Path of the Tiger

by J M Hemmings

  Would she find the exit open, or would she be trapped inside it, unable to turn around in the suffocating, python-tight space, blocked from getting out by a solid grille of steel? There was only one way to find out. She licked her cracked lips with a dry and swollen tongue, closed her eyes briefly, and dragged herself around the corner.

  Her heart sank; the grille was still in place.

  ‘Oh no…’

  Her first thoughts were not of her own predicament, but of the peril in which this situation placed all of her friends. She reached up and pressed the talk button on her earpiece.

  ‘William, Zakaria, are you reading?’

  ‘Reading loud and clear, Ranomi,’ William responded. ‘Are we ready to proceed?’

  ‘We’re—’

  ‘Hello.’

  Ranomi looked up, startled by the sound of a voice just in front of her. She saw a pair of piercing hazel eyes, wide with worry and fright, staring through the grille at her.

  ‘You’re the one I’m supposed to let in, right? That’s why I have to take this grille off, yes?’

  ‘Ranomi, come in, come in! Is there a problem?’ William asked urgently.

  ‘No, everything is on track. I’ll talk later. We’re good.’

  Ranomi stared at the girl for a few moments before responding to her. Her face was striking in its beauty, yes, but that was not why Ranomi was staring; she had an uncanny sense that she had seen this face somewhere before, although she had no idea how this could be possible.

  ‘Yes … yes, it’s me you need to let in,’ she finally said. ‘Thank God you’re here! Quickly, remove the grille! Do you know how? It’s really easy; it’s only held in place by six screws – the ones you can see on the corners, and those two in the middle. See them? All you have to do is unscrew them and it’ll fall off.’

  The girl nodded, biting her lower lip with nervousness. She held up the key with its screwdriver attachment.

  ‘That’s it. Quickly and steadily now, let’s get this off. What’s your name?’

  ‘I’m A-, Adriana,’ the girl answered in a shaky voice as she started to remove the screws. Ranomi could see that she was struggling to keep her trembling hands steady.

  ‘All right Adriana, nice to meet you. I’m Ranomi. Now just try to stay calm, we’re here to help, and we can get you out of this awful place. But you have to do everything I tell you, exactly how I tell you to do it, okay? And right now, you need to stay calm and get this grille off so that I can get out of here.’

  ‘Three screws out, three more to go,’ Adriana said as she went to work on the last few screws.

  ‘Great, well done!’

  Another one popped out.

  ‘Two to go.’

  ‘Oy!’

  The gruff shout sent scuds of fear through the veins of both women, and Adriana stopped what she was doing, freezing up with fright.

  ‘What the hell are you doing out of your room?! How did you get out?! What’s going on over there?!’

  Adriana shot a glance to her left and saw a burly guard standing at the top of the stairs. In the red glow of the emergency lights he looked like a demon freshly summoned by some wicked necromancer.

  ‘Are you deaf?!’ he roared ‘I said what are you doing?! Answer me! Get over here right now!’

  ‘Hurry Adriana, get those last two screws out!’ Ranomi urged, scrambling and twisting her body to unholster her suppressed mini Uzi.

  ‘Fucking useless slut!’ the guard bellowed as Adriana ignored his commands and struggled frantically with the final two screws. ‘You think you can ignore me, huh? Well whatever the hell you’re up to, I’m coming over there to break your fucking jaw!’

  ‘Steady hands Adriana, steady hands,’ Ranomi whispered as she cocked the submachine gun. ‘I’ll deal with the guard, don’t worry. Steady hands, steady hands.’

  ‘O-, one t-, to g-, go,’ Adriana stammered as she popped one more screw out and jabbed the screwdriver into the final one.

  ‘What the fuck are you messing with that aircon vent for?! Get away from there! Stop that!’ the guard shouted as he strode briskly towards Adriana, his scowling face purple with wrath. ‘I said stop, you stupid whore!’ he roared as he reached her, lunging for her arm.

  Despite his speed, however, he was too late; as he grabbed Adriana and wrenched her with brutal force away from the aircon vent, the final screw dropped out and the grille fell off the wall, hitting the tiled floor with a clattering crash.

  ‘You’ve broken it, you idiot!’ he snarled.

  He slapped her hard across her face, and then turned around to inspect the now-open vent – and his eyes widened with surprise as he saw Ranomi’s face staring out at him.

