Betrayal's End, C20: "Boltholes" (FRT)
Chapter summary: Eames risks her life and that of her temporary “partner” to save an innocent man.
Chapter no: 20
Story: Betrayal’s End.
Warnings: Some language.
Rating: FRT
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of “Law and Order: Criminal Intent” and acknowledge the rights of those who do. I will make no profit from this story.
“I’m so fucking sorry.”
They were the last words she’d ever expected to hear from Andrew Davenport, and the circumstances weren’t what she would have chosen.
They were hiding at the very top of the warehouse. It was a terrible place to hide, but they’d had no choice; their pursuers had combed the building methodically. They had stayed one step ahead, but only just. Eventually, they’d made the hair-raising climb through a window and up a drainpipe, frantically trying to ignore the ten-storey drop beneath them, before making it onto the roof.
They’d found a hatch in the roof which led into a tiny room which, blessedly, had another door leading out of it with a set of narrow stairs. Their best hope, they’d realised, was to wait there and hope that their pursuers came up the stairs. They’d have to come in in single file… with luck, they might, just might, manage to ambush them. They were stuck playing an agonising waiting game. Either their pursuers would find them, in which case they’d either live or die, or they would not, in which case they’d have to guess at how long to leave it until they risked coming out of their bolthole.
The knowledge that if she wanted to live through the next few hours, she’d almost certainly have to kill several men to do so was weighing heavily on her. She had not become a detective to kill, but to keep others safe… but now it was her own life at risk.
Beside her, Davenport appeared to be relatively untroubled by those particular concerns, but the thoughts he was having were obviously dark ones. His eyes were narrowed, and he was stiller than she’d ever seen him.
“I’m really fucking sorry you got caught up in this,” he repeated, almost to himself.
“You said you knew who left that message?”
“I’m pretty sure, yes.” His face screwed up into a half-smile. “I spent a lot of time visiting John Durham in prison, trying to persuade him to talk. Eventually I snapped and told him that if he didn’t spill his guts to me, someone else would do it for him the second he got out of prison. He just smiled, and said, ‘I’ve no intention’. And this isn’t news to you, is it?”
At his sharp tone, she looked up. Davenport’s eyes bored into hers. “No, this isn’t a surprise to you. You knew,” he said softly. “You knew that John Durham was out of prison, that he… what, escaped? Yes?” She nodded. “And no-one told me.”
He closed his eyes very briefly, as if in pain. “Jesus fucking Christ. I’m the bait now, aren’t I?”
“Davenport…”
“Call me Drew. You might as well, being as how you might be about to be the last person who does.”
“Don’t be such a self-pitying bastard.”
His head snapped up. She glared at him. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself and fucking focus! I want to live. I want to live so I can go home to my family for Christmas, and you will by God stop this and focus on getting us both out of here, or I’ll hit you! Don’t think I won’t!”
He stared at her for a few seconds, then his mouth curved into a huge smile. She suddenly realised that he was not actually bad-looking, and probably possessed a certain amount of charm when he forgot to be a bastard.
“Okay, then!” He grinned. “I’ll take the first ones. You don’t shoot unless you have to.” To her questioning glance, he replied gently, “I’ve killed before in the service of my country. It doesn’t bother me. Also I’m wearing bullet-proof armour, this coat has a Kevlar layer. You shoot only if you have to, but for God’s sake don’t hesitate if you do have to.”
“Go teach your grandmother to suck eggs. I know what I’m doing.” She rolled her head on her neck and stretched cautiously.
The smile got wider and he actually chuckled softly. “I don’t doubt that for a minute. And by the way-” he looked her in the eyes “- I never got to say thank you. So, thanks for saving my life. Sorry I made such a piss-poor job of saving yours.”
“You can make up for it in the next hour.”
Suddenly, they both heard a voice, heavily accented and threatening. “We know you’re up there!”
They both ignored it.
“We’ve got your young friend here!”
At that, both of them exchanged horrified glances.
“Get down here now, or we’ll fucking break his legs, then his arms, then his neck!”
They exchanged glances again. Davenport shook his head fiercely and mouthed They’re bluffing.
We can’t risk it, she mouthed back.
Davenport leaned across and breathed into her ear, “If we go down there, all that it means is that they’ll have all three of us.”
“What if one of us goes down there? Offer them a trade - one of us for Duncan. They might let him go…”
She’d barely finished the words before Davenport was speaking. “You know that won’t be how it works. If they’ve got him, they’ll have to shoot him as a witness. We can’t do anything.”
“We can try.”
He shook his head - then grinned at her. “I love the way you think. Okay, then if we can…”
Suddenly, there was a loud scream in a very familiar voice, coming from inside the building. Davenport’s face mirrored the guilt and horror she was feeling. That was Duncan Ampirelli, and someone was torturing him.
“Stop it!” Before she had had time to think about it, she’d thrown herself forwards to the window. “Stop that! I’ll give myself up!”
There was a chorus of sarcastic jeers and whistles from below. “Fucking get down here now, bitch! Get down here, or that’s just the start!”
***
Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit…
He looked around again, but there was no way out, even if his hands and feet hadn’t been tied up and there hadn’t been a bastard with a gun at the door.
