The Devil's Breath

by A. Nybo

  “What?”

  “I didn’t plan our reunion to go like this, but you didn’t give me much option. Leaving the country like that. Shit, you threw everything into disarray. But I couldn’t let your trail go cold.”

  “How do you keep finding me?”

  “There is no one way, Henri. Obviously the electronic trail is the easiest and most reliable—very hard to get by these days without money. But that only gets you so close. However, I will never tell you how I get the rest of the way because you have this habit of escaping me.” The charm in Russell’s boyish grin showed nothing of the evil bastard behind that smile.

  “Why you didn’t take me that first day when you left the bullet on my car?” Henri had only just asked the question when the answer came to him. “Because you still had planning to do,” he mumbled.

  Russell raised an appreciative eyebrow. “You’re really getting into the swing of this shit now, aren’t you?”

  Henri lapsed into silence. His mind grappled with the information that Russell had been planning all along to abduct him again. The landscape sped past the window as, kilometre by kilometre, he was transported towards his worst nightmare.

  He was with Russell once again. This time it would end.

  Numb and distant, he turned his eyes to the hands on his lap. His gaze travelled up the vein on the back of his thumb. He could envisage the blood inside sliding to a halt until everything stopped, including his heart. He followed the vein up to his wrist where it went beneath the handcuff. Something about it—a memory, Nate’s words—might have a double lock. You are about to adopt the mindset of fucking Houdini.

  The sight of the metal encircling his wrists caused Henri’s insides to twitch. He drew a sharp, deep breath, and his brain jolted into action. An explosion of awareness hit his previously dulled senses. They sharpened until he could almost taste the pungent smell of stale sweat coming from Russell, the scent of new plastic which housed the electronics in the back. The sound of the tyres spinning on the road grated against his eardrums, and warm air brushed his skin.

  With a surreptitious twist of his wrists, he examined the handcuffs. He looked into the keyhole and examined the central piece of metal, which the key slotted over. In his mind’s eye, he pictured the internal ratcheting system and how the key might interact with that. He focused on it as much to distract himself as for the purpose of escape.

  It was moving into twilight when Russell pulled the van off the asphalt onto a dirt road. A kilometre farther along, the track petered out, but Russell continued to drive over the increasingly rocky terrain. Finally, he turned the vehicle around and parked.

  Undoing the straps on a large backpack, Russell set it against the vehicle and pushed Henri back onto it to balance the weight. He pulled the straps between Henri’s arms and body without removing the handcuffs. Once Henri was loaded, Russell put a smaller one onto his own back and another on his chest.

  When Henri stepped forward, the entire weight of the backpack came onto him, and he had to lean forward slightly as the weight threatened to topple him backwards.

  Russell secured a rope to the pack on Henri’s back. “I think we’re ready.” He roughly patted Henri’s cheek, and Henri instinctively pulled his head away, but Russell was already turning to walk off. The rope quickly reached its limit. “You’re going to have to keep up, Henri. When it gets dark, you’re going to need me to guide you.” The hard yank Russell gave the rope caused Henri to stumble, but he regained his balance and started after him.

  They hadn’t gone far when Russell stopped, opened the pack on his chest, and pulled out a set of NVGs. Seeing the night-vision goggles brought back memories of how Russell had tormented him with a cattle prod in the darkness. He was probably carrying the equipment that was going to be used against him on his back. Russell would enjoy that irony.

  Tripping and stumbling, Henri lost track of time. Muscles ached from carrying the hefty backpack, and his energy reserves were running low. They climbed an ascent so steep he used his hands to steady himself over tumbled rock that suggested they might be near sheer drops. Fear that he might fall off the edge of a cliff vied with the hope that he would—at least that would bring an end to this.

  Chapter 13

  THE ASCENT evened out, and a change in quality of sound had Henri trying to envisage his surroundings. They went through a patch where their footsteps were muted and then changed abruptly to a slight echo. A lack of breeze against his skin caused him to believe they had entered a shelter of some sort.

