26. Axel #2
“Please don’t leave me!” The boy bursts into more agonising sobs. “P-Please.”
“Hey, hey.” She reaches between the bars to outstretch a trembling hand. “No one is going to leave you. What’s your name?”
Those big, tearful eyes cast over us all. Fuck, he looks petrified of us. Lord only knows what’s been done to him or how long he’s been held captive.
“I d-don’t remember,” the poor kid warbles.
“That’s okay.” Ember lays on the fake comfort in great, heaping doses. “I’m Ember. That’s Warner and Axel. We’re here to help you, kid.”
“I’m so c-cold.” His teeth clack together, chattering uncontrollably.
“I know. Hold tight, we’re going to get you out of there soon.”
Warner has to turn his back for a second to collect himself. He faces Gunnar instead, a palm on his chest as he works on evening out his breathing. At the back of our group, my twin wears a perplexed expression, staring far too intently at the imprisoned boy.
There’s something in his cold, dead stare. A glimmer of unbidden pain, maybe. Shadows writhing and dancing like twin flames, seeing the past echoing right before his very eyes. He looks… haunted. Excruciatingly so.
“Can you get this open?” I ask him.
He visibly recoils, seeming to shake off whatever had rattled him. “Without the key, we need that crowbar. Otherwise we’re screwed.”
“Shit!” I crash the heel of my palm against my head then return to the comms. “Get here quickly, Blaine. We’re exposed, and the kid’s terrified.”
“I’m on the move,” Blaine replies.
With a loud exhale, Warner turns back to face our predicament. Eyes ping-ponging everywhere but the cage, it’s clear that he can’t bring himself to look at the child. I wonder if, like me, he’s picturing Ember locked in a similar setup.
“Fuck, I hope there aren’t more.”
Concern pouring off her in waves, Ember looks up at his words. “He said they were sold.”
“Not here,” Warner adds. “Elsewhere in the factory.”
She nods, crouching lower to meet the child at eye level. “Help’s coming, I promise. But I need to know if there are more rooms like this one. Can you tell me?”
“My s-sister.” The kid hugs his bony, stick-thin legs. “They took her.”
“When? Is she here?”
He sobs so hard, it’s a wonder he hasn’t passed out. “D-Don’t know.”
“Motherfucker,” Warner spits. “We have to keep looking just in case. Wherever Nolan Madden is, he won’t be away from his base for long. I won’t risk leaving anyone behind if we have to split.”
“Stay with the kid.” I draw upright, gut clenched tight. “I’ll continue searching. Clear this floor.”
“Gracie,” Ember wheezes. “She could be here. I’m coming.”
“Stay, Em. Wait for Blaine.”
“She’ll be terrified! It has to be me!”
“It isn’t safe,” I try to argue. “You’re better off waiting here. The kid needs protection too.”
“Then why don’t you stay, and I’ll go? Because either way, I’m finding Gracie tonight.”
This is shaping up to be a nightmare. We’re wasting precious time bickering about it and scaring the kid further in the process. Reluctantly, I nod and give her a helping hand up.
“We go together.”
“Great.” Ember adjusts her earpiece. “Come on.”
“Blaine and the others will be here soon.” I meet Warner’s fearful eyes. “Hold down the fort.”
“This is ridiculous.” He puffs out air.
“We don’t have time to waste!”
“I know, fuck! Go fast. Protect her with your life, Axel. If a single hair on her head is harmed, I’ll be removing yours.”
Ignoring his threat, I whirl on Gunnar. “Stay with him.”
“Attempting to renege on our bargain, brother?” His eyes squint in suspicion.
“Clearly not! We’re coming straight back. But if you get my team leader killed, I’ll be shoving that bargain somewhere very unpleasant for you.”
Gunnar smirks like this is all a big joke. “Sure.”
“When Blaine and the others arrive, follow us. We may need help too.”
With the plan agreed upon, I snatch up Ember’s discarded flashlight then check that my weapons are in order. Ember spares the crying child one last look before striding ahead, her shoulders squared like she’s frantically clinging to why she has to leave him behind.
We roam deeper into the maze, coming to a sharp bend down the next short corridor. The metal door screams in protest as I swing it open, plunging ahead with Ember hot on my heels. It leads to a deserted, brick-lined room with a winding staircase at the back.
“Dead end.” I spin around the space.
“The only way is down.”
“Beta Team is ascending.” I turn the flashlight on each corner, ensuring that there’s nothing hidden. “They can clear this section. We should turn back.”
“We’re in the western wing now, they’re in the east.” Ember anxiously bounces on her feet. “Blaine and the others won’t come this direction first—we have to clear the rooms below.”
“Shit! This is a bad idea with just two of us.”
“What if there are more?” Her eyes coast over my face in a frenzy. “We can’t leave them!”
