Powder burns, p.29
Powder Burns, page 29
Declan was ready to play his part and thought that it could be an interesting send-off for Dr. Hunter as, after tonight, he could ditch the persona for good. There was a knock at the suite door. A wave of adrenaline thrummed through Declan’s veins.
Jesus! This is it!
Declan strode out of the walk-in closet and stared at the hotel room door as if waiting for it to explode. There was a pretty young prostitute outside that door and he would lead Declan to Hendrik, and eventually his co-conspirators. They would end this assignment tonight and Declan could return to his normal life for a while. Declan’s heart thudded a tattoo. He was anxious, scared even because the coming events were totally out of his control, but Declan needed to face this fear just as much as Sam had needed to face Erik Madsson.
“A moment”, Dr. Hunter hollered.
Declan stepped forward silently and looked through the peephole. He immediately recognized the man who was standing there. He narrowed his brows in confusion. This particular man was not supposed to come to Declan’s hotel. In fact, it was breaking mission protocol that he was here at all. This particular man looked handsome with his Billy Idol-style platinum spiky hair and a closely shaved boyish visage. His green eyes sparkled… and appeared strangely shifty. Declan had never seen Sam look so nervous before and a dart of fear stabbed at his gut.
In the character of Dr. Tobias Hunter, Declan opened his hotel room door.
“Can I help you?”
“Hi Dr. Hunter. Oh, cool costume!” Stefan Beck began, sounding surprised to see Dr. Hunter in the body-hugging spandex outfit.
“Stefan, isn’t it? You dance at Traum Garten?”
“Yeah. Mr. Hendrik requested that I escort you to the club. Please, can I come in?” Sam’s tone was stilted and odd. There were micro cameras in the hallway and room sending images to the A.L.L team, and hopefully MI6, so Declan played along.
“Of course of course”, Declan moved back from the door and Sam stepped in and closed the door behind them. Then all facades dropped. Sam stepped closer into Declan’s space and, with his voice lowered to a secretive whisper and with unmistakable urgency he said:
“Look, we don’t have much time. I was sent on ahead to collect you and told to ensure you come with me no matter what.”
“What’s that supposed te mean?” Declan whispered back.
“He threatened me…If I don’t bring you tonight I have to repay every cent he gave me! If I can’t pay in money, I’ll have to repay in services and he’ll make sure I—Stefan never graduates.”
Declan wasn’t surprised. The envelope of cash had always bugged him and he knew Hendrik would use it to coerce ‘Stefan’ into doing something he did not want to do. In the scheme of things, the errand of collecting him from his hotel was no big deal, but the threat was. However, before Declan could voice his irritation another knock on the door made Sam stiffen. His time was up.
“There’s been a change of plan. Whatever they’ve set in motion will happen at the club. I’ll try my best to stay with you. Kei and Alex are dealing with the Kompromat. When they’ve got it Alex will set off the fire alarm and I’ll get you out.” Sam gave Declan a quick peck on the lips and looked into his eyes as he whispered.
“What about the back-up fromMI6?”
“That was one of James’ little white lies. It’s just us, Alex and Kai!”
“What the hell?” Declan was disgusted that James had reassured him that MI6 would offer backup that hadn’t materialized.
“We can do this together. Trust me, please.”
But before Declan could reply with:
“Of course I trust ye—” Sam punched Declan square in the face.
****
CHAPTER 43
ABDUCTION
Declan staggered backward, utterly stunned:
“Wha’ the fuck! Ye broke mah fuckin’ nose!” Declan was dizzied, his eyes watered, he felt warmth leak over his lips as blood poured from his nostrils.
“Sorry, I’m so sorry. I had to make it look real and if you knew it was coming I couldn’t do it.” Sam explained wretchedly.
“Now please, get on the floor and play dazed and confused,” Declan knew that any control he’d thought he had was slipping away. The end result of this mission would be that they had leverage over James and could use it to extract themselves from the game, and so, Declan did as he was told. Sam then rushed around the room smashing things, pushing over the chair, mussing up the tidy bed… making it look like there had been a violent fight.