He was stuck in a small room in the warehouse, with a man dressed all in black and a gun at the door. They’d dragged him there. He’d tried to get away in the van, and he’d nearly made it, but suddenly the road in front of him had burst into flames, and he’d hit the brakes and pulled to a screeching halt, and then they’d surrounded him, and though he’d studied everything Tanya and that bastard and all the others at the dojo had tried to teach him, there wasn’t really much you could do when you had three guns pointing at you except try not to die or piss yourself, so he’d got out of the van with his hands up, and then they’d hit him in the stomach and over the head with a pipe, and part of him wanted to yell That’s not fair, but most of him was too busy trying not to collapse with the pain. Half-stunned, he’d been dragged from the van over the rough ground, and when his leg had caught against a broken bottle they’d dragged him over it because it was quicker, and he’d been thrown into a room in the warehouse and tied up.
Now he was sitting propped up against the wall and trying not to think about the pain in his head, or his belly, or his leg, and definitely not at all about the fact that he really, really, needed to pee.
He eyed up the man on the door again. I could take him if it was a square go, he consoled himself. A lot of people thought they could have him, him being quite big and all, because they always thought he was slow, but he’d been training with Tanya since he got to London, and he could take most people in a square fight if he really had to. But there was not a right lot you could do against a gun, was there? The man smiled back, and if they’d been in the pub it would have kicked off then and there, but they’re weren’t, and it didn’t.
Always knew that bastard was up to something. Business security consultant, my arse.
The thought gave him some hope. Maybe Drew’d got away. Maybe he and Eames had legged it. He hoped so, because maybe then they could get help, and any minute now he’d been hearing sirens and the police would be coming round the door.
The man on the door motioned with the gun. “You. Up.”
He didn’t sound English. Maybe Polish or something a bit like it. They had had quite a few of them in the Red Lion’s kitchen… The man motioned more pointedly with the gun. He struggled to get to his feet, and nearly made it, but then he forget that his feet were tied together, and fell over. He landed on his injured thigh, and nearly screamed with the pain, his eyes watering.
The man sniggered. Amp glared at him, and it was then that he saw it.
There was a face at the grimy window behind the man’s head. It wasn’t a face he’d seen before, ever. It was small and a bit girly-looking, but there was something about the eyes that gave him chills, and then suddenly he realised, the face wasn’t wearing a black balaclava.
Using instincts he didn’t know he had, he instantly looked away from the door and rubbed his leg, or tried to.
“Hurts, does it?” the man said, wandering over with the gun loosely held in his hand.
He nodded wordlessly, and cringed away from the man’s feet. Behind him, he saw the other face nod encouragingly, mouth Good, keep him busy, then vanish. He thought he heard footsteps going towards the door and the sound of someone poking something into the lock, but couldn’t be sure.
“Hurts, huh?” The man smiled, then deliberately put the toe of his boot against the gaping cut, and pushed. He didn’t need to fake the scream, it just happened. He tried to squirm away from him, desperately trying not look behind the man or at the door. It wasn’t too hard, because he kept trying to kick Amp, kick him in the soft flesh of his belly or on the large lump on his forehead where they both knew he’d been hit before. Trying, because Amp had done this before in the dojo, where Tanya made you lie on the floor and pretend you’d been knocked down and your attacker was on your feet, and the defence was not to get away from them, but to throw yourself at them and try and tangle their feet up with body and it worked, it really worked, until the man pointed the gun at him and he had to freeze, dead still.
“Lie still, bastard-”
The rest of the words were cut off in a gurgling yelpy sound as something pointed and black like a nightmare appeared behind the man’s head, then reached round across his throat and Amp didn’t want to look, couldn’t look, just ducked his head under his arm and cringed. Suddenly, he felt someone grabbing hold of his wrists and he winced, but it was alright, he felt something go in between his hands and then they were free again. Whoever it was did the same for his feet, and he dared to look up.
It was weird. He’d been expecting maybe a copper, or Drew or Eames even, but there was a small man with a gun and a knife, dressed all in dark grey, in the room with him. He risked a glance at the man who’d been holding him captive, and wished he hadn’t immediately, because his throat had been sliced from side to side, and it made him want to puke.
“You alright?” The man asked him in a friendly way that somehow managed to sound really fucking frightening.
He nodded, then regretted it as the pain burst in his head. He heard shouting outside, and the small man ran across to the window and peered out carefully.
“Who are-”
“Ssh!” The man shushed him impatiently, then listened. They both heard it, a female voice yelling “I’ll give myself up!”
“Oh, isn’t that nice,” the man muttered, then said firmly “Stay here,” and crept out of the door. He rubbed his bruises and wondered what the hell was happening. Half a minute later, the man came back in the room and stuck out a hand, and he’d taken it and found himself pulled to his feet before he knew what was happening.
The man leaned forward, into his face. “Can you walk?”
He nodded (then wished he hadn’t).
“Can you run?”
“Yes, if, if I really have to-”
“Good, you do really have to.” The man was grinning and it should have been reassuring, but wasn’t. “Do you know where the river is from here? Back there?” He pointed at the back of the warehouse, but Amp was already nodding, his sense of direction was really good, he’d used it a lot before he got satnav for the van.
“Good. Now I need you to run back there as fast as you can. There’s a boat on the river. You go find it, and you tell the man in it that I need him here as fast as he can get here. Tell him that I need him to back me up whilst I go kill those bastards. You understand me?”
He nodded, wide-eyed.
“Okay then! Go going,” and he opened the door, and Amp stumbled out of it, and for a second he was disorientated, didn’t know where he was, but then his eyes adjusted, and he was alright. He looked around, didn’t see anyone, and then he was running almost before he knew it, heading fast towards the river, ignoring the sounds of shouting from behind him, running for his life. His, and Alex’s, and Drew’s.
