by Sofia Grey
She prayed her phone idea worked and that Rico was able to find them. She couldn’t rely on that and wait for him, though. Everything he taught her was about taking chances when they arose.
Eventually, the van stopped, and the engine was switched off. Sylvie lifted her head and tried to listen. The van had no windows or grille. She’d no way to see if it was dark or light. She guessed dark by now, especially on a rainy winter evening.
Shutters rumbled outside. She tried to stretch, to prepare herself for rapid movement. “I think we’ve arrived,” she whispered to Louisa, who looked more frightened by the minute. “Let me do the talking.”
The van doors flew open, and Dee stood there, a dim light behind him. Sylvie went on the offensive straight away. “About bloody time. We’ve a small child in here, and he needs the toilet.” Ted woke when the van stopped, and he was grizzling.
Dee eyed him. “I’m going to let you out. Try anything, and I’ll hurt the boy.” He climbed into the van and plucked the wailing child out of Louisa’s arms. Ted struggled, and Louisa cried out.
Moments later, Dee was back and released Louisa from the chain. Her handcuffs stayed in place, and he jerked her to stand, before leading her out of the van.
Then he came for Sylvie. “I know you like to fight back, so listen well. If you think about taking a kick at me, I’ll make the child pay. You understand?” He grabbed her hair and pulled hard. “I said, do you understand?”
“Yes,” she said. “I won’t do anything.” Not yet.
“I think it’s time your boyfriend saw you.”
What? Was Rico here too? If he managed to take Rico, Sylvie didn’t know what chance they had left.
She yelped when he half-dragged her out of the van by her hair. He hauled her across a dirty concrete floor to a large metal-framed bed. Louisa was already chained to the frame, Ted in her arms. He attached Sylvie’s handcuffs but took the opportunity to fasten her hands behind her back.
“You wanted the toilet. This bucket will have to do. And there’s some water, but better make it last. You may be here a while,” he said.
Sylvie followed his gaze to four plastic bottles beside the bed.
“Ted needs food.” Louisa’s voice wavered.
“I’ll get you something to eat soon. First, I want to take a picture of Sylvie.” Once more, he jammed his hand into her hair, twisting her neck into a painful angle, before snapping a picture on his phone. He let go and stalked back to the van. Sylvie looked around. What was this place?
It looked like a typical London lock-up. A brick-walled construction, with roller shutters at the front. A garage, maybe? It was big enough for his van and the bed, and still had room to move around.
They could escape in the van, if they could hot-wire the engine, that was. But Sylvie had no idea how to do that. There was also the small matter of escaping the handcuffs.
The minute Dee left them alone, she’d get Louisa to tug the phone from her boot, and they’d call Rico. He was their best chance.
* * * *
A couple more people arrived in Marcus’s office, and Alex recognised Jack and Tanner, two of the security guards from Jordan’s house. They’d only been there a few minutes, when Rico’s phone beeped. He gazed at it, his face like a mask, and then passed it around.
Sylvie, with dirt and bruises across her beautiful face, hands cuffed behind her back, and some bastard’s hand tangled in her hair. Her expression was defiant, but Alex saw the fear in her eyes.
His gut cramped. She was so brave, while he felt fucking useless.
“That confirms my theory they’ve stopped somewhere,” said Aiden. “Trying to narrow down her location now.”
They waited in silence. There was nothing else to do.
Rico’s phone chirruped, and he glanced at it. “It’s Sylvie’s number,” he said. “I’ll put it on speaker.” He placed the phone on the table, and everyone leaned closer to listen.
“Rico, is that you?”
Alex’s heart leapt into his throat. It was Sylvie.
“Silverwood. Are you okay?” Rico asked.
“We’re fine. He doesn’t know about my phone. Lou and Ted are okay. It’s Darius Gibson,” she whispered, her voice muffled.
“Where are you? What can you tell me?”
Alex was amazed at how calm Rico sounded.
