Little Dove

by Jaden Wilkes

  “Give me the girl and you’ll walk free,” he said.

  The three men looked at each other and laughed. The tallest one, the obvious leader, said, “Nice try. Tell us who you are and we’ll kill you quickly.”

  “Not gonna happen, mate,” Dimitri replied, “until I get the girl back.”

  “You see, that’s not going to happen. She’s probably on her way out of the city as we speak. Tell us why you’ve been targeting our operations and we’ll think about letting you go.”

  The leader was American; this surprised Dimitri. They generally didn’t get this far into European crime; they tended to stick with South America and Asia. He didn’t reply, he moved slowly towards the leader, hoping to catch him off guard and knock the gun out of his hand.

  One of the others, a smaller dark haired thug made his way to Dimitri’s left side, he was holding the gun pointed at his head the entire time.

  The other man stayed behind the leader, his gun also pointed at Dimitri, but at his body. Smarter fellow that one, aiming for a spot that was easier to hit.

  “It looks like we have a bit of a stalemate,” Dimitri said, “but I doubt you’ll fire those weapons in such a crowded area. A couple of shots and the cops will be here in moments, intent on protecting their rich tourist trade. I can bet they’ll find more reasons to keep you.”

  “You’ll be caught as well,” the leader said, “or you’ll be dead.”

  “I don’t think you’ll be able to kill me, and with my papers I just look like a legitimate businessman being robbed by a wanted criminal.”

  The leader narrowed his eyes and looked up and down the street. There was a couple strolling hand in hand about a block away, but other than that it was empty. It was late and a Thursday, but two blocks away it was packed with people. He knew Dimitri was right, but he still might take the risk and shoot them both.

  After contemplating his hand, the leader motioned for the other two to lower their weapons. Dimitri exhaled, he hadn’t been sure which way the man would go, and he certainly didn’t want to end up shot.

  “One man standing and one on the ground, three of us,” the leader said, “I think the odds are in our favour no matter the weapon.”

  “Then try me,” Dimitri said, knowing most men would never back down from such a direct challenge, especially in front of two subordinates.

  He was right.

  The man rushed him, tossing his gun to the thug on Dimitri’s left. He pulled a knife from his jacket as Dimitri slipped his own from under his shirt. They circled each other, back and forth, completely focused on sizing up their opponent.

  Dimitri heard Nico gasp and wheeze behind him, he hoped his friend hadn’t been hurt beyond the obvious head wound. He sounded bad off.

  Dimitri decided to end it; he rushed the leader and smashed his fist up, into the bottom of his chin. His teeth snapped together and he must have bitten into his tongue, the leader coughed and spit a chunk of flesh along with a huge wad of foamy blood.

  He stuttered something to the man on Dimitri’s right, orders perhaps, but Dimitri didn’t pay any mind, he stepped towards him and slashed with his knife in one long, smooth motion. The leader’s eyes grew wide as his thug went down clutching his throat and gargling his desperate pleading need to stay alive.

  His desperation would only be met with death.

  Dimitri took advantage of this and slashed upwards, connecting with the leader’s chin where he’d hit it moments before. He left a great, bloody gash, just enough to knock the prick back, but not enough to kill him. Dimitri needed information more than he needed these men dead.

  He turned back to see Nico on his feet pummeling the third thug. He seemed to have fully recovered and Dimitri realized he’d been playing the wounded victim to lure the man in closer.

  “Keep him alive,” Dimitri said, “we need them to find her.”

  Nico slowed in his blows and let the man fall to the ground. He twitched and kicked his feet; he was still alive but passed out. Nico collected the guns that had fallen during the fight, decent small caliber handguns, no point throwing them out.

  “Now tell me where she is,” Dimitri said to the leader, “or I will make this extremely difficult.”

  “I can’t,” he rasped, his breath coming through the hole in the bottom of his mouth and with the tip of his tongue missing, he garbled with a wet bubbling sound.

  Dimitri grabbed his shirt collar and pulled him close, held the knife up to the man’s eye and said, “I don’t think you get how urgent this is.”

