by Steve Lee
“Do now?” said Blondie. “You go. You go.” She waved at a taxi coming toward them, which saw her and pulled in.
Elena hugged Blondie. “Thank you for all your help.”
“Is nothing. You go. You find.”
Tess held out the wad of cash she’d promised Blondie. “Thank you.”
Blondie pushed it back at Tess. She locked eyes with Tess one last time. “Be nightmare. Be very, very nightmare.”
Tess and Elena got into the taxi and it pulled away.
Finally, they had a solid lead on finding Cat. Finally, they had a real glimmer of hope. She glanced back at Blondie watching from the curb, without whom they’d never have gotten this far.
Nightmare? Man, the scum that had Cat wouldn’t believe just how much of a nightmare one woman could be.
Chapter 10
The man sipped his coffee.
Holding a pair of pocket-sized binoculars, Tess bobbed back down beside the rear panel of a blue pickup truck which was parked in the shade of a massive apartment building.
Was that Jacek Grabowski?
She quickly scanned the building’s lower windows for faces, to check they weren’t being spied on themselves. Five stories of cold gray functionality over style and aesthetics, the concrete monstrosity was one of the biggest apartment buildings Tess had ever seen – it just went on and on, weaving its way along streets and around corners. Strangely, all Nova Huta’s buildings had a mirror image on the opposite side of the central square, so from above, Nova Huta stood a geometric marvel.
No one peered out at them.
Tess held up her phone with the drawing of the bad man on it, then turned to Elena huddled next to her. Elena nodded. Tess nodded back.
Tess again peeked through one of the gaps in the building supplies piled in the back of the pickup.
In the sun across the street, a man wearing mirrored sunglasses lounged on a bench with a newspaper open before him. He looked remarkably like the man in their drawing. To passersby, however, he would have looked like just some guy reading a newspaper, especially as he regularly turned pages.
But he wasn’t reading – the angle of his neck was all wrong. It wasn’t bent for him to look directly at the pages, but bent only slightly so as to give the impression he was looking at his paper while his actual eyeline was straight over the top of it. No, he wasn’t reading – he was hunting.
If a woman with a half-decent figure strolled by between the ages of sixteen and forty, he’d smile and say something to them. Most replied, but none went to sit with him, even when he beckoned.
Tess and Elena had spent nearly an hour wandering the streets, scrutinizing every man they came across, but finally they’d found him. They hoped. Yes, he looked like the drawing. But how could Tess be sure it was the right man? She didn’t want to beat an innocent guy to a pulp.
Tess’s heart pounded and adrenaline charged her body as mental images of the impending confrontation lit the fuse in her subconscious.
She closed her eyes for a moment and drew a long slow breath.
It wasn’t time for that yet.
Now, she needed clarity. Clarity until it was time to flip the switch.
She looked at the man again, struggling to visualize what he’d look like without sunglasses hiding so much of his face.
The man took a drink from a cup of coffee he’d bought at a local café and then placed it back on the bench beside him.
Tess stared at him. Was he someone of pure evil who was currently taking a coffee break from abducting women, or was he merely an ordinary guy relaxing with a drink as he watched the world go by?
Not that that was the only problem.
If he was their target, Tess had to formulate a plan whereby they could isolate him and get the information they needed. If she attacked here, on a busy street on such a beautiful day, people would raise the alarm. When the police came, he’d have the contacts to buy his way out, while she… Hell, what hole in the ground would he ensure she was buried in?
No, they had to do this carefully. But how?
She sank back down to crouch leaning against the car.
Merely bending over, unable to crouch fully, Elena said, “So how do we do this?”
Tess slowly rubbed a hand back and forth over her lower jaw. “I’m not sure.”
“Well, he’s going to leave sometime, so we could just wait and see if he leads us to Cat.”
“Yeah, but if he’s parked nearby, we’ll lose him before we can get another taxi to follow him.”
“Er… we could… Hmm…” Elena scratched her head. “Well, we can’t call the police because he’ll just deny everything so…” She sighed. “I don’t know. I really don’t know. And it’s killing me because we’re so close now.”
“Don’t worry, we’re going to do something; I just have to figure out what.”
“But he could leave any minute.”
“I know.”
“So we have to do something now.”
“I know.”
“So what are we going to do?”
Tess snapped at her, “Elena, please. You have to let me think.”
With an anxious tone, the lady muttered something in Romanian. Tess appreciated that she was frantic over what might be happening to her daughter, but they didn’t have a choice but to wait – they’d get one shot at this, so they couldn’t afford to blow it.
Elena peeped over the top of the car again. “Oh God, he’s going to go. I know it. He’s going to go.” She looked down at Tess. “Please, Tess. We have to do something. Now.”
Yes, they did. But what?
Chapter 11
While Nova Huta’s buildings were overwhelmingly gray in color and style, the area’s spacious tree-lined boulevards were a refreshing contrast to the Old Town’s claustrophobically narrow alleys.
In the sunshine on the other side of the street, Tess skulked along the street, shoulders slumped, head hung. She drew level with the man sitting on the bench, who appeared to be reading a newspaper. She didn’t even look at him, but kicked a pebble lying on the sidewalk. It skipped across the ground and into the gutter.