  ‘What the fuck?’ he gasped, scrambling to unholster his revolver.

  ‘Sa wa dee kha,’ Ranomi hissed in Thai, and then she squeezed the trigger of her Uzi, spraying the hapless guard with a burst of automatic fire. The submachine gun’s heavy suppressor made the firing sound like a jabbering pneumatic machine, and the surprised guard staggered back as the bullets ripped through his body, kicking him again and again until he hit the wall. At that point Ranomi stopped shooting, and the guard’s limp body slithered down the wall until he lay slumped on the floor, dead.

  Adriana squeezed her hand over her mouth, trying – and failing – to suppress a scream as she stared wide-eyed at the crimson-oozing bullet wounds that peppered the man’s chest.

  ‘Here, take this!’ Ranomi commanded, holding out the Uzi for Adriana and ignoring her shriek of fright. ‘Quickly Adriana, take it! I need to get out of here!’

  Adriana gripped the corner of the wall and used it to heave herself to her feet. Trembling with fear, with her cheek burning from the guard’s slap and her ankle throbbing with fiery agony, she limped over to the open vent, grimacing and whimpering, and took the Uzi from Ranomi, shuddering as her fingers closed over the weapon’s hot muzzle. Ranomi, meanwhile, pulled herself out of the vent and dropped to the floor, landing with the catlike grace of a master acrobat.

  ‘You … you k-, you killed, you killed him,’ Adriana stammered, her eyes bulging and her mouth hanging open.

  ‘Yes, I did,’ Ranomi answered calmly. ‘Self-defence, my dear, self-defence. It is unfortunate, what I just had to do, but this is a war you’ve stumbled into, and he was an enemy soldier who would have killed me, you, and my friends. Now, my Uzi, please.’

  Adriana gave her back the gun, happy to be rid of it. She hated weapons with a passion, and even though they now represented her only hope of escape from this place, she could not reconcile herself with the concept of an object designed solely to maim and to kill. Her relief in this regard, however, was to be short-lived. Ranomi knelt down next to the dead guard and unholstered the man’s revolver.

  ‘Know how to use one of these things, sweetie?’ she asked.

  Adriana shook her head, staring at the firearm as if it were a coiled rattlesnake, ready to strike.

  ‘Here’s a quick lesson then, as we don’t have any time to waste. This is a 38 Special revolver. It’s got no safety, so for God’s sake don’t put your finger anywhere near the trigger unless your life or mine is in danger. Are you right-handed or left-handed?’

  ‘R-, r-, right,’ Adriana managed to stammer.

  ‘Okay. You’re a complete newbie, so you need to use two hands to shoot. Forget the stuff you see on TV and movies with people firing off pistols with one hand; that comes with a lot of experience and practice, and you’ve got none of that. So for a novice like you, you take your dominant hand, your right hand, grip the revolver like this, and put your right forefinger on the trigger, like this. See?’

  Ranomi demonstrated and Adriana nodded.

  ‘Then you use your weaker hand, your left, to support this hand. Lock your arms out straight in front of you. Don’t fire with bent elbows. This gun isn’t the strongest around, but it will still pack a kick that you need to be ready for. Squeeze the trigger firmly and progressively, not abruptly. And
don’t try to aim for the head, because you’ll probably miss. If you’re in a position where you have to shoot someone, aim for their torso. It’s a much bigger target so you’ll have a better chance of hitting them. Got it?’

  ‘I, I think so,’ Adriana murmured nervously.

  ‘I hope so, girl,’ Ranomi muttered as she handed Adriana the pistol. ‘Now follow me and stick with me no matter what. I’m your only chance of getting out of here alive, and you’d do well to remember that.’

  Without saying another word, Ranomi raised her Uzi, her vision punctuated with its sights, and headed off into the red-glowing corridors, moving with swift and deadly intent. Adriana hobbled along behind her, gripping the revolver in trembling hands, uncomfortably conscious of its deadly mass. She couldn’t help but bite down on her quivering lower lip as she followed Ranomi, trying her best to suppress the doom-thundering panic that threatened to engulf her completely.

  51

  NJINGA

  Roxana trailed behind Mr Wang, her eyes locked on the ground and her shoulders slumping lower and lower with each step she took that brought her closer to the presidential suite, where Mr Ma was waiting.

  Mr Wang grabbed her wrist and yanked her forward when she failed to maintain his pace.

