing he could think of, and that Julie was nothing more than a sideshow attraction that he was pleased with.
She felt shaken, suddenly vulnerable. She realized what had happened, the moments of absolute terror and agony she had so far successfully kept inside now tumbling out of her. She shivered, but she felt the strength of the bindings on her arms and legs.
She gasped again, this time the air entering her lungs in a staggered, frightened way. She sniffed, knowing that the tears were coming next.
Still, Vicente Garza looked down at her. His head was cocked sideways slightly, just a man standing over a prize. Intrigued by his prey, waiting for it to try to make a move.
She had no moves to make, and they both knew it.
The tears started to fall, even though she had begged them not to. She wanted Ben, she wanted him to be here to destroy this man and all the rest of his men.
And yet he still didn’t speak.
Finally, after a full minute of his staring down into her, he lifted his head back up and started walking the direction his men had gone.
She was terrified, in pain, and now she was confused.
What is happening?
She heard his footsteps, hollow on the hardwood floor, the heels of his boots clacking over the worn surface, echoing around the concrete walls and steel roof of the facility.
And then the click and creaking sound of a door swinging open.
A moment passed, and the reverse of that sound — the whoosh of a large door closing, then the sound of a lock being turned — reached her ears.
She gasped again. She wasn’t sure if this was better or worse.
The lights suddenly went off. All around her, darkness.
She couldn’t see a thing, as the windows at the top edge of the walls around the room had been plastered over and allowed no light through. Julie was bathed in pure darkness, tied into a sitting position on a chair.
She hadn’t been afraid of the dark at any point in her life until this moment. The fear was consuming her almost as quickly as the darkness. The Hawk and his men were no longer here, and she had no idea where they had gone or when they might return.
Or if Morrison might return… alone.
A gentle breeze from the closing door reached her chair, chilling her. She realized then that she was cold, too, just slightly cold.
She shook again, trembling freely now, crying and unable to curl up or even put her head down.
She closed her eyes, but it looked exactly the same.
Chapter FORTY-SEVEN
“WHAT’S OUR MOVE, BOSS?” REGGIE asked, his hands already on his head. Ben knew this wasn’t the man’s first time at gunpoint — it wasn’t his, either — but Reggie somehow kept that calm, almost humored attitude about it whenever he was under pressure.
And right now, baking in the sunlight and being held at gunpoint by three random strangers, Ben knew Reggie felt the pressure.
Joshua’s jaw tightened, and Ben could almost see him processing their debacle. Finally, after a few more tense seconds, he spoke. “I don’t know, Reggie. Seems like this is a bit of a surprise to all of us. Who are you assholes?”
The three men who were pointing their weapons — a handgun and two small subcompact machine guns — glanced around.
They don’t know who’s in charge, Ben realized. They were hired to kill us, or bring us in, but they’re not sure which of them is supposed to speak.
The man in front of Ben flicked his eyes left and right, then back at Ben. He was the one holding the handgun, a huge .45 caliber that he held with both hands.
He knows how to use that weapon, Ben thought. Even if he’s not sure who’s in charge.
“You guys aren’t going to talk, are you?” Reggie said. “You could at least tell us which one of you we’re supposed to talk to.”
“Don’t talk, and you won’t have to worry about it,” the man in the center said. He was wearing a black t-shirt, sunglasses, and his neck was about as wide as his head. Not someone Ben wanted to mess with.
Reggie, apparently, did want to mess with him.
“How about this?” Reggie asked, his hands still above his head and his characteristic smile plastered across his face. “You tell me who you’re working for, and I won’t shove that shitty pair of sunglasses up your —”
“What my friend means to say,” Derrick said, “is that you seem confused. We’re confused as well, since we were literally just attacked.”
“The Hawk,” the man said. “That’s who we’re working for. Now shut the hell up, and follow me to the SUV over there.”
The man on the far left of the line turned and pointed at a red SUV, a huge Escalade, parked near the alley’s entrance.
“The Hawk just left,” Derrick said. “He didn’t think we were worth killing then. I doubt he thinks we’re worth killing now.”
“You’re not worth killing. But he wants to talk to you some more, so go ahead and get in the car. Or I can help you, your call.”
“Look,” Derrick said. “I’m FBI, and your boss can verify that information. I’m positive you don’t want the FBI messing around in your business, or bringing you in for —”
The man raised the gun up and directly into Derrick’s face.
Reggie took a step forward and Ben heard the snapping sound of three weapons rise to attention. “Woah,” he said. “Easy there, buddy. I’m just trying to get a good look at you.”
“You make me wait until the other three guys are here and I promise you it’s not going to be as painless as this,” the man said.
