The Collar and the Cavvarach

by Annie Douglass Lima

  Steene frowned. “I guess I did already say Bensin could go out and try to rescue Ellie. If it were my sister in trouble, I know I’d want to do anything it took. It sounds pretty dangerous, though.” He turned to Officer Shigo. “You won’t let him take any unnecessary risks, will you?”

  “It will definitely be risky, but we’ll stick with the necessary risks. Now we’ll need a signed pass from you to make it legal.”

  “Never mind. I’m coming. I can’t just go back to bed and sleep soundly knowing that Bensin could end up in the middle of a firefight. No reason I can’t come too, is there?”

  “You can come to the site at least,” Officer Shigo told him. “But until I talk to the officers on location, no promises as to if or how either of you will be allowed to actually help.”

  “That works for now,” Coach conceded. “All right, let me go get dressed. I’ve got a soon-to-be adopted daughter to rescue.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two: No Heroics

  They took separate cars so Officer Shigo could go straight home afterward. He was supposed to have been off duty over two hours ago; Bensin was grateful that he continued to help. Coach Steene followed him, driving through mostly deserted streets into an unfamiliar part of town. Bensin, bruises throbbing and stomach growling, sat silently in the passenger seat and munched an energy bar, grateful his owner wasn’t scolding him anymore.

  At last they pulled into the parking lot of a darkened office building. Two cars were there already, but Bensin didn’t realize until he got out and saw Officer Shigo talking to them that the men and women in plain clothes were Watch officers.

  “There’s been some activity over in the warehouse,” one woman was saying, indicating a large building across the street. “We believe DeSalle drove in there in a van earlier this evening, and security cameras on nearby buildings caught a couple other vehicles entering the underground parking. The van and at least one other car haven’t come back out yet.”

  Officer Shigo introduced Bensin and Coach Steene to the others. “These are the people I mentioned on the phone. The boy is the brother of the little girl most recently reported missing, and this is his owner. They’re willing to help out.”

  The four officers looked them over, and Bensin swallowed. Watch officers always made him nervous, even when they weren’t in uniform.

  “A slave could come in handy,” the first woman admitted. “He’s the likeliest person to be able to get in and take a quick look around without alarming anyone.” She glanced at Coach Steene. “You don’t mind letting him do this?”

  “It’s his decision to make.”

  “Okay.” She turned to Bensin. “It could be dangerous. Are you willing to take the risk?”

  “Yes, ma’am. If it could help my sister, I’ll do anything.”

  “Tell you what, then. Go in through the garage and see what you can see. Just get an idea of how many people are in there, if you can, and what parts of the building they’re in. If they’re who we think they are, they’ll definitely be armed, so pay attention to what weapons they have, and don’t do anything to get them suspicious. Try to stay out of sight, but if anyone spots you, you’re on the run from your owner and you’re just looking for a place to spend the night. Those bruises will help your story. If they tell you to get lost, you leave right away. Got it?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “You’re not on a rescue mission,” Officer Shigo reminded him. “Just reconnaissance. If there are criminals in there, don’t try to tangle with them. If you see Ellie or any other prisoners, don’t try to free them. No heroics. Just come back and bring us the information, and we’ll decide what to do with it.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “If these people are really dealing in slaves, how do we know they won’t try to kidnap Bensin, too?” objected Coach Steene.

  “We told you it’s risky,” one of the officers pointed out.

  “Yeah, well, if he’s not back in, say, twenty minutes, I’m going after him,” Coach announced. “I’ve got my phone. I’ll call you if there’s trouble. Surely there’s no legal reason why an owner can’t walk into an abandoned building looking for his missing slave.”

  “You may not have a chance to call us,” Officer Shigo warned. “And while there isn’t a legal reason why you can’t go after him, you’d be putting yourself in danger. A gang of criminals might not be too concerned about a young slave wandering in off the street, but they’d be much more suspicious of you.”