  ‘Hurry up!’ he snarled, speaking Russian. ‘Mr Ma has taken two doses of Viagra, but you know even then how short a window he has for performance!’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Roxana whimpered between sobs as tears started to stream down her cheeks. ‘I’ll do my best to m-, m-, make him happy, sir.’

  ‘You know by now what he likes,’ Mr Wang replied coldly. ‘I expect you’re getting used to the cuts, the burns, the bruises, and the … internal damage.’

  Roxana sniffed loudly and nodded, and then wiped the back of her hand across her nose, catching a thick globule of snot on her knuckle. Mr Wang stopped dead in his tracks and slapped her hard across her face.

  ‘You uncultured little peasant!’ he spat, virulent in his disgust. ‘Use a tissue or handkerchief for God’s sake! You know how seriously Mr Ma takes cleanliness and personal hygiene! Stupid shit! Ignorant bloody subhuman!’ He fumbled around in his suit pocket and pulled out a tissue, which he shoved into her hands. ‘Wipe that filth off of your hand and your face. Do it!’

  While Roxana was cleaning her hand and face, Mr Wang’s phone buzzed. He pulled it out, bristling with annoyance, and read the text.

  ‘Mr Ma is late for the dinner downstairs! Clean yourself up and move it! Some extremely important individuals are being made to wait on your account, you foul little piece of trash!’

  Roxana, still weeping and sniffling, took the tissue and dabbed it listlessly around her face. Evidently though, she was not cleaning herself up as quickly as Mr Wang would have liked; he snatched the tissue out of her hands, grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head forcefully back so that he could wipe the mucous and tears off of her face himself, doing this with rough, frantic hands, gritting his teeth and snarling all the while.

  ‘Stupid, stupid, stupid!’ he hissed. ‘Are you trying to make Mr Ma angry? Are you, you clumsy idiot? Hurry up!’

  Still gripping her hair tight in his fist, he dragged her behind him as he strode with furious intent along the corridor. When they reached the elevator, he flung Roxana into it so hard that the wind was knocked out of her when she hit the mirrored wall inside. She dropped to her knees, gasping for breath and wheezing while Mr Wang stepped casually inside, pressed the button and stood next to her, straightening out his tie and casually brushing some lint off of his suit jacket as he gazed blankly at his own reflection. After a few seconds they reached the top floor, where the presidential suite was located, and Mr Wang once again dragged Roxana by her hair out of the elevator. Huge, ornately carved mahogany doors stood sentry at the end of the plush-carpeted hall; beyond them Mr Ma was waiting.

  ‘Hurry up, hurry up!’ Mr Wang growled through rage-clenched teeth as he pulled the girl along while she stumbled, sniffed and sobbed.

  Mr Wang wasted no time in throwing open the twelve-foot tall doors, and he entered the room calmly and confidently, his gait exuding subdued power and agile grace. Propped up on silk-covered goose-down pillows, inside an intricately detailed Qing Dynasty canopy bed, was Mr Ma. A terrible scowl of rage on his face contorted his already ugly features into the likeness of a medieval demon, and his tiny black eyes burned with impatient anger in their sunken, purple sockets. He immediately began gesturing in furious sign language at Mr Wang while grunting in anger with his tongueless mouth. Mr Wang bowed and kept his eyes averted as he dragged Roxana into the large, decadent chamber.

  ‘I apologise most profusely for the delay, sir,’ Mr Wang said in a demure tone, speaking Mandarin now. ‘I tried to get her here as quickly as possible.’

  Mr Ma growled wordlessly and gesticulated with angry sign language gestures.

  ‘Of course sir,’ Mr Wang responded, keeping his head bowed and his eyes averted. ‘I have disgraced myself in failing to perform the task in the allocated time. I am deeply, deeply ashamed of my failure.’

  Mr Ma shook his head and continued to glare with hellish wrath at both of them. His liver-spotted hands, resting on the silk blanket that covered his lap and legs, were trembling with unadulterated rage.

  Mr Wang leaned over to Roxana and whispered harshly in her ear, switching back to Russian.

  ‘Despite the Viagra, he has lost his ability to achieve an erection. Understandably, he is very, very upset … and you are going to pay for this.’

  Mr Ma again made some sign language gestures, growling and spitting as he did while shaking as if having an epileptic fit, so utterly consumed was he with fury. Mr Wang listened calmly.

