by Jonas Saul
“Keep your mouth shut,” a man said. “Maybe you’ll live through the day.”
Aaron remained in a lying down position as blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. He had taken hits before. As far as hits go, that one wasn’t so bad. Not seeing it coming was what hurt more.
He had no idea where he was, who these people were or where they were taking him. But he did know that he was kidnapped to get to Sarah. And for that alone, he would do what he could to thwart their plans, even if it meant he had to die.
He had been shot and close to death before as a result of his search for his beloved sister. They would never get to Sarah through him. Whatever they thought, he would make that fact clear, even if his life depended on it.
Chapter 18
Sven returned to the vehicle eight minutes later, worrying Amber that she would have to leave without him. He opened her door and yanked her out of the car. As she stumbled and fell, he grabbed his gun from the glove box.
“Get your phone out.” He moved beside her. “Come on, come on. Let’s go. Faster. They’re already here, waiting inside.”
Without getting off the ground, Amber pulled out her cell phone, doing everything she could to keep the inside of the purse away from Sven’s eyes. It was stupid of her to leave her phone in the purse after Sven had told her he wanted to record the shooting. She should have pulled it out when he wasn’t beside her.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
She produced the phone, turned it on and punched the camera button as she got to her feet. Then she flipped it to video mode and showed Sven she was ready. By that time he had slipped his gun in the back of his pants.
Maybe it was a good thing to have forgotten to have the phone ready. It distracted Sven from looking at his gun. She had run the risk of Sven checking to make sure it was loaded. What would she have said if he asked her—accused her—of taking the bullets out? She had been the only one in the car.
He would never have made it to see the runner. She would have had to shoot him where he stood. But he didn’t question her because he didn’t know his gun was empty.
Empty? Shit!
She’d left a bullet in the chamber. Sven had one bullet. But it was only one.
Say goodbye to the runner, then, because she wasn’t going to tell him about her HIV and shoot him in the forehead until his gun was empty otherwise he would turn it on her.
One bullet. One more dead girl. What did it all matter anyway? If it wasn’t Sven, it would be Sven’s boss or some other douche bag pimp. The girl was dead already no matter how today turned out.
Sven ran for the corner of the brick building, waving Amber after him. Nerves frayed, Amber followed Sven with weak knees, hoping her legs wouldn’t give out until they were both dead.
But what if at the last moment she couldn’t do it? Killing Sven would be a pleasure. She knew she could do that. But eating a bullet would be a lot harder. Maybe she would just kill Sven and learn to live with her disease in Australia or Canada, or maybe she would move to Iceland and forget everything and everybody.
But who would pay for the trip? Where would she get the money? She was broke. Sven took everything. She had no future, no family that cared about her and no bank accounts. She had no kids that loved her—Sven made sure she had abortions every time he got her pregnant. She probably couldn’t even get pregnant now if she wanted to.
All because of Sven.
No, the pleasure of killing Sven had been a long time coming.
She followed Sven through a metal door at the back of a large building. Just before entering, she thought she saw someone retreat behind a dumpster. She leaned back out the door to see if her eyes were playing tricks on her. Nothing moved.
“For the love of shit, come on!” Sven pleaded. “Stop wasting time.”
He dropped down a flight of stairs, traversed a short hallway and opened a door that led to a cavernous room. Amber followed a few feet behind.
She entered the large room, taking it all in. The ceiling was at least forty feet high and covered in steel girders and sheets of glass. Huge shelves lined the far walls where she assumed forklifts would store supplies all the way to the roof. She idly wondered what this building was once used for.
Near the back wall where two chairs held open a set of double doors, a man stood over a pretty blonde girl who rested on her knees, her head down, chin on chest.
Sven strode across the dirty warehouse floor toward them, looking back only once to gesture for her to hurry up.
She turned her back to him, pulled the gun from her purse and before turning back around, slipped it into the rear of her skirt. Then, with her purse over her shoulder, lighter now, she raised her cell phone, hit record and started after him.
It was finally ending. All the customers could go to hell. Sven could go to hell.
Today she took back control of her life.
Amber Dijkstra was in charge now.
Her strides across the warehouse floor held more purpose than at any other time in her life.
Chapter 19
The Matt Dillon lookalike had guided her through a back alley, down a bike path and into the back of a warehouse.
“We both know why we’re here,” he whispered. “Do your job and I’ll do mine and we both walk out of here alive to see another day. If you’re upset about the way I handle you, I’m sorry. Everything has to appear real. Sven Spaans could be watching as we speak. This is the last time we talk as if we’re on the same side. Got it?”
Sarah nodded.
He propped two doors open with chairs he’d found in the corridor and came to stand beside her.
“On your knees,” he said.
“What?”
