by Paul Kane
"I need to speak to you," he whispered when she was close enough.
Meghan glanced away, nervously scanning the room, then said, loud enough for everyone nearby to hear: "Would you mind giving me a hand getting this into the lift?" Dale nodded, flashing what he hoped was a reassuring smile. Following her out into the hallway, he began to say something but she shook her head sharply as two of the Dragon's men walked by. Dale took hold of the other side of the trolley and when they eventually reached the lift, Meghan motioned for him to enter with her. However, so did another of the Dragon's soldiers, squeezing in just before the doors closed. Meghan asked the man what floor he wanted, then pressed the number for them all to descend.
The man got out just a couple of stops before them, but when Dale began speaking, Meghan pressed a finger to his lips. The doors finally opened on their level and Dale helped her out with the trolley.
"Okay, it's safe to talk now."
"Safe?"
"His eyes and ears are everywhere. We should keep walking, I can't be late delivering this stuff."
"To the Dragon?"
Meghan shook her head. "To his family."
"He has family here?" This was a new one on Dale, and information he could probably use later, especially if Jack and the other Rangers showed up.
"Mother, father and grandmother. I'm basically their slave."
Figures, thought Dale. The Dragon saw people as his property, so why would his family act any different? It was probably even their fault. "That who gave you the eye? His father?"
Meghan shook her head, and he could feel her hand shaking as she pushed the trolley. "I spilt some soup on his Dad, though. Had to be punished."
Dale couldn't tell whether she actually believed the last bit. Had she been here so long that it felt normal to be beaten for spilling soup? Jesus, look what that fat bastard was doing to these people. For a second Dale wondered if the punishment had involved more than just the punch, but didn't ask; he was afraid to. And more than a little afraid that Sian would be on the receiving end of something similar before too long.
"Look, I'm going to get you out of here. You and Sian." Meghan stopped the trolley, a look of complete surprise on her face. "That's right, she's here as well. I'm meeting her in a bit. She came to find you. Don't worry, come with me and-"
"Nobody escapes from here. He kills anyone who tries."
"I don't doubt it, but you have to trust that I'm going to get you both away from this... this..." Dale struggled to find words to describe the place and failed. He'd witnessed more depravity here than all his time on the streets and as a Ranger put together.
"You'll be killed. We all will. He's insane!"
"Look, you have to trust me, Meghan."
"I-I've got to deliver this. If I don't he'll send his men to find me."
That was true, it would arouse more suspicion than ever if the Dragon's family didn't get their grub. "Okay, but I'm coming with you."
"No, you mustn't. It's-"
"Not inside. I'll wait in the corridor. But now I've found you I'm not letting you out of my sight."
Meghan's hands were shaking again, but she nodded. When they arrived at the corridor in question, he let Meghan walk down it alone. There was nobody else around that he could see. Pretty weird in itself, but Dale reasoned that the Dragon probably wanted privacy for his family. He wondered if most of the guards even knew about them. Meghan looked back over at him just once before knocking, and he smiled again to try and reassure her. Then she was inside, and all he could do was wait for her to come out.
He wasn't standing there long, though, when he heard the first of the screams. It was definitely Meghan. Dale raced up the corridor to the room she'd entered. He threw open the door and was already inside before he realised something was wrong. For one thing, the room was in semi-darkness. For another, there was no sign of Meghan or the trolley, let alone the Dragon's family. Just a bank of monitors throwing out the only light. Dale wondered how they were still working, but then the Dragon had all kinds of electrical stuff rigged up. He looked at the monitors more closely, seeing what they were displaying - various parts of the stadium: guards walking up and down corridors; the pitch outside; the entrance; even the lift he'd just been in. It was a damned CCTV system! He'd noticed the cameras all around, of course he had, but he'd made the stupid mistake of thinking they weren't on. Dale hadn't seen one of these in operation since before The Cull. But if the other stuff was working, why shouldn't these be as well? Stupid, stupid!,
There was the clack of a machine-gun being primed behind him, then another, then a third. Dale froze. A switch was flipped, flooding the room with light. The Dragon was wheeled around in front of him by Meghan.
