Authors: JD Nixon
“
Oh God, it was a swarm of men in
balaclavas. They had guns! They just scooped them up and pushed
them into a van. Just a few minutes ago. I didn’t know what to
do.”
“
Get in the car, Benjy,” I ordered and ran
to the driver’s side. He buckled up and I threw the 4WD in reverse,
screeching out of the carpark, scaring the life out of some
pedestrians walking past.
“
Which way?” I asked.
“Left.”
I shot out into the street with only a
cursory
glance for
traffic, rudely cutting off a red minibus, the driver making her
feelings about my bad road manners clear with various vulgar finger
gestures. I ignored her, my focus on driving. My body coursed with
fear, adrenaline and anger. If I hadn’t stopped to take a piss,
would this have happened? Was it my fault? Or would I be in the van
too, dreading my fate?
“
Tell me everything that you saw,” I
ordered the young man.
“
It was a black van,” he offered. I waited
patiently for further information, inwardly groaning when he
remained silent. That wasn’t going to help – I needed more details
than that. But then he machine-gunned out the make, model and
number plate of the van, as if worried he was going to forget them.
I decided I loved this boy.
“
Benjy, you’re a legend! Here’s my phone.
Find and ring the number for Heller and tell him everything you
just told me. Then tell me everything he says, please. No actually,
just put him on speaker phone.”
Though I wasn’t over being angry with
him,
Heller was my guy
and what woman wouldn’t turn to their guy in a situation like this?
Especially if their guy was anything like him. It was always a
relief when he took charge.
Benjy
did as instructed, introducing himself to Heller,
surprising me with his calmness when providing him with the details
about Bick’s and the clients’ abduction, the vehicle and our
current location. Heller must have returned home and been down in
the security section because I could hear him immediately barking
out orders for a trace on the number plate of the van and for Clive
to mobilise as many armed men as possible. It sounded like
organised chaos back at the Warehouse.
I sped fairly recklessly in an attempt to
make up for lost time, when we hit a traffic jam. Three lanes were
suddenly forced to merge into one because of poorly timed road
works – a lack of planning typical in this city. We almost crawled
to a halt, but the advantage of that usually annoying situation was
that so did every other vehicle on the road with us. Benjy and I
became very excited when we spotted a black van some way ahead of
us. After we cleared the traffic jam, I drove as close to it as I
dared, and that was near enough to confirm that it was indeed the
van that Benjy had seen our trio being bundled into.
We rang Heller
again for advice. He directed me to stay back as
far as possible and remain unspotted, obviously not having much
confidence in my shadowing skills. I honestly couldn’t blame him
for that because neither did I. He reminded me that my vehicle had
a tracking device and this would help his team find us, so it was
important for us not to lose sight of the van. But he added it was
also important for me to remain undetected.
“
Okay, I get it,” I grumped,
ending the call abruptly. My
hands felt slippery on the steering wheel with the stress of three
lives weighing on me. I didn’t want to think of what they were
going through, how afraid they must be. The thought of Bick
possibly being hurt made my eyes water, but I blinked it away
impatiently. Right now he didn’t need my tears, but my
help.
The
PRON men drove circumspectly, not wanting to draw any
unwanted attention. It was relatively easy to follow them on this
main road with lots of cars around, but when they turned left into
a smaller arterial road with thinner traffic, I realised that
shadowing them was going to prove trickier. I hung back as far as I
could while still having them in view, worried they would spot me.
They took a right turn into an even more deserted long road that
headed into an industrial area, surrounded by car wreckers, small
manufacturers and trade wholesalers. The van turned right again
into a cul-de-sac and drove to the end. It crept up a steep winding
driveway to a nondescript one-story blockwork building. I didn’t
follow as that would have made us too conspicuous, but idled at the
entry to the cul-de-sac watching as a garage door in the building
automatically opened and the van disappeared inside. I drove into
the cul-de-sac and found a secure parking spot in an adjacent
building, the 4WD hidden from the road by some scraggly
bushes.
Benjy and I sat in the vehicle while I
rang Heller again. I told him where we were and where the trio had
been taken.
His voice was curt.
“Stay in your vehicle until we get there.
Do not even
attempt
to snoop
about. That’s an order. Do you understand?”
“But –”
“
Matilda! I mean it. I’m not joking about
this. You will stay in your vehicle and keep in touch if there are
any further developments. We’ll be there in about fifteen minutes.
Promise me you’ll obey me.”
“Heller, can’t I just –”
“Promise.”
I sighed in resignation. “Okay, I
promise.”
“
Thank you, my sweet. I’m only thinking of
your safety.”
“
I know. Thank you. We’ll see you
soon.”
We disconnected. I fretted as I waited,
nervously strumming my fingers on the steering wheel. Fifteen
minutes was too long. Anything could happen to Bick in that time.
They could kill him. They could kill all three of them. But I knew
better than to disobey Heller. I didn’t want him to be angry with
me – that was never a joyful experience.
Each l
ost in our terrible thoughts, both Benjy and I jumped in
fright when someone tapped on my window. My heart dropped with fear
when I saw who it was. A lone PRON men, wearing their one of their
trademark suits, but this time accessorised with a sneering grin,
stood at the door, tapping on the window with his gun.
Chapter 13
Shit! Shit! Shit!
I’d thought we hadn’t been
noticed and that I’d hidden the vehicle well enough. I’d been wrong
on both counts.
The PRON man
impatiently gestured for us to get out of
vehicle.
No
fucking way
, I decided
and went to turn on the ignition. If I had to, I’d run him over to
escape.
He shot a bullet through the window,
narrowly missing my hand
and smashing into the speedometer. Benjy and I both yelped
in fright. He pressed the gun muzzle to the window in line with my
head, and grinned at us again.