***
Interlude: What Happened at Glastonbury, C9: To My Own Beat, Now (FRT)
The intruder was a young woman, I guessed in her early twenties. She had bright blue hair and was wearing a nose ring, several tattoos and nothing else.
“Nope, you’re not interrupting anything,” I hastily replied, probably too hastily.
“Goood! That’s reaally great,” she trilled, sprawling on the bench beside me. “Are you guys having a good tiiime?”
“Yes we are,” Drew replied, just a little dryly. I could hear in his voice that he was thinking the same thought I was, is she drunk? Is she on something? And if so, why hadn’t someone outside stopped her from coming in? I wasn’t impressed.
“Good, ‘cause that’s what this is all about!” She grinned and turned to me. “Am I right?”
“Oh yeah!” I added with fake enthusiasm, feeling very old all of a sudden. I felt responsible for her, and yet she wasn’t much younger than I was. Sienna Tovitz, rescuer of waifs and strays.
“You been partying tonight?” Drew asked, flopping forwards onto his stomach, mimicking the young woman’s sloppy posture.
“Oh, just a little bit.” She held up her thumb and forefinger close together, waved them at him, and giggled crazily. “What’s the point of coming here if you can’t party? I mean, what is the fucking point? All these fucking coppers all over the place, man, they are just spoiling everything.”
“Oh yeah, we’ve seen ‘em. They been bothering you?”
“Nah, not really. I know where the good stuff is,” and she tapped the side of her nose.
Drew was too experienced to react in any way. “Sounds like you’ve been having a good night!”
“Oh yeah,” she murmured drowsily. I really hoped she wasn’t going to pass out, although between Drew and I, we could probably have pulled her out of the sauna. Drew and I did not look at each other, did not exchange glances, did not move at all, but I sensed without looking at him that he wanted me to take over the questioning.
“So, where’s you?” I asked. “You staying round here?”
“Oh, here, there and everywhere… I can’t even remember where I left my tent!” She giggled. “I’ve been up at the Stone… Stone…”
“Circle?” I asked helpfully.
“Yeah! Then I got cold and came here.” Which explains the mud all over your legs and ass, I thought privately. She must have fallen over at least twice.
“Hey, listen,” I got closer to her, applying my best all-girls-together smile. “We’re thinking of heading on up there ourselves, we gonna see you there?”
“Oh, yeah! It’s totally where the party is!”
“Just up by the stones, or near them? Cause, you know, we were thinking of doing a little partying ourselves,” I tipped my head in Drew’s general direction and smirked at her.
“Oh, I get it. You want… something special, right?”
“Oh yeah, something special… cause we have our own stuff, but, you know, it’s a special night,” I murmured conspiratorially, whilst privately marvelling that anyone this out of her gourd was able to stand up and walk around. Let her tell you, Sienna, if you push her she’ll get suspicious…
“I can trust you, right?”
“Oh yeah, totally. Do we look like cops?” I laughed and so did she. Drew was pretending to be half-asleep behind me, but I knew he wasn’t.
“Okay, well…” She tapped the side of her nose again. I leaned in, my breasts brushing her arm, and pushed my ear against her mouth. “You need to go up there, and have a look for the Secret Garden. It’s like this totally sweet little place with all kinds of statues and stuff, and there’s like people in there, just, you know, hanging out… ask for Sammy.”
“Sammy’s the man, huh?” I repeated, just loudly enough for Drew to hear.
“Oh, he is totally the man. He’s got everything, he’s like the main man round here.” She giggled again, then coughed. “Came up from Liverpool, you know? He brought everything.” She giggled. “Says it’s a huge fucking festival for him and his mates!”
“Uh-huh!” I nodded enthusiastically. “I guess we’ll see you there.” Liverpool, near the docks, a major route for traffickers… this could be big.
“Fuck yeah, but I am roasting,” Drew replied from behind me, swinging his long legs off the bench and slithering down onto his feet. He planted a kiss on my mouth, playing the role. “I’m gonna go cool off.” He pointed at both of us. “Now don’t do anything I wouldn’t do… and if you do, I wanna watch!”
The girl giggled and waved sloppily. Drew wandered out of the sauna door, letting a welcome blast of cool air in. I was stifling, but I knew I had to keep an eye on the girl, whilst also hopefully keeping her away from Drew long enough for him to place a call. I imagined him now, outside, finding somewhere quiet enough to call from, placing the call through with the identification codes that would get him through to the police…
“I’m way too hot,” I said, hoping to steer her out of the sauna, and hopefully in the direction of the showers, where I could guarantee we wouldn’t run into Drew.
“Oh yeah, it’s really hot in here.” She made no sign of moving. I gritted my teeth.
“I, uh… Maybe you could help me?”
“Suuure, whatever you want, hon.” I thought a short and vicious curse on people like Sammy. She seemed like a nice person, but was way too under the influence to be out on her own.
“I, uh…” I pointed to the scar on my leg. “I kinda… need a hand to walk.” I repressed the memories of the long months when that had been the truth.
”Oh man, and he just left you here? That sucks.” She staggered onto her feet, and lurched over me, holding out an unsteady hand. We half-walked, half-fell out of the sauna into the blissfully cool air outside.
