The Plastic Paradigm

by Paul Stretton-Stephens

  “I told you so, didn’t I?

  “Now, I need an answer!” the other man intervened.

  He waited; she had no gag. She was waiting for the pain to subside so that she could speak.

  She spluttered out, “We went out for a couple of drinks. He's a nice … he was a nice, shy lad — that’s all. I arranged a couple of blind dates for him but he blew it both times. I was arranging another. That’s all, honestly. I don’t know anymore.”

  “Liar!”

  “How did he come to be in possession of a ship’s manifest? A manifest that you have access to?”

  “I don’t know, I don’t know.”

  “And how come he sent you photos of some of the loads on the ship which he worked on? Why would you need those?”

  “He sent me random photos, ships, cargo, monuments. He was always sending something. Perhaps it was just his way of being friends, I don’t know why.”

  “What happens in those meetings you go to?”

  “Have you been spying on me?”

  “Yes, we have. Now answer the question!”

  “We have talks about the oceans’ cleanliness. Tonight, we had a talk by some doctor about the effects of plastic on marine life. It’s all harmless. But why do you want to know?”

  “That’s our business. Now, what have you been telling your friends?”

  “About what?”

  “About anything, especially about ships and cargo, and your friend Ian.”

  “Nothing, I’ve told nobody nothing! I was going to tell the police that I knew Ian, but didn’t want to get involved.”

  “Why not? He was your friend.”

  “I was scared.”

  “Of what? You’ve done nothing wrong … have you?”

  She fell silent. They’d touched on a nerve.

  They repeated the question and she hung her head in silence.

  One of the men replaced her gag.

  “Have it your way then.”

  Both men then left, locking the door behind them. She tried to wriggle free but was going nowhere with the PlastiCuffs holding her firmly in position. She surveyed the dingy room. It had seen better days. Nowadays, it was a closed-off area to what would have been a thriving dockside tavern years ago. But since the advent of health and safety, most of the daily drinking binges had stopped and reduced trade.

  ***

  She heard the key in the lock and the familiar voice of her questioner.

  “Come on in fellas, look what we have for you!”

  She realised what was in store for her and panicked, falling sideways while still attached to the table.

  “Pick her up now lads. She’ll be no good down there, will she?”

  A couple of strong older men heaved her up. They wreaked of ale. Apart from her captors, she counted five men.

  Then she felt someone behind her lifting her skirt. She shook her head violently, pleading under her gag for them to stop. Then she felt her underwear being torn from her, leaving her fully exposed. She felt helpless and began to sob uncontrollably.

  “It’s no use crying. I told you that you’ll come to your senses. But first a little lesson. Well, four or five to be exact.”

  The pair of captors took up position on a table next to the small bar which had its grill closed. They started laughing and opened a bottle of whisky. They were sat right in front of her, about two metres away. They just watched, waiting for her humiliation to begin.

  Two scruffy, unkempt men stripped off their clothes.

  One stared directly into her face. He was old, unshaven and repulsive. He lifted her by her hair.

  “I’m going to remove this gag and replace it with my own for starters.”

  Her eyes widened as he untied the gag, and behind she could feel someone taking up position. As the old guy lifted himself to her mouth, she opened her mouth and bit as hard as she could. The man stumbled backwards in pain, clutching his manhood. The group laughed at his misfortune and the door opened.

  One of the captors rose from his seat and moved towards him.

  “Sorry mate, this is a private party. You need an invitation.”

  Her eyes met his for the briefest of moments. He was different. He was scruffy, unkempt but had an air about him that she couldn’t determine. She thought, oh no, not another one.

  “I like to party too. Why wasn’t I invited?”

  He wandered around the room with a confidence, a presence. He approached her and the men around her. He ran his fingers through her hair, then trailed them across her spine, and said, “This looks to be a fine party. I want to join in.”

  Feeling somewhat uncomfortable, the captor replied, “Sure, why not.” He pointed to the old guy who was clutching his manhood. “He won’t be needing any action now and we could do with increasing the numbers. Hey, aren’t you that lone fisherman that’s always out on the quay or out to sea in mad weather?”