Declan pinched the bridge of his nose with his finger and thumb to stop the nosebleed and tried to get his head around this turn of events. His side of the plan had been abandoned and now for all intents and purposes Sam was thinking on his feet and making it up as he went. The knocking on the door became more insistent.
“I’m so sorry about this, please play along.” Sam urged again. “It had to be this way. It has to look right or they won’t believe me!” Sam repeated. He sounded as if he was torn by what he had just done to his partner. The knocking ceased and a male voice hollered “Room Service”
Sam palmed a small baggie from his pocket and whispered. “Remove the glasses and rub your eyes for me, then close them tight.” Declan did as he asked, rubbing his eyes until they felt sore and teary, then he closed them. He felt Sam’s fingers dabbing on his face and risked a look to see that Sam was sprinkling a white powder over him.
“What the fuck?” Declan automatically tried to bat Sam’s hand away and scurry back.
“It’s powdered sugar. I swapped it with the real stuff Hendrik gave me.” Sam reassured. The knocking started again, more insistently. Sam stood,
“I’ve got to deal with this.” He turned and opened the hotel room door. Tomaz, otherwise known as the English waiter stood there, not with a catering cart, but a laundry trolley. He pushed it into the room and closed the door.
“Sounds like he was a bit of a live wire?”
“Yes, he fought me. I did as I was told and used the powder Mr. Hendrik gave me.”
When the waiter turned his back for a second. Sam leaned into Declan and mouthed.
“Trust me. Close your eyes and play along”,
The English waiter turned back and spoke.
“Right, you lift under his arms, I’ll take his feet.”
With the superhero cloak trailing Declan was lifted and unceremoniously bundled into the laundry cart. The fabric weight of used bed sheets then settled on him. Declan opened his eyes to see the white linens and inhale the scents of sweat, detergent, and sweet powdered sugar.
The rocking motion of the laundry cart lulled Declan a little. He settled and listened to the squeak of trolley wheels as they left the hotel room, then the whirr of the lift and a gut-churning feeling of going down. Then he could hear echoing sounds of vast space and smell chemicals and exhaust fumes. The trolley was rolled up a ramp and the next sound Declan heard was the wheels on metal and after the trolley cart came to a halt, and the doors of a van slammed shut.
****
CHAPTER 44
UNRAVELING
Being held captive was very, very boring, and with the gentle, seductive rocking of the laundry cart in the back of the van sleep had beckoned Declan.
He opened crusty eyes. On coming to awareness Declan was immediately irritated with himself that he’d let his guard down and had fallen asleep. His head was pounding like he been out on the lash the night before, but that was wishful thinking. As expected, Declan’s hands and feet were restrained—although he wasn’t tied to a chair, like before. His thighs were spread and he wasn’t quite sure if he was lying down flat or standing up straight.
Sleep had given Declan’s captors the opportunity to do some things with his body that he would not have consented to if he were awake. His jaw ached and his mouth was extended in an unnatural way. An object was preventing him from breathing through his mouth and forcing him to breathe through his nose, where the acrid scent of vinegar was sharp and scoured his nostrils. The thing was attached to a harness that was strapped around the back of his head. The item in his mouth was suddenly Declan’s focus. He manipulated his lips to feel the soft silicone shape of it. It was round and wedged in so tightly he couldn’t spit it out. Declan recalled with dread how Mr. Xenelis was left drugged with a ball gag in his mouth and how he’d thought the man was dead. The ball gag in Declan’s mouth stifled his life’s breath and prevented him from communicating. He couldn’t form words or shout and he realized he was drooling a little. The ball gag made him feel powerless and humiliated. Declan was furious it had been used on him.
The only thing Declan could see was standing a couple of meters away—the blinking red light of a camera filming him. It was like Déjà-fucking-Vu.
Declan had experienced a rigorous kidnap and interrogation scenario at the hands of A.L.L on his recruitment to the agency. Then, he was tested to his limits and survived. And so, maybe, naively, Declan wasn’t as afraid of his current predicament as he’d expected.
