by James Hilton
“I was never built to be a tunnel rat. Thanks, Ghost, that’s another one I owe you.”
“Hey, we’re out of there, that’s the main thing, right?” she said. After looking up into the sky for a few seconds, she pointed at a narrow gap through nearby trees. “We need to head back that way.”
“You sure?”
“Pretty sure. I followed you west from the compound and my camp is just short of three miles north of it.”
“Smart. Far enough away to stay unnoticed, but close enough to keep tabs on them each day,” said Clay. He was liking Ghost more and more. “We need to hustle. I’ve been underground and out of the game way too long. I’ve got to get back to the compound.”
“Come on then, let’s get moving.” Ghost moved silently, barely disturbing the overhanging branches of the encroaching trees.
Clay tilted momentarily to one side, an angry buzzing in his ears. He’d felt this way before. The grenade blast that had sent him tumbling into the cenote had left him with a bitch of a concussion. Slapping face-first into water from twenty feet up probably hadn’t helped him much either. He’d pushed through worse in the past, but knew the toll.
With a determined grunt, he started after Ghost. Time enough for recuperation after he knew Celine was safe.
38
Celine rushed from the bed as she recognised her missing friend. “Laura, are you okay? We were so worried about you.”
Laura opened her arms as Celine moved to embrace her. Seconds later she was joined by Marco. “Celine! Marco! Gillian!”
Tears ran down Celine’s face as the friends huddled together. “I was worried we’d never see each other again.”
Laura, now crying too, kissed each of her friends in turn. “I love you guys.”
Rebecca stood outside of the huddle. “You four all came down here together?”
Celine, still clinging to her reunited group, answered in the affirmative. She turned her attention back to Laura. “That man at the door—not the white-haired freak, the other one— who was he?”
“He’s here to save us. He said he was Clay’s brother.”
“Clay?” Hope surged in her chest. “Did you see Clay too?”
“No, only… I think he said his name was Danny?”
“Yeah. That’s Clay’s brother. I’ve seen him a few times over the years, but he looked quite different back then. His hair was always very short. He always looked kinda angry. Clay talks about him all the time.” Celine closed her eyes, saying a silent prayer of thanks. If Danny was here to rescue them, then Clay was here too. “Danny and Clay are here for us. When they come, we’ve got to be ready to move.”
Marco nodded. “You think they can get us out?”
“It’s what they do. They used to be soldiers.” Celine recalled a few of the wilder stories that she’d heard about the Gunn brothers over the years. A small but emotion-filled sob escaped her chest. “Uncle Clay will kill every last one of them!”
The corners of Laura’s mouth turned down before she spoke. “I hope you’re right, but the white-haired dick just pulled a gun on Danny, got the drop on him good. That’s how I ended up in here with you.”
“Don’t worry. Even if they’ve managed to corner Danny, Clay is still out there. He’ll get us out.”
Marco shook his head, his hands scrubbing at his hair. “So, we’re down to one man already? This just gets better and better.”
A flash of anger ripped through Celine, taking unexpected voice. “And what fucking good have you been, Marco? You hardly knew your name a moment ago, so shut your mouth. Clay is coming for us.”
Marco reeled as if he’d received a physical blow.
“I… I didn’t mean…” He reached out to Celine, his hand hovering awkwardly in the gap between them.
Taking a deep breath, Celine forced herself to calm down. She knew Marco was as scared as the rest of them, and he was a soft-hearted goof at the best of times. The pain showing on his face and the waxy sheen of perspiration that coated his features made her soften as quickly as she had angered. She squeezed his hand. “It’s okay, Marco. I know you’re as scared as the rest of us.”
Rebecca gestured to the locked door. “What the hell do we do while we’re waiting for the rescue party to arrive?”
Celine visualised Clay’s hulking frame bursting through the door, guards lying motionless at his feet. “We think, talk, prepare. And when they come, we move our asses as fast as possible.”
Rebecca lifted her chin. “What about me? They’ll be coming for you and your friends. Will they take me with them too?”