“You heard me.” He turned to her. “On your knees. You’re submissive. Ask for forgiveness for running. Cry. Beg. Do this right and you’ll get an award.”
“I don’t want an award, dickhead.”
He snapped his head toward her, fury on his face. “This isn’t a game. Don’t dare talk back to me in Sven’s presence.”
“You gonna be able to protect me if he decides to shoot or stab me? You gotta gun?”
“Ankle holster,” Matt Dillon whispered. “Don’t worry. He needs his girls. He won’t come all this way to kill you.”
They remained that way for ten minutes, Sarah on her knees with Matt standing beside her.
A door clicked on the other side of the warehouse.
A tall man, well over six feet, blonde hair and the face of a Norwegian, entered the warehouse, followed by a woman in heels, a tiny skirt and bad hair. They whispered something to each other. The man had to be Sven. Sarah had no idea who the girl was.
The woman following Sven did a full turn, pulled something from her purse, and then Sarah lost sight of one of the woman’s arms as she fixed her skirt from behind.
Or jammed something in her back.
The woman hiked her purse strap high on her shoulder, raised a cell phone in the air and walked toward them as if she was recording.
Sven made it to them first.
Sarah made herself appear sheepish by looking down at Sven’s shoes. They did not fit with his image. Loafers without socks. It reminded her of that eighties show, Miami Vice.
Then Vivian entered her mind. Not words this time, only feelings like emotions rolling in with dark clouds.
Vivian was afraid. Vivian felt fear.
Sarah was afraid now.
What’s going on, Vivian?
Chapter 20
Amber stayed back far enough so Sven couldn’t have time to lunge at her when she pulled her weapon. She only hoped her first shot entered his forehead as she planned. If not, he’d have a chance to grab her. Maybe the second shot would be true, but getting off more than two shots would be a gamble with Sven’s temper.
She aimed the cell phone at the girl on the ground. Not your average hooker. This one was a looker. Maybe she was new and not used up yet. That made sense. Sven’s girls didn’t try to run
once they got to know him.
Sven pulled out his gun and waved it around.
Amber moved to the side so her camera would pick up all the action. Once the first bullet came out of Sven’s gun, his weapon would click empty. That was her cue to drop the cell camera and shoot him between the eyes. What did it matter if he died without knowing he had HIV? Maybe it would be better for everyone if he died without knowing.
It would all work out.
She might die by his hand if her plan fucked up, but that wasn’t so bad. If Sven didn’t kill her, she would.
Then something strange happened.
The girl on her knees yelled one word.
“Stop!”
Chapter 21
Vivian rambled on for a full minute.
Sven wants to kill you. The man beside you isn’t a cop. He’s an informer. The wire in your belly button isn’t a wire. The girl’s suicidal. Sarah, try to survive. Be fast. Break his nose—
“Stop!” Sarah yelled at Vivian. The voice inside her head dimmed, faded, then died.
Sarah raised her head to look at Sven. The gun in his hand stopped moving back and forth. He smiled down at her. With the knowledge Vivian imparted on her still rolling through her mind, she wasn’t afraid. The professional side of Sarah, the one that fought and made it out of countless scrapes with assholes like Sven honed in on her nerves and settled her. She was ready. And she was angry.
“What do you want me to stop, little girl?” Sven gestured at his gun. “This? You want me to stop waving this in your face?” He laughed a short burst, stopped suddenly, then pulled his lip back in a snarl. “Or maybe there’s something else you want me to wave in your face.” He grabbed his crotch and bucked his hips in a weak imitation of Michael Jackson, then let out a high-pitched squeak as if Michael ever sounded like Sven.
“No, asshole,” Sarah mumbled, her bangs covering her eyes. The ankle holster. She needed Matt Dillon’s gun. She needed something. Inspector Dekker had set her up. He had left her here to die. They weren’t listening in with the wire in a van just outside. There were no snipers in place and no backup. If anything, Dekker was already heading home for dinner where he would wait for the report of a female American tourist shot in a warehouse. She was on her own and in the company of thine enemies.
“When I said stop, I want you to stop thinking you’re all that.” She lifted one knee and placed a foot on the ground. Matt Dillon shuffled his feet beside her. “I’m tired of dealing with narcissistic assholes.” She lifted her other knee, placed that foot on the ground as she stood to her full height slowly. “You know,” she said as she stared Sven in the eyes, “the world is overrun by parents raising narcissistic kids. Telling them they’re so important without dressing them down when they need it. Well, today I’m here to dress you down.”
Sven’s snarl deepened. He stepped closer to Sarah. “I like the lip on this one. I bet you give a mean blowjob. Those pretty lips wrapped to my base. Man, how come I never met you before?”
Matt shuffled beside her. “Hey man, we cool? I can go?”