  “Yep, that’s me. I’m the mad one.”

  Noticing that the two men had a bottle of whisky to themselves, he approached them and asked, “What do I have to do to get a drink around here?”

  One of them poured him a glass and offered it to him.

  “Thanks,” said the fisherman, swallowing the contents in one. Then, in a low tone, he said, “Now, what you’re doing here isn’t nice for the lady. It’s not a nice way to treat someone.”

  Surprised, and somewhat entertained, the two men looked at each other and laughed.

  The fisherman continued. “Now gentleman, I’m giving you the opportunity to stop this now. Tell these drunken beasts that the show’s over and that you’ll buy them drinks all night long. Then untie her and let her go. And that’ll be the end of it.”

  One of the captors put the whisky bottle down firmly on the table and stepped into the face of the fisherman. “I think that you’d better leave if you want to stay healthy. Go on, go! Go while you can!”

  There was an uneasy silence.

  “Okay, okay,” said the fisherman, who reached over and poured himself another glass, sunk it down in one and headed for the door.

  For a brief moment there was tension in the room until all of the men started laughing, “Carry on boys, don’t mind us. Let’s get on with it!”

  Kim couldn’t make out what was going on between the fisherman and the pair. She just knew that she was about to endure the most hellish time of her young life, and there was nothing that she could do about it. Her tortured mind wasn’t prepared for anything like this.

  They all watched as the fisherman stopped and locked the door. He turned to the group and it started.

  The fisherman assessed the men in front of him. He thought, take on the two hubristic captors first, then maybe one or two might join in, and then the remainder will fall by the wayside and disappear. He purposefully walked over to the first captor who by now is leaving his seat, and as soon as he has turned to face the fisherman, he stepped forward to a now running fisherman and received a mighty blow to the jaw. He reeled backwards, knocking over a chair and the small table with a bottle of whisky and glasses. His friend, in the meantime, had pulled out a knife and was in a wide stance approaching the fisherman. He slashed diagonally a couple of times and made no contact as the fisherman expertly evaded the movements. He moved forward, thrusting the blade towards the fisherman who this time stepped inside of the movement, grabbed the wrist of the right hand, and allowed the man’s momentum to continue, swivelling his body with the wrist in his grasp. The man came crashing down to the ground, releasing the knife, and the fisherman thrust his boot into his chest. He was left clutching his chest and gasping for breath. By this time, the first captor had regained his footing and was heading towards the fisherman. He charged, grabbing him with wide arms, and they both tumbled. The fisherman launched a barrage of short jabs to the man's torso and he recoiled in pain. Once on his feet, the fisherman looked over to his audience, all of which were getting dressed and raising their hands as if to say, This is nothing to do with me, lea
ve me out of it. The man on the floor just managed to get to one bended knee before the fisherman unleashed a mighty blow on the back of his head and he crumpled to the ground.

  "I guess it’s show over for you guys. You'd better leave."

  The unshaven, unkempt fisherman produced a folded blade from his pocket and cut Kim's ties free. He helped her to her feet and she rubbed her wrists and ankles to regain some circulation.

  "Come on, let's get out of here."

  "Thank you, thank you. How can I ever repay you?"

  "You don't need to thank me, and you certainly don't have to repay me. What they were doing was plain wrong and somebody's got to do something about it."

  They left the room and made their way down a darkened corridor to an emergency exit. The fisherman pushed the emergency exit bar on the security door and it flung open. They were in the car park near the entrance.

  “Oh god, that’s their car, the silver Mercedes. They’ll be coming after us, won’t they?” said Kim in a worried voice.

  "Just wait here for a minute, just by the wall out of sight."

  The fisherman darted quickly across the car park, knelt down by the side of the Mercedes and punctured two of its tyres before returning to Kim.

  He appeared out of the darkness. "It’s okay, come with me. Did say you that have nowhere to go?”

