by Matt Hilton
‘No,’ Amanda said, again sounding almost reasonable with her proclamation. ‘No more painkillers for her. I think it’s time we up the game, don’t you agree, gentlemen?’
‘You should give her to me for five minutes,’ Daniel offered, ‘and I’ll have her singing like she’s a goddamn pop star.’
While Daniel had controlled her, he’d been more than intimate in the way in which he’d kissed her neck, sucked her earlobe, and rubbed his hardening member against her side, so Billie had no doubt about how he planned on forcing questions from her. She was almost glad that Erick was there, because despite his sadistic nature he found his younger brother’s sexual depravity distasteful and wasn’t slow in saying so. ‘Better idea if you do your job and hold her still, goddammit,’ he snapped.
‘I am doing my job,’ Daniel said, ‘just not gaining any job satisfaction from it. We could make this a whole lot more enjoyable for all of us if you let me take over.’
‘Enough of that talk.’ Erick sounded disgusted, but Billie had to wonder if the brothers’ interaction was designed to torment her more. Good cop bad cop didn’t even apply here. This was a case of bad cop worse cop. Erick proved her point when he took the end of her abused index finger against the opposite side of the joint as before and dislocated it again. Billie bit down on her bottom lip to halt a scream, and shuddered as her stomach spasmed.
‘She’s going to throw up,’ Erick stated.
‘Go fetch a bucket,’ Daniel suggested. ‘Don’t worry; she’ll be fine with me.’
Billie struggled to regain her composure. The last thing she wanted was for Erick to leave the room. Despite the monstrous skill of the man, Erick was the most human of the trio, and to some degree the only one she felt safe with. It hadn’t gone unnoticed that Amanda had watched her torture with a certain amount of sadistic pleasure flitting across her hawkish face; she wouldn’t put it past her to enjoy watching Billie raped. In fact, the bitch might even join in with her violation.
A knock at the door sounded, and it was a welcome distraction.
Being the only person able to without releasing their prisoner, Amanda went to the door and opened it a crack.
‘Sorry about the intrusion, ma’am,’ a male voice said, ‘but I thought you’d want to hear this.’
‘What is it?’ Amanda snapped.
‘The team sent to recover the body from the forest; they’re back.’
It was apparent from the new arrival’s tone that something was amiss. ‘I take it there was a problem?’ Amanda said.
Billie’s ears pricked up.
‘The body was gone,’ the man announced.
‘Probably bears,’ Daniel said with a grunt of sarcasm for Billie.
Amanda must have hushed the messenger, because there was a scuff of feet and then the door closed as she joined him in the corridor. Billie listened hard, but couldn’t make out anything worthwhile from their muffled conversation. While Amanda was outside, Erick relaxed his hold on her and stepped away. She tracked the man’s gaze and saw a fleeting frown of worry as he looked at Daniel. ‘You did finish that guy like I said?’
‘He was shot in the chest, and then I broke his skull. No way anyone was going to get up and walk away from that.’
‘Apparently he did,’ Erick growled. ‘You should have made sure, you idiot.’
Daniel’s grip relaxed minutely as he peered back at his brother. For a moment Billie felt a space open between his body and hers, and if she was quick and determined enough she could twist out of his grasp and run for the door. What then? Amanda and another man were in the hall; even if she got past the brothers, she’d still be stopped. Better that she wait for another opportunity, one that she couldn’t help feel was coming, because suddenly there was a different air of expectancy in the room, one that told her the brothers had grown anxious.
The door opened, Amanda’s heels clopping as she entered, her steps fast and hard. She’d left the room for privacy, but apparently it didn’t matter if Billie heard now, and that was not good news for her prospects of release.
‘Erick! You told me that you tracked Mrs Womack via the distress beacon in the vest she was wearing?’ Amanda made her questions sound like accusations, and for good reason. ‘Did none of you think to disable the damn thing before you brought her here?’
Instead of answering her directly, Erick looked squarely at Daniel. ‘Tell me that’s not something else you fucked up, Danny.’
‘Hey, man, not my problem.’ Daniel released Billie to stand and face his accusers.
‘Daniel’s correct,’ Amanda snapped. ‘Who is in charge, Erick? Whose final responsibility is it to ensure his men don’t neglect the small points?’
