by Matt Rogers
He thought of the man with the bloody hand in the private elevator.
Was it him?
Was he Peter Forrest?
It had to be. His gut told him Forrest had been placed firmly on the defensive, throwing his enforcers at the situation in an attempt to restore order through sheer force.
Slater glanced back at the dead hit team and realised he had to finish this now.
Forrest wouldn’t allow him a second chance.
If he took time to heal, the man would use his resources to vanish into nothingness.
But why hasn’t he already done that?
The thought plagued him as he chambered a fresh magazine into the M4A1 carbine, striding fast for the elevators. He glanced at the walls on either side of him, flashing by, sparse and concrete and bare, and realised his surroundings had skewed his perception. If he’d been standing on the highest floor of the complex, looking out over an emporium and set of towers that he’d built with his own resources and determination, he would understand why a billionaire businessman wouldn’t be inclined to start fresh.
Forrest had too much pride.
He would do anything to save his empire, because without it he was lost.
Slater channelled the darkness still churning inside him, tapping into it. Forrest had been so determined to keep his casino operation afloat that he’d sunk into moral depravity to get his profit margins up. Slater had met a hundred — no, a thousand — men and women like him before, and the urge to wipe them out never faded away.
Besides, these were special circumstances.
Slater had seen first-hand the raw suffering on the young kids’ faces.
He would make an express trip to the top floor, settle the racing emotions in his head with a bullet through Forrest’s brain, and then come back for them. He’d do his best to ease them back into the world, but he wasn’t a counsellor or a psychologist. He couldn’t help them at any subtle, deeper level. But he could drag them out of this hell hole.
He was an enforcer.
Sensing a narrow window opening up in Forrest’s defences, he called for the elevator using an archaic two-button system. These private facilities were barebones, nothing like the contemporary digital wonderland of Mountain Lion’s public face. This was a workspace, through and through. It turned Slater’s stomach end over end as he tasted the sterile air.
What horrors hadn’t he been able to prevent?
What had unfolded down here before he’d chanced upon this madness?
Then all his thoughts tore away from hypotheticals as he realised the elevator was due for arrival in a couple of seconds, maximum. He heard the cable car rumbling on the other side of the steel doors, descending fast.
It had already been on the way down when he’d called for it.
Veins pumping, adrenalin suddenly skyrocketing, he lurched the M4A1 carbine up in a tight arc and had it locked onto the narrow slit between the steel doors in a heartbeat.
They wouldn’t be expecting him this close.
It would be a battle of reflexes.
When it came down to that level of subconscious combat, Slater never failed.
So with supreme confidence he exhaled as the elevator touched down on the other side of the doors. A brief second of utter silence unfolded, then the doors whispered open — so quiet that Slater could hear nothing but the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears and the distant hum of some kind of generator.
There were three people in the elevator. The more archaic, primitive side of Slater’s brain recognised the shape of their forms and formulated a plan of attack in milliseconds. His barrel already lined up with the middle silhouette, so it would simply be a matter of pulling the trigger, then working his aim from left to right and dropping all three targets before they even realised he was there.
But then he realised he’d aimed high.
What? That never happens?
Because the middle figure was somewhere in the vicinity of four feet tall.
And young.
And female.
The two men accompanying her on the ride into hell had seemingly been prepared for this exact predicament. They each had the cold barrel of a semi-automatic pistol pressed into the sides of Shien’s temple, sandwiching her between the guns. Her eyes watered from the pressure, a sight that set Slater’s temperament spiralling wildly out of control.
Before he could capitalise on the brief sliver of opportunity he had to react instinctively and drop the two men, the moment slipped by.
The four of them found themselves in a stalemate of the highest stakes.
‘Will Slater, isn’t it?’ one of the men said in perfect English. ‘I’d put that rifle down if I were you.’
45
Slater understood the gravity of the situation. He had experience in this kind of predicament — where the very lives of everyone around him, including himself, rested on how he chose to react.
But it didn’t make the conversation any easier.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said to Shien, all he could think of, encapsulating every furious thought running through his head. ‘I shouldn’t have left you up there.’
‘No, you shouldn’t have,’ the first guy said. ‘What were you thinking? Here we were, thinking we were up against some kind of superhuman, but then you go and do something like that. Can’t see a way out of this, can you?’
‘You want me dead?’
‘No.’
Slater simply raised an eyebrow. The M4A1 remained locked in place, unwavering. The trajectory narrowed between the first man’s eyes — if either of them fired a bullet into Shien’s head, Slater would have them both dead in a split second, tearing his aim from one man to the other.
He had no doubts about that.
At the end of this stand-off, he would be the only one left alive.
But then none of it would mean anything, and the girl he’d spent what felt like a lifetime trying to protect would die. After that any kind of vengeance would be hollow.
Shien had to survive.
His mind hardened as he searched for a way to ensure that.
Any way.
‘Then what’s this about?’ he said. ‘If we’re not enemies?’