  “They grabbed me outside of my flat. Which means that I’m not safe there. I literally have nowhere to go.”

  With a slight reluctance the fisherman said, “Look, I have got somewhere that’s safe. You can come with me if you like, it’s your choice."

  Kim thought for a moment. She had no choice; she had no plan of what to do next.

  She humbly replied, "Yes, please, I need to be somewhere safe, but only temporarily until I figure out where to go and what to do."

  "Okay, that's fine. This way then. We need to stay in the shadows."

  Chapter 3 - The Revelation

  They walked briskly in the shadows of the port, knowing that at every juncture they may be spotted. The fisherman paused to check that the coast was clear and Kim thought that it seemed that he’d done this sort of thing before.

  As they walked she asked, "How did you know what was going on?

  "No talking, it's easier that way. We have to concentrate. We can't afford to be followed or let them see where we’re going."

  They continued past all the containers stacked ready for loading, past the cranes, past the warehouses, and paused at the offices that she knows so well. It was her place of work, where she booked in and booked out all the containers for her boss Van Dooren. This is where all of her problems started.

  The fisherman quickly grabbed her hand. "This way, but we’ll have to move quickly. There’s not a lot of cover. Keep your head down lower than the top of the wall."

  They started to make their way out along the quayside wall and Kim was wondering where they were going. They stopped at a small stairway leading down to a door for the small harbour lighthouse. Descending the steps, the fisherman opened the heavy, riveted door which gave an eerie shriek. He pulled her inside with him and closed the door slowly to reduce the noise. It was pitch black inside and she didn’t speak until he said it was okay. He flicked on a light. It was red, dim and difficult to see.

  "Give it a minute to let your eyes adjust and then you'll see okay."

  "Why are we here? I mean, there only seems to be one entrance and exit unless I'm mistaken? And it's not very big for a place to stay."

  "You'll see in a minute, it's bigger than you think. Are your eyes adjusting now?"

  "Yes, I think they are. I can see a little more now. Can I now ask how you knew what was going on?"

  "Let's just say that I've been keeping an eye on those two. They've been up to no good and I've just been watching until now."

  "Look, I can't stay here in the lighthouse, and I don't know where to go. They know where I live, they know where I work, and they know where my friends are. It seems that they've been spying on me for ages."

  "Don't worry, you'll be safe, they'll never find you here. Shall we go down?"

  They descended the heavy stone steps that spiralled into a staircase of about twenty more steps, the end of which broadened into a wide but low passageway that was also lit by a low red light every ten metres or so. The ceiling was so low that they had to walk with bent knees. She deduced that having entered the lighthouse and descended the stairway, they seemed to be walking back on themselves but underground. She surmised that they were under the quayside.

  Upon reaching the end of the passageway, they came to a heavy wooden door. The fisherman produced a remote control from his pocket and pressed the button. The door responded by slowly opening, revealing a modern facility with metallic walls and metal-grated floors.

  "We go through here," said the fisherman, indicating they should walk along the gantry to the right. He opened a steel door that housed a porthole window. On passing through the doorway, Kim could see to the right that there was a purpose-built modern kitchen and to the left a small lounge area with nautical furniture. In between the two layers was a small dead-end passageway off of which were three doors. She started walking and asked, "Is there a bathroom I can use?"

  "Yeah sure, it’s the first door on the right."

  Each of the doors possessed a porthole. The one leading to the bathroom was made of frosted glass, the door straight ahead was clear, and the door to the left was blackened out.

  She returned from the bathroom and asked, "What are you doing?"

  "I'm making some food. Are you hungry?"

  "I'm not sure that I’ve got an appetite really, after everything that's been going on."

  "Regardless of what's been going on, you have to eat, you have to keep your strength."

  "Why are you doing this? Why are you helping me? What's it got to do with you?"

  He paused and thought before replying, "Let's just say I don't like injustice. What they were doing to you wasn't fair. They had no right and they’re mixed up in all sorts of things, more than you can probably imagine."

  "So, you're keeping an eye on them?"