  “They’ll fucking kill me if I talk,” he wailed.

  “I’ll fucking kill you if you don’t,” Dimitri said and dragged the tip of his knife along the hollow beneath the leader’s left eye. He paused and applied upwards pressure, allowing the knife to slip past the lower lid and make contact with the eyeball.

  “Fuck,” the man cried out, “I don’t know anything, I can’t tell you what I don’t know!”

  Dimitri thrust the knife, felt the eyeball give way and gelatinous vitreous humour squirted out onto the man’s cheek. The eyeball was a funny thing, it didn’t bleed as much as you thought it should, but it did make one hell of a mess.

  The leader started to scream, an incompressible noise that caught in his throat with each gasping breath. Dimitri pulled his knife out and stuck it under the man’s nose, sliced delicately and left it inserted in his left nostril.

  “I,” the man gasped, “don’t know a thing.”

  Dimitri applied a little more pressure, threatening to slice the man’s nose in half. “Tell me anything, even if you don’t think it’s meaningful. Where were you supposed to meet them?”

  “Budapest, we usually work Budapest. We were brought here just for this, and were supposed to go back right after we’d finished you off.”

  It was amazing what intense pain did to loosen the tongue.

  “Who are you working for?”

  “I don’t know his name!”

  “Tell me what you do know.”

  “The boss speaks English, I was recruited in California by the first one you killed because he liked English speakers. I was sent to Hungary to set up a satellite operation, his main one is based in Russia. Fuck. He isn’t married. He likes young girls…really young girls…fuck...that’s all I can think of. Will you let me go?”

  Dimitri believed him. He was no longer of any use, and as tempting as it was to slice his nose of strip by strip, he had to find Columbia.

  “Just end it,” Nico said from behind him. “He knows nothing. Torturing won’t get us closer to her.”

  Dimitri agreed, took the knife and in one sharp motion he shoved it into the man’s neck, hit his jugular and let him fall quietly to the ground to bleed out.

  He turned back to Nico and the surviving thug. He was sitting up on the ground, the look on his face said he knew he was about to die.

  “Do you have anything to tell me?” Dimitri asked, his voice was low and flat. He was operating on autopilot at the moment, if he thought about Columbia being gone, he wouldn’t be able to function.

  “He’s English. Or American. Or…I don’t know, he speaks English,” the man said. He sounded like another Serb.

  “Shit, that doesn’t help me,” Dimitri said and pulled the man back up to his feet. Nico had done a number on him; his face was bruised and already swelling in some places. His lip was split and the rain of fists had reddened his eye.

  “He…he walks with a limp,” the thug said. Dimitri could almost see the man’s gears working, searching for anything he might offer up for mercy.

  Dimitri held the knife up to the man’s face, stuck the point right in the middle of a darkening bruise on his cheek and pushed. The man squealed and said, “He lives in Romania. I think. He’s got a huge house in the country. A guy I worked with said he was there one time. It’s heavily guarded, like a fortress. But he has places all over Europe. I heard he might be setting up shop in Berlin for the next few months.”

&n
bsp; Dimitri pushed the knife harder, he was so disconnected at this point that it felt like the old days. He was the Enforcer again and this man was just a meat puppet who wasn’t performing as he’d expected.

  Blood welled and dripped from the point of contact and Dimitri pushed harder. He was fully inside the man’s mouth now; his knife was slicing through to the other cheek.

  “Where in Romania? Where in Berlin?” he demanded and the thug managed to garble out his reply past the blood and blade.

  “I don’t know. I swear. Please…”

  “I think that’s all you’re going to get,” Nico said and grabbed Dimitri’s arm. Dimitri pulled back, jerked the knife forward and turned to face Nico. The thug was screaming, wet gargling sounds, as he dropped to his knees holding his face.

  Dimitri realized that he had his knife extended and pointed right at his friend’s throat. “I need her back,” he said and watched his hand as if it had a life of its own. “I can’t live without her.”