‘My name is Tak,’ the taller man said. He looked Filipino, well-built with short hair and a pronounced jawline.
A powerhouse of a man.
The suit draped over his frame looked like it cost several thousand dollars. He hovered his weapon in place beside Shien’s head with a practiced calmness. The man had experience in tense situations.
‘You know my name,’ Slater said.
All of their sentences came out distorted, changed by the gravity of the stand-off. The tension ran thick in the air. Slater didn’t move his gaze an inch from Tak’s forehead.
‘This is my colleague, Antoine,’ Tak said.
Slater didn’t dare look across. ‘He knows my name too.’
‘We want to talk to you,’ Tak said.
‘Does your friend Antoine speak?’
‘I’m a little more accustomed to these situations than he is.’
‘I see.’
‘I’ll do the talking.’
‘Fine by me.’
Shien whimpered, unable to help herself, barely managing to contain her emotions. By now Slater imagined the drugs had entirely worn off, leaving her in a state of unrest, fully perceptible to what was going on around her.
And there was no situation quite like having two loaded pistols shoved into each side of your head.
The whimper — only a slight squeak from below Slater’s peripheral vision — triggered the rage. Unable to control his own actions, he started to tighten his finger around the trigger.
You can make it, he told himself. You don’t need to bargain with these men.
But he stopped himself at the last moment. He would never be able to forgive himself if he misjudged the timing by the finest millisecond and Shien wound up getting caught in the crossfire.
It s
eemed Tak recognised the hesitation on Slater’s end, for he chose that moment to continue. ‘We were the ones who released her last night.’
Slater paused. ‘You guys are the ones who tried to rob Forrest?’
Tak hadn’t been anticipating that. He was slow to respond — it would have gone unnoticeable to the general population, but in these circumstances Slater picked up every detail. His eyes and ears and nostrils were attuned to the environment in a manner exclusive to a life-or-death situation. He noticed everything.
‘Yes,’ the man said, rolling with it. ‘That’s us.’
‘Why should I care what the two of you have to say?’
‘Because otherwise we’ll blow this kid’s brains all over the wall. You might kill us after that but what good will that do? You’ve already sacrificed so much for her. Don’t stop now.’
As if the man could read Slater’s mind.
Shien whimpered again, recognising each word for the consequences they spelt. The sound grated on Slater’s eardrums, threatening to yank the anger out of the internal compartment he’d stuffed it in.
‘It’s just the two of you?’ Slater said.
‘There was a third.’
‘What happened to him?’
‘You tell us.’
Slater paused, thinking back to the apartment complex, to the hallways drenched in wet rot and the testosterone-fuelled carnage of close quarters combat between two men who wanted nothing more than to emerge the victor. An intoxicating memory, all things considered. One leeching with primal sensations — after all, when stripped down to its raw reality, that was the only reason anyone did anything.
To survive.
So he shoved aside his natural instincts and elected to please the two men in front of him for as long as it took to find an opening. But not before returning a dose of their own medicine — they’d toyed with him by threatening Shien, so he’d make sure they wrestled with their own emotions in turn.
‘Your man had a jewelled earring?’ Slater said, thinking back to the lone wolf he’d shot dead in the hallway.
‘Yes. That’s him. Jin. Our partner.’
‘How long have you three been working together?’ Slater said, keeping his tone casual, as if nothing at all were out of the ordinary.
‘As long as I can remember.’
‘Oh. That’s nice. He didn’t die well.’
‘What?’
‘I shot him dead. Round straight through his forehead. Like what I’ll do to you if you decide to kill her.’
‘Could you live with yourself if that happened?’ Tak said, his voice ice cold, the barrel of his firearm twisting slowly against the side of Shien’s head.
Slater hadn’t even got the chance to glance down and check what make the weapon was.
He couldn’t move. Couldn’t blink.
‘Probably not. But I’d be alive. You’d both be dead. You ready for that?’
‘As ready as I’ll ever be.’
‘I don’t think you are.’
Tak said nothing.
‘I think you came into this full of confidence and bravado but you didn’t think of the possibility that I might just kill you where you stand.’
‘You’re too attached to this girl to do that.’
‘Am I?’
He sensed Shien’s gaze locked onto the underside of his chin, her eyes boring into him. He ignored it.
‘You don’t want to do this,’ Tak said.
‘You have no idea what I want.’
‘Actually, I might have some clue. You want Peter Forrest dead.’
Slater said nothing.
‘Am I correct?’ Tak said after a few seconds of silence.
‘Possibly.’
‘Is that where you were headed right now?’
‘Possibly.’
‘Then I suggest we work together.’
‘Why the hell would I do that?’
‘Think about it. You have your issues with me — I kidnapped this little girl after all. Someone you clearly care about, despite what you say. I have my issues with you — you killed someone I considered a brother…’
‘You sent him after me,’ Slater said. ‘Don’t pin that on me.’
‘And you got yourself wrapped up in this situation of your own accord. Don’t pin that on us.’