I don't believe this, thought Dale. She'd led him right into a trap. After Adele deceived them all how could he have been so-
The Dragon suddenly grabbed her arm and threw her violently to the floor, where she knelt crying. Dale could see now that her lip was split and bleeding; those screams had been for real. "Why don't you come further in," he said, that voice making Dale squirm. "Come on, don't be shy. After all, you haven't been during your time here, have you?"
Dale was prodded forwards by what felt like the barrel of a rifle.
"Oh, I've been keeping tabs on you for a while now, all your little excursions. Quite innocent to the casual observer, but you did keep cropping up here, there and everywhere. Sort of like a really crap Jason Bourne." The Dragon laughed. "Except the spy was being spied on himself. I like that, don't you? And then last night... Oh, last night. I didn't catch the show live, of course, because I had other things to attend to, as you probably already know. But thankfully everything was being recorded and I watched it all back today. Made for very interesting viewing. Nice touch trying to frame the radio operator, by the way, but very sloppily executed. Unlike him." The Dragon leaned forward. "What I still don't know is who you are and who you're working for. You see, some of the cameras have pictures, but no sound. Who exactly were you contacting on the radio?"
"Nobody."
The Dragon held up his hand. "Save the bullshit. When I saw those pictures, who do you think I spoke to first, eh?" He pointed to one of the screens behind him. Right next to the one showing the harem's showers - in use right that minute, to Dale's disgust - was Sian in a room, strapped to a chair, head back and unconscious. "But she wouldn't tell me anything either, even under... duress."
"You fucking shit, I'll-"
"Let's be realistic, you'll do nothing." He kicked out at Meghan, who was attempting to stand. "That's why you shouldn't think so badly of this poor cow. Oh, I know exactly who she is now, don't I sweetheart? And I do so believe in family loyalty. That's why she brought you here, although you didn't need much persuading, I have to say. I just showed her what was on that screen, said her precious niece would be cut up into little pieces right in front of her if she didn't do exactly what I said. Actually, be thankful my tall foreign friend isn't still around because he would have enjoyed doing that, I think."
I'll bet he would, thought Dale, knowing all too well Tanek's love of torture.
"The stupid bitch still tried to warn you, though." Another kick and Meghan was pitched forwards on her hands and knees. "Unfortunately for you the audio works just fine in the lift and corridors in this section." He grinned.
Now Dale thought about it, Meghan had tried to stop him, even though it would have put both herself and Sian in danger.
"I'll come with you."
"No, you mustn't."
She'd tried to tell him about the cameras, too: "He has eyes and ears everywhere." Dale had just assumed that she was talking about his men.
"It's funny, I was warned about a danger from within, but this still came as a bit of a surprise."
"Warned?" Dale said before he could stop himself.
"My family. Ever since the virus they come out with things... the strangest things."
"Please! You have to do something!" Meghan said to Da
le. Tears were streaming down her face. "He's crazy. His family are-"
Before she could get another word out, the Dragon had hefted himself a couple of inches forward, the front wheel of his sled rolling over the woman's hand. Dale heard the cracking as the bones broke under that weight, then another scream from Meghan - much louder than the first. Dale winced. The Dragon ignored the cries.
"Tell me what I want to know, or this is only the beginning. I'll make them both suffer. And from what I see already, you're not a man who'd enjoy that." The Dragon paused, eyeing Dale up and down. "Or are you? Hmm? Perhaps you enjoy seeing women get hurt? Perhaps you've hurt a few in the past as well?" The Dragon rolled off Meghan's hand and she clutched it to her chest, howling in agony.