“You think I don’t know that?”
“Please, Ax. Gracie could still be here.”
Clenching the flashlight tightly, I turn it on the staircase. It descends into a hole in the floor, creating another access point to the level below. No sound emanates from downstairs. Not a single shout nor sign of movement.
“Fuck this,” I growl in frustration. “Alright, come on.”
“Want me to take the light?”
“Yes. Keep alert, there may be more guards.”
“You too.” Ember holds her hand out for the flashlight.
Passing it over, I wait for her to light the staircase better then take the first steps down. Together, we tackle the spindly metal guiding us into the next circle of hell.
The air is cold and stagnant, bereft of any life. Dirt-coated floorboards are illuminated by grimy windows and Ember’s light, unveiling the lower level. Immediately, toxic chemicals burn my nostrils.
The room is huge, filled with workbenches not unlike the setup of Blaine’s base. But rather than being wiped of all evidence like his, this place looks like it was abandoned mid-session.
All manner of drug paraphernalia litters each bench. From burnt out pans to stained test tubes and crumpled packets of household ingredients, there’s no questioning where Madden got his extensive hoard upstairs from. All cooked and assembled in house.
“What is that smell?” Ember’s nose crunches up.
“Ammonia.” I cough into my hand.
“Like… a meth lab?”
“It’s cheap and easy to batch create. I’m not surprised Madden’s dabbling in the trade.”
We creep into the middle of the room, surrounded by a mounting pile of evidence. Honestly, it’s fucking sloppy. I really expected better. Either he wants to get caught or he doesn’t care enough about this portion of the business to cover his tracks.
“It’s like he has the place divided up by business function.” I look around the huge mess. “Preparation, storage and transport.”
“Transport?” Ember repeats.
“Most victims aren’t taken to be sent into illegal fighting pits, Em. Drug trafficking goes hand in hand with the skin trade.”
“Jesus. You think Madden’s trafficking people to transport his narcotics?”
“I’d bet my life on it.”
From what I understand, it’s the one step he wasn’t able to take while running his operation from London. Blaine prevented his father from securing that final expansion. It seems he’s perfected his illegal trade since setting up shop alone, without his son’s oversight.
We quietly traipse onwards, clearing another large room set up near identically. Big enough to house an operation that would feed a whole country’s underground drug trade. At the head of the room, a desk seems to preside in a position of authority, granting its occupant a view of all the benches.
“The boss’s throne.” I wave towards it.
“You think Madden handles this personally?”
“I doubt he’d outsource ever again after losing Blaine and his stake in the empire. You don’t rebuild this level of infrastructure in a matter of years without fighting for your place in the market.”
“He has help too,” she adds. “Gael.”
“I’d imagine he’s the ideal friend if this is your legacy.”
Another glance around and it’s clear that we’ve reached a dead end. There isn’t another door to push through, leading us deeper into Madden’s evil labyrinth. No more starving children left behind in this wing.
And no Gracie.
“Dead end.” I sigh.
“Apparently.”
“I’m sorry, Em. We’ll keep looking.”
“I really thought she’d be here.” She kicks an empty cardboard box, dislodging stacks of clean plastic baggies.
“We still have Madden’s residence to investigate. We’ll regroup and plan our next move. This isn’t the end.”
Ember creeps on silent feet to approach the desk. When her flashlight skims over the surface, we both stop dead. In the centre, an old-fashioned audio device rests ominously.
“It’s the same type of recorder.” She eyes the clunky plastic. “His handwriting too.”
Yet another scrawled message on a scrap of paper, containing the same basic command as Gael’s last taunt.
PLAY ME.
The endless theatrics are getting tiresome. I’m starting to think that Gael is bored.
“Do you think it’s a bomb?” She studies the note.
“I’d say that it’s unlikely. Not his style.”
“I’m going to play it.”
“Em…”
She reaches out to press the well-worn button, causing a tinny crackle to fill the room. The audio recorder flickers with a blinking red light to commence playing the message.
I’m braced for Gael’s voice.
Perhaps Nolan Madden’s.
Not a tiny, weak-sounding female whisper.
“I w-want to go home, Ember… Please. You p-promised to take me home.”
My arm snaps out to curl around Ember’s waist, stopping her from stumbling forward into the desk. She turns translucent, stricken by the fragile whimper of a lost girl.
“You l-left me,” the voice cries. “Left me h-here to die.”
“Gracie,” Ember keens.
“Breathe, Em. She’s alive. We’re going to find her.”
Breaking free from my hold, Ember seizes the audio recorder. She cradles it close to her chest, rocking back and forth to the sound of Gracie’s crying. It damn near breaks my heart.
“It’s y-your fault.” Gracie heaves between broken sobs.