  “Well, I’ll take my chances on that if it comes down to it. Twenty minutes, and that’s it.” Coach glanced at his watch and then turned back to Bensin. “You be careful. I don’t want anything to happen to you. Like he said, don’t try to be a hero or anything; just take a quick look around and come right back.”

  Bensin nodded. “I will, Coach. Don’t worry.” He started off alone across the empty street, feeling all their eyes on his back.

  The warehouse was a big, blocky building, five or six stories high. It had no windows, at least not on this side, so he knew no one could see him coming. Was Ellie in there somewhere? Were there other stolen slaves too? How long would they be there before arrangements were made to ship them off to new owners?

  The front entrance was huge, big enough for a truck to drive through, which was probably its purpose. It was closed up tightly, though, and Bensin went around to the back, where a long driveway dipped low into an underground parking garage. The entrance had apparently once been blocked by one of those wooden arms that went up and down to let cars through, but the arm had been broken off and lay on the ground nearby.

  Bensin walked down the sloping ramp into the basement parking lot. The inside was dark, and he wished he had a flashlight. He lingered near the entrance until his eyes adjusted, and then cautiously stepped forward and looked around.

  The parking area was smaller than he had expected, although he supposed probably not many people would need to park in a warehouse at once. Maybe this was just for loading and unloading. He saw a car and a van in there; otherwise the area was empty.

  A wide stairway rose over to the left. When he got closer, Bensin saw that a huge freight elevator stood beside it, but none of the buttons were lit. Maybe the building’s electricity had been cut off until the place got sold or rented out. In any case, it would be better to take the stairs so no one would know he was coming.

  He began to climb. The building was eerily silent, and once he rounded a bend, it was pitch black. One hand on the railing, he kept climbing. Ellie’s scared of the dark. He hoped there were lights on wherever she was.

  He could tell he was on the first floor when his foot found no more stairs in front of him. But he could see nothing, and he didn’t dare take his hand off the railing for fear he would blunder around and never find it again. It wasn’t that he was afraid of the dark, but he didn’t fancy wandering around in it, bumping into who-knew-what and perhaps falling down another flight of stairs that he couldn’t see. In any case, if there were people around, surely they wouldn’t just be sitting in darkness. So Bensin kept climbing.

  He could see nothing on the second floor either, but at the third, he thought he caught the faint glow of light from further up the stairwell. So he tiptoed up the next flight, and soon it was obvious that there was light ahead. Not from the fourth floor, but from the fifth.

  When he got close, Bensin lay flat and crawled up the last few steps on his belly to make it less likely that anyone would spot him. But they won’t know who I am or why I’m here even if they do see me, he reminded himself. No one has a reason to hurt me. Unless they decided to try to capture and resell him too, of course.

  Peering up above the last stair, he saw a wide doorway opening into a large room lit only by a lightweight battery-powered lantern that sat on the floor perhaps ten feet away. Just beyond the lantern, a heavyset man lay on the floor, head pillowed on his arm, sound asleep. A little closer, a second man sat cross-legged as though on watch. But his head was bowed, his eyes we
re closed, and his chest rose and fell in a gentle rhythm.

  Is he Lachlan DeSalle? Maybe. His features were fierce, even in sleep. He looked like the kind of guy who expected people to work for him, to obey him. The kind of guy who would swear at his slaves and lash them for any little thing.

  The man’s hand rested on a gun in his lap. Bensin couldn’t tell for sure, but it looked a lot like the kind Nate wanted. What was it called? Oh, yeah. Stinger 700.

  Bensin peered beyond the men. The room was filled with towers of empty shelves, wide ones that could have held large boxes of goods. The shelves ran from left to right across the room, with an aisle at each side and one in the middle. The little lantern wasn’t powerful enough to light the whole room, and the shelves cast shadows he couldn’t see past. Was Ellie back there? Were there more guards? And would these two wake up if he came any closer?

  He had to risk it. After all, he didn’t actually know anything useful yet. These men might not even be the criminals the Watch were after. And orders or no, he just couldn’t leave without at least trying to find out if his sister was around and if she was okay.

