Chapter thirty-three #2
“It’s the other side of the river,” I told him. “You can catch a water taxi over there.” I gestured to the passenger boats sitting at the small dock a matter of meters away. “You’ll need to be quick if you want to make it within ten minutes.”
The man who initially stopped me shrugged.
He looked to be in his mid-forties, tall with graying black hair and sharp features.
“Our boss is happy to wait for a positive outcome, Mr. Chase,” he said as the sensation of cool metal touched my skin beneath my suit jacket and through my shirt. “Connor, isn’t it?”
“Who’s asking?”
“No one. I’m only the messenger and wanted to ensure I collected the correct package.”
His eyes flicked to a dark SUV sitting at the curb, someone already in the driver's seat.
“This is what’s going to happen. You will come with us for a short ride. Walk calmly to that car and get in the rear. No arguments.”
“And if I don’t?”
“I’ll put a bullet in you right here and drag you,” he said menacingly. I had no doubt he would by his tone. “You’re not a stupid man. You know you’re outnumbered. Our boss merely wants to discuss some business with you. Shall we go?”
I stepped toward the car in answer. He walked at my side while the others followed behind. I could sense the tension as we made our way over the pavement. My captor opened the rear passenger door, and I climbed in.
“My girlfriend is expecting me. She’ll sound the alarm when I don’t return.”
“Oh yes, the little blonde you share with your brother,” he mutters. “Peculiar situation. A real man would never share a bit of skirt.”
“It works for us,” I replied blandly, not rising to the bait.
“Pass me your phone. Both of them.” He held out his hand, waiting for me to drop them into his palm. His knowledge was disconcerting; I took my personal phone from my pocket, then collected the emergency phone from its hiding place in my suit jacket.
He turned to his younger accomplice. “Take these,” he said. “And place them together somewhere believable. No doubt both can be tracked, so go to a bar or something. I believe our friend here lost a big case today. Him drowning his sorrows won't be a surprise.”
“Yes, sir,” he responded before scurrying off back toward the bustling area of Canary Wharf.
“Now, strap yourself in, Mr. Chase. You’re in for an eventful day,” the man in charge advised, then slammed the door closed. On my other side, another brute sat bursting out of his suit. In his hand was a small syringe; he turned around in his fingers before removing the cover from the needle.
“What is that?” I hissed, and he grinned.
“Oblivion,” he told me, waving it around. “Now, hold still. It's time to go to sleep.” I pulled at the door handle, but not surprisingly, it was locked. I took a swing at him, the back of my hand colliding with his face, then I heard the click of a safety being removed from a gun.
“Stop,” the first man growled. “Take the sedative, or I’ll sedate you permanently.” He was turned in the passenger seat, his gun pointed at my forehead. I stopped struggling as the sharp metal pricked my skin, and everything went black.
Now, lying in the pitch black with no idea what is happening, I curse myself for not fighting.
The sound of metal sliding against metal cuts through the silence.
My instinct is to try to run, but it’s impossible in my current position.
Instead, I lie like a sheep awaiting slaughter, wondering who the fuck is out there.
The creak of old rusted hinges as a door opens scrapes against what could be stone. Multiple people's booted footsteps can be heard, but among them is the distinct click of high heels. It’s hard to distinguish how many people are in the room as they move around in what feels like a haphazard manner.
Suddenly, light hits my face as whatever covers me is lifted from above.
I screw my eyes closed, the unexpected brightness uncomfortable.
Slowly, I reopen them to be met with blank air and only see a single strip light above.
The ceiling of the room is covered in old, worn polystyrene tiles.
They’re yellowed with age, and most have gauges on the surface.
My captor's face appears above me, and he smiles down nastily.
“Good morning, Mr. Chase. I hope you had a good sleep.” He reaches in and begins to untie my bindings.
“Where the fuck am I?” I snarl.
“All in good time.” As he unties the final rope, I push myself up to sit. The pathetic sheet falls from my chest, and I pull it up around me. “Don’t worry, you’ve not got anything we haven’t seen before.”
It turns out that I am, in fact, lying in a coffin.
Dark wood surrounds me, and an involuntary shiver scatters over my skin with the realization.
I appear to be in the center of a derelict operating theater.
The walls are now only tattered paintwork and fallen cement.
Around the edge, there are still metal units housing boxes of equipment.
Most of it looks ancient, however, a few more modern items sit to one side.
The men who stopped me by the river stand around the space.
Each looks to be guarding a door. But to one side, I notice a familiar face—one I’m unhappy to see.
Dr. Josephine Rivera doesn’t look at me.
She focuses firmly on the floor while shuffling nervously from foot to foot.
I open my mouth to ask a multitude of questions when more footsteps can be heard approaching, along with a strange squeak.
All attention in the room moves to the double swing doors where the doctor stands.
The left hand door opens, and a dark-haired man walks in then steps to one side, holding it wide.
A moment later, a wheelchair appears; an older, frail man sits bent over in the seat with another gigantic brute pushing him into the room.
It takes me a moment to process who they are—two men I most definitely never planned to see again.
“Get up,” my captor snarls, pulling at my arm.
I climb out of the coffin, landing on the floor and wrapping the sheet around my waist before approaching the wheelchair.
A security guard appears on either side of me, ready to intervene if I decide to attack.
Instead, I stare at the old man I have known all my life, a man who was meant to protect me but never did.
Old, withered eyes rise up and meet mine.
“Hello, boy,” my father says. “It’s good to see you.”
“The feeling isn’t mutual.”
“Oh, I’m not happy to see you in the sense of catching up, but rather because of what you’ll be doing for me. You’re about to give your old man the ultimate gift.”
“I’ll give you fuck all.”
He laughs before spluttering violently. His companion moves over and rubs the old man’s back, then looks up, locking his stare with mine. In this moment I hate him as much as I hate my father.
“Do you really think you have a choice?” Aiden Marley replies with a smirk.
I step forward, wanting to take a swing at him.
The two guards beside me grab an arm each and hold me steady.
Marley looks no different from when I saw him earlier this year when he escaped at Harrison and Violet’s failed wedding.
He’d absconded abroad and, the last I heard, was living the high life on his criminal funds.