  ‘Very well sir,’ he said after Mr Ma had finished his garbled tirade.

  He turned around and shut the two enormous doors, locking them in place with a crossbeam. He then strode over to an antique cabinet in the corner, which, like the canopy bed, was a Qing Dynasty relic, and from it he retrieved a small wooden box. As he walked past Roxana, he hissed a quick, malicious whisper at her.

  ‘You’re about to take a slow journey to the ninth circle of hell.’

  He ducked his head as he entered the subtly lit bed, keeping his head bowed as if performing some arcane ritual as he set the wooden box down and opened it. Strapped inside the container were various antique surgical and dental instruments. Roxana saw the collection of scalpels, hooks, pliers and saws glinting evilly in the light and was unable to suppress a shrieking gasp of soul-shaking horror, and the sight of these instruments of torture caused her legs to buckle beneath her. As Mr Ma began to sift through the various surgical instruments, debating over which one to use first, Mr Wang stalked over to Roxana and grabbed her by her arm.

  ‘There’s no getting out of this, child. It’s your own fault anyway; if you’d hurried up like I told you to, he would have been content with simply doing what he usually does to you. But now, now you see, you’ve made him upset, and he’s not a nice man when he’s upset. Someone has to pay for this, I’m afraid … and that someone happens to be you.’

  ‘P-, p-, please,’ Roxana sobbed, struggling weakly against Mr Wang’s steely vice-grip. ‘d-, d-, don’t…’

  ‘His mind is made up, whore. Trust me, it’ll be easier if you don’t try to resist. He might even show you a bit of mercy and lessen the pain.’

  Roxana nodded, her eyes wide with terror and her lower lip quivering as tears streamed down her face.

  ‘Move!’ Mr Wang snarled.

  He started dragging her towards the canopy bed, its tall doors yawning with rabid hunger like the maw of portal to the underworld, freshly opened. And within the gates of damnation the leering devil waited, malevolent in his shroud of wrinkled, paper-thin skin. Roxana stumbled along behind Mr Wang, sobbing loudly as he dragged her ever closer to the edge of the abyss. He shoved her into the confines of the cloying space and she stumbled forward, tripping and falling face-first onto the bed
. Mr Ma glared at her for a while with his pitiless eyes, and then he grunted and made a few gestures in sign language to Mr Wang. The latter nodded, and then with each hand he gripped the flimsy shoulder straps of Roxana’s satin slip – the only thing she was wearing – and ripped it down the middle, tearing it off of her body and leaving her naked and shivering before Mr Ma.

  The corners of the old man’s mouth curved up into a sadistic smile, and he started laughing slowly and menacingly. The sound slithering from his crimson lips was a rasping wheeze, and with an arthritis-ridden, shaking hand he leaned forward and reached for a cruel-looking hooked scalpel from the wooden box.

  That was when Roxana moved.

  In a gloriously fluid and surprisingly powerful manoeuvre she twisted her left arm out of Mr Wang’s grip in a blinding blur of speed, snatched up a loose scalpel, jumped to her feet and then spun about in a ballerina’s twist, slashing the blade across Mr Wang’s throat.

  His eyes bulged with shock as the scalpel pared his throat wide open, but he was a master fighter, through and through; without hesitation, and despite the grievousness of the wound, he launched a furious counterattack: a lightning-fast roundhouse kick aimed at Roxana’s head, which she darted under while whipping the blade across the inside of his groin, opening up his femoral artery and unleashing a cascading spray of bright blood. Undeterred by his mortal wounds, Mr Wang fought on, aiming a flurry of high-speed Wing Chun punches at her, but she dodged and blocked every single one with almost superhuman speed before zipping through his defences and plunging the surgical instrument directly into his left eyeball.

  With the scalpel embedded in his eye socket, blood gushing out from his wide-open throat and spurting liberally from his inner thigh, Mr Wang stumbled back, gasping and batting weakly at his destroyed eye with his left hand as he tried to open his jacket with his right so he could access his concealed pistol. Roxana, however, wasted no time in preventing this; she took two running steps forward and then launching herself into a flying kick. Her foot thumped into Mr Wang’s chest with the force of a woodsman’s axe, and the impact sent him crashing to the ground. He tried for a moment to get up, but all his strength had now deserted him, and after he briefly managed to raise his torso up from the floor he flopped back down and then lay there, twitching, as blood pumped from his half-severed neck in gruesome bucketloads.