Hooded Man (100 page)

“Look, I’m going to get you out of here. You
and
Sian.” Meghan stopped the trolley, a look of complete surprise on her face. “That’s right, she’s here as well. I’m meeting her in a bit. She came to find you. Don’t worry, come with me and –”

“Nobody escapes from here. He kills anyone who tries.”

“I don’t doubt it, but you have to trust that I’m going to get you both away from this... this...” Dale struggled to find words to describe the place and failed. He’d witnessed more depravity here than all his time on the streets and as a Ranger put together.

“You’ll be killed. We all will. He’s insane!”

“Look, you have to trust me, Meghan.”

“I-I’ve got to deliver this. If I don’t he’ll send his men to find me.”

That was true, it would arouse more suspicion than ever if the Dragon’s family didn’t get their grub. “Okay, but I’m coming with you.”

“No, you mustn’t. It’s –”

“Not inside. I’ll wait in the corridor. But now I’ve found you I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

Meghan’s hands were shaking again, but she nodded. When they arrived at the corridor in question, he let Meghan walk down it alone. There was nobody else around that he could see. Pretty weird in itself, but Dale reasoned that the Dragon probably wanted privacy for his family. He wondered if most of the guards even knew about them. Meghan looked back over at him just once before knocking, and he smiled again to try and reassure her. Then she was inside, and all he could do was wait for her to come out.

He wasn’t standing there long, though, when he heard the first of the screams. It was definitely Meghan. Dale raced up the corridor to the room she’d entered. He threw open the door and was already inside before he realised something was wrong. The room was in semi-darkness. There was no sign of Meghan or the trolley, let alone the Dragon’s family. Just a bank of monitors throwing out the only light. Dale wondered how they were still working, but then the Dragon had all kinds of electrical stuff rigged up. He looked at the monitors more closely, seeing what they were displaying – various parts of the stadium: guards walking up and down corridors; the pitch outside; the entrance; even the lift he’d just been in. A damned CCTV system!

He’d noticed the cameras all around, of course he had, but he’d assumed they weren’t on. Dale hadn’t seen one of these in operation since before the Cull. But if the other stuff was working, why shouldn’t these be as well?
Stupid, stupid!

There was the
clack
of a machine-gun being cocked behind him, then another, and a third. Dale froze. A switch was flipped, flooding the room with light. The Dragon was wheeled around in front of him by Meghan.

I don’t believe this,
thought Dale. She’d led him right into a trap. How could he have been so –

The Dragon suddenly grabbed her arm and threw her violently to the floor, where she knelt, crying. Dale could see now that her lip was split and bleeding; those screams had been for real. “Why don’t you come further in?” he said, his voice making Dale squirm. “Come on, don’t be shy. After all, you haven’t been, during your time here, have you?”

Dale was prodded forwards with the barrel of a rifle.

“Oh, I’ve been keeping tabs on you for a while now, all your little excursions. Quite innocent to the casual observer, but you did keep cropping up here, there and everywhere. Sort of like a really crap Jason Bourne.” The Dragon laughed. “Except the spy was being spied on himself. I like that, don’t you? And then last night... Oh, last night. I didn’t catch the show live, of course, because I had other things to attend to, as you probably already know. But thankfully everything was being recorded and I watched it all back today. Made for very interesting viewing. Nice touch trying to frame the radio operator, by the way, but very sloppily executed. Unlike him.” The Dragon leaned forward. “What I still don’t know is who you are and who you’re working for. You see, some of the cameras have picture, but no sound. Who exactly were you contacting on the radio?”

“Nobody.”

The Dragon held up his hand. “Save the bullshit. When I saw those pictures, who do you think I spoke to first, eh?” He pointed to one of the screens behind him. Right next to the one showing the harem’s showers – in use right that minute, to Dale’s disgust – was Sian in a room, strapped to a chair, head back and unconscious. “But she wouldn’t tell me anything either, even under... duress.”