Ben couldn’t help it. He flicked his eyes to the end of the alley, trying to see if there was any weight to the man’s claim. Six against four, but right now it was only three-vs-four. Decent odds, he figured, but his side wasn’t armed.
He didn’t like the odds, but he liked them even less if there were, in fact, three more men coming. But the man probably was telling the truth — these three seemed leaderless, and Ben and his group had been shot at from the other side of the yogurt shop.
It was very likely there were three men on their way to the back alley now, and one of them was leading this ragtag group.
Reggie looked at Ben, and Ben felt the man trying to read his thoughts. He did his best to help his friend. Let’s give it a shot, Ben thought. Please, let’s just give it a shot. Julie’s out there —
Reggie was out of Ben’s line-of-sight before he could finish the sentence in his mind. He stumbled backward, trying to figure out what had happened.
Reggie had fallen almost all the way to the ground, then popped back up inside the man’s gun circle, coming up right in front of the man’s face. His fist was ready, and he applied a perfectly timed uppercut to the man’s chin, while grabbing for his gun with his free hand.
Ben recovered, then twisted quickly to dodge the flurry of bullets he knew was coming.
But the barrage never came. The other two men turned to Reggie and began to aim. They brought their weapons up to eye level, losing their nonchalant swagger and suddenly looking like very capable soldiers.
Ben reacted on instinct, diving forward to take out the man now closest to him. The man’s back was toward him, allowing Ben to crush his forehead and shoulders into the man’s lower back, crunching him forward and into the man Reggie had attacked.
Joshua, for his part, had ducked and rolled toward the man on the left, then come up and kicked at his groin. His kick landed, but it didn’t seem to have enough power behind it to incapacitate the man. Joshua followed up with a trip, and the enemy fell, the two men now grappling for a solid hold on the other.
Ben reached for his man’s head, grabbing a handful of the man’s hair, and he smashed it as hard as he could onto the asphalt. The man seemed to anticipate the attack and had tightened his neck, as Ben was unable to get his head lifted high enough off the ground to do much damage. He groaned with the impact, a spattering of blood spraying to the side, but Ben knew it was far from enough of an impact to do enough.
He tried again, working his other hand in front of the man’s head, on his forehead, then pulling up hard and fast, and pushing down with all his weight behind it. This time Ben heard — and felt — the cracking of the man’s skull. He thought he could feel the man struggling beneath him, so he tried again.
And again.
“Ben!” Reggie shouted. “Let’s go — now!”
Reggie sounded pissed, but even his scream wasn’t enough to dislodge Ben from the enemy he’d felled. He felt Reggie and Joshua pulling up on his arms, gripping him beneath his armpits, literally ripping him off the man. Derrick was standing by, a shocked expression on his face.
“Enough, Ben,” Joshua said. “Not here, not now.”
A gunshot from a silenced pistol ricocheted off the brick wall of the building behind the yogurt shop, and another fell into the side of a dumpster. Ben real
ized what had happened — the three men they had attacked were being joined by the rest of their team — and he suddenly found his feet. It was about a hundred paces to the end of the alley, but the men bearing down on them were closing the distance, fast.
“I — I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t…”
“It’s fine, Ben,” Reggie said, still pulling his arm up and into the safety of the yogurt shop. “You just — you just need to plan that crap out better.”
“Plan what?” Ben asked. “My temper?”
“Yeah,” all three men said in unison.
They ran into the back kitchen, finding the Asian man still cowering behind the counter, now moved over into the corner, close to a walk-in freezer.
“Get in the freezer,” Reggie said as they passed. “Please. It’s for your own safety.”
The shopkeeper nodded, then stood. He pulled open the door and ran inside, the heavy metal door falling shut with a deep thud.
Ben and Reggie watched the man retreat into the freezer while Joshua scoped out the front of the store. Derrick ran for the iPad they had left in the front of the store, scooping it up and placing it into his briefcase.
“Okay,” Joshua said. “Looks like it’s clear. But they’re going to be running around the corner, or through the store, in a few seconds. So let’s move.”
“Where?” Ben asked.
Joshua shrugged. “Doesn’t matter right now, really. Just stay together. How about that crowd of people over there?”
Sure enough, a crowd of young-looking people were crossing the street, the intersection of cars and trucks stopped behind their respective lights. In every direction, buildings towered above them, their roofs far above their heads. None of the surrounding buildings were as tall as the Rittenhouse, which dominated the immediate vicinity, but it gave the feeling that Ben was constricted, forced into a tiny box in the midst of larger boxes.
He had never been one for cities, especially downtown areas. Julie had a thing for perusing downtown streets, and she had pulled him along on numerous occasions, dragging him up and down tiny streets and between buildings, looking for that perfect cafe or coffee shop. She had even said she’d enjoy living in one of the tiny bungalows up above, their porch view of the bustling street below.