“Man, I’m gonna go in the cold tub…”
“No, I don’t think that’s such a great idea,” I said firmly, picturing myself carrying out CPR on her. “Why don’t you uh, come in with me, have a shower…”
She burst out into laughter. “Oh man, that would TOTALLY be like my boyfriend’s fantasy! I’m gonna tell him all about that.” She kept laughing, but did consent to stagger alongside me and into the shower, which I tested carefully first until it ran cool, but not shockingly cold. I sincerely hoped this turned out to be worth it. How come I get the shit work and Drew has to make a fucking phone call? I thought, as I carefully guided her back towards her clothes, pulled mine on swiftly, and steered us into the rest area of the sauna.
Drew was already waiting there for me, talking to the sauna owner, and indicated that he’d succeeded in his side of the bargain with a barely perceptible nod. I deposited the young woman on some cushions, shoved a cup of water into her hand, and headed over to join them.
“What the-“ I began.
The sauna owner heaved a sigh, and indicated something I’d not seen previously: a sign on a length of chain next to the sauna entrance saying “Please do NOT enter: we will be back in five minutes!”
“I’ve been telling your partner. I went to the toilet for five minutes and put the sign over the door; my wife would be on duty, but our stove’s broken and she went to buy some food. I couldn’t lock it because there were people in there. I can’t physically stop people ducking under the sign! I’ll keep an eye on her,” and he nodded at the young woman, who was now snoozing quietly amidst the cushions.
Maybe you shouldn’t be running it if you can’t have someone on duty at all times, I thought, although I could see his point and since I’d just used his sauna to get clean, it seemed a bit ungrateful to push the point. Drew twitched his head at me, and we withdrew to a quieter area of the sauna, switching back to Russian.
“Did you get through?” I asked.
“Yup. Sammy is in for a nasty surprise,” Drew said, and grinned.
“Do you think we should…” I asked half-heartedly.
“No. No, I do not think we should do ANYTHING. We’re on holiday, SiSi. Let’s let the boys and girls in blue earn their wages.”
“Hmm.” We sat in companionable silence, drinking water to cool down.
“What do the letters stand for?”
“I’m sorry?”
“I was going to ask before we got interrupted. The number you have tattooed, there are letters along one side of it, aren’t there? E.V.C. Did I read that right?”
Drew looked slightly uncomfortable. “Yes, I had them added a while ago.”
“What does it mean?”
Drew took a deep breath. “It’s… well, I’ve had it a few years now. Both a statement of intent, and a reminder to me not to bugger things up, I suppose…”
I raised a quizzical eyebrow. Drew smiled rather humourlessly. “It means ego vigilo custodis.”
It took me a few seconds, but then… “Oh.”
“Mmm.”
We sat in silence for a few minutes, preoccupied with our own thoughts. Drew fiddled with his cellphone, whilst I yawned and tried not to think “I watch the Watchmen”… Well, you didn’t manage that too well last year, did you?
He put the phone back in his pants pocket, then turned to me with a quizzical expression. “SiSi, question for you.” He spoke in English this time.
“Okay.”
He took a breath. “We’ve got a long walk back to our campsite.”
“Thanks, I was trying to forget that.”
“Well, I have a proposal. I know someone who has a tipi. Near here.”
“You know someone who has a tipi… Of course you do, you always know people who know people.”
He grinned. “Indeed. Well, I have checked, and said friend is off to go party down in Lost Vagueness all night. He says we can borrow it.”
My heart leaped at the prospect of escaping the long, cold, muddy trudge back to our damp tents and sleeping bags. “Are you sure? He’s not gonna want to come back and kick us out at half three in the morning?”
“He says not, he’s partying with some friends and they’ll probably all crash down there. It’s all ours. A tipi with a proper bed. Warm, dry and comfortable.”
“Fantastic!”
“One thing, though…”
“Mmm?”
“It is just one bed.” Drew looked at me sideways. “A big bed, mind. He drags it onto the site with a trailer. But if you’re not comfortable with sharing, then…”
“It’s okay.”
“Really?”
I nodded. “So long as it’s big enough that we’re not sleeping on top of each other, it’ll be fine. I’ve shared beds with a friend before - when I’ve been travelling, I mean - and I trust you.”
“Are you sure?”
“Drew, right now I’d sleep with Hannibal Lector if it meant I didn’t have to walk through any more fucking mud.”
“Oh, I rate the same as Hannibal Lector. Thanks a bunch, SiSi, no, really, thank you…”
We grinned at each other. “Are you tired? You want to go there now?”
I hesitated. “Actually…Yeah, I am kind of tired, but if you’re not, we could stay up a while longer.” I had never actually seen Drew tired, except maybe earlier tonight, I thought. Asleep, yes, but when he was awake he tended to throw off energy like the Energizer Bunny.
“I wouldn’t mind catching some rest. It’s been a long day.”
“Yeah, and I’m guessing you didn’t get much sleep last night.”
Drew pulled a mournful face. “Oh God, don’t remind me.”
I laughed. “I won’t, I think Amp will, probably for the rest of the festival.”
“All the more reason for us to take tonight off and just chill out together. You coming?”
“Oh yeah.”
We pulled on our waterproofs, and set off along the muddy metal planking towards what I really hoped would be our final stop of the night. Drew had one arm firmly clamped around my waist. As we walked, he started to sing, almost absent-mindedly.
I recognised the song; Minority, by Green Day. Drew listened to it so often, I’d come to think of it as his song. Partly because of that, partly because Green Day’s “down with the moral majority” philosophy chimed so perfectly with Drew’s own.
Though I wasn’t much of a singer, I decided to join in on the chorus, and the two of us tramped onward through the mud, singing our hearts out.
“Stepped out of the line, like a sheep runs from the herd,
Marching out of time,
To my own beat, now,
The only way I know…”
No-one batted an eyelid.