“A lockup. A garage I think. We came here in a white van. We’re near an underground line—I can feel the trains underneath me—and there’s a normal railway very close as well, with long freight trains. I think we’re in London, and I think we’re somewhere near the river. I can hear boats on the water.” She rattled everything out at top speed, and Aiden scribbled it all down.
“You’re doing brilliantly.” Rico’s voice was soothing. “Can you think of anything else, no matter how tiny?”
“We’re chained to a metal bed frame. Oh yes. When he left the lockup—it’s a roller door, double sized—I could smell fish. Really strong. Like cat food? And the pavement outside looks cobbled. There’s an orange street lamp right outside... Oh shit.”
Alex froze. There was a frenzied shout through the speaker. A man yelled. A woman screamed. And then the line went dead.
“Fuck,” Rico yelled at the phone. His face was white, his hands shaking. He stalked to the window and stared out at the twilight, fists clenched at his sides. Jordan walked up behind him, placed a calming hand on his shoulder, and spoke to him in a low voice.
Everyone else looked at Aiden, who said “It’s stopped transmitting. We’ve narrowed it down to a one-mile square of London. That’s the best we can do.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
As soon as Dee left the lockup, Sylvie told Louisa to get her phone, unlock it and call Rico, then hold it to Sylvie’s mouth. Another thirty seconds, and they might have gotten away with it, but Dee came back.
He stepped in through a side door, bellowed when he saw her on the phone, and then charged forwards and kicked it to the floor. Louisa screamed, and Ted wailed. For a few moments, it was chaos.
Dee shoved Sylvie face down on the bed, banging her head into the frame. The knock made her dizzy. She was aware of a paper bag of food landing on the bed next to her, but then Dee released her from the chain and dragged her to the floor. Without her hands to take her weight, she tried to roll—to land on her side—and managed to hit the concrete with her hip. Fuck. That hurt.
“Please stop,” cried Louisa. “We didn’t speak to anyone. We only just got through.”
“You little bitch,” snarled Dee. “I knew I couldn’t trust you. What else do you have hidden?”
“Nothing,” Sylvie said, breathless from smacking into the floor. “I don’t have anything. The phone was in my pocket.”
“You won’t mind me checking, then.” He hauled her up to a kneeling position and ran his hands all over her body. She closed her eyes and tried to block it out. He had to ignore her boots. If he found the knife, God knew what he’d do.
The rip of fabric and the sudden chill on her skin made her open her eyes again. The fucker had torn her T-shirt apart and exposed her bra.
“Pervert,” she snapped, without thinking.
“You want to look pretty for another picture, don’t you? Show your boyfriend what he’s missing?”
Her stomach clenched. She tried to cling to logic. Dee wanted them alive for some reason. He wasn’t going to kill them.
Rape was another matter. No. She couldn’t go down that track. Her brain threatened to spiral out of control, her teeth chattering. She refused to be a victim. What would Rico do? He’d fight.
“I want you where I can keep a closer eye on you.” He yanked at the cuffs behind her back, as though he wanted her to stand.
This was her opportunity. She needed to remember what Rico taught her. Her head ached and her neck was stiff, but with the chain removed, she had some freedom. It had to be enough. She closed her eyes, bowed her head, and pretended to faint. She compressed her muscles and threw hers
elf upright like a spring. The top of her skull collided with his chin, and he staggered back a step, grunting. The blow made her dizzy again, but she managed to spin and kick out, and her foot smacked into his stomach.
The impact of the kick was less than she hoped, and now she was off balance. Fuck. She made it twenty times worse.
If he’d been angry before, he was livid now. He grabbed the remains of her T-shirt and threw her to the floor, where he kicked her again. His foot crashed into her injured side, and she cried out. Pain exploded through her body, and he repeated it. She tried to curl into a ball, to make herself a smaller target, but it hurt worse than anything she’d ever felt before.
She couldn’t get air into her lungs. Black spots danced before her eyes, and this time, when he dragged her across the floor, she didn’t struggle.
Half-conscious at best, she recognised the noise of crying in the background. Louisa sobbing and screaming at him to leave Sylvie alone. Ted shrieking.