The man said something in Polish loud enough for her to hear.
Tess glanced over. The man looked in her direction, but she couldn’t see his eyes for his mirrored sunglasses.
With a welcoming smile and tone, he said something else.
“Sorry, I don’t speak Polish,” she said.
“You American?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, I love American. Wonderful people. Very wonderful.”
Tess forced out a glum smile.
“Ohhh, but why such beautiful woman is having such sad face?”
“I, er, oh, it’s okay. It doesn’t matter.”
He folded his newspaper and put it on the bench beside him.
“No, no, no, matter does. Polish very warm people. We no like see sad face if we can help.”
Tess rubbed her jaw, as if deep in thought. After shrugging to herself, she shuffled closer, pushing out her chest as far as she could so her black T-shirt strained over her breasts. This was another reason she dreamed of having bigger boobs – a B cup was a nice handful for a man, but on the street, you couldn’t beat C cups for really grabbing a guy’s attention.
“I’ve had my purse stolen so I have no money to get back to Krakow and no money to call my friend to come get me. I don’t suppose you have a phone I could borrow, please? I promise I’ll pay for the call when my friend gets here.”
The man was looking for a target. There was no better way to snare him than to give him an easy one.
But would he bite? Or would he smell a proverbial rat?
“Oh, is horrible story. Horrible,” said the man, removing his sunglasses. “I apologize my country treat you so bad.” He beckoned her. “Come, of course my phone you use.”
Tess slumped with relief. “Oh, God, thank you. You’re my hero.”
He waved his hand at her. “Is nothin
g. Come.” He felt each of his suit pockets. “Now, where I put phone?”
Tess bounced over. “I can’t thank you enough for this. I thought I was going to be stuck here all night. Or have to walk back.”
“No, no, no. You no worry – Michal Burakowski here now. You safe.”
Michal, huh? Not Jacek. But they already knew the bad man was crafty – Blondie had told them his real name was not Jacek Grabowski. A string of aliases would be a very effective strategy to use for a criminal who wanted to work out in the open.
He pulled out a cheap-looking gray phone, exactly like the one Tess had found in the trash can outside the café.
He held out his phone. She reached to take it. But he withdrew it.
Putting his free hand to his mouth as if he’d just thought of something, he said, “Hmmm… You know, I must go Krakow today. Why I not go now and you come in my car?”
Tess made her eyes pop wider as if pleasantly surprised.
“Really?” she said. “Oh, wow, that would be great. Thank you. Er, bardzo dziekuje, Michal.”
“Ohhh, you speak Polish!” He grinned, wide-eyed with surprise and pleasure.
Tess looked away coyly. “Only a few words.”
“But with beautiful accent.”
“Really?”
“Oh, yes. Like someone from Warszawa. Er, how you say, Warsaw.”
“Really? Oh, wow.”
“So” – he held up his phone in one hand and car keys in the other – “you want call or you want drive?”
“You’re sure it isn’t any trouble to drive to Krakow?”
“Trouble? What trouble? What better than to be drive with beautiful woman on beautiful day?”
“Ohhh, you’re so nice.”
He stood and gestured to his left. “Then we go. Come.”
As they walked along the street, he told her about Nova Huta’s enormous steel mill, which had once been the biggest in the world. She didn’t know if that was true, but he knew how to tell a tale. She studied him. He was polite, charming, and handsome. Could he really be the evil monster she was hunting?
Some of her targets in Shanghai had outwardly appeared to be perfect gentlemen leading perfect lives. But there, she’d had time and resources to ensure she made the right decision about what to do with them. Here? She had nothing but the clawing image of the hell Cat was living.
Waltzing along, he pointed to a covered alley, a tunnel running straight through the apartment building to the other side.
“Here my car.”
Parked in the shade was a black car, the badge on the hood was the unmistakable upside-down Y in a circle – a Mercedes. She checked the license plate. Sure enough, it contained a two and a five, just as Blondie had said the bad man’s car did.
“Whoa!” Tess stopped dead in her tracks as if surprised. She pointed at the vehicle and grinned at him. “Now that’s a car.”
Okay, this guy was called Michal, whereas the one who had taken Catalina called himself Jacek, but whatever his name was, he looked like the man they were hunting and had the same make of car. Was he the guy?
Admiring the car, Tess meandered around to the rear and saw the model number on the trunk: SL500. It was the make, model and color of the one Blondie had said the bad man drove, plus it had the right numerals on the plate.
He was the guy.
“You like cars?” he said.
“I like this one.”
She checked further up the secluded alley. Deserted.
She glanced behind her. No one passed by on the main street.
This was going to be the best chance she was going to get.
Sensing the impending conflict, her body reacted on autopilot. Adrenaline surged through her, filling her with so much energy she almost shook trying to restrain it, while her heart pounded like a Kodo drummer on speed.
It was always the same. No matter how many combat situations she faced, it never got any easier. In quieter moments, she prayed it never would because if it ever did, she’d have lost that one shred of humanity that kept her from turning into one of the very monsters she hunted.