  "I suppose you could call it that," said the fisherman who continued to chop vegetables.

  "So, you're not just a fisherman then?"

  "No, I'm not just a fisherman. I’m quite a good cook too. Come on, let's eat. It's only a quick stir-fry but at least it's hot and tasty. Would you like some wine? I'm sorry, I've only got red but I have a couple of beers in the fridge if you prefer beer?"

  “No, wine would be good, thanks."

  The pair sat at the breakfast bar quietly eating their food with hardly a word passing their lips. Each one was deep in their own thoughts, thinking of what the other one was thinking and working out what to say next.

  It was Kim who broke the ice. "I don't even know your name. What is your name?"

  "You can call me Jago. And you’re Kim, right?"

  She smiled, "Yes, Jago, I'm Kim, and I'm very pleased to meet you. More pleased than you can ever imagine."

  As she uttered those words she thought about what could have been had it not been for Jago's intervention.

  "Listen, Kim, I only have one bed here and you're welcome to take that. I’ll sleep on the couch. I have to go out on the boat early in the morning so help yourself to food and drink. I wouldn't advise going out but there's TV, radio, and plenty of DVDs to keep yourself occupied. Oh, and I wouldn't advise calling any of your friends, the less people involved here the better, and if they don't know anything they can't tell anything. You understand?"

  "Yes, I understand. I won't call anyone. I wouldn't want to put them in danger."

  She dropped her head and started to say, "Look, can we talk about—"

  Jago cut her short. "We can talk after I get back. I'll be gone most of the day, I’ll more than likely be back after dark. There’s a radio over there in the corner, I'll call you up on that when I’m about an hour away. In the meantime, if you have an
y problems, you can call me on the radio. You know how it works?”

  She studied the radio.

  "Okay, let me take a look, it might be similar to the one I have at work."

  She checked over the radio. “Yes, it’s just like the one we have at work, apart from it seems to have a couple of extra channels."

  "Yes, we’ll be using one of those — Channel 9. It's a scrambled radio. It's encrypted, very secure."

  "Oh, I see, Channel 9 then,” she repeated curiously.

  He showed her to the bedroom and, as she had no change of clothes, he gave her a robe to use and a big, baggy T-shirt as a nightdress.

  “Do you need anything else?"

  "No, thank you. You've been very kind. Good night, I'll see you tomorrow."

  "Good night, Kim. If you need anything, you know where I’ll be.”

  ***

  It was 4 a.m. when the low beeping tone of the alarm woke Jago. He's the sort of man who, once his eyes are open, is immediately awake and alert. He had always been an early morning person, ever since he was young and joined the services. He quickly showered and ate breakfast. He was tempted to look in on Kim — if she was okay — but chose to peek through the porthole of the bedroom door instead. She lay crumpled up in the duvet, in the protective foetal position. He thought about the ordeal that she had endured, and how it could have been a lot worse. He wondered whether it was worth jeopardising his cover.

  ***

  Cautiously, he walked along the quayside as the dock came to life. Forklift trucks scuttled along the dockside with their loads, cranes hauled containers on and off ships, while voices shouted garbled instructions over radios that echoed in the darkness of the morning. As he neared his boat, he expected company. There was none to be seen. He boarded his boat, looking for signs of life. There were no indications on deck and the cabin door was still secure. He checked below deck for that was the only remaining place anyone could be. A quick examination of the latch and micro sensor revealed that all was clear. He scoured the deck for any additional items as he didn't want any surprises when he put to sea. There was only one thing remaining and he went to check the keel. He quickly donned a wetsuit and opened a dark green metallic crate. He took out a long wand-like device — an IED underwater detection device. He switched it on to test that it was working and then slowly slid over the side of his boat, scanning the keel with his eyes and the wand for anything untoward. Upon completion of his sweep, he boarded the boat and slipped the rope from the bollard. He entered the wheelhouse and fired up the engine. He slowly made his way out of the port into open water. Once he was about a kilometre clear of the port, he changed out of his wetsuit into more appropriate clothing for a fisherman.