Sven turned to him. “This runner your bitch?”
Matt nodded. “I brought her back. You can have her. Don’t need her anymore. I hate runners.”
“Gee, thanks.” He looked at Sarah. “This guy says I can have you. Like you’re meat. A doll. A fucking rocking chair. A piece of furniture he’s discarding.” Sven moved to the side, raised his weapon to Matt Dillon’s face, and fired. It happened so fast.
The weapon’s roar was loud and immediate. The woman Sven came with let out a short yip as Matt’s handsome face imploded and what was left of his brains exploded out the back of his skull.
His gun’s empty now, Vivian whispered. You’re good.
Out of reflex, Sarah stepped away from Dillon’s falling body. The brain and skull fragments sprayed past her.
“Nobody, and I mean nobody,” Sven shouted at Dillon’s convulsing body, “tells me what I want or what I don’t want. She’s always been mine, you piece of shit. And when she dies, she’ll still be mine. I’ll own the fucking corpse.”
Sven turned back to Sarah. The woman behind Sven held the cell phone up, but now her hands were visibly shaking.
The hopeful part of Sarah wondered if Dekker was on the up and up. Would armed men storm the building now that Sven had committed murder and the woman’s cell phone recorded it?
Sven brought his weapon up and placed it under Sarah’s chin. She tried to swallow, but the tip of the gun blocked it.
“Now, about you running.” He looked over at his woman. “You close enough? You getting this?”
The gun had better be empty, Vivian. Sven is my only way to get to James Wong.
“Come closer,” Sven whispered through his teeth, jaw muscles pronounced. “I want her brains on camera as they leave her skull.” Sven turned back to Sarah and edged his face so close to hers that she could smell his last meal. “No one runs from me and lives to tell the other girls about it.”
“You really are a narcissistic piece of dog shit, aren’t you?” Sarah whispered to him.
With Sven as close as he was, he couldn’t see when Sarah raised her knee. It hit his crotch square on, lifting Sven a clear foot off the warehouse floor. When he came down, bent slightly at the waist, his finger was rapidly depressing the trigger of his weapon, but the gun didn’t fire.
Only seconds passed before Sarah brought her hand up, open-palmed, and jabbed at the base of his nose, instantly breaking it with an audible crunch of cartilage. He moaned, dropped the empty gun, teetered to the side and fell curled up in a ball, one hand on his crotch, the other covering his nose as blood seeped through his fingers.
The woman continued to record, but her hands seemed steadier now. She was also smiling.
Sarah couldn’t pass up the chance to offer a solid kick to Sven’s stomach for all the girls he’d abused, for the man he just killed and for being such a prick of a human being.
“You,” she said with kick number one, “will take me to meet James Wong,” kick number two, “whether you want to or not.” Sarah turned to the woman with the cell phone. “And who are you?” she asked.
The woman lowered the cell phone. “My name is Amber.” She stepped closer and stretched out her hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Sarah.”
They shook.
“Thanks for doing that,” Amber said. “It’s been a long time coming. Nobody ever touches Sven. He needed his ass kicked. But don’t get any blood on you.”
“Why not?”
“Sven probably has HIV.”
Sven moaned on the floor and tried to look up at the them. “HIV?” he rasped, his voice nasal.
Amber addressed him. “That’s right. I got my test back and it’s positive. Whether I picked it up and gave it to you, or you gave it to me doesn’t matter. We both have it. We both have a death sentence.”
Sarah checked for blood on her hands. Remarkably she was completely clean of any of Sven’s bodily fluids. A quick scan of the warehouse revealed no help, no task force coming in to save the day. Nothing.
Vivian, that was crazy close. He had one bullet. I could’ve bought a first-class ticket to come see you on the Other Side.
But you didn’t … Vivian’s voice, soft and velvety.
Sarah saw the weapon in the back of Amber’s skirt.
Shit!
She stepped forward as Amber rambled on how Sven had ruined her life. The second before Sarah got to the gun, Amber jerked it out, aimed it at Sven and fired. Sven barely had a chance to squeak out a protest before the top of his head exploded.
Amber fired again, then again.
Sarah stepped back to put some distance between them, ready to run if Amber turned toward her. But Amber continued firing until her weapon clicked empty and Sven’s death convulsions had ended.
Amber tossed the gun aside and surveyed her work, still filming with her phone.
“Not bad,” she said, almost too casuall
y. “That’s a lot of holes in one body. About as many as you tried to fuck in me. Now I just fucked you.” She spit on Sven’s corpse. “And turned you into a woman.” She laughed out loud. “Don’t rest in peace, you prick. I hope you burn in a lake of fire in Hell.”
Amber turned to Sarah, her face calm, resolute. “Sorry about that. Got a little carried away.”