  “I know,” Nico said and reached up slowly for the knife. It was a couple inches from his exposed neck. “Torturing people isn’t going to get her back. You don’t need to go back to who you were, remain the man she loves and you’ll be happier when you do find her. Devolve into Enforcer territory and it will take you months to shed that skin again.” He grabbed the knife and moved it away from his neck, twisted it slightly and took it from Dimitri.

  Dimitri felt like a house of cards about to tumble down. He was nothing without his little dove, and he would turn the knife into his own eye if she were harmed. He should have protected her better, watched her closer, kept her safe from harm.

  Nico lunged down and ended the thug’s life with a swift slice across his throat. He helped the man drop to the ground gently and the two of them left the side street as his life’s blood spilled onto the cement.

  *****

  “Please slow down,” Nico said, grabbing Dimitri’s hand. “We aren’t getting anywhere, and you haven’t slept.” They were in Berlin at a townhouse used as a whorehouse for wealthier clientele.

  It felt empty, too empty. There were no women left, no signs that it had been crowded with less-than-willing whores just a few days previous.

  The furnishings and artwork were left behind, but it seemed devoid of human occupation. It had been packed away, ready for use at a moment’s notice.

  This is how most of these operations evaded the law. They moved fast through a network of safe houses around the world. People could be transported at a moment’s notice, transferring from one owner to another, from one country to the next, always passing under international regulations and laws.

  “They were here,” Dimitri said, clutching the blade, passing it back and forth from hand to hand until Nico had stopped him. He hadn’t even realized he’d been doing it. “I can fucking feel them, they were here days ago.”

  “I know,” Nico said and pulled his hand away. “But what the fuck good does it do to kill yourself looking for her?”

  Dimitri looked at him, his lip curled into a frustrated look of disgust. “How do you expect me to stop?” he asked. “What am I supposed to do without her? Carry on like life is worth living?”

  “No, but you have to slow down, you’re running on nothing right now. You have to take care of yourself or you’ll have nothing left to give her.”

  They heard a thump from another room and Dimitri was on the move before Nico could ask him to wait, to take his time to investigate. He felt like a bull, out of control and raging.

  He gripped his knife and walked towards the noise, not bothering to cover the sound of his approach. He was full of righteous anger and would confront this person head-on.

  “Slow down,” Nico said behind him, his words a sibilant hiss. “We don’t know how many there are.”

  “I don’t fucking care,” Dimitri replied, “I’ll kill them all to get what I want.”

  “She isn’t here. If she ever was.”

  Dimitri kept walking, ignoring his friend’s comment. Nico kept up and pulled a gun, his favourite Ruger.

  “Stay low and shoot to kill,” Dimitri told Nico, “I’ll take out anyone I can, but not before I get information.” He held up his knife and kicked the door open.

  It lead to a wide sitting room, this house seemed to be a maze of one identical room after another, all silent and empty.

  They passed through to a tall arch at the end of the room; it opened into a brightly lit round room with a high ceiling. It was the centre of the house, all rooms and hallways seemed to lead here.

  They heard whispered voices coming from a narrow hallway to the left, so they moved towards the noise, Dimitri in front, Nico behind.

  The hallway widened and ended abruptly with a solid, metal door, the kind you’d find on a restaurant cooler.

  Dimitri turned the handle and swung the door open, stood back and held out his knife, not knowing what to expect.

  It was a darkened room full of people, men, women and children. They all cowered when the door opened; Dimitri scanned the group for Columbia. Not seeing her among the faces, he turned and walked away.

  Nico stepped up and said, “You’re free now…go,” before he followed Dimitri again.

  Like survivors always do, the captives slowly stood up, walked out and dispersed, blinking in disbelief as their lives changed.

  Dimitri barely noticed, he was focused on information, but at the moment he was more focused on killing. He could have questioned the captives, but his rage wouldn’t let him slow down, wouldn’t let him quit until he had drawn blood in Columbia’s name.

  He moved back along the hall, heard a slight scuffle from behind a door and kicked it open.