Chapter no: 20
Story: Betrayal’s End.
Warnings: Some language.
Rating: FRT
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of “Law and Order: Criminal Intent” and acknowledge the rights of those who do. I will make no profit from this story.
“I’m so fucking sorry.”
They were the last words she’d ever expected to hear from Andrew Davenport, and the circumstances weren’t what she would have chosen.
They were hiding at the very top of the warehouse. It was a terrible place to hide, but they’d had no choice; their pursuers had combed the building methodically. They had stayed one step ahead, but only just. Eventually, they’d made the hair-raising climb through a window and up a drainpipe, frantically trying to ignore the ten-storey drop beneath them, before making it onto the roof.
They’d found a hatch in the roof which led into a tiny room which, blessedly, had another door leading out of it with a set of narrow stairs. Their best hope, they’d realised, was to wait there and hope that their pursuers came up the stairs. They’d have to come in in single file… with luck, they might, just might, manage to ambush them. They were stuck playing an agonising waiting game. Either their pursuers would find them, in which case they’d either live or die, or they would not, in which case they’d have to guess at how long to leave it until they risked coming out of their bolthole.
The knowledge that if she wanted to live through the next few hours, she’d almost certainly have to kill several men to do so was weighing heavily on her. She had not become a detective to kill, but to keep others safe… but now it was her own life at risk.
Beside her, Davenport appeared to be relatively untroubled by those particular concerns, but the thoughts he was having were obviously dark ones. His eyes were narrowed, and he was stiller than she’d ever seen him.
“I’m really fucking sorry you got caught up in this,” he repeated, almost to himself.
“You said you knew who left that message?”
“I’m pretty sure, yes.” His face screwed up into a half-smile. “I spent a lot of time visiting John Durham in prison, trying to persuade him to talk. Eventually I snapped and told him that if he didn’t spill his guts to me, someone else would do it for him the second he got out of prison. He just smiled, and said, ‘I’ve no intention’. And this isn’t news to you, is it?”
At his sharp tone, she looked up. Davenport’s eyes bored into hers. “No, this isn’t a surprise to you. You knew,” he said softly. “You knew that John Durham was out of prison, that he… what, escaped? Yes?” She nodded. “And no-one told me.”
He closed his eyes very briefly, as if in pain. “Jesus fucking Christ. I’m the bait now, aren’t I?”
“Davenport…”
“Call me Drew. You might as well, being as how you might be about to be the last person who does.”
“Don’t be such a self-pitying bastard.”
His head snapped up. She glared at him. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself and fucking focus! I want to live. I want to live so I can go home to my family for Christmas, and you will by God stop this and focus on getting us both out of here, or I’ll hit you! Don’t think I won’t!”
He stared at her for a few seconds, then his mouth curved into a huge smile. She suddenly realised that he was not actually bad-looking, and probably possessed a certain amount of charm when he forgot to be a bastard.
“Okay, then!” He grinned. “I’ll take the first ones. You don’t shoot unless you have to.” To her questioning glance, he replied gently, “I’ve killed before in the service of my country. It doesn’t bother me. Also I’m wearing bullet-proof armour, this coat has a Kevlar layer. You shoot only if you have to, but for God’s sake don’t hesitate if you do have to.”
“Go teach your grandmother to suck eggs. I know what I’m doing.” She rolled her head on her neck and stretched cautiously.
The smile got wider and he actually chuckled softly. “I don’t doubt that for a minute. And by the way-” he looked her in the eyes “- I never got to say thank you. So, thanks for saving my life. Sorry I made such a piss-poor job of saving yours.”
“You can make up for it in the next hour.”
Suddenly, they both heard a voice, heavily accented and threatening. “We know you’re up there!”
They both ignored it.
“We’ve got your young friend here!”
At that, both of them exchanged horrified glances.
“Get down here now, or we’ll fucking break his legs, then his arms, then his neck!”
They exchanged glances again. Davenport shook his head fiercely and mouthed They’re bluffing.
We can’t risk it, she mouthed back.
Davenport leaned across and breathed into her ear, “If we go down there, all that it means is that they’ll have all three of us.”
“What if one of us goes down there? Offer them a trade - one of us for Duncan. They might let him go…”
She’d barely finished the words before Davenport was speaking. “You know that won’t be how it works. If they’ve got him, they’ll have to shoot him as a witness. We can’t do anything.”
“We can try.”
He shook his head - then grinned at her. “I love the way you think. Okay, then if we can…”
Suddenly, there was a loud scream in a very familiar voice, coming from inside the building. Davenport’s face mirrored the guilt and horror she was feeling. That was Duncan Ampirelli, and someone was torturing him.
“Stop it!” Before she had had time to think about it, she’d thrown herself forwards to the window. “Stop that! I’ll give myself up!”
There was a chorus of sarcastic jeers and whistles from below. “Fucking get down here now, bitch! Get down here, or that’s just the start!”
***
Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit…
He looked around again, but there was no way out, even if his hands and feet hadn’t been tied up and there hadn’t been a bastard with a gun at the door.