  Something touched the side of his chest, and Henri cringed from the sensation.

  “If you want to be free of this pack, I suggest you stand still,” said Russell.

  Henri wanted to avoid Russell’s touch but withstood it to be free of the weight that felt as if it had rubbed his shoulders raw in places.

  Within minutes, it became evident Russell had prepared for their arrival. Torchlight revealed a fire set and waiting to be lit. A rock-climbing hook inserted into the cave wall, to which he chained Henri, and two small water tanks suggested Russell planned to be here for a while.

  The fire in combination with the torch didn’t cast enough light to see the entire cave, but it lit enough for Henri to watch what Russell was unpacking. Seeing a box of MREs, Henri thought it little wonder the pack had been heavy. The ready-to-eat meals probably weighed five to ten kilos themselves.

  Russell threw something at him, but instead of trying to catch it, Henri dodged it instead.

  “It’s a fucking sleeping bag, you drongo,” said Russell.

  Seeing the red pack that Russell pulled from the bag, Henri turned away. The last time he’d been Russell’s captive, Russell had had a pack exactly like it—a trauma kit that would assist the prolongation of life. The last one had even contained a defibrillator. Henri had learned to hate that pack.

  Before long, Russell presented Henri with a heated MRE. Henri stared at it.

  “Eat it, Henri. You’re going to need your strength.” Russell left the meal by his side and, taking his own MRE, sat by the fire.

  “Why? Do you want me to be complicit in my own torture by extending my life?”

  Russell poked at his food. “That’s an interesting way of looking at it. I’ve always liked that about you—that you see things so differently from me.”

  Henri stared at him and frowned. “Are you joking?”

  “No.” Genuine interest sparked in Russell’s eyes. “Why would you think that?”

  “You fucking torture and terrorize people.”

  Russell finished the mouthful of food before he spoke. “You’d be surprised at how many people want to do that.”

  “As a momentary fancy when they are pissed off, perhaps, but you’ve dedicated years of your life to it. Why?”

  “Why not?”

  Fear grabbed Henri by the throat. Surely Russell wasn’t going to take him into the mire of meaninglessness that he’d struggled with for so long, until he met Birch. “Because all you’re doing is hurting others. You’re not contributing anything.”

  “I contributed all right. I contributed a lot of dead people in both Iraq and Afghanistan.”

  “You were fighting for your country. Protecting something,” Henri tried.

  Russell laughed. “The only thing I was protecting was some rich fuck’s investments. And I’m still doing it.” He chuckled. “But now, I’m protecting as much of their investments from them as I can.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Amongst other things, they pay me to do shit they don’t want to touch, and I charge them obscene amounts of money so they can keep their manicured fingers clean.”

  Henri couldn’t believe he could have done anything that would inspire such hatred. “Someone hired you to do this to me?”

  “No. You’re mine.” And there was that intimacy again.

  Henri cringed internally. He wanted to curl into a little ball inside himself. His voice scraped through his tight thr
oat. “Why?”

  “Yeah, it’d be just as easy for me to explain to you how fucken magic works, mate. What makes you fall in love with someone? It’s one of life’s little mysteries.”

  “Are you in love with me?” That was bizarre. Was he really having this conversation with his torturer? Nothing seemed real or even plausible any longer. Perhaps he had descended into madness, and reality was him sitting in a psych unit somewhere, rocking in a corner in some drug-fucked hallucination.

  Russell’s eyes were dark, thoughtful. “I suppose in a way I am.” A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. “Not in the traditional sense, obviously. But, you occupy my mind in a very similar way.”

  “I fucking doubt that. Just because you obsess about me doesn’t mean it is similar. Loving someone means you want what’s best for them.”

  “You’re talking about idealistic love there, Henri. Reality is that realism trumps idealism.”

  “Jesus, you need help.”

  Russell barked a laugh. “Besides a bullet, what kind of help would you recommend?”

  “Psychiatric.”