  Bensin sneaked up the last few steps, his eye on the dozing man with the gun. But the man didn’t stir, and Bensin turned left, hugging the wall, sidling along it until he reached the corner. With another glance back at the gunman, he turned and crept along the side wall, making his way deeper into the shadowy room.

  He passed row after row of freestanding shelves, pausing to peer between them each time. But he saw nothing except dust and shadows, each darker than the last as he ventured further from the light.

  Approaching the back wall, Bensin felt less nervous now since he knew it would be harder for the men to see or hear him. When he reached the corner, he paused. He could see something — or someone — about halfway across the back of the room. There was a low shape leaning against one of the shelves by the center aisle.

  Bensin crept closer, still on tiptoe. It was pretty dark back here, but the aisle, with the lantern at the other end of it, was a little lighter. Soon he could see the forms of three small people, each leaning against a separate shelf. Was Ellie one of them? Was she all right? There was no hint of motion from any of the figures.

  Finally he was near enough to see three children, each with a strip of silver-gray duct tape plastered over their mouths. They had duct tape wrapped around their ankles too, and their wrists were tied behind their backs and fastened to the shelves they leaned against with more tape.

  The closest one was Ellie. Her eyes were closed and her head rested on the frame that supported the shelf behind her. Bensin was relieved to see her chest rising and falling steadily with each breath. In the dim lantern light, he could see tear stains glistening on her face, but she didn’t look injured as far as he could tell.

  Beyond her sat an older girl, maybe nine or ten years old. The third child was a little boy, not much older than Ellie. They both wore collars as well.

  At first Bensin had had the idea that if he could get his sister free, he might be able to slip out with her, in spite of what the Watch officers had said. But he couldn’t just take her and leave the other two, and he was sure there was no way all four of them could make it out of the room without waking the men. And in any case, how did one remove duct tape? He had nothing to cut it with, and unpeeling it would make a noise that the men would be sure to hear. Besides, pulling tape off skin would probably hurt, and Ellie wasn’t good at bearing pain silently.

  He knew he should just leave now, sneak back down the stairs and out through the parking garage, and tell Coach Steene and the Watch what he had found. But his little sister was here, all taped up and probably scared to death. Should he at least wake her and whisper in her ear that he was bringing help?

  At that moment the other girl opened her eyes, turned, and saw him. Bensin quickly pressed a finger to his lips, afraid that she would make a sound and alert their captors. She nodded, but her eyes, wide and terrified, begged him to help.

  Just then, from back by the entrance of the room, he heard the musical tone of a cell phone ringing. In the silence, it was easy to hear the voice of one of the men as he answered it.

  “Hello? Well, it’s about time. We’ve been waiting here for hours. You got buyers for all of ’em now? Okay, we’ll load ’em up. Yeah, we’ll be there in a few. Bye.”

  Ellie and the little boy were awake now. Ellie turned and saw Bensin, and her eyes lit up. “Shh!” he whispered, but it was too late. She couldn’t call his name with the duct tape over her mouth, but she could try, and Bensin was sure the two men could hear the muffled sounds she was making.

  He scurried over to her side. “Ellie, you have to be quiet,” he whispered in her ear. I’m going to rescue you, but we can’t let those men know I’m here.” He fumbled with the tape at her wrists, but his hands were shaking, and he could hear footsteps approaching. They were about to take his sister away! And now there wasn’t even time for him to get back out and alert the Watch.

  The light was coming closer. “Hey, what’s that?” a voice called.

  Bensin looked up. Both men were approaching down the center aisle, one carrying the lantern, the other a pair of scissors. They had seen him!

  “Mmm!” Ellie whimpered through her gag, her eyes wide.

  Both men whipped out guns, and Bensin froze, terrified. “Who the slark are you?” the guy with the lantern, the one he thought might be DeSalle, demanded. “And what are you doing here?”