A bright strip-light overhead light burst to life and buzzed insistently like a hive of angry bees. Declan squeezed his eyes shut shying away from the painful brightness, and then gradually he reopened them. He saw red—lots and lots of red. The walls of the room were crimson and the floor was concrete painted scarlet. It looked like the location for a possible murder scene.
Declan recognized his surroundings from the images in MI6’s Intel packet. He was in the BDSM dungeon room at Traum Garten—and he was tied to a St Andrews Cross—which Declan thought was a tad ironic, as St Andrew is the patron saint of Scotland!
To the right of the tripod with the iPhone attached, was a closed door, and to the left, a rough timber table laden with a host of sex toys, butt plugs, and dildos ranging from small to Oh my God! size. There were shiny surgical implements and leather bondage props. The walls were also decorated with a malevolent mixture of soft and hard torture devices—whips, ropes, chains, cuffs, manacles, ball stretchers, spreader bars, masks, and cock cages.
The door on the right buzzed and the sound stole Declan’s attention. The door was pushed open by a man. He was dressed like a rock band roadie and had wild curly Brian May style hair. Mads Hendrik looked at Dr. Hunter and then he burst out with a full-bellied laugh. He closed the door and strode to stand in front of his captive.
“Well, well, well. Don’t you look a sight for sore eyes!” Mads Hendrik guffawed as he stared at the gagged Tobias Hunter in his black spandex superhero costume, his arms and legs splayed and secured to the X of the timber struts.
“I thought the costume would be a good joke but this is fucking priceless. I cannot wait for the lads to see this.” The man was tearing with mirth as Declan struggled pointlessly. Declan didn’t have a clue who ‘the lads’ Hendrik referred to were. He knew Sam was involved in his abduction, and that he’d done so to keep an eye on him. But where was Sam? What had Hendrik done to Stefan Beck?
“I’ve got special plans for you Hunter.” Hendrik started to pace up and down in front of the St Andrew’s cross and spoke as if he’d rehearsed his arch-villain script for weeks.
“Do you know why you’re here?”
Declan shook his head.
“Remember what happened when Georgios Xenelis took to the stage in Munich to deliver his report? Ahh, that was quite a coup.” Hendrik looked up at his captive as if expecting Dr. Hunter to reply—a bit tricky when his mouth was stuffed with a ball gag.
“I got such a boner hearing him reading my words with the world media watching, and the heads of gas and oil corporations in attendance.” He paused in front of Declan and with a touch of theatricality recited:
“We are the Eco Revolutionaries—A worldwide collective of environmental activists. The time for discourse has passed and now we need consistent direct action. We need a revolution.”
Declan recognized those words as part of the manifesto read at the Munich conference before a dazed Georgios Xenelis was removed from the stage. From the smug, self-satisfaction on Hendrik’s face, Declan could tell he liked the sound of his own voice.
“You might be wondering why you’re trussed up like a chicken.” He smirked. “I’ve watched your work on the Marcellus shale bed since 2008, Dr. Hunter. One-hundred-and-four-thousand square miles of shale covering New York, Pennsylvania, Ohio, and Virginia. Nature is remarkable. All of that natural gas trapped beneath the surface—all of that untapped money.”
Declan continued to gaze blankly at the man before him.
“It’s clear that all of that trapped money was hard to resist. Your bosses call it opportunity and progress. We call it the rape of Mother Earth. It will not be tolerated.” Hendrik paused again as if waiting for Dr. Hunter to respond.
“Have you heard the name, Zane Jenkins?” Declan shook his head.
“Well, it’s a name you’ll never forget now. Zane was an undercover reporter…one of our activists—got a job on the site in Youngstown, Ohio. He was secretly filming for us when the earthquake struck. You must remember the earthquake in 2012?”
Declan knew that fracking regularly caused earth tremors but he had no idea about the event Hendrik seemed so obsessed about.
“Zane died that day—crushed to death by a pylon.”