Erick didn’t reply.
‘I’ve just been informed that the body of this “Joe Hunter” is missing. Considering that Mrs Womack was wearing a bulletproof vest, and its tracker was used to find her, the team checked for the signal from Hunter’s vest. It wasn’t locatable. Do you know why? Because – even wounded – the man had the presence of mind to disable it. Unlike the incompetence shown here by you, Erick. When the team found that the beacon in Billie’s vest was still sending out a signal, they thought it imperative that I know. Because it would be apparent to anyone with an ounce of intelligence that if we could trace it, then so could those looking to protect Billie.’ Amanda’s tirade had been delivered with venom. She had lost her cool, Billie understood, because she was suddenly afraid. The woman’s fear was soothing for her. Hunter had survived? That meant that someone was probably looking for her then, and might not be far away. Billie felt hope rise and swell in her chest like a bubble, but Amanda popped it.
‘We have to move her now,’ the woman said.
‘Yes,’ Erick replied. ‘Before we’re all implicated in her abduction and torture.’
This last was meant to sound as dramatic as it had, because Erick wanted Amanda to understand that he wasn’t prepared to take the fall for her, not when she was obviously so disrespectful of everything he’d done for her and for Procrylon.
‘This has been a waste of our time and effort, anyway,’ Erick went on. He looked down at Billie, and though his eyes twinkled behind the lenses of his glasses it wasn’t through pity. ‘I believe her. She doesn’t have a clue about Richard or the money.’
Amanda huffed once in her chest. It was a sound of disappointment, but also of decision. ‘Then she’s no good to us. When you move her, lose her. And make sure that the job is carried out to the letter this time.’ She turned her attention on Daniel. ‘And you, go and ensure that damn beacon is disabled instantly. And hope that you haven’t brought the FBI’s Hostage Rescue Team down on our heads. Remember, Mrs Womack isn’t the only person I can have buried without a trace.’
32
I moved through the same corridor I’d earlier watched the two workers walk along, before I’d entered the building. I had my silenced gun in my hand, and the spare in my belt. The PMC I’d taken it from was tied up in the same storage room as the security guard; he was still sound asleep. If the guard had wakened in the meantime he had the sense not to let on for fear of another smack around the head, and I’d left him to it. I’d considered plugging in and taking another quick scan of the security monitors, but without knowledge of the layout of the building to compare against the images, I wouldn’t see anything useful to lead me to Billie. So I left them disabled and decided to simply follow my nose and my intuition deeper inside the building.
The lower floor of the main building was primarily offices and workspaces, and at this time of the evening deserted. I bypassed a bank of elevators, and headed for an adjacent staircase. It was too easy to get trapped inside an elevator. Stairwells could be dangerous areas too, but there was no alternative way of getting upstairs. The security guard let slip he thought that Amanda Sheehan could be found in one of the conference rooms up there, and I believed that where she was then so was Billie. Sheehan was quite obviously someone sent by Procrylon to turn the
thumbscrews on their prisoner. I’ve fought and killed women before, but never out of choice. It was a dilemma having to go up against a woman now, but considering it was to free another woman I guessed the universe was balanced again. I had to be cautious of Sheehan, who hadn’t arrived because she had a sweet disposition; she was some kind of professional torture artist. But more so I’d to be wary of the Jaeger brothers, since when it came to gunplay they’d be the ones I’d be up against, plus whatever sized private army they had at their backs. Once already they’d beaten me, and I didn’t want history repeating.
I went up the stairs as if I had a right to be there. The number of personnel in such a large building, I doubted everyone was totally familiar with everyone else, and I wouldn’t immediately be challenged. I hoped that I could find someone who wasn’t on the direct payroll of either Procrylon or the private military company who’d give up information regarding Billie without my having to resort to threats or direct action, but maybe that was too much to ask. At the top I came to a set of double swing doors. Porthole-style windows allowed a view into another corridor, which was deserted. I went on through and padded down the hall, watching for signs on the walls for a hint of where to go. The rooms had numbered designations, but that was all. All were silent as I passed. Reaching another set of double doors I paused. From beyond them came the muted tones of conversation.