  Russell sobered quickly. “Henri, you know as well as I do that drugs do nothing more than mask an issue. And therapy… well,” he drawled.

  “Why would I know that?”

  “Don’t play dumb, Henri. It’s unbecoming. I know you ditched the crazy meds when you found they couldn’t exorcise me from your head.”

  He wasn’t surprised Russell knew what had gone on in his life since the trial, but suspecting was one thing—the knowledge dropped in his brain like a bomb that sent ice shards skittering throughout his system.

  “How do you know these things about me? Who tells you?”

  “Anybody, everybody, sometimes nobody. Sometimes I have to find this shit out for myself—which, I might add, is a royal pain in the arse. In that particular instance, your psychiatric notes were very clear what was going on. Although, I must say, I don’t think a lot of the psychiatrist you were seeing at the time. He wasn’t very helpful. I think he was more interested in whether he could get a publishable paper out of studying you.”

  “What?” An uncomfortable tingling coursed through his body and seemed to instantly lower his body temperature. The sensation made him wonder if he was sensing truth in what Russell said.

  “Everyone has their own agenda, Henri.” Russell almost sounded rueful. “Some of us are just more honest than others.”

  Henri considered asking him how he got hold of his psychiatric notes but decided there was no point. Russell would tell him everything he needed to know, but nothing he could really understand, until it was explained in detail, then it would all make perfect sense.

  But what use was it, learning the names of complete strangers? Russell would tell him who’d helped, or how they’d helped to obtain information for him, but the knowledge was never useful for anything. And of course, Russell was perfectly aware of that; that’s why he had no qualms about divulging the information. He’d learned that about Russell the first time he’d been his prisoner.

  Henri picked up the MRE and settled it on his lap before opening the wrapper that contained the utensils. Russell was right; he did need his strength.

  When Russell fed the fire and then went outside the cave, Henri collected the sleeping bag that had been thrown at him and set it as close to the warmth as the chain would allow. Then going in the opposite direction, he allowed his sight to adjust as he walked into the inky blackness, the chain dragging along the ground. Behind a rock, the darkness was so complete it was difficult to tell whether his eyes were open. Closing them, he concentrated on getting his fly open and taking care of business.

  As he tucked himself away, he felt a puff of air on his face. Since he was behind a rock, it couldn’t be from the cave entrance. He began to formulate a plan, and since Russell had made no move to do anything other than settle in for the night, Henri needed to take full advantage.

  Russell had returned by the time Henri wandered back to his sleeping bag. As he unlaced his boots, he tried to burn the placement of things into his memory. His main interest was the NVGs that Russell had set about half a dozen large steps from Henri’s bedding. The ground between was mostly damp earth, with a few stones that barely breached the earth’s surface.

  Once his boots were off, Henri slid into his sleeping bag and closed his eyes. The fire began to die, and Henri surreptitiously retrieved the paperclip Nate had secreted in the middle of his hair tie. Taking the paperclip into the sleeping bag in case he dropped it, he poked the single bent end in and began trying to move the shackle arm of the cuffs.

  By the time the cuff released, the fire was long dead. With one success and some hard-won knowledge behind him, the second cuff took only a fraction of the time to remove. He quietly collected up the chain and settled it outside the sleeping bag so it didn’t clink around as he got out.

  Playing it safe, he crawled towards where he’d last seen the NVGs. The rocks he’d previously judged barely visible now felt large and sharp beneath his hands and knees, like the teeth of a vicious animal trying to breach the earth’s crust to snap at him.

  With slow, careful sweeps, he used his hands and arms to search for his target so as not to overshoot. If he accidently touched Russell, he’d have no more than a second to incapacitate him. Unlikely, since he had nothing other than his hands as a weapon.

  Despite his eyes being wide open, Henri couldn’t see so much as an outline. His breathing sounded like the puffing of a steam engine, but his fear distorted the loudness—he just couldn’t discern by how much. All that mattered was that it didn’t wake Russell.

