Captured (16 page)

Outside, they crossed the road to where James waited: he had seen nothing.

“He’s probably long gone,” Mike observed. “Let’s get back to the apartment. We can regroup.”

“That’s it, that’s all?” asked Simon, who had barely spoken all afternoon. “You don’t understand what he’s like, I shouldn’t have told you at all. I should have come alone.”

Aaron sniggered, quickly camouflaging with a cough.

They walked back to the car in silence. An air of impatience had descended on the group. The adrenaline had slumped from their bodies and they were now tired and irritable.

As they reached the cars, Paul spoke. “Aaron, you go on home. I’ll drop the guys back to the apartment,” he turned to Mike. “Just get in touch if you find out anything more. We’re not much use to you as things stand.” He reached in his pocket for the keys, and pressed the disarm button. The first car beeped unlocked. “Hey, what the fuck, man?”

A scarlet scooter had veered around the corner, coming within inches of his shiny black SUV. The driver, whose dreadlocks reached down to his shoulders, steadied himself against the bumper.  He turned around sheepishly when he’d recovered his balance. “Sorry dude. I’ve never driven one of these things before.”

“Idiots,” Paul grumbled when he’d gone. “They’re all over this city. Think they can come here without a licence and suddenly drive. Hippy fool wasn’t even wearing a helmet.”

“I think we all need to relax,” Mike said, “I’ll order some food in and we can discuss what to do.”

“But, we’re wasting time,” Simon protested.

Neil ignored him. “Sounds good Mike.”

Daniel drove in a wide loop, giving them several minutes to leave before he re-entered Sok Cha Street. He drove smoothly into the underground car park.

Inside, he checked on Kirsty and Grace. Kirsty had come to, and was lying in bed staring at the ceiling. She had refused to speak to him since that day he had moved her. He was becoming tired of the strain – he doubted whether he’d ever be able to break her. He dosed her again, carefully measuring the amount. It was crucial that she be conscious that evening. He had a new plan for them all.

Grace was still unconscious.
Perfect
, he though.

He returned to the living room where he pulled one of the stools from the breakfast bar into the centre of the room. Sitting, he untensed all of his muscles and slouched to the side. It didn’t move. He tried again and again, leaning to the back and to the other side. When he slouched forward, the chair toppled over. He turned quickly, stopping himself from landing on his face. He got on the chair again and repeated the exercise.  When he was satisfied, he went to Grace’s room and started to untie her – he didn’t have enough rope so couldn’t afford to destroy her current binding, even though it cost him time.

Once he had loosened the rope, he climbed on the bed and knelt on her stomach as he unfurled loop after loop.  Finally, he looped the rope into a large coil and placed it on his shoulder, climbed off the bed and lifted Grace.

With great difficultly, he placed her in the chair. The first attempt saw her slump forward, almost toppling the chair. The second time, she slid forward, almost falling off. Eventually, he managed to secure her to the chair, with rope coiling from her chest to her ankles. Her head and shoulders lolled, but not enough to destabilise the chair. She was still out.

He was exhausted, and his evening had barely begun. Sighing, he shook out his arms and booted up the laptop. He crossed his fingers: he had been promised that the cameras were top quality and they’d been borderline at best. What if this didn’t work?

He opened the program he had installed earlier and waited for the internet connection to activate. The little blue light on the USB dongle flashed insistently for several seconds, then became a steady blue. It was slower, but he wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice: this was a pay as you go connection paid for in cash. Untraceable.

A map appeared on the screen, annotated with flourishes of script he couldn’t understand, with their English transliterations below in fainter type. A red dot denoted the location of the transmitter he had secured to the SUV earlier. It wasn’t moving. But that didn’t mean anything. He opened the menu and scrolled down to the ‘past’ option. The red dot turned into a thin red line, and the map became a larger view of Bangkok. He followed it, seeking the starting point. He zoomed in and followed it back to its current location, noting that there had been no stops along the way.

His laptop beeped, and the red dot began to move. He checked to see how long the vehicle had stopped for. They must be at the apartment. He praised himself for arriving outside when he had – any later and he wouldn’t have heard the American tell the others he’d drop them off. Who knew how long it would have taken him to get to Simon in that case? He scribbled down the coordinates and ran a search in Google maps. It didn’t reveal much; it was just another corporate apartment block, like his and countless others in Bangkok, filled with transient foreigners and wealthy locals. It was close, he noticed, hardly a mile away.