  The doorframe shattered on impact and the door swung in, revealing what must have been a first floor guest room at one time. Now it had a large king sized bed in the middle, several cameras set up around it, and a wall of shelves holding every kind of sexual device he could imagine. Some for pleasure, some for torture.

  He crossed the room to the door on the other side, his thirst for vengeance was growing with each empty room, each door passing to nothing but emptiness. He held his knife in a fighting grip and kicked the door open.

  It lead to an en suite bathroom, and in the middle, waiting for him as if for an appointment, were two men.

  The first was big, huge really. He was muscular and thick like a bull. The chords on his neck bulged out as he flexed to appear even larger than his almost seven feet.

  The second was shorter, not quite six feet, and lean. He was well dressed in a custom tailored black suit, polished Italian loafers and dripping with gold and gaudy jewelry.

  Bodyguard and crime boss, Dimitri thought. They were a ridiculous cliché of such characters, and he wanted to take them down.

  “I’m here for information,” he said, “give me what I want and you might survive this.”

  The hulk pulled a gun, a Beretta 9mm from the looks of it. Lethal, given this close range. “I don’t think we’re up for a chat,” he said and steadied the weapon, pointed it directly at Dimitri’s face.

  He stared down the barrel and saw red. He saw Columbia being tortured, raped, murdered. He knew if he didn’t get to her, she would end up dead. His madness took over and he leapt to the right, rolled and swept his leg under the boss’s feet, knocking him over.

  The hulk fired, it went wide and missed Nico. Nico got off his own round and hit hulk’s shoulder. The big man grunted but didn’t go down. He shot at Nico, but Nico was already down and rolling towards the hulk. He landed at hulk’s feet, looked up and fired his weapon.

  Hulk went down this time, Nico had hit him between his legs, the hulk’s cock and ball sack exploded in a burst of bloody flesh and he fell forward to his knees. He cried out, caught himself with his hand and landed on the floor, rolling and writhing in agony.

  “Now what can you tell me about a girl who was just taken in Vienna?” Dimitri said, standing over the boss who was now sprawled on the ma
rble floor of the bathroom. His bodyguard was moaning and holding his crotch as he rolled around, begging for release.

  The boss assessed the situation, sat up and said, “I know nothing.” His glance darted to his bodyguard moaning on the floor, then back to Dimitri.

  Dimitri crouched down in front of the defiant man and replied, “See, that’s where you’re wrong. I think you do know something, and you will talk. Nico, help me here.”

  “Fuck you,” the boss exclaimed, “I ain’t tellin you shit!”

  “I was kinda hoping you’d say that,” Dimitri told him and straddled him, pinned him to the floor. The man struggled, but was easy to hold down. He wasn’t used to fighting his own battles, and it showed.

  Dimitri dragged the boss’s hands under each knee and held him there. He could feel the metacarpals grinding under his weight. He felt immense pleasure at this sensation.

  He loomed over the struggling man and said, “Last chance, where did they take my girl?”

  The screams of the bodyguard were dying down to a whimper and the boss was breathing like a freight train. “I don’t know nothing,” he said again, his voice a low whisper. “I really don’t, please, I’m tellin ya! I’m just the middle man.”

  Dimitri didn’t reply, he nodded to Nico who held the boss’s head in his hands, and stuck the tip of his blade in the man’s mouth.

  He gagged and panicked, tried to buck and move Dimitri’s great weight, but Dimitri wouldn’t budge until he got what he came for.

  Blood. Information. Vengeance.

  He jerked his knife and slit the boss’s mouth wide open, leaving a jagged tear from his mouth to his cheekbone. The boss screamed and shook his head wildly, unable to get away from Dimitri’s knife. His eyes bulged and his cries quickly became wet shrieks of bubbling blood.

  Dimitri drew his knife the other way, opening the man’s face on both sides. The man tried to move his head, to get away, but Nico and Dimitri were holding him in place. His flesh gaped and his teeth showed through the slits on either side