Celine stared back at her with bold intensity. “We’re all going home. Clay won’t leave you here. I promise you that.”
Celine looked at the faces surrounding her, all now looking to her for leadership. A brief sensation of nausea rolled through her stomach. She was unsure if it was the remnants of the mystery concoction of drugs or a nervous reaction to the thought of Clay and Danny being so close. Her initial excitement wavered slightly, now turning into an octopus of doubt, each tentacle that now writhed in her torso carrying a different fear. Was this the drugs? Were they making her paranoid? She still didn’t know what the hell was in the concoction they’d been doped with. What had Rebecca called it again? The essence? Damned mind-scrambling Devil’s breath. Her memories were jumbled. An image: a muscular arm around her throat, a rough hand down her pants, invading.
“You okay?” asked Laura, reaching for her friend.
“I’m fine. We just need to stay ready.”
Laura glanced up at the camera dome near the door. “You really think Clay and Danny will be able to get us out of here?”
“I do.”
“But there’s all those men out there and you’ve just seen what they’re capable of.” A single bead of sweat rolled down the side of Laura’s face.
“Clay has always been so big and gentle around us—my family, I mean—but I’ve heard a few stories from my dad. I know he’s really tough. He worked as a doorman in some of the worst bars in Texas and he didn’t do it because he needed the money.”
Marco glanced warily at Celine. “Knocking a few drunks around is one thing, but these guys are another kind of threat altogether.”
The muscles in Celine’s jaw bunched with tension. “I’m telling you, Clay and Danny will get us out. They managed to save a British journalist a while back against a squad of trained soldiers.”
“But how are they—”
“Shut up, Marco!” Gillian’s voice caused him to jerk his head back. “Listen to what she’s saying. We’ve got to be ready to run like hell when the cavalry gets here.”
Celine balled her hands into fists. “Not just run. We may have to fight as well. We’ve all seen the faces of the men here. You’ve all seen enough movies to know that once you’ve seen the face of the killer, you’re as good as dead.”
39
For the second time that day, Danny Gunn awoke in a strange room. This time his hands were secured behind his back. Yet at least he knew Celine was alive.
He pursed his lips in annoyance. The Taser shock had knocked him on his arse, but it was the boot to the side of his head that had put him out. That was the second time that white-haired bastard had done him over. Ulrich Weiss. That was a name that needed scratching off his hit list before this was done. Weiss was no fool, if his two previous encounters were anything to go by. Danny was determined not to lose to him a third time.
Rolling to his knees, Danny Gunn tapped his wrists together. A metallic tone answered him. Handcuffs, not rope.
“Alrighty, then.” Danny sat up and pushed his hands as low as possible. It was the work of moments to slip cuffed wrists around his legs so that he could see his hands. Looking down at the cuffs, he allowed himself a little smile. They were standard-issue police cuffs: two ratchet bracelets connected by a short chain.
As a younger man, Danny had been a Houdini buff, tinkering with padlocks and knots to emulate the escape artist. He could open most l
ocks without trouble. Handcuffs were sometimes a different ballgame, depending on their make and model. These cuffs didn’t worry him.
“Easy money,” said Danny. He plucked the compact shim set from the inside lining of his belt. Moving with practised ease, he selected a small strip of metal and rotated it in the keyhole with the lightest of pressure. The cuff popped open with a barely audible click. Repeating the deft motions with his left hand took a few seconds longer. Damned left hand, needs more practice. He tucked the pin back into the lining of his belt, then turned his attention to the door.
There was no keyhole accessible from the inside, just a flat plate below the stubby handle. There was nothing to be gained by attacking a secure door. With nothing else to do but wait, Danny leaned his back on the wall opposite the door, and silently began to count. Ninety-four minutes later, he heard the sounds of men approaching. While measuring the time in the cell he had also loosely refitted the cuffs around his wrists. Loose enough that he could pull his hands free in an instant, but to a casual observer he would still appear shackled.