  A few more sweeps and his hand brushed against something cool and hard. Before attempting to pick it up, he used his fingers to identify the straps of the mount kit to ensure it was the NVGs. Once satisfied, he slowly lifted them. Only when he was slipping them over his head did it cross his mind that the sheer lack of light in the cave might mean they didn’t work. But as they slipped into place and shapes became visible, he realized he needn’t have worried. Russell only “acquired” the best.

  As the ability to see was currently his best weapon, Henri visually searched Russell’s belongings for the torch and the gun. Spotting the torch, with stealth he’d only ever employed against the man still sleeping, Henri moved around him to where it lay, near the dreaded red pack. Unable to see the gun, Henri guessed Russell was probably sleeping with it.

  Picking up his boots and the sleeping bag as he went, Henri receded to the depths of the cave in search of a place to hide that was too small for someone the size of Russell to reach. He put his boots on, tucked the torch in the side of his jeans, and went straight to where he’d felt the puff of air earlier. Since air filtered through in gusts, it clearly led to the outside at some point, but where the air entered the cave was little more than the size of a hand.

  Without light, Russell wouldn’t be able to follow Henri’s tracks and he’d likely assume Henri had made a run for it—it would probably have been the sensible thing to do. But Russell had led them around in so many circles on the way, Henri had no idea which direction they had come from. A genius Henri might not be, but he wasn’t silly enough to pit his bush survival skills against someone specifically trained in them, especially when he didn’t have so much as a GPS or compass.

  If he managed to find and gain entrance to a fissure, it might not necessarily be safe, but it would offer a place where Russell couldn’t reach him. Right now, his size was the only advantage he could think of, and although he wasn’t small, he was smaller than his captor. And if Russell somehow managed to track him electronically, then the personal tracker he’d swallowed should also register, allowing the others to find him.

  Crevice after crevice proved useless. Most were too shallow, which would enable Russell to not only see him, but touch him—or shoot him. He cursed himself for his foolishness in not running when he had the chance, but having completely lost track of the passing hours, he cou
ldn’t chance dawn breaking within the next hour. Since Russell had got in several hours’ sleep, he was far more rested than Henri, and there was a greater risk of waking him now.

  Slow-burning panic was beginning to take hold when Henri saw a fissure that ran from the cave floor up as far as he could see. He looked back towards the cave mouth. There was still no movement.

  With his head turned sideways towards the depths of the fissure, he managed to keep the NVGs on as he wriggled deeper into the crack in the rock. He pulled the sleeping bag behind him as he went, jamming it between his body and the rock when he needed purchase to move forward. With hands and a foot on the rock in front of him, and his back pressed against the rock behind him, he used his other foot to allow him to inch his way deeper into the crevice.

  The rough surface of rock scraped his fingers raw in places, but finally he reached out again and found nothing but air. With viewing distorted by the foreignness of the NVGs, and no expectations of what he was likely to see, he couldn’t make out exactly what he was looking at. Unable to move his head freely, he tried to stretch around to give himself some frame of reference, but there was nothing.

  He used his foot and leg in an attempt to ground himself, but it too met with emptiness. Fearing forward movement might tip him into a chasm, he wrestled around until he managed to get the torch from his jeans and, lifting the NVGs, shine it deeper into the fissure.

  Less than a foot drop brought him to the silted floor of an almost circular cavity that could easily accommodate him lying full length. Cautiously, he tested the firmness of the ground, in case it was merely a film of silt covering a chasm or the silt looked firmer than it actually was.

  After a lot of prodding and pressing, he was satisfied it was safe. He pulled the sleeping bag through and permanently exchanged the NVGs for the torch. Exploration of the cavern revealed several crevices that he could probably squeeze through, but due to his size, Russell wouldn’t be able to enter, even if he knew where Henri had gone. The twists and turns he had taken to arrive might not keep the torchlight from giving away his hiding spot, but neither a well-aimed shot nor a stray bullet would hit him.