13. You Want To Know?
Umberside Lodge pulsed with urgent movement.
A white panel van, battered and filthy, stood in the central yard with its rear doors open.
The brothers were herding a stream of girls inside.
Sally's eyes widened. All young. Girl after girl, not dressed for the weather; wearing skimpy tops, frills and lace.
Roarke Rook stood by the gate shouting into his cell phone. The dogs ran wild around the girls, snapping in close, teeth flashing, driving them faster. One lunged too far and had to be dragged back by a shouted command from the weasel brother.
Cold fury welled in Sally's belly. She brought up her phone and called Liam.
"Sally?"
"Liam, grab every officer you can and get to the Rooks' farm right now. Umberside Lodge on Dungeness Road. I'm looking at a white panel van stuffed with underage girls, some kind of trafficking operation."
A second ticked by. "Shit," O'Connell breathed. "You're sure?"
"They're loading the van right now, Liam." She read out the registration. "I'm thinking they'll turn left, toward you, up through Lydd. You need to intercept."
"All right. We're moving now."
"Good."
She hung up.
The van's rear doors slammed closed. The weaselly brother embraced Roarke Rook then climbed behind the wheel and fired up the engine.
Too soon. Too fast. They could slip right past Liam and be gone.
Sally's heart crashed and she ran without thinking.
To the right along the wall, racing to keep pace with the van.
Brambles tore at her legs and slashed her cheeks.
She reached a rusted truck chassis butted up to the main gate, clambered onto its low bed and weaved through the sharp arms of a holly tree to the farm track.
The van was already passing through the gate. Sally burst through the slashing holly branches and leaped into the road ahead of it.
The van jerked to a halt. The Rook brother behind the wheel stared.
Sally pulled out the Farb-gel, stripped the cap and fired it at his windshield. The can disgorged its contents in a hard red stream, coating the glass like fresh graffiti. The brother shouted, then hit the gas.
Sally dived to the side as the van ripped by, mud spraying, windshield wipers smearing the red gunk wider. She pushed herself up as Roarke Rook sprinted up the track toward her, an iron bar in his right hand, dogs either side.
Sally turned the can's fire upon him, aiming for his face and eyes. He held up a hand to block the flow but stumbled.
His XL Bullies didn't stumble. They bolted directly toward Sally.
She dropped the can and back-pedaled. Her thighs slammed into the sharp chassis edge, the lead dog closed the distance to five yards, then she rolled backward atop the metal. The dog leaped, its jaws snapping where her thighs had been.
"You dumb fucking bitch!" roared Roarke Rook, wiping red gel from his eyes. "Sic her!"
Sally kicked backwards, scraping along the chassis as the dogs tried to scrabble up after her. She let out a cry as the first managed to get up on the metal platform and tried to bite her feet. She kicked its muzzle then tumbled backward into the mud and water of the marsh.
Her back submerged, she slid and rolled, head underwater. A weight landed on her back, jaws snatching her jacket and thrashing violently. She tried to kick free, airways blocked, legs flailing upward until her left knee connected.
There was a yelp and she rolled further, head sucking out of the bog, coming up unevenly on her knees.
The dog lunged for her face, but its rear paws slipped in the muck. Sally managed to get one arm up, swiping its neck, and they fell sideways into sludge together. It kicked desperately closer, jaws snapping close to her face, hot breath and spit spraying her cheeks.
She got one leg up and shoved against the Bully's broad chest. It slid away, rolling and trying to find its feet.
Sally did the same. The dog lunged again but slid, legs splaying in the thick mud as Roarke Rook thundered across the chassis, barreling through the holly branches.
Sally got to her feet and ran.
The mud slashed by underfoot. The sharp bulrushes slit her arms as Rook's hard breaths chased her. She hit a tuft of solid grass and stumbled, dropping to all fours, and Rook's hand closed around her ankle.
She kicked out, catching his jaw. Rook grunted and her leg came free; she dragged herself forward, fingers raking the mud, trying to clear enough distance to get back to her feet and –
Rook dropped onto her back, slamming her flat to the marsh. Her face sank into the mud. He yanked her right arm behind her back, the tendons shrieking, then spun her and straddled her waist.
She swung her left arm up, flinging mud at his red-smeared face, but it splattered uselessly. He wiped his eyes and grabbed her left wrist, driving it into the marsh. His face dropped to barely inches away from her own.
"You want to know what we're doing with the girls?" he panted. "Now you're going to find out."
Sally thrust with her hips, trying to buck him off. He punched her hard in the cheek, forcing her back into the mud. Silver flashed across her vision and control retreated, watching numbly as his hands clamped around her throat and squeezed.
Darkness swamped Sally as her airway compressed. No breath in, no breath out, and only one chance left. She bucked with everything she had. Rook rode it easily but came down unevenly on his left knee, another haymaker punch already swinging toward her face, but this time Sally was ready.
She curled in to her right, wrapped his thigh with her right arm as the blow glanced off her temple, then punched her hips upward again. With his knee trapped, he tipped.
"Fucking, what?" he roared.
Sally kept pushing into a bridge and he fell to the side, hitting with a splash and a cry. Sally rolled after him, driving her bladed fingers into the soft meat of his throat.
Rook shrieked and his grip came loose. Sally exploded upward. Blood rushed back to her head, vision cloudy but clearing, and she ran. The roar of a wild beast followed her as Rook's large body splashed through the barrens.
Dogs barked. Breath rasped. Then there were sirens wailing, growing closer.
Sally risked a glance over her shoulder. Now Roarke Rook stood motionless, coated in black mud, red-smeared eyes staring after her.
Sally stopped too, gasping.
"Hand yourself in," she shouted across the stinking swamp, her voice hoarse.
One of Rook's XL Bullies slipped at his side. He punched it once on the snout and it dropped to its belly.
"You're fucking dead," he called back, then turned and ran.
Sally took a rattling breath. She glimpsed flashing blue lights through the reeds and the rain, coming down Dungeness Road. Her whole body felt heavy. She reached one hand up to her throat; the skin was raw and hot.
Then she started back after Roarke Rook.