Fucking mind games, Dale said to himself. The Dragon didn't know the first thing about him. Concentrate. Meghan was right, he had to do something to stop this. But what? There were at least three men behind him, and so many more outside these doors. He'd often wondered what the scenario would be if he got caught. Bourne? More like Bond, complete with the psychopathic villain. All the Dragon needed was a cat. It'd be funny if it wasn't so real.
Dale looked over at the screens again, seeing Sian there, helpless. Two damsels in quite a bit of distress, and he couldn't help either. Just then his eyes caught something else on one of the screens. Something everyone in the room seemed to have missed. Movement between the seats out in the stadium itself - brief flashes, tiny but unmistakable. Those hoods, the tips of bows, a quick flash of metal. The Rangers - his friends - were here. If he could just hold on a while longer...
But he'd have to do something to make sure nobody saw the screens just yet.
Dale's mind raced. Okay, you want mind games, mate. I'll give you mind games. "I guess that's all you can really do, isn't it?"
"I'm sorry?" said the Dragon.
"Hurt them, get them to perform for you. It's not like you can do anything else with them, you limp-dicked chubster."
The Dragon's face reddened. "What?"
"I bet your men don't even know that, do they? All those women you collect and you can't even get it up when you're alone with them, can you?"
He stared at Dale, fuming. "Shut your mouth."
"Some Dragon. Some leader of men. You're not much of a man at all, really, are you? All you can do is watch, perv over them and wish you were more like some of these guys who fetch and carry for you. Who protect you."
"I said shut the fuck up!"
"I bet it's all recorded somewhere as well, all those times you've made women do things, but haven't been able to satisfy them. Bet the proof's right there for any of your men to see."
"If you don't shut your mouth-"
"What is it, the weight? Or something else? Don't tell me, you have issues with strong women, don't you? Mummy's boy, were we? Is that it? Or maybe even your Dad? Was he the problem? Was he a real man, Dragon?"
"I. Said. SHUT UP!" roared the Dragon, leaning forward so far in his sled it was rocking.
"Well come on, if you think you can take me. You don't need these guys to fight your battles as well, do you? Come on, then!"
The Dragon raised himself up and it was at that moment the sled wobbled over, crashing sideways to the floor. Dale used the distraction to drop to the ground, as the men behind opened fire - hitting some of the screens in front, actually doing him a favour by shattering the ones chronicling the Rangers' progress. Dale rolled backwards, taking the guards' legs out from under them. Sending them sprawling in all directions.
He was up first, elbowing one in the face to keep him down and snatching his rifle. The second he shot in the leg; the third he took out with the butt of the rifle. Even if he wasn't as slick as Bourne or Bond, he fought like them: hard and fast, getting rid of the Dragon's men in here, at least.
But not the Dragon himself. As Dale rose, the man was charging towards him - faster than Dale ever would have given him credit for. He'd probably been even quicker in the days before piling on all that meat, but was still quick enough to slam Dale backwards into the wall.
"Not a man, eh? We'll see about that," he grunted as he swatted Dale's gun aside with a flabby arm.
Dale had no room, so when he threw his punch - hard, in the kidneys, which should have crippled his opponent - it simply sank in, having no effect whatsoever. The Dragon might have been overweight, but he knew how to use that to his advantage, crushing Dale against the solid wall, gripping him by the throat.
Dale kicked out, but that had the same effect as the punch. The Dragon squeezed his opponent's windpipe harder. "Who. Sent. You?" he shouted. "Tell me!"
The sound of an explosion came - it was distant, possibly even in the next building. But a second and third followed, and this time they rocked the room they were in. The Dragon looked up at the ceiling as dust fell.
"Y-You really want to know?" gasped Dale. "You'll get to meet them soon. They're here, Dragon... and they're not... very happy about what you did to their HQ... Or their men."
"A Ranger," breathed the biggest of the two men. "I should have known."
Dale grinned again, but soon stopped when the Dragon lifted him up and shoved him hard against the wall, banging his head. Everything went fuzzy for a moment.
The last thing Dale remembered after that was an angry red face, a face that almost did resemble a Dragon in his muddled mind.