“I am going to open the door now,” Weiss called in his usual flat tone. “If you attack I will shoot you, and this time it will not be a stun gun.”
The key slipped into the lock. Despite the warning, Danny considered an aggressive rush. But being shot dead in a cell was not part of his plan. Taking a half-step back, he readied himself to receive pain if it was dealt out. Celine was here, alive if not well, but she was still breathing. That was the priority for now.
The door opened and a guard that Danny had not seen before crouched in the opening, a Taser pistol aimed at Danny. Behind him stood Weiss, his P7 trained on Danny’s chest.
“Step out. Do it slowly,” commanded Weiss.
Danny lowered his head, feigning capitulation, and did as requested. “Where are you taking me?”
Weiss took measured steps backward as Danny advanced. Weiss tilted his head. “That way. The Master wants to see you for himself, ask you the questions I sent my men to ask earlier.”
“I’m flattered,” said Danny. “The man behind the curtain wants to speak to little old me.”
“You may not be so cavalier when he’s done with you.”
“You never know. We may become BFFs.”
“Move it, or I will put a bullet in you.” Weiss’s gaze flicked briefly to the guard. “And don’t even think about grabbing him. I’ll shoot him dead just to get to you.” The guard didn’t seem fazed by Weiss’s declaration.
Danny tensed his arms as he was escorted into the main house, adding to the illusion that he was still handcuffed. The guard kept the Taser pistol close to his hip as they negotiated the two locked doors that formed the path to the house. As the second door closed behind him, Danny found himself in what he was sure was the main lobby of the house. A solitary guard was posted in front of a set of double doors.
Danny glanced at the spiral mosaic on the floor, then at the seemingly random assortment of art on the walls. “Who did your interior design, Coco the clown?”
“Shut your mouth and keep moving,” said Weiss.
Danny slowed his pace slightly, hoping that Weiss would close the distance between them.
“I won’t warn you again. Keep moving or I’ll put one through your kneecap.”
“I’m moving. I’m still a bit shaken after you suckered me with that Taser.”
Weiss showed Danny something that loosely resembled a smile.
“Will there be tea and scones at this meeting with the boss?” asked Danny. “Or will it be the blood of virgins from a crystal chalice?”
Weiss thrust his pistol forward. “I will enjoy watching you die, funny man.”
Danny paused mid-step and looked Weiss up and down. “If I had a pound for every time some arsehole with a gun told me that, I’d have more money in the bank than the Rockefellers.”
“Move!”
Danny followed the guard into a room illuminated by a scarlet light overhead. At the centre of the room sat a solitary figure. He slouched upon an oversized chair, his booted feet crossed at the ankles.
“You do know Halloween isn’t for months yet, don’t you?” asked Danny as he approached the seated man.
“So, you are the one proving somewhat troublesome to my men. I thought you’d be bigger.”
Danny gave a single shrug. “My girlfriends all tell me size doesn’t matter, it’s how you play the game.”
“Weiss informs me that your name is Danny Gunn. Interesting name.”
The corner of Danny’s right eye twitched as he silently berated himself. He had told Weiss his name in a rare moment of macho bullshit. He knew better than to give away even the smallest advantage.
“Seeing as we’re getting all cosy together, what do I call you?”
“You may call me ‘Master’.”
“Never gonna happen, slick.”
“Too proud to bow to your superiors?”
“Old enough to know that a superior mind would never expect anyone to bow to them,” replied Danny. “So, you can forget that ‘Master’ shite.”
The man leaned forward, as if to get a better look at his challenger. His chin jutted as he spoke. “My name is Sean Ezeret-Dunn. My people here call me Master Ezeret.”
“Your people?” Danny cast a glance at Weiss. “Is that just your little Red Hand Gang, or does that also include all of the kids you abduct, abuse and kill?”
40
“You okay there, big guy?”
Clay leaned against a gnarled tree. “Give me a second and I’ll be good to go.”
“What is it?” asked Ghost.
“My ears are buzzin’ like a hornet’s nest,” replied Clay. “My balance is still skewed as well. I feel as pitiful as a three-legged dog.”