Taking a quick glance through a door window I spotted two figures standing outside a room, to which the door was standing open. Both wore the familiar green PMC uniform and had sidearms on their hips. One was a black man, the other an Asian. I didn’t recognise either from my pursuers in the woods, but a third man exited the room and joined them and he was vaguely familiar. When the Jaegers had first arrived at Billie’s farm they’d come with two helpers. One of those was now dead, but there was the last of the bunch. I knew him only from his shape and mannerisms as I’d never got a clean look at him through the mist that time as he closed in on the farm. Of anyone I’d seen up until now, this man offered most hope for a direct line to Billie. Hell, for all I knew, she could be in the very room he’d just come from. So could another dozen armed soldiers, but I couldn’t allow what-ifs to slow me. Pulling the spare gun from my belt for extra effect, I immediately pushed through the door, a gun in each hand as I stalked forward.
‘Nobody move,’ I warned.
Of course my words had the opposite effect. The black man whose back had been presented to me turned at my voice, and the Asian also snapped his head round. Only the third man faced me head on and I watched him sway from side to side as his mind screamed for positive action while also cautioning against it. My boldness had thrown them off, and I was glad to see none of them reached for a weapon. I halted ten feet from them, and kept the guns levelled on the nearest men’s chests. ‘Dump your belts and kick them away from you. Quick about it.’
Three men against two guns. The PMCs shared little glances and nods. I could tell they were doing the maths. Anyone with sense would realise each of my guns held more than one bullet, and I was obviously the type with the balls to shoot as many times as necessary. Maybe they’d given their good sense the night off, because through some unspoken communication they all came to agreement. The idiots went for their guns.
My silenced handgun went off, the black man fell with a round through his throat and I adjusted my aim within a split second. The Asian didn’t immediately go down, but he did stagger to one side, his hands going to the wound in his belly. I shot him again, and this time he did fall. By then the third man had cleared his holster and was lifting his sidearm. I aimed through the gap caused by his fallen comrades, but this time didn’t go for a fatal target. My bullet passed through his wrist and splintered the door frame behind him. The man yelped in agony, collapsing to his knees as he grabbed at his injured arm. I moved in fast, checking both his comrades were out of the game, and kicked him over on to his back, even as I covered the doorway lest anyone should seek to join the fight. No one did, and there was no shout of alarm, so I quickly pushed away my spare gun in my belt and reached to take away the PMC’s gun that hung precariously out of the holster. I tucked it into the small of my back too.
Two men were dead and another injured, and the most noise made was by the latter when he’d cried in agony. I didn’t hear a corresponding shout of alarm, and the room he’d exited was still and silent. I doubted Billie was in there, but I had to check.
The injured man hugged his wounded wrist to his chest, glaring up at me from his prone position, and I gave him something to concentrate on. I aimed the suppressed muzzle of my gun directly at his face as I leaned in quickly and checked the room. It was a typical conference suite, with a large oblong table surrounded by chairs dominating the space. A couple other tables against one wall, an old-fashioned overhead projector and a water cooler completed the look. There was no sign of Billie, or anything to suggest she’d ever been there. I took it the trio had made an impromptu drinks stop at the water cooler during their rounds.
‘Where’s Billie Womack?’ Hell, I was beginning to sound like a stuck record.
‘I saw you die,’ the man said.
‘Obviously you didn’t,’ I said, and proved I was no ghost by placing the suppressor to his forehead. ‘But you were there in the forest, sure enough. You know who I’m talking about; you were one of the bastards who took Billie. You also know exactly where she is now. Tell me.’
‘You’ll shoot me as soon as I tell you.’
‘Maybe. But I’ll shoot right now if you don’t.’
‘You’d murder an injured man?’
‘In an instant,’ I told him. But truth be told, I wouldn’t. I’d resolved to take the fight to my enemies, though only where they were combatants and fair game. It was one thing shooting men with the same intention as I had, quite another an unarmed guy lying injured on the floor. But letting the man know that would be a huge mistake. Better that he believed I was a cold-blooded assassin. I dug the suppressor into the skin of his forehead. ‘Do I need to give you a countdown?’
He’d screwed his eyelids tight, grimacing in pain. When he again looked up at me his gaze was pointed, resigned to his death. ‘Quit the dramatics, will you? If you’re going to shoot, shoot.’
‘You’re doing yourself no favours.’
‘Fuck you.’