He smiled. It was his game again now.

Neil crossed the room and sprawled out on one of the white leather couches before Mike had even closed the door. Simon had shuffled in between them, and now hovered between the seating area and the front door. Mike walked straight to the kitchen and withdrew three beers from the fridge.

“Here you go, have one,” he walked over, holding out two bottles. “It’s Singha, the local stuff. It’s a bit acrid, but it’ll do under the circumstances.”

Neil took his gratefully and drank thirstily.

Simon looked askance. “Surely we should be doing something instead of going on the lash?”

“It’s a beer, man,” Mike replied, looking at Neil and screwing up his face.

Neil stood up, seemingly reenergised. “Let’s go out for a bit. I’m sick of standing around in stuffy apartments.”

This one was frigid: the air-conditioning was set to the minimum it seemed. It stood in contrast to Daniel’s apartment, which was as humid as a sauna.

Simon grew enraged, his knuckles whitening around the brown bottle neck. “Seriously?”

“You can stay here if you want?” Neil looked at Mike for confirmation. The other man nodded.

“Fine,” Simon agreed incredulously. “How do I get online? I’ll do some digging while you two are out trawling for whores.”

“Don’t worry, mate,” Neil smiled. “I can bring you back one if you like?”

Simon seethed as they left.

“Don’t wait up,” Neil called as he closed the door.

Daniel replaced the dreadlock wig on his head and walked to the bathroom to fix it. Had Simon recognised him? He couldn’t be sure.

He patted his stomach unconsciously; the gun was still there. He’d taped it on earlier: Kirsty and Grant had been easy, but he might need it now.

Maybe Simon had grown a pair
, he thought, smiling. “Yeah right,” he snorted.

He tweaked the wig some more before looking back in the mirror, satisfied.

In the car park, he jumped on the little scooter. He’d had one as a child; only for roaming around his parents’ rambling estate. It had been extremely difficult for him to feign ignorance of the thing, but necessary. Those men weren’t stupid.

He held his phone in one hand, steadying the steering with the other. He didn’t need the map: he had practically memorised the route. Right, left, straight, sharp left and he’d be there.

Even though it was early evening, the air was still muggy. He longed for the cool crisp air of home. He watched the steady stream of tourists and expats with distain; their chests puffed out like peacocks as they strutted along with pubescent Thai girls at their sides. He abhorred the false bravado.

He was almost there now, just another block to go. Then it would all be over. He’d feel lonesome without Simon, who had been his companion for half his lifetime. He shook his head.
It’s not healthy,
he thought. He had tried to rationalise his feelings – paying a professional to do so seemed dangerous in his case – but his explanations had always been lacking.

He scolded himself for navel-gazing as he pulled into a side street across from his destination. He looked up at the building opposite. He was sure it was this one: there only was an abandoned warehouse across the road.  White-yellow rectangles peppered the facade in seemingly random order. He had no way of knowing which ones he should be looking up at. In any case, it didn’t matter. He fished his phone from his pocket. He had bought a bill-free phone as well – he was anonymous now. He held it to his ear. It was ringing.

“Hello,” a voice responded at the other end of the line.
Simon
.
Unmistakable
. There was no noise in the background.

“Where are you?” Daniel asked.

A pause.

“I’m in an apartment. What have you done with her?”  Simon asked, sounding calm.

Daniel wondered at this. Had his friend changed?

“Come on Simon, you know I don’t like questions. Where’s the apartment?”

“In Bangkok somewhere. I don’t know.”

“Who’s with you?”

Simon hesitated. “No one.”

“You sure? It doesn’t matter. I want you to meet me alone. I don’t care what you tell them. You know what I’ll do to Kirsty if you bring anyone else along.”

“I’m on my own, I told you,” Simon snapped.

“Calm down, Simon. Who are those friends of yours? Big lads.”

Simon sighed.

“There’s an alley beside the Bulldog Bar. Meet me there in five minutes,” Daniel instructed.

“Five minutes, but I–”

“You’ll find it Simon. It’s not far.”