“Getting blown outta your footprints by a grenade will scramble your eggs, sure enough.”
Clay forced himself away from the support of the tree. “You seem to be doing just fine.”
“I’ve been through worse.” Ghost waved at her scarred face. “Besides, you were right on top of that thing when it went off. I think I threw myself back out of surprise and followed you tail over titty-bag into the sinkhole.”
Clay emitted a guttural sound as he straightened up again.
“Even tough guys like you get concussion, y’know,” said Ghost.
“I haven’t got the time or the inclination to be concussed. It’s like you just said, I’ve had worse, too.”
“Come on then, we’re nearly at my camp. A quick re-up and we’ll go find your girl.”
“Celine.”
“Yeah, Celine.”
“And Danny,” added Clay.
Ghost tilted her head to one side but said nothing.
“He’s still alive,” said Clay. “Danny’s faster than double-struck lightning. He’ll be raisin’ hell without me and that just doesn’t sit right.”
“Then let’s keep moving so we can go join the party.”
Clay took a deep breath and, after holding it for a six-count, moved after his black-clad guide. “I’ll owe you big time after we get done with this shit-kicking contest.”
Ghost offered him a wan smile. “Mama used to say that the best friends are often met under the worst conditions. You get me close enough so I can put a bullet through Ezeret’s heart, and we’ll be square as square is.”
“You want to tell me a bit more about how you got those scars?” asked Clay, as he followed Ghost’s lead toward her camp. “Sometimes talking things through lets them sit a bit easier in your mind.”
Ghost didn’t turn to look at him. “After they brought us to the compound they kept us drugged for days on end, weeks maybe. I didn’t know my own name, I was so messed up. I remember the men taking us down under the main house, down with the others, me and my sister.”
“Lauren.”
“Lauren, yeah, sweet Lauren. She was only a kid, just turned twenty-one. They had some twisted gladiator shit going on down there—they have a pit a
nd everything. I remember one poor guy getting his head hacked off with a machete. So much blood.”
Clay’s balance tilted again, but he forced himself to keep moving. “They make people fight?”
“Yeah, usually one of their own against one of the captives; at least that’s how I think it was most of the time.”
“I know it hurts, but what happened to Lauren? Where is she now?”
“Those bastards killed her.” Ghost’s voice carried the slightest tremor, but she continued. “One night after the men had finished with us they dragged us both into the yard. We were already beaten to a pulp. I was so messed up I couldn’t walk. They tied Lauren to the fence by one hand. Then Weiss brought out two crossbows.”
He knew the next part before he heard it.
“They stood around laughing as if it were all a big game, some kind of joke, all while my little sister begged and cried for her life. Every time I tried to help, one of them would kick me back down. They kept her like that for what seemed like hours. Then those bastards began to fire arrows at her. The first shot went through her foot. I’ll never forget the sound of Lauren screaming. More men came out of their cabins to watch like it was big game night or something. They shot her seven times before she stopped screaming. The silence was worse. My beautiful little sister was gone, stolen from me by those sadistic pieces of filth.”
“I’m sorry about your sister.” The words tasted sour in his mouth.
“Every time I tried to get to her, they knocked me back down. Then Ezeret came out. I pleaded with him, but he just gave me a shit-eatin’ grin and whispered to Weiss. They brought one of the other men forward, a little skinny bastard with jam-jar glasses. They gave him a knife and let him loose on me.”
“Was he the one that cut your face?” asked Clay.
Ghost gave a single nod. “I think he was one of the visitors. I blacked out, thought I was dead. I guess they did too.”
“But you didn’t die.”
“Part of me did,” said Ghost. “I woke up when the pigs started to eat me.”
“Jesus!”
Ghost turned to face Clay. Her voice was barely above a whisper. “They ate Lauren, my sweet, beautiful little sister Lauren. There was almost nothing left of her. I managed to crawl out the pig pen by squeezin’ between the bars of the fence.”