“You fucking shit, I’ll –”

“Be realistic; you’ll do nothing.” He kicked out at Meghan, who was attempting to stand. “That’s why you shouldn’t think so badly of this poor cow. Oh, I know exactly who she is, now; don’t I, sweetheart? And I do so believe in family loyalty. That’s why she brought you here, although you didn’t need much persuading, I have to say. I just showed her what was on that screen, said her precious niece would be cut up into little pieces right in front of her if she didn’t do exactly what I said. Actually, be thankful my foreign friend isn’t still around; he would have enjoyed doing that, I think.”

I’ll bet he would,
thought Dale.

“The stupid bitch still tried to warn you, though.” Another kick and Meghan was pitched forwards on her hands and knees. “Unfortunately for you, the audio works just fine in the lift and corridors in this section.” He grinned.

Now Dale thought about it, Meghan
had
tried to stop him, even though it would have put both herself and Sian in danger.

“I’ll come with you.”

“No, you mustn’t.”

She’d tried to tell him about the cameras, too:
“He has eyes and ears everywhere.”
Dale had just assumed that she was talking about his men.

“It’s funny, I was warned about a danger from within, but this still came as a bit of a surprise.”

“Warned?” Dale said before he could stop himself.

“My family. Ever since the virus, they come out with things... the strangest things.”

“Please! You have to do something!” Meghan said to Dale. Tears were streaming down her face. “He’s crazy. His family are –”

Before she could get another word out, the Dragon had hefted himself a couple of inches forward, the front wheel of his sled rolling over the woman’s hand. Dale heard the cracking as the bones broke under that weight, then another scream from Meghan – much louder than the first. Dale winced. The Dragon ignored the cries.

“Tell me what I want to know, or this is only the beginning. I’ll make them both suffer. And from what I’ve seen already, you’re not a man who’d enjoy that.” The Dragon paused, eyeing Dale up and down. “Or are you? Hmm? Perhaps you enjoy seeing women get hurt? Perhaps you’ve hurt a few in the past as well?” The Dragon rolled off Meghan’s hand and she clutched it to her chest, howling in agony.

Fucking mind games,
Dale said to himself. The Dragon didn’t know the first thing about him.
Concentrate.
Meghan was right, he had to do something to stop this. But what? There were at least three men behind him, and so many more outside these doors. He’d often wondered what the scenario would be if he got caught. Bourne? More like Bond, complete with the psychopathic villain. All the Dragon needed was a cat. It’d be funny if it wasn’t so real.

Dale looked over at the screens again, seeing Sian there, helpless. Two damsels in quite a bit of distress, and he couldn’t help either. And then his eyes caught something else on one of the screens. Something everyone in the room seemed to have missed. Movement between the seats out in the stadium itself – brief flashes, tiny but unmistakable. Hoods, the tips of bows, a flash of metal. The Rangers – his friends – were here. If he could just hold on a while longer...

But he’d have to do something to make sure nobody saw the screens just yet.

Dale’s mind raced.
Okay, you want mind games, mate. I’ll give you mind games.
“I guess that’s all you can really do, isn’t it?”

“I’m sorry?” said the Dragon.

“Hurt them, get them to perform for you. It’s not like you can do anything else with them, you limp-dicked chubster.”

The Dragon’s face reddened. “What?”

“I bet your men don’t even know that, do they? All those women you collect and you can’t even get it up when you’re alone with them, can you?”

He stared at Dale, fuming. “Shut your mouth.”

“Some Dragon. Some leader of men. You’re not much of a man at all, really, are you? All you can do is watch, perv over them and wish you were more like some of these guys who fetch and carry for you. Who protect you.”

“I said shut the fuck up!”

“I bet it’s all recorded somewhere as well, all those times you’ve made women do things, but haven’t been able to satisfy them. Bet the proof’s right there for any of your men to see.”