It was time. Time to flip the switch.
She gasped and clutched her mouth. “Oh, no.”
“Is problem?”
“There’s a big scratch?”
“Scratch?” He marched toward her, frowning. “What scratch?”
Tess pulled her armored gloves out from the back of her belt and slipped them on.
Chapter 12
As Michal marched around the back of the car, Tess pointed to a spot low down below the right-hand rear light. “Here. It looks bad.”
Michal muttered something in Polish and stooped to look.
“Where? I don’t see scratch.”
“Here.” She pointed again.
Michal bent right over to look. Tess grabbed his head and slammed it into the trunk with a loud thunk.
He automatically flung his arms up to protect himself.
She hammered her elbow down in between his shoulder blades. He exhaled with a loud wheeze as the air was knocked out of him.
Without pausing, Tess slammed her knee up into his face, then grabbed one of his hands, and yanked it up and twisted it around into a simple wristlock. She rammed him down over the trunk of his car.
He squirmed. Groaned. But was caught fast.
“Where is Catalina Petrescu?” Tess asked.
He shouted something in Polish. From his tone, she could tell it wasn’t the answer to her question.
Tess levered the wristlock harder.
Grunting, Michal grimaced, his face squashed against the car’s body. Blood smeared across the paint from his broken nose.
“You’re going to tell me,” she said. “I don’t care if I have to break—”
Singing drifted up the alley. A child’s singing.
She glanced around.
A little girl with long brown hair in two pigtails skipped alongside the car. When she saw Michal’s bloody face, she froze, her mouth agape.
He shouted something in Polish.
With a toss of her head, Tess gestured to the little girl for her to go the way she’d been heading. “Go.”
The girl just stood gawking.
Michal shouted something in Polish again.
“Go away,” Tess said with more urgency.
Still the girl remained frozen to the spot.
Twisting around, Tess shouted at the girl, “Run!”
The little girl screamed and then hightailed it down the alley shouting, “Tata! Tata! Tata!”
Tess turned her attention back to Michal, but because of the distraction of the girl, she’d unconsciously relaxed her hold on him.
As he wriggled to break free, she heard a telltale click as metal flicked into place.
He lunged at her with a switchblade.
She leapt back and the knife sliced harmlessly through the air.
When facing an armed attacker, if a person couldn’t flee outright, it was rarely wise to retreat as they’d gained nothing – the attacker was still able to attack and, having seen them retreat, had had their confidence boosted. However, when facing a blade, retreat could sometimes provide more counterattack options by increasing the number of angles from which a person could strike back.
Sensing he had the upper hand, Michal smirked. He slashed again. And again.
Each time, Tess shuffled back and let the knife slice nothing but air.
Because she was acting as bait, she’d had to remove her steel forearm guards, and no matter how slimline it was, she could never have looked alluring in her bulletproof vest. All she had now was her armored gloves. While they didn’t only have metal across the knuckles, but a strip down the side of the hand, plus a section across the palm, a wildly slashing blade was difficult to deflect using such tiny surface areas. No, it was best to bide her time.
There was one good thing about a confident opponent – with just a little extra boost, confidence quickly turned into overconfide
nce.
Michal glared at her. He felt his nose with his free hand, then looked at the blood on his fingers.
He sneered. “I going to cut you, bitch. Then I going to fuck you.”
He pretended to lunge at her and then laughed. He feigned stabbing low down. Then another slash high up. He laughed again, like a playground bully enjoying tormenting a younger, smaller child.
Yes, overconfidence was a skilled fighter’s best friend.
Michal stabbed at her stomach. It was sloppy, lacking the wild fury of his early attacks because he was so sure he could easily kill her.
Tess blocked his knife arm with her left forearm while her right hand darted at his throat. The arc between her thumb and forefinger smacked into his windpipe.
He gagged, his mouth dropping open and tongue distending.
Tess snaked her left hand between his knife arm and his body, levered that arm up, and clasped his shoulder – immobilizing him with an armlock.
Making him struggle for breath, Tess had shocked him out of attack mode and into survival mode. She easily swung him around and slammed him into the trunk of his car.
With his face squashed against the black metal, his breathing rasped. Blood ran down the trunk and over the Mercedes emblem.
With her free hand, she stripped the blade from his weakened grasp. She stabbed it into the top of the trunk. Left it standing there.
Hooking her free hand under his chin, she yanked around and back, cranking his neck further than it would naturally turn, the blade now in front of his face.
Michal wailed, his arm being yanked out of its socket in one direction and his head being ripped off his body in the other.
“Where is Catalina Petrescu?”
“F-f-f-fuck you!”
With his free hand splayed on the trunk, he tried to push up. He must have believed that, being a man, he’d be stronger than she was so he could break free and attack her again.
She cranked the armlock and headlock on harder, levering his bones and tendons to their breaking points. He wailed, his handsome face so twisted he looked like a grotesque gargoyle from a church in the Old Town.
Elena poked her head around the end of the alley. Tess was in complete control, so she crept closer.