Dee picked Sylvie up and tossed her into the van again. She smacked onto the metal floor and groaned. Every breath felt as though her lungs were on fire. There was a rattle of chains, and then he stepped back.
A camera flashed. What would Rico think when he saw this? He must be worried shitless, but he’d find her. She had to hang onto that.
“I can’t take a chance on staying here.” Dee spat the words at Sylvie. “I hope they never find your remains.”
Sylvie hurt too much, to care about his threats. She wanted to close her eyes and blank everything out. Louisa’s frightened cry stirred her awake, but lying on the floor as she was, Sylvie was helpless and utterly fucking useless. It was cold here too. Shivers racked her body, but they helped to keep her awake.
Louisa and Ted scrambled back into the van with her. There was a now-familiar chink of metal chains, and moments later, the van sped off.
She had to stay alert. They didn’t go far, but this time when they stopped, Darius tied a cloth around her mouth.
“In case you feel like shouting for help. Not that anyone’s here.” Sylvie caught a glimpse of darkness through the open van doors. Not like outside though. More like a car park. “And now, I’m taking Mrs. Reeve and her son for a walk. Don’t worry, Sylvie. I’ll come back for you soon.”
Sylvie meant to drum her heels against the floor of the van, but her head and side ached so much, she closed her eyes instead. She’d take a little rest first.
She awoke to Dee wrapping her inside a musty blanket that reached right over her head. She couldn’t wriggle free. Couldn’t see anything. For a moment she thought she’d suffocate, but then the fabric shifted away from her nose, and she sucked in a panicked breath.
He carried her easily over his shoulder, his feet slapping the ground. Where was she?
Indoors, definitely. A ping and a whirring noise suggested an elevator, and then a dropping sensation. His feet made a different noise when they emerged, like walking on a smooth surface, and then through a set of swing doors.
Dee paused. There was beeping, suggesting a locked door with a combination entry pad, and then they were moving again. The smell hit her, through the blanket. Mould? Mildew? It stunk, whatever it was. The wool covering her face slipped, and she caught a glimpse of empty metal racks and trailing wires. The lighting was dim, but the room looked familiar. She’d swear this was the basement at TM-Tech. Last time she was here, it had been full of computer equipment.
This had been the datacentre.
Dee tugged open a metal door and then twisted his body, to drop her to the floor. She moaned behind the gag, as a fresh wave of pain engulfed her. She was past caring that he didn’t bother chaining her up again or that the gag slipped free. She wanted this to be over.
* * * *
Alex wanted to throw up at the new picture of Sylvie that popped up on Rico’s phone. Livid bruises raked her skin and she lay, apparently unconscious, in her bra and jeans. What had the fucker done to her?
Aiden had a detailed map of London spread across the table, and the team pored over it with pens, rulers, and markers. The target was in the vicinity of Canary Wharf, but it was still a huge area to search. They spoke in hushed tones, as they discounted one location after another, but then they snapped into action.
“We’ve narrowed it down. Now we do it on foot,” said Rico. “Stay here,” he ordered the other three. “Let me know if you hear anything about the others.”
For a second, Alex didn’t know who he meant, and then he remembered. Maz was out there somewhere too, with Marcus.
It was close to one in the morning, when Rico phoned to say they’d found the right lockup. It was empty. The rawness in his voice made Alex’s chest hurt.
There were no further calls. No ransom demands. There was nothing left to do but wait.
* * * *
Marianne was half-asleep when the two kidnappers came back. With no watch or phone, she’d no idea of the time, but it felt like the middle of the night. She sat up and tugged Marcus closer. What now?
She swallowed and went on the offensive. “Marcus needs medical attention. A doctor. Please.”
They ignored her. One man grabbed her, the other pulled Marcus out of her arms. She struggled and tried to hold on to him, but they were bigger and stronger.
“No,” she screamed. “Let go of him.” She didn’t expect one of them to slap a wide piece of sticky tape across her mouth. It scrunched her lips together, and she panicked when they threw a blanket over her head. She had to breathe through her nose, slow and steady. She could do it. She wouldn’t suffocate, after getting this far.