Ah, so that’s it! Declan now understood why Hunter was a target—this was personal.
“Zane’s murder was hushed up. His parents don’t even know where he was buried. It took Darius years of research to find out what happened to him. He also discovered that GazCo were drilling too close to a class II deep injection well. That’s what started the tremors. You decided where to drill. You have blood on your hands, Dr. Hunter. His death was your fault.”
Declan was dumbfounded that this man could blame Dr. Hunter for an accident that was completely beyond his control. And this talk of murder was a bit bloody rich when Becky Saunders was used, strangled, and tossed into a brook in Richmond Park by Clarke or another of his Eco-Rev co-conspirators.
“Seeing as the authorities ignored our pleas and won’t bring you to justice. The Eco-Rev will.”
Declan was scared now. This was getting way out of control. Hendrik wanted to punish him for the death of an undercover reporter, so who knew what damage he would inflict now that he had his prey tied up and helpless.
“We couldn’t get you in the States, but—then you did the courteous thing and came to us, Dr. Hunter. Thanks for that.” Hendrik continued to prowl up and down in front of the St Andrews Cross like a cat psyching out its prey.
“It was quite a blessing for my dear friend Darius to discover you would be right under his nose at Imperial.” Declan tried to snarl at hearing Darius Clarke’s name but the damn ball gag made the sound come out as a pathetic throaty moan.
“Our inability to snag you has been like a tick crawling beneath his skin… he is a perfectionist, you see, and he’s desperate to interview you for Future Energies.”
Hendrik moved closer to Tobias Hunter. He looked up at the costumed man and then laughed to himself as if finally seeing how ridiculous the whole scenario was.
“Did you see the fine work on the Drilsink site in the U.K.? Great work, stopped them in their tracks.” He boasted. “But, we did make a bigger bang than we bargained for,” Hendrik admitted.
“They’re on their way, Michael—and Darius. Darius can’t wait to have some private time with you. But…he can have you after I’m finished.”
Declan nearly swallowed his tongue. Michael was on his way? WHAT? In a moment of clarity, Declan saw the web of deceit. Michael—Mick Hammond knew Clarke; in fact, Hammond’s sister Alice had dated Clarke for several years. He’d pretended to hate the man but that had all been a rouse to get Dr. Hunter on side. Mick Hammond was the missing link. He was the mysterious organizer of the Eco-Rev cell at Imperial College—the one who missed the secret meeting before the terrorist attack. Declan stared at his captor, and it dawned on him how similar Hendrik and Hammond appeared. The wild long curly hair that made them look like they should be in a band, and the similarities in physical characteristics.
Mads Hendrik stepped forward, unbuckled then removed the ball gag. Defiantly, Declan spat the saliva that had pooled in his mouth directly into Hendrik’s face. Hendrik grimaced with disgust. He silently retrieved a handkerchief from the pocket of his jeans, wiped the spittle away and then without warning he slapped Declan hard across the face. The blow woke Declan up a little. He spluttered and coughed.
“What the hell is this? Let me go. Let me go at once! I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Hunter croaked. Declan was finding it harder and harder to stay in character. He ran his tongue over dried lips and tasted the salt, copper, and iodine of blood that had poured from his nose when Sam thumped him in the face. The memory of Sam hitting him was jarring.
Where the hell was Sam anyway?
The things Sam had said—his nervousness and his pleas for Declan to play along with the abduction all came flooding back.
Hendrik strode away from him to an intercom beside the door. He pressed the button.
“Antonov, send him in,” He ordered.
“Yes sir, also your friends are here,” Antonov replied.
“They can come down too.”
The minutes of waiting made Declan’s thoughts reel through possible scenarios. Was Hendrik going to leave him with a Dom who would push Declan to his limits and make him come again and again, even though he didn’t want to come for anyone but Sam? The thought of having an orgasm forced from him was torturous, and because he was restrained with leather and buckles, there was no way Declan could free himself. This was not what he signed up for. Where the hell was the back-up James had promised?
****
CHAPTER 45