He was stuck in a small room in the warehouse, with a man dressed all in black and a gun at the door. They’d dragged him there. He’d tried to get away in the van, and he’d nearly made it, but suddenly the road in front of him had burst into flames, and he’d hit the brakes and pulled to a screeching halt, and then they’d surrounded him, and though he’d studied everything Tanya and that bastard and all the others at the dojo had tried to teach him, there wasn’t really much you could do when you had three guns pointing at you except try not to die or piss yourself, so he’d got out of the van with his hands up, and then they’d hit him in the stomach and over the head with a pipe, and part of him wanted to yell That’s not fair, but most of him was too busy trying not to collapse with the pain. Half-stunned, he’d been dragged from the van over the rough ground, and when his leg had caught against a broken bottle they’d dragged him over it because it was quicker, and he’d been thrown into a room in the warehouse and tied up.
Now he was sitting propped up against the wall and trying not to think about the pain in his head, or his belly, or his leg, and definitely not at all about the fact that he really, really, needed to pee.
He eyed up the man on the door again. I could take him if it was a square go, he consoled himself. A lot of people thought they could have him, him being quite big and all, because they always thought he was slow, but he’d been training with Tanya since he got to London, and he could take most people in a square fight if he really had to. But there was not a right lot you could do against a gun, was there? The man smiled back, and if they’d been in the pub it would have kicked off then and there, but they’re weren’t, and it didn’t.
Always knew that bastard was up to something. Business security consultant, my arse.
The thought gave him some hope. Maybe Drew’d got away. Maybe he and Eames had legged it. He hoped so, because maybe then they could get help, and any minute now he’d been hearing sirens and the police would be coming round the door.
The man on the door motioned with the gun. “You. Up.”
He didn’t sound English. Maybe Polish or something a bit like it. They had had quite a few of them in the Red Lion’s kitchen… The man motioned more pointedly with the gun. He struggled to get to his feet, and nearly made it, but then he forget that his feet were tied together, and fell over. He landed on his injured thigh, and nearly screamed with the pain, his eyes watering.
The man sniggered. Amp glared at him, and it was then that he saw it.
There was a face at the grimy window behind the man’s head. It wasn’t a face he’d seen before, ever. It was small and a bit girly-looking, but there was something about the eyes that gave him chills, and then suddenly he realised, the face wasn’t wearing a black balaclava.
Using instincts he didn’t know he had, he instantly looked away from the door and rubbed his leg, or tried to.
“Hurts, does it?” the man said, wandering over with the gun loosely held in his hand.
He nodded wordlessly, and cringed away from the man’s feet. Behind him, he saw the other face nod encouragingly, mouth Good, keep him busy, then vanish. He thought he heard footsteps going towards the door and the sound of someone poking something into the lock, but couldn’t be sure.
“Hurts, huh?” The man smiled, then deliberately put the toe of his boot against the gaping cut, and pushed. He didn’t need to fake the scream, it just happened. He tried to squirm away from him, desperately trying not look behind the man or at the door. It wasn’t too hard, because he kept trying to kick Amp, kick him in the soft flesh of his belly or on the large lump on his forehead where they both knew he’d been hit before. Trying, because Amp had done this before in the dojo, where Tanya made you lie on the floor and pretend you’d been knocked down and your attacker was on your feet, and the defence was not to get away from them, but to throw yourself at them and try and tangle their feet up with body and it worked, it really worked, until the man pointed the gun at him and he had to freeze, dead still.
“Lie still, bastard-”
The rest of the words were cut off in a gurgling yelpy sound as something pointed and black like a nightmare appeared behind the man’s head, then reached round across his throat and Amp didn’t want to look, couldn’t look, just ducked his head under his arm and cringed. Suddenly, he felt someone grabbing hold of his wrists and he winced, but it was alright, he felt something go in between his hands and then they were free again. Whoever it was did the same for his feet, and he dared to look up.
It was weird. He’d been expecting maybe a copper, or Drew or Eames even, but there was a small man with a gun and a knife, dressed all in dark grey, in the room with him. He risked a glance at the man who’d been holding him captive, and wished he hadn’t immediately, because his throat had been sliced from side to side, and it made him want to puke.
“You alright?” The man asked him in a friendly way that somehow managed to sound really fucking frightening.
He nodded, then regretted it as the pain burst in his head. He heard shouting outside, and the small man ran across to the window and peered out carefully.
“Who are-”
“Ssh!” The man shushed him impatiently, then listened. They both heard it, a female voice yelling “I’ll give myself up!”
“Oh, isn’t that nice,” the man muttered, then said firmly “Stay here,” and crept out of the door. He rubbed his bruises and wondered what the hell was happening. Half a minute later, the man came back in the room and stuck out a hand, and he’d taken it and found himself pulled to his feet before he knew what was happening.
The man leaned forward, into his face. “Can you walk?”
He nodded (then wished he hadn’t).
“Can you run?”
“Yes, if, if I really have to-”
“Good, you do really have to.” The man was grinning and it should have been reassuring, but wasn’t. “Do you know where the river is from here? Back there?” He pointed at the back of the warehouse, but Amp was already nodding, his sense of direction was really good, he’d used it a lot before he got satnav for the van.
“Good. Now I need you to run back there as fast as you can. There’s a boat on the river. You go find it, and you tell the man in it that I need him here as fast as he can get here. Tell him that I need him to back me up whilst I go kill those bastards. You understand me?”
He nodded, wide-eyed.
“Okay then! Go going,” and he opened the door, and Amp stumbled out of it, and for a second he was disorientated, didn’t know where he was, but then his eyes adjusted, and he was alright. He looked around, didn’t see anyone, and then he was running almost before he knew it, heading fast towards the river, ignoring the sounds of shouting from behind him, running for his life. His, and Alex’s, and Drew’s.