  “I — I —” What had the officer told him to say? “I was trying to get away from my owner, and I needed somewhere to hide.”

  The man advanced closer. “You came to the wrong place, kid.”

  “I’m sorry, sir. I’ll leave now.” He straightened up and edged away.

  “Don’t move!” The man brandished the gun, and Bensin froze once more. “Get over here!”

  Reluctantly he obeyed, his eyes on their weapons. They were different from each other, he saw, but he was still pretty sure DeSalle was holding a Stinger 700. It had that wooden handgrip he remembered from the picture. What did Nate say about it? Something about great power and range. For some reason it was scarier having a gun pointed at you when you actually knew a little about the gun.

  “Let’s see your collar.” The heavyset man reached out and seized it with the hand holding the scissors, jerking Bensin a stumbling step closer. With a free finger, he angled the little metal circle of the tag to catch the light. “Bensin.” Frowning, he turned back to his partner. “Hey, boss, isn’t that the name the one kid kept yelling before we gagged her?”

  Bensin took advantage of their moment of distraction. With a half step back to free himself and get the distance right, he sprang and swung his left foot around. It was exactly the kick he would have used to knock an opponent’s cavvarach out of his hand and send it flying.

  There was a deafening BANG! as the gun went off, and all three kids screamed through their gags. But the gun went sailing through the air, and the fat man swore and clutched at his hurt fingers as his weapon clattered against a shelf somewhere in a far corner of the room. Bensin spun around and dashed behind the nearest shelf, sprinting down the length of it toward the side wall.

  Another gunshot followed him, and another. I’m being shot at with a Stinger 700! A distant corner of his mind found time to wonder what Nate would say and whether he would have any advice. But surely not even a Watch officer’s son could tell him how to dodge bullets, even from his favorite gun.

  I have to get out of here! Hadn’t Nate said that the Stinger 700 could hold fifteen rounds plus one? Bensin wasn’t exactly sure what that meant, but he assumed DeSalle could shoot sixteen bullets before he had to reload. So there were fourteen left. More than enough to end his life.

  He knew they wouldn’t hurt Ellie or the other kids; not now that they had buyers for them. Especially since they couldn’t escape or cause any trouble at the moment. But hurting — or even killing — Bensin was a different story
. He had to get outside as fast as he could, not only to save himself, but because there was just the tiniest chance that he could alert the officers before these men took Ellie and the others away.

  Reaching the corner, he spun to the right, heading toward the door. But someone was coming after him. He could hear angry yells and pounding footsteps. BANG-CLANG! A third bullet struck the edge of a shelf just beside him. Bensin dodged, stumbling, and another one whizzed past his head as he turned down one of the rows of shelves. Too late, he realized that this would take him back out into the center aisle where they were bound to see him.

  But there was no one in the aisle except for the shadowy shapes of the children, still sitting where he had left them. The lantern was gone, but its light bobbed between shelves at the far side of the room.

  Bensin spun left, making for the exit as directly as he could. “He’s heading for the door!” called the man behind him. “Stop him!”

  “I can’t find my gun!” the other one yelled back.

  BANG! Another bullet zoomed past. Bensin skidded, made a quick turn, and dashed down a different row, thankful this part of the room wasn’t well lit. He hated to waste time running in zigzags, but it would be stupid to stay directly in the man’s line of fire.

  BANG! BANG! BANG! DeSalle was shooting at him between the shelves now. Bensin ducked, his heart lurching again. Six, seven, eight. He wasn’t purposely trying to keep track, but the numbers lodged in his brain with each shot, much the way he imagined the bullets themselves might. Could the Watch officers hear the gunshots from across the street? Would they come charging in now to rescue everyone? Maybe not. There were no windows, after all.

  Reaching the wall once more, Bensin turned and sprinted along it toward the corner. He was almost there, and then he just had one short open stretch to the door.

  But the fat man was standing in front of the doorway, one hand clutching the lantern by its handle. He apparently had not yet found his gun, but his arms were outstretched to block the way, to grab.