They tightened something around her wrists, fastened her ankles together, and then carried her away. She couldn’t tell where Marcus was. Had they brought him too? There was a short ride in a vehicle, and then she was carried again. Wherever they were taking her, she needed to be alert. Needed to remember the details.
The stink of wet carpet hit her. She knew that smell; she’d had plenty of it in the past two weeks. When the guy pulled the blanket from her head, she looked around. Yep. She was in the ruined datacentre at TM-Tech.
Was he going to leave her here? No. He dumped her in what had been the secure fireproof store. A strong, thick-walled metal cabinet, the size of a large double wardrobe, it had been used for storing the backups.
Moments later, he left, locking the door behind him. Light trickled in around the edges. Not much, but it meant she wasn’t in total darkness.
She had to get the tape off her mouth. Holding her breath, she curled her fingers under the edge and ripped. Fuck. It stung like a bad waxing session, but it was gone.
This was TM-Tech, and there should be people here. Cleaners, security, and techs—or should there? The basement was off limits at the moment, while they routed operations through the new centre on level two.
Someone might still hear her. She yelled at the top of her voice and hammered on the metal door with her palms, then paused and listened.
That was a bumping noise outside somewhere. Marianne yelled again, until her throat hurt, but nobody came. Maybe it wasn’t a rescue. Maybe it was Marcus or Louisa. It stood to reason that, if Marianne was locked in the datacentre, they might be too.
Listening hard, her ear pressed to the door, she was sure that was a voice out there. Faint, but a female voice. Louisa?
“Who’s that?” Marianne shouted. “Where are you?
“Marianne? It’s Sylvie.”
“I’m in the backup cupboard. Can you get me out?”
“I can’t move.”
Had Sylvie been snatched with Louisa? “Are you hurt?”
Sylvie went quiet, and Marianne figured that probably meant yes. What the fuck was going on? Was Rico with her?
Marianne kept shouting, trying to keep contact. “We’re going to get out of here. They’ll find us. Hang on, Sylvie.” Marianne made her cracking voice confident, but she was petrified.
* * * *
Marcus was confused about where he was and
where Marianne had gone. He was aware of something going over his head. A sack? It smelled dusty.
Was this an execution? The pain in his head was unbearable, but the pain in his heart was beyond anything he could comprehend. He was dragged—his feet scraping along the ground—bundled into a vehicle face down, and moved again. Next thing he knew, he was tossed out onto the pavement, and the car sped away.
He cried out as his body hit the ground with a jolt, the momentum rolling him over. He managed to open his one working eye. It was pre-dawn, the sky getting lighter.
His hands were not cuffed together any more. He pushed up to a semi-upright position, retched into the gutter, and then drifted into blackness again.
* * * *
The call, when it came, was chilling in its simplicity. It came from Marcus’s number, the voice muffled and monotone. “You have a delivery at the back door.”
The line went dead. Alex rubbed his face and looked at the others who’d gathered to listen to Rico’s phone. The back door?
It made more sense to Rico. “The service entrance.” He snapped the words out. “You’re with me,” he said to Jack and Tanner. Alex was fed up of sitting and waiting, and he followed with Jordan.
Rico led the group through the basement car park to the service entrance, where they found Marcus in a bloodied heap on the ground.
Tanner crouched over Marcus, checked his pulse and his breathing, and searched for broken bones and serious bleeding. “We can move him,” he said. “Let’s get him upstairs.”
Between them, they carried him into the service lift. He was barely conscious. He didn’t struggle when they picked him up, just moaned. His face was swollen and bleeding, his eyes shrunk to tiny slits. He was a mess. And these were the bastards who had Sylvie.
As Alex stepped back into the elevator, he saw a bright flash of colour on the ground. He bent down and scooped it up. A yellow Lego brick. Why would there be a piece of Lego in the underground car park? Rico and his men were engrossed in Marcus, and Alex turned to Jordan. “I found this.”