“But –”

Daniel hung up and waited, watching the building’s entrance. Two minutes later, he watched as the door opened and Simon exited the building, looked around and turned left. He watched him until he reached the junction with Sukumvit Road and turned right. Daniel waited, excitement shooting through him.

Finally he started the engine and set off.

In the alley, Simon waited nervously. Despite the bright, busy bar next door, it was ominously dark; illuminated only by passing headlights from the nearby junction and the dim street lighting. He was pacing when Daniel arrive.

“Hey there buddy,” he greeted, in an exaggerated American accent, his good mood evident.

Simon watched him without responding.

Daniel walked closer, having left the bike around the corner. He had no use for it now. “I said hello-o-o-o!”

Simon swallowed. “What do you want, Daniel?”

“Whatever happened to Dan? There’s something I want you to see, my friend,” he smiled, throwing his arm around Simon’s shoulder. “We’ll walk: it’s a nice night.”

The alley was closer to Daniel’s apartment than it was to that of Mike’s friend. It would have taken the average person around seven minutes to walk. It took them considerably longer: Daniel clasped Simon’s shoulder tightly, slowing them both down.

“What do you want with her?” Simon asked, as they shuffled along the busy street.

Daniel pulled Simon closer with his arm. “You know I shagged her, don’t you? Or did you think she was going to change her mind and get back with you?”

They walked the rest of the way in silence, appearing to the world like any other young friends on holidays.

At the apartment door, Daniel scrambled for his key and unlocked the door quickly, stood aside and gestured that Simon should go first.

Simon obeyed, opening the door. He gasped as he stepped inside.

Grace and Kirsty sat about eight feet apart, facing each other. Both of them were gagged and tightly bound to tall chairs. Kirsty was awake and struggling, while Grace’s head was dropping forward.

Simon rushed over to check her pulse. Daniel closed the door and strolled over to join them.

“I would have thought you’d rush to Kirsty first,” he said, brows knitted in confusion.

Simon looked back at him and pulled his hand away from Grace’s throat. “I was checking she was still alive.”

“A modern day hero! She’s sedated.”

Daniel walked past them to the breakfast bar and picked something up. He slapped Simon’s shoulder as he walked past. Closing in on Grace, he brushed her nose with the thing in his hand. Her head jerked back and she slowly opened her eyes.

“Just smelling salts, friend,” he explained. “Okay, so here’s what we’re going to do.” He leaned down and pulled the gag from Grace’s mouth. The pain made her groan. “Go take Kirsty’s gag off.”

Simon walked the few paces to where his ex-girlfriend sat, struggling to free herself from the chair. He reached forward and untied the knot at the back of her head, pulling it away.

“And the rest of it.”

Simon looked at Kirsty and saw that he had filled her mouth with more of the fabric. He pulled it out and placed two fingers in her mouth checking for more. He jumped back abruptly with a yelp.

“Don’t fucking touch me! I knew you were in on it,” she snarled.

Simon looked at her, astonished. “I’m not, I came here looking for you,” he said, throwing the slimy cloth on the ground.

“Now, now, we’re not here to fight,” Daniel lifted his t-shirt and pulled the gun from his chest. He winced as the strong tape pulled off hairs. “Here, you take this Simon,” he said, holding out his knife, blade-first.

“Why are you doing this?” Grace had been awake since Daniel had startled her back to consciousness, but had looked woozy and unsteady up to that point.

“Do you ever stop asking questions?” Daniel tutted. “Ask Simon why we’re here.”

Simon shrugged as they both looked to him for an answer. “I don’t know why we’re here.”

Daniel snorted. “Don’t know why we’re here? Don’t act the fool Simon.”

“I don’t Daniel, I really don’t.”

“Shut up! Both of you. What the hell is going on?” Grace interrupted the quietly menacing tone of their conversation.

“Simon, you know what? Let’s switch places. You’ll do them both.”

He walked over to Kirsty and grabbed her roughly from behind, squeezing the pistol against her temple. “Cut her throat or I’ll kill your little girlfriend.” He smiled. “Nostalgic this, eh?”

Simon’s mouth gaped open and closed like that of a fish. “No! I’m not doing it; you can’t do this to me again.”

“Again?” Grace looked up at him. “What are you talking about Simon?”

“That’s it, just shut up Grace,” Daniel loosed his grip of Kirsty to wave the gun at Grace. “Do you even see this?”

