CHAPTER SIXTEEN #4
“Yeah. He drummed in his rules!” Jack then did a pretty good impression of a rough, military American accent, “In a locked room situation the first thing you should do is assess your surroundings.” Jack said, still holding a macho stance as he looked around the tiny space comprising of a double bed with storage cubbies attached to the wall on each side of the bed, a small square coffee table with two chairs, and a side table with the tray of drugged drinks.
My mind wandered to memories of how good it felt to wake up with Jack beside me, the warmth of his firm body, the bay leaf scent of his skin, the moans as I kissed the nape of his neck and used him to get-off.
“Righty-oh, surroundings assessed,” Jack announced brightly, pulling me from my thoughts.
“We’re locked in a shitty bloody cabin on a ship, the porthole windows are too small to climb through.
They have small in-built vents, and can’t be opened.
If we call for help using a vent, we could alert the men who abducted us, so I guess we’ll stay silent.
” The petulance in his tone amused me. I nodded, glad that he was coming back from the drugged languor.
“Next on Carlo’s to do list, we free ourselves from bonds, but we’re not tied up, so yay, a win for us!
” Jack returned to mimicking our ex-CIA instructor, “Next, locate anything that can be used as a weapon.” We pivoted to look around the room.
The sparse furniture was cheap IKEA flat pack.
I moved to the small coffee table and flipped it over, then proceeded to loosen a hex nut that was holding one of the table legs in place.
Thankfully, whoever assembled this table hadn’t tightened the nut securely and I released the leg from its housing quickly.
Jack joined me and did the same. The table leg was surprisingly weighty, like a short baseball bat.
A long metal bolt was permanently housed into one corner, poking out.
I stood, took the familiar batting stance, and gave an experimental swing.
“Yeah, this could do some damage,” I said decisively.
We both had a weapon. I shared a triumphant look with Jack, who was off then, opening the drawers and pulling tattered books out of a cubby bookshelf.
I found a battered black folder filled with leaflets and business cards for touristy things to do in Berlin.
I tossed it on the bed and we sorted through the mass of marketing materials before Jack triumphantly said “Bingo!” He held a laminated plastic card for a nightclub Feuer Hause, the name embossed in gold. Our spy-craft instructor had warned,
“Don’t use your credit card to slip a lock, the magnetic strip on a card can be damaged in the process and lead you to more trouble. You’ll need it to finance your escape, so only use it if you can’t find anything else.”
Using thin plastic to release the latch on a slanted latch hook lock was a great idea, but Carlo was right, we couldn’t risk our own credit cards, or the fake one, so this floppy bit of plastic marketing was a godsend.
Jack moved over to the door and knelt down.
I stood beside him, he looked up at me, and an inappropriate dart of lust tickled me.
Damn, the man looked so good on his knees.
Wordless communication passed between us, and while I’d love to go there, orgasms were not the priority.
We had to get out of this cabin. There was a scene where Gabe and Aden were trapped in an attic with just one small skylight window and a locked door, and so Jack had done this very thing, tricking a lock for multiple takes.
Beginning just above the door handle Jack slid the laminated card in between the door and door jamb, and then eased it down until he hit the latch.
As he focused his tongue poked out from between pouty lips.
He angled the card towards the door knob and then bent the card in the opposite direction.
This caused the card to slip under the angled end of the slant-latch, effectively pushing it down into the door.
Jack closed his eyes, listened, and concentrated on easing the card down, feeling the tension in the plastic and hearing the latch depress.
Then he carefully moved the card a centimetre lower.
With his other hand he turned the door knob.
Click! He fucking did it! The door opened.
Pride rushed through me. I wanted to gather Jack into my arms, but I didn’t. Jack opened the door a crack.
“Wait,” I said in an urgent whisper. I picked up the table legs, handing one to Jack.
We both listened, focusing on sounds of life elsewhere on the ship.
Apart from the cawing of crows somewhere, there were no voices and there was no one moving around on the ship.
One thing suddenly struck me as strange.
I’d been on plenty of boats and the too-and-fro sway of the current was a constant, as was the sound of water lapping against the hull. I heard none of it.
“Ready?” Jack asked, gripping his table leg. I nodded and he carefully opened the door.
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