“If you don’t shut your mouth –”

“What is it, the weight? Or something else? Don’t tell me, you have issues with strong women, don’t you? Mummy’s boy, were we? Is that it? Or maybe even your Dad? Was he the problem? Was he a
real
man, Dragon?”

“I. Said.
SHUT UP!
” roared the Dragon, leaning forward so far in his sled it was rocking.

“Well, come on, if you think you can take me. You don’t need these guys to fight your battles as well, do you? Come on, then!”

The Dragon raised himself up, and it was at that moment the sled wobbled over, crashing sideways to the floor. Dale used the distraction to drop to the ground, as the men behind opened fire – hitting some of the screens, shattering the ones chronicling the Rangers’ progress. Dale rolled backwards, taking the guards’ legs out from under them. Sending them sprawling in all directions.

He was up first, elbowing one in the face to keep him down and snatching his rifle. The second he shot in the leg; the third he took out with the butt of the rifle. Even if he wasn’t as slick as Bourne or Bond, he fought like them: hard and fast, getting rid of the Dragon’s men in here, at least.

But not the Dragon himself. As Dale rose, the man was charging towards him – faster than Dale ever would have thought. He’d probably been even quicker in the days before piling on all that meat, but was still quick enough to slam Dale backwards into the wall.

“Not a man, eh? We’ll see about that,” he grunted as he swatted Dale’s gun aside with a flabby arm.

Dale had no room; when he threw his punch – hard, in the kidneys, which should have crippled his opponent – it simply sank in, having no effect whatsoever. The Dragon might have been overweight, but he knew how to use that to his advantage, crushing Dale against the solid wall, gripping him by the throat.

Dale kicked out, but that had no more effect than the punch. The Dragon squeezed his opponent’s windpipe harder. “Who. Sent. You?” he shouted. “Tell me!”

The sound of an explosion came – it was distant, possibly even in the next building. But a second and third followed, and this time they rocked the room they were in. The Dragon looked up at the ceiling as dust fell.

“Y-you really want to know?” gasped Dale. “You’ll get to meet them soon. They’re here, Dragon... and they’re not... very happy about what you did to their HQ. Or their men.”

“A Ranger,” breathed the biggest of the two men. “I should have known.”

Dale grinned again, but soon stopped when the Dragon lifted him up and shoved him hard against the wall, banging his head. Everything went fuzzy for a moment.

The last thing Dale remembered after that was an angry red face, a face that almost did resemble a Dragon in his muddled mind.

Dale fell; fighting for breath and losing his grip on consciousness.

He could still see only red as he lost both battles.

Then the redness turned to black.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

H
OW EXACTLY HAD
he got into this mess?

He was dangling, suspended, above a fire in what had once been the castle’s reservoirs.

He thought he’d been so clever, but like always, he was really only making all this up as he went along, trying to turn something hopeless into a fighting chance.

Maybe this was his punishment for hurting the woman he loved more than life itself. And, in his defence, the Widow’s mumbo jumbo did have an effect on him initially. Some kind of weird hypnosis or mind control. The best way he could describe it was like having a waking dream, where you were doing and saying things you wouldn’t normally, but had no control over. He cast his mind back to when they’d first been alone together, back in the Vaults where he’d been chained to the wall. She’d had him stripped naked and he’d assumed there would be some kind of torture involved, especially surrounded as he was by the implements. Maybe it was just his turn, he thought. Both Mark and Jack had suffered at the hands of Tanek – Mark coming away missing a finger, while Jack’s mental scars ran deeper. If they could brave it, then so could he. He’d had to face worse: up against tanks, jeeps, helicopters, armed with only a bow and arrow.

But torture had been the last thing on her mind.

“I do admire a man who’s not afraid of being in the raw,” the Widow told him as she’d scrutinised his body, approving eyes passing over his taut muscles. “I’ve been waitin’ fer you to come. Expecting yer.”