Kirsty jerked back violently, hitting Daniel in the chest with the metal chair back. He steadied the chair before it could topple over and clapped the butt of the pistol against the side of her face.

“I’ve got no reason to be nice to you anymore. Remember that,” he turned to Simon. “I want you to start with her fingers. I don’t care which one. Do it, or I will kill Kirsty.”

Simon shook his head violently, as Grace snapped her mouth shut and tightened her lips together, eyes closed.

“I’m not. I can’t.”

“I said I’d kill Kirsty. Your choice,” he lowered the gun until it was level with her thigh. “I’ll do it slowly.”

Simon closed his eyes and swallowed. Grace tried desperately to jerk away but she was weak and groggy, and couldn’t find a reserve of strength, despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

“Don’t do it Simon, please,” she screamed, as she felt Simon walk beside her. “No, don’t. You don’t have to do that. Don’t listen to him.” she felt his cold, clammy fingers weakly grip the index finger of her left hand. His pulse raced so quickly that her finger seemed to vibrate from the two out-of-synch pulses.

He paused and looked up at Daniel from where he was hunkered on the ground beside Grace.

In response, Daniel cracked the gun against Kirsty’s knee, making her yell out in pain. “Now, Simon. Or it’s a bullet next.”

“Simon, don’t,” Grace whispered. “Don’t do it. Please, please don’t.”

She could feel him behind her but his hand wasn’t moving any more. Was he reconsidering?

“Simon,” Daniel said, again.

Grace was aware of it before she felt it. The strange thing was that the pain lagged the knowledge by what felt like several seconds. It only struck her when she saw something fly through the air and hit Daniel. And Simon’s words.

“There. Happy now?”

It was her finger. She felt detached from the whole thing, as if she was a spectator. She could hear someone scream, and was faintly aware that it was coming from beside her. Only the physical sensation of the strain on her throat told her it was her who was screaming. He’d cut off her finger. Was it the whole finger? She felt around with her middle finger, and the floodgates of pain opened and engulfed her. She desperately wished back those few seconds of shocked numbness.

“Grace,” Kirsty hissed, seeing her friend lean forward, screaming with pain. “Grace! Get her some ice. Do something!”

The room was silent except for the sound of Grace’s blood curdling wails. Simon stood impassively, occasionally looking at the ceiling, as if they were all inconveniencing him. When Grace’s cries had finally calmed down to an insistent, throaty moan, he spoke again.

“Let’s move on, shall we?”He looked at Simon. “Let’s start with a toe.”

“No!” Kirsty twisted her head up, her eyes meeting his. “Stop it. If you want to get at Simon, hurt Simon. Not Grace. She’s done nothing to you. And neither have I.”

“Nice Kirsty, thanks for that.”

“Shut the fuck up Simon, you murdering little bastard. You’re the one who got us into this mess!”

“I didn’t, Kirsty, I–”

Daniel walked between them. “Quiet. The two of you.” He turned to Simon. “She’s right, it is your fault. But you,” he turned around and looked at Kirsty, who stared back, eyes glimmering with hatred. “You. You’ve made quite the fool out of me, haven’t you? I’m not going to forget that in a hurry, I’ll–”

“What did Simon do to you?” Grace interrupted in a strained voice.

Daniel turned to her briefly. “Don’t try and cross-examine me! You’re stalling for time. And we don’t have forever. Simon. Now.”

Grace closed her eyes again, forcing herself to breathe. “One of the little ones,” she murmured.

Simon knelt down, resigned.

“Simon, why the fuck are you just doing what he tells you?” Kirsty demanded.  “Stop! You’ve got a knife.”

Daniel tutted again. “To think, I almost believed you were different. He won’t do anything of the sort. Isn’t that right, Simon?”

Silence.

“Isn’t that right Simon?”

Simon kept his gaze on the floor and muttered inaudibly.

“Toe.”

Grace screamed as Simon’s clammy fingers came forward again and awkwardly clamped around her foot. She had balled both feet tightly, her toes squeezed painfully together. After he fumbled for several seconds, the room filling with oppressive silence, he had succeeded in pinching one of her toes from the others when the window shattered.

Simon dropped the knife as Daniel skipped sideways to the window.  “Don’t move,” he called back.