Dale fell; fighting for breath and losing his grip on consciousness.
He could still see only red as he lost both battles.
Then the redness turned to black.
Chapter Thirteen
How exactly had he got into this mess?
He was dangling, suspended, above a fire in what had once been the castle's reservoirs.
He thought he'd been so clever, but like always he was really only making all this up as he went along, trying to turn something hopeless into a fighting chance.
Maybe this was his punishment for hurting the woman he loved more than life itself. And, in his defence, the Widow's mumbo jumbo did have an effect on him initially. Some kind of weird hypnosis or mind control. The best way he could describe it was like having a waking dream, where you were doing and saying things you wouldn't normally, but had no control over. He cast his mind back to when they'd first been alone together, back in the Vaults where he'd been chained to the wall. She'd had him stripped naked and he'd assumed there would be some kind of torture involved, especially as he was surrounded by such implements. Maybe it was just his turn, he thought. Both Mark and Jack had suffered at the hands of Tanek - Mark coming away having lost a finger, while Jack's mental scars ran deeper. If they could brave it, then so could he. He'd had to face worse: up against tanks, jeeps, helicopters, armed with only a bow and arrow.
But torture had been the last thing on her mind.
"I do admire a man who's not afraid of being in the raw," the Widow told him as she'd scrutinised his body, approving eyes passing over his taut muscles. "I've been waitin' fer you to come. Expecting yer."
"So you said. Some kind of tip off."
The Widow might have suspected they'd strike sometime, but couldn't have known exactly when without some kinds of heads-up.
"Could say that." The Widow laughed. "But no the kind that you'd believe. Not yet, anyway." She'd approached him, and placed a hand on his chest. "Good, strong heartbeat," said the Widow, then ran her hands over his torso. Then her hand moved downwards and she gave an approving and extremely dirty smile.
"Would you like me to cough?" Robert spat.
"Sense of humour. I like that. A perfect man in a lot of ways: fit, strong. Yer know, a lot of men have disappointed me over the years, Robert."
"You do surprise me."
"Something tells me you won't disappoint."
He strained against the chains that held his wrists and ankles. "Don't fight it. You and I both know something more powerful than either of us has brought us together. There's something special between us, something we share."
> "And what's that?"
She leaned in and breathed: "A kind of magic. 'Course, yours has been weakened, but I can help get it back. Also helps me with what's about to follow." The Widow told him about how it was all in the cards that he'd come and they would one day rule this country, if not the world, together.
"With the help of good old German ingenuity, I suppose," said Robert.
She waved away his comment. "Means to an end. At the moment, our countries need each other. But who knows what's around the corner."
"You do, apparently."
"That's right." The Widow produced a tarot card: a man sitting on a throne, wearing and crown and holding a sword. "This is you, Robert: The Emperor. My Emperor. The one I've been looking for my whole life. This is who you will become when we've... joined."
"Are you for real?"
"Aye. An' I knew it was not going to be easy to persuade yer, but I must try."
Then she drew strange markings on the floor and walls around him. Burning odd-smelling incense and candles, leaving them under him so he had no option but to inhale. Robert fought their effects, but it was no use. They made his muscles relax and he hung on the wall like a puppet. She chanted in a language he didn't understand: the words overlapping, tumbling into each other at one point. Robert recalled the Widow lifting his chin, pressing her lips against his, saying something about needing to be sure.
And he remembered the painting she'd done on his body, markings and symbols to complement the words she spoke. He felt drunk by this point, more drunk than he had even on his stag do, just before marrying...
Joanne.
He saw her face, those beautiful eyes, those lips. But it was morphing into someone else. He saw Mary, remembered what had happened, how lost he'd become in the forest when Joanne and his son, Stevie, had died from the A-B virus. How Mary had made him feel human again, her love, her-
Then both faces were replaced with the Widow's, the only person he could see, the only voice he could hear. Over and over, telling him he was hers - that they were destined to be together.