***
Interlude: What Happened at Glastonbury, C9: To My Own Beat, Now (FRT)
The intruder was a young woman, I guessed in her early twenties. She had bright blue hair and was wearing a nose ring, several tattoos and nothing else.
“Nope, you’re not interrupting anything,” I hastily replied, probably too hastily.
“Goood! That’s reaally great,” she trilled, sprawling on the bench beside me. “Are you guys having a good tiiime?”
“Yes we are,” Drew replied, just a little dryly. I could hear in his voice that he was thinking the same thought I was, is she drunk? Is she on something? And if so, why hadn’t someone outside stopped her from coming in? I wasn’t impressed.
“Good, ‘cause that’s what this is all about!” She grinned and turned to me. “Am I right?”
“Oh yeah!” I added with fake enthusiasm, feeling very old all of a sudden. I felt responsible for her, and yet she wasn’t much younger than I was. Sienna Tovitz, rescuer of waifs and strays.
“You been partying tonight?” Drew asked, flopping forwards onto his stomach, mimicking the young woman’s sloppy posture.
“Oh, just a little bit.” She held up her thumb and forefinger close together, waved them at him, and giggled crazily. “What’s the point of coming here if you can’t party? I mean, what is the fucking point? All these fucking coppers all over the place, man, they are just spoiling everything.”
“Oh yeah, we’ve seen ‘em. They been bothering you?”
“Nah, not really. I know where the good stuff is,” and she tapped the side of her nose.
Drew was too experienced to react in any way. “Sounds like you’ve been having a good night!”
“Oh yeah,” she murmured drowsily. I really hoped she wasn’t going to pass out, although between Drew and I, we could probably have pulled her out of the sauna. Drew and I did not look at each other, did not exchange glances, did not move at all, but I sensed without looking at him that he wanted me to take over the questioning.
“So, where’s you?” I asked. “You staying round here?”
“Oh, here, there and everywhere… I can’t even remember where I left my tent!” She giggled. “I’ve been up at the Stone… Stone…”
“Circle?” I asked helpfully.
“Yeah! Then I got cold and came here.” Which explains the mud all over your legs and ass, I thought privately. She must have fallen over at least twice.
“Hey, listen,” I got closer to her, applying my best all-girls-together smile. “We’re thinking of heading on up there ourselves, we gonna see you there?”
“Oh, yeah! It’s totally where the party is!”
“Just up by the stones, or near them? Cause, you know, we were thinking of doing a little partying ourselves,” I tipped my head in Drew’s general direction and smirked at her.
“Oh, I get it. You want… something special, right?”
“Oh yeah, something special… cause we have our own stuff, but, you know, it’s a special night,” I murmured conspiratorially, whilst privately marvelling that anyone this out of her gourd was able to stand up and walk around. Let her tell you, Sienna, if you push her she’ll get suspicious…
“I can trust you, right?”
“Oh yeah, totally. Do we look like cops?” I laughed and so did she. Drew was pretending to be half-asleep behind me, but I knew he wasn’t.
“Okay, well…” She tapped the side of her nose again. I leaned in, my breasts brushing her arm, and pushed my ear against her mouth. “You need to go up there, and have a look for the Secret Garden. It’s like this totally sweet little place with all kinds of statues and stuff, and there’s like people in there, just, you know, hanging out… ask for Sammy.”
“Sammy’s the man, huh?” I repeated, just loudly enough for Drew to hear.
“Oh, he is totally the man. He’s got everything, he’s like the main man round here.” She giggled again, then coughed. “Came up from Liverpool, you know? He brought everything.” She giggled. “Says it’s a huge fucking festival for him and his mates!”
“Uh-huh!” I nodded enthusiastically. “I guess we’ll see you there.” Liverpool, near the docks, a major route for traffickers… this could be big.
“Fuck yeah, but I am roasting,” Drew replied from behind me, swinging his long legs off the bench and slithering down onto his feet. He planted a kiss on my mouth, playing the role. “I’m gonna go cool off.” He pointed at both of us. “Now don’t do anything I wouldn’t do… and if you do, I wanna watch!”
The girl giggled and waved sloppily. Drew wandered out of the sauna door, letting a welcome blast of cool air in. I was stifling, but I knew I had to keep an eye on the girl, whilst also hopefully keeping her away from Drew long enough for him to place a call. I imagined him now, outside, finding somewhere quiet enough to call from, placing the call through with the identification codes that would get him through to the police…
“I’m way too hot,” I said, hoping to steer her out of the sauna, and hopefully in the direction of the showers, where I could guarantee we wouldn’t run into Drew.
“Oh yeah, it’s really hot in here.” She made no sign of moving. I gritted my teeth.
“I, uh… Maybe you could help me?”
“Suuure, whatever you want, hon.” I thought a short and vicious curse on people like Sammy. She seemed like a nice person, but was way too under the influence to be out on her own.
“I, uh…” I pointed to the scar on my leg. “I kinda… need a hand to walk.” I repressed the memories of the long months when that had been the truth.
”Oh man, and he just left you here? That sucks.” She staggered onto her feet, and lurched over me, holding out an unsteady hand. We half-walked, half-fell out of the sauna into the blissfully cool air outside.
“Man, I’m gonna go in the cold tub…”
“No, I don’t think that’s such a great idea,” I said firmly, picturing myself carrying out CPR on her. “Why don’t you uh, come in with me, have a shower…”
She burst out into laughter. “Oh man, that would TOTALLY be like my boyfriend’s fantasy! I’m gonna tell him all about that.” She kept laughing, but did consent to stagger alongside me and into the shower, which I tested carefully first until it ran cool, but not shockingly cold. I sincerely hoped this turned out to be worth it. How come I get the shit work and Drew has to make a fucking phone call? I thought, as I carefully guided her back towards her clothes, pulled mine on swiftly, and steered us into the rest area of the sauna.