“
Get out, Benjy. He’ll shoot us
otherwise.”
“
He’ll shoot us anyway,” Benjy said, voice
trembling. I wanted to deny that, to provide him with some
reassurance we’d be okay, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t even convince
myself that. Everything I’d experienced about PRON Productions and
their staff so far only showcased their complete disregard for
human life.
We were
screwed.
With his gun covering both of us, the PRON
suit marched us over to the ugly blockwork building. He pushed us
through a side door into a small, old-fashioned kitchen with
scuffed brown vinyl tile floors, brown timber veneer cupboards and
chipped orange laminated benchtops. I cast my eyes around trying to
spot anything that could be used as a weapon. A kitchen might have
knives or roasting forks or boiling water.
I
assessed the PRON man. Unlike some of his colleagues, he
wasn’t massive. I was confident that between us, Benjy and I could
take him on – if we could just get the gun away from
him.
He locked the door behind him and pocketed
the key, still grinning at us. He evidently enjoyed his job – maybe
just a bit too much for my liking.
“
In here,” he said, pointing to another
door on the opposite wall of the kitchen. I didn’t want to go
through it, not knowing what we would encounter on the other side,
but fairly sure it wouldn’t be good.
My mobile rang, its cute upbeat tune at
odds with our desperate situation. It was probably Heller checking
on me. He’d go ballistic when I didn’t answer, but the ringing
momentarily distracted the PRON man. He reached into his trouser
pocket to check his own phone. I found it hard to believe a thug
like him could have the same ringtone as me. I’d have to reassess
my musical tastes.
Though feeling a little rusty in my moves
after working for Trent,
I grasped the opportunity while he looked down at his
phone. I elbowed him viciously in the face, not managing to break
anything, but causing him some serious pain. While he clutched his
nose, I pushed him to the ground, wrestling with him for control of
the gun.
“
Benjy! Grab the gun off him!” I said
urgently, but in a low voice. I didn’t want to alert anyone else in
the building to our presence. I sat on the PRON man’s chest, knees
either side of him, pinning his arms down. He thrashed around on
the floor, but I pressed myself down harder on his chest,
restricting his breathing. He stopped grinning. Maybe I wasn’t his
type.
Benjy cautiously approached us as we
struggled. He seized the gun, holding it out in front of him with
not a small amount of alarm.
“
Hand it to me, Benjy.
Shit, not like that!
Point it away from both of us.
That’s the way. Thank you.”
I’d be the first to admit that I don’t
know anything about guns, and Heller always refused to teach me,
but I’d watched enough cop shows on TV to know how to hold one at
least. I pointed it at the grinning evil man’s head. I had no idea
if this gun had a safety on it, not even knowing how to check, but
decided to be careful just in case.
“
Benjy, look in the cupboards for something
to tie this guy up with. Anything you can find.”
He
flung open every cupboard door and searched each drawer.
The only thing he found was some cotton twine, which wasn’t ideal,
but was better than nothing. I used it all tying the man’s hands
behind his back and his ankles together. He began to yell, so I
jammed a dirty tea towel in his mouth. I wasn’t satisfied though
because none of that would keep him down for long. I searched
frantically through the cupboards, finding a heavy old rusty iron
frying pan.
I hated doing it,
but I had no choice except to swing the
frying pan at his head. It hit him with a sickening thudding noise.
His eyes rolled backwards and his body went limp. Oh boy! I hoped I
hadn’t killed him. Benjy looked at me in horror, not used to
violence.
I
hurriedly patted the man down for any other weapons,
finding a switchblade that I pocketed, as well as the key to the
door. I removed the tea towel from his mouth, not wanting to be
responsible for him choking to death while he was
unconscious.
“
He’ll be al
l right,” I assured Benjy, despite not really
knowing if that was true or not.
I unlocked the door
and stood at the threshold, hesitating. I
should leave immediately, taking Benjy with me, get back in the 4WD
and drive away. Heller would be furious with me if I didn’t. But
Bick, Barb and Roger were somewhere inside this building, maybe
injured, and as I was already here . . . maybe I might notice
something that could help them. That wasn’t
really
disobeying Heller. I had no intentions of putting
myself in any kind of danger.
I
walked back to the inner door and put my ear against it.
All quiet. Holding the gun in front of me like a tough chick, I
cautiously opened the door just enough to peer around, relieved to
find an empty corridor.
Benjy
stared at me, shaking his head in disbelief. He pointed to
the outside door.
“
Go,” I urged in a whisper. “The key’s
still in the ignition. Drive somewhere safe.”
“
I can’t
leave you here by yourself,” he said, badly torn
about wanting to flee to safety.
“Go, Benjy. You don’t have to be involved in
this. I don’t know what’s going to happen. These guys are
hardcore.”
Various emotions flew across his face, but
then he straightened his shoulders and closed the door. “I won’t
let you face them alone. And besides, I can’t drive.”
Despite my guilt at dragging the young
man
into an uncertain
and possibly dangerous situation, I had to admit to a flood of
relief at not having to do this by myself.
We crept down the hallway until we heard
voices coming from an open door at the end. We tiptoed up to the
doorway and peered around. It appeared to be a warehouse, one large
cavernous space with wooden crates stacked up in aisles around the
side of the perimeter nearest us. I rushed from the door to the
protective cover of one of the stacks, Benjy at my heels, his face
pressed up against my shoulder. There was no fear of leaving him
behind – he was going to stick to me like glue. We stealthily moved
from one stack to the next without detection until I found a space
where we had a clear view. Our snugly hidden vantage point was
surrounded by three stacks of crates, with a useful gap between two
of the stacks giving an unobstructed outlook of the centre of the
large room.