‘I was helping.’
‘Were you?’
‘What would you have done with her if everything had gone according to plan? If I never interfered and you got away with hundreds of millions of dollars?’
‘We would have released—’
‘You would have let a baccarat dealer and a young girl kidnapped for sex slavery purposes walk free after they’d both seen your faces? The only two loose ends. You wouldn’t have tied them up, when they both mean nothing in the grand scheme of things? You think I’m stupid enough to believe that?’
Tak said nothing for a long stretch. ‘But you interfered, didn’t you? So we don’t have to worry about what might have been.’
‘You need me for this, don’t you?’ Slater said.
‘Sorry?’
‘I can tell you’re desperate. It’s okay. You don’t need to hide it. But you’re on Forrest’s shit list, aren’t you? He knows you’re the one behind the transfer.’
‘But we’re not,’ Tak said. ‘We didn’t do it. At least, our man didn’t. Forrest caught up to him first but we got there afterwards.’
‘Is he alive?’
‘Who?’
‘Samuel Barnes.’
A pause. ‘You know him.’
‘Who do you think went through with the transfer?’
The man froze. ‘Why’d you do it? You ended up paying us nine figures. What was the point?’
‘To stir things up. To create chaos. I’d say I did a pretty good job.’
‘You ruined our lives.’
‘They were already ruined — let’s face it. I was the straw that broke the camel’s back.’
‘So what now?’ Tak said.
‘I’ll help you,’ Slater said.
‘How am I supposed to believe you won’t just—?’
Slater let go of the M4A1 carbine in one smooth motion, letting the rifle clatter to the floor between the elevator doors, a gesture laced with enough stress to make a lesser man lose consciousness. If his buttering hadn’t worked and Tak decided to shoot Slater between the eyes right there, he wouldn’t be able to do a thing to stop it.
Unarmed, completely vulnerable, he stood still as a statue with his hands by his sides.
‘You believe me now?’ he said. ‘I’ll help you. I know what Forrest was running down here, and I want him dead. You want him dead for different reasons. Doesn’t bother me — let’s do this before he calls for more backup.’
Tak paused, mulling things over. Then, tentatively, he lowered the gun off Shien’s temple. A red welt protruded from the side of her head, visible through her matted hair.
Antoine followed suit.
The four of them stood there, shell-shocked by the ordeal, by the closeness to death. Silence enveloped the corridor.
‘He has a hit team,’ Tak said, his voice quiet. ‘Forrest does. They’re enforcers. Ex-Special Forces. They’ll be protecting him. It’ll be tough. I don’t even know why we’re trying this.’
Slater jerked a thumb over his shoulder. ‘They’re all in a room back there.’
Tak raised an eyebrow.
‘Dead,’ Slater said.
‘You’re kidding.’
‘I’m ex-Special Forces too. They met their match.’
‘Five against one?’
‘There’s … levels to the Special Forces.’
‘What were you?’
‘Something else. We going to do this or what?’
46
In one fluid motion, Tak and Antoine released Shien from their grasp.
Slater watched her run from them, crossing the slight gap between the two parties with all the energy her tiny limbs could muster. She threw her a
rms around him, unable to stop herself from the instinctive reaction. He relented for a moment, reaching down and holding her tight, silently reassuring her that everything would be okay.
Silently hoping she would understand.
‘You need to stay here, Shien,’ he said. ‘You need to wait for us to come back.’
She parted from him and stood there, her frail hands clasped together, looking up at him with anguish plastered across her face.
‘Will…’ she said.
‘I need to go, right now.’
‘Will, don’t go with those men,’ she whispered. ‘They’ll kill you.’
Waiting patiently in the elevator, both Tak and Antoine managed slight smirks. Slater turned to them and offered a sheepish shrug — Kids, right?
They nodded back.
Deep down, he believed every word.
And he knew it to be true.
‘You can’t come with us,’ he said. ‘We need to take care of this right now — there won’t be any other opportunity.’
‘What do I do? Are there dead people down here?’
‘Yes. Don’t look at them.’
‘What if you don’t come back?’
‘I will.’
‘I mean — what if you die?’
‘Shien, trust me.’
‘I can’t stay down here,’ she muttered. ‘This is where they were keeping me. I think I know what they were going to do with me. I heard what you said before. This scares me so much, Will. I can’t…’
‘I don’t have a choice.’
‘Where do I go?’
‘Follow the corridor. You’ll find a room with a dozen girls inside — all around your age. Tell them it’s going to be okay. And wait for me.’
The conversation dragged on — Shien pleading with Slater to stay with her, Slater insisting he had no other choice. By the end of the back and forth debate, both Tak and Antoine had dropped their guards considerably, evidently frustrated by the time it was taking Slater to persuade Shien.
‘Clock’s ticking,’ Tak finally muttered.
Slater gave it no additional thought. He brushed straight past Shien, ignoring her fingers snatching at his wrist.