‘Have it your way.’ I didn’t shoot. I grabbed his injured wrist and inserted my thumb in the bullet wound. Grinding my thumb into the splintered bones, I watched the guy change his mind about defying me. He bit down on his lips to stop from crying out, which was sensible of him. ‘Ready to speak yet?’
‘I . . . I’m ready.’
I withdrew my thumb. ‘The question hasn’t changed: where’s Billie Womack?’
‘She’s not in this building.’
‘I don’t want to know where she isn’t. C’mon. Spill.’
He jerked his head, and I thought it was to escape the gun, but it was actually a nod of direction. ‘There’s a sky bridge adjoining the next building across. You need to go that way. Billie’s being held there.’
‘Who has her? The Jaegers?’
He appeared surprised that I knew the names.
‘The Jaegers, and then some.’
‘How many?’
‘Twenty, thirty, maybe more. I couldn’t say. Maybe you’d best get yourself over there and find out.’ He offered a sly smile that told me he didn’t fancy my chances.
‘You wouldn’t be sending me on a wild goose chase . . .’
‘Why would I? You’re gonna kill me. If you decide not to be a punk-ass and let me live, well, whatever. I’m not going to be able to show my face around here anymore. Not if the Jaegers learn I sent you after them.’
‘Trust me, I won’t be wasting time carrying tales to them.’
He nodded. Professional gratitude.
‘By the way, I’m no punk-ass.’ I gave him the respect he was due. I kicked him hard in the head and sent him to sleep. By the time he
woke up it wouldn’t matter if he raised the alarm. And if he chose to join the fight, then so be it. Next time he would be fairer game.
Giving him no further thought, I headed past the conference room and found another short corridor. A set of double doors opened on to the promised skywalk. It was glassed in on three sides, though the windows and roof were semi-opaque with dirt and bird droppings, and underfoot the floor shuddered minutely with each step and made a thrumming noise. I didn’t slow down, just kept going. The sound would be a feature to anyone familiar with the building. Reaching the far end I again paused at a set of double doors with porthole windows, and spied out what I was up against. I couldn’t see a soul, but from somewhere below me voices rang out, and suddenly there was a new buzz of expectancy in the air. Doors banged, and there followed running footsteps, and more raised commands. I’d no idea how the news had got out, but they knew I was there. I pressed open the doors and entered the second building, looking immediately for passage down. Before I found a stairwell, I halted in my tracks.
In the distance a woman howled.
It was more a scream of rage than of fear.
It was followed instantly by a bleat of pain, and I threw all caution aside and plunged for the stairs down.
33
Billie went for Amanda Sheehan’s eyes with the only weapons available to her: the nails of her left hand.
Her opportunity came after Danny left the room, stony-faced after hearing Amanda’s proclamation about his future should he mess up again. Amanda had ignored him as he walked stiffly by; she’d said her piece and felt no need to reiterate it. Erick watched his brother go, and in those few seconds of inattentiveness Billie realised that she was neither being watched nor held. Her right hand was useless to her, twitching and shaking, and numb. She seethed like a kettle reaching boiling point, both at what had been done to her, and what was to come. She erupted out of her seat without warning, ducked past Erick who – apart from a narrowing of his eyelids – didn’t react in time to stop her, and screeched a wild war cry as she went for the face of her tormentor. Amanda had been in the process of pulling out a cell phone, her attention on the screen, and it took her a second or two to understand she was the target of Billie’s rage, and to react. The trouble for her was her reaction was wrong: instead of taking the fight to Billie, she attempted to escape backwards, and her heels caught on the threadbare carpet and she staggered against a wall. Billie was on her, and she clamped her nails on Amanda’s bony face, her fingers curling over the dome of Amanda’s forehead, while her thumb dug deep into her eye socket. Amanda cried shrilly, while Billie’s scream rose and fell in pitch as she tore at the face of her enemy. Billie crashed up against her and both women went to the floor in an untidy heap, with Billie on top and never relinquishing her hold. In desperation, all Amanda could do was try to strike out at Billie’s head, using the edge of her cell phone, without any conscious intention of doing so. Billie was beyond immediate pain, and she even tangled her broken fingers in Amanda’s previously coiffed hair and twisted it into a tangle. She screamed and snarled like something wild, and then sank her teeth into Amanda’s opposite cheek.