Drew was already waiting there for me, talking to the sauna owner, and indicated that he’d succeeded in his side of the bargain with a barely perceptible nod. I deposited the young woman on some cushions, shoved a cup of water into her hand, and headed over to join them.
“What the-“ I began.
The sauna owner heaved a sigh, and indicated something I’d not seen previously: a sign on a length of chain next to the sauna entrance saying “Please do NOT enter: we will be back in five minutes!”
“I’ve been telling your partner. I went to the toilet for five minutes and put the sign over the door; my wife would be on duty, but our stove’s broken and she went to buy some food. I couldn’t lock it because there were people in there. I can’t physically stop people ducking under the sign! I’ll keep an eye on her,” and he nodded at the young woman, who was now snoozing quietly amidst the cushions.
Maybe you shouldn’t be running it if you can’t have someone on duty at all times, I thought, although I could see his point and since I’d just used his sauna to get clean, it seemed a bit ungrateful to push the point. Drew twitched his head at me, and we withdrew to a quieter area of the sauna, switching back to Russian.
“Did you get through?” I asked.
“Yup. Sammy is in for a nasty surprise,” Drew said, and grinned.
“Do you think we should…” I asked half-heartedly.
“No. No, I do not think we should do ANYTHING. We’re on holiday, SiSi. Let’s let the boys and girls in blue earn their wages.”
“Hmm.” We sat in companionable silence, drinking water to cool down.
“What do the letters stand for?”
“I’m sorry?”
“I was going to ask before we got interrupted. The number you have tattooed, there are letters along one side of it, aren’t there? E.V.C. Did I read that right?”
Drew looked slightly uncomfortable. “Yes, I had them added a while ago.”
“What does it mean?”
Drew took a deep breath. “It’s… well, I’ve had it a few years now. Both a statement of intent, and a reminder to me not to bugger things up, I suppose…”
I raised a quizzical eyebrow. Drew smiled rather humourlessly. “It means ego vigilo custodis.”
It took me a few seconds, but then… “Oh.”
“Mmm.”
We sat in silence for a few minutes, preoccupied with our own thoughts. Drew fiddled with his cellphone, whilst I yawned and tried not to think “I watch the Watchmen”… Well, you didn’t manage that too well last year, did you?
He put the phone back in his pants pocket, then turned to me with a quizzical expression. “SiSi, question for you.” He spoke in English this time.
“Okay.”
He took a breath. “We’ve got a long walk back to our campsite.”
“Thanks, I was trying to forget that.”
“Well, I have a proposal. I know someone who has a tipi. Near here.”
“You know someone who has a tipi… Of course you do, you always know people who know people.”
He grinned. “Indeed. Well, I have checked, and said friend is off to go party down in Lost Vagueness all night. He says we can borrow it.”
My heart leaped at the prospect of escaping the long, cold, muddy trudge back to our damp tents and sleeping bags. “Are you sure? He’s not gonna want to come back and kick us out at half three in the morning?”
“He says not, he’s partying with some friends and they’ll probably all crash down there. It’s all ours. A tipi with a proper bed. Warm, dry and comfortable.”
“Fantastic!”
“One thing, though…”
“Mmm?”
“It is just one bed.” Drew looked at me sideways. “A big bed, mind. He drags it onto the site with a trailer. But if you’re not comfortable with sharing, then…”
“It’s okay.”
“Really?”
I nodded. “So long as it’s big enough that we’re not sleeping on top of each other, it’ll be fine. I’ve shared beds with a friend before - when I’ve been travelling, I mean - and I trust you.”
“Are you sure?”
“Drew, right now I’d sleep with Hannibal Lector if it meant I didn’t have to walk through any more fucking mud.”
“Oh, I rate the same as Hannibal Lector. Thanks a bunch, SiSi, no, really, thank you…”
We grinned at each other. “Are you tired? You want to go there now?”
I hesitated. “Actually…Yeah, I am kind of tired, but if you’re not, we could stay up a while longer.” I had never actually seen Drew tired, except maybe earlier tonight, I thought. Asleep, yes, but when he was awake he tended to throw off energy like the Energizer Bunny.
“I wouldn’t mind catching some rest. It’s been a long day.”
“Yeah, and I’m guessing you didn’t get much sleep last night.”
Drew pulled a mournful face. “Oh God, don’t remind me.”
I laughed. “I won’t, I think Amp will, probably for the rest of the festival.”
“All the more reason for us to take tonight off and just chill out together. You coming?”
“Oh yeah.”
We pulled on our waterproofs, and set off along the muddy metal planking towards what I really hoped would be our final stop of the night. Drew had one arm firmly clamped around my waist. As we walked, he started to sing, almost absent-mindedly.
I recognised the song; Minority, by Green Day. Drew listened to it so often, I’d come to think of it as his song. Partly because of that, partly because Green Day’s “down with the moral majority” philosophy chimed so perfectly with Drew’s own.
Though I wasn’t much of a singer, I decided to join in on the chorus, and the two of us tramped onward through the mud, singing our hearts out.
“Stepped out of the line, like a sheep runs from the herd,
Marching out of time,
To my own beat, now,
The only way I know…”
No-one batted an eyelid.