Out of the ashes
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Chapter ten,
When the door swung open Fiona maintained her appearance of a thoroughly demoralized prisoner. Peering through the thick tangle of hair which kept her face hidden from view, she studied the man who stood in the doorway.
She noticed the way he watched her, and it took all of her self control to stay put, as his eyes roamed over her near naked body. He licked his lips before tearing his eyes away from her for long enough to take a quick look up and down the corridor.
He was definitely up to no good. Fiona had a distinct feeling that if she had still been in handcuffs she would have been in a lot of trouble about now. As much as it made her skin crawl, she kept up her act and waited for him to come a little bit closer.
He stepped inside room and started towards her. "Hey." He whispered his voice husky with lust, a hand reached out to touch her shoulder.
She brought her head up slowly revealing a wide toothy smile. "Hey." She replied and launched herself straight at him. A thick piece of wood which had once been part of the chairs back rest caught the man on the side of his head.
He staggered backwards stunned but still upright. Before he could call out for help Fiona drove her makeshift weapon into his abdomen. Causing him to fall to the floor gasping for air, with him down on his knees she finished him off with another blow to the head.
Standing over his body Fiona took a couple of deep breaths to steady her nerves. She knew this would be her last chance to escape. If they caught her a second time they would definitely kill her and send the photos to Michael.
With the thought that re-enforcements could appear at any moment, she dropped down beside her would be attacker. Patting him down she liberated a SIG P220 from the waist band of his pants. Checking the gun was loaded she came to the conclusion Sasha must be hiring amateurs. What sort of guard goes into a prisoner carrying a gun. Fiona shook her head in disgust. He was asking to lose it really.
Feeling happier now she had a gun in her hand, she turned her attention to her appearance. It took her a couple of minutes to get the man's shirt off, and with the cuffs turned back to keep her hands free and with all the buttons done up she felt ready to take on the rest of the crew.
Before leaving the room that had been her prison, she had one more thing to do. Pulling the man's belt free from his waistband she tied his hands behind his back. Thinking about what had been on his mind when he entered the room she made sure the bindings were as tight and as uncomfortable as possible.
To finish the job of securing her prisoner, she grabbed up all the pieces of duct tape that lay around the room and stuffed them in his mouth to muffle any calls for help. Satisfied she had done all she could, she left the room locking the door, and switching off the lights. If she could stay out of sight, hopefully she could be on her way back to her friends before her captors knew she was gone.
Creeping along the corridor with her new gun at the ready she peered into the various rooms she passed by, the whole place seemed to be deserted. Cautiously she made her way upstairs getting her first real breath of fresh air since the previous night. All the crew appeared to be gone, which explained why the pervert had thought it was safe to assault her.
About to look over the side to get her bearings the sound of male voices approaching her position caused her to crouch down. The quick glance she had managed to get was enough to inform her the yacht was tied up at a mooring next to a large two storey villa, surrounded by manicured lawns and immaculately pruned shrubbery.
She could hear the crunch of footsteps on gravel, to go along with the sound of two men speaking in Russian. She was going to have to find a way to distract them. Waiting until they had their backs to her, she threw her makeshift weapons into the water, causing a loud splash.
As they move away from her position to investigate, she jumped over the side and ignoring the loose gravel which dug into her bare feet took off running. The guards weren't fooled for long, hearing the scrunch of gravel they turned giving chase.
"Hey! Stop!" Her heart began to race they had seen her, a volley of shots confirmed it.
As soon as bullets started coming her way she dived into the bushes that lined the path. Even with the breath knocked out of her body she continued to move, scrabbling along the leaf littered ground as more bullets whizzed by her head.
Keeping as flat as she could, she moved from cover to cover trying to stay hidden. More men came rushing over to join the search. Refraining from opening fire because it would draw attention to her position, Fiona kept moving.
She soon found herself looking out on to the front of the villa, and for the first time she stopped retreating. Sasha was stood in the middle of the courtyard, right out in the open.
It was too good an opportunity to miss. Laying prone on the ground supporting her weight on her elbows and holding the handgun out in front of her. It wouldn't be an easy shot, it was further than she would normally attempt with a hand gun and there was a slight breeze. Regardless of the difficulty she steadied her breathing, finger caressing the trigger. Just as she was about to fire.
Sasha moved forward out of the line of fire. Cursing under her breath, Fiona risked changing her position not willing to give up yet. The two men who had been on guard outside the yacht were dragging the man she had overpowered towards Sasha.
Fiona listened to the rapid exchange of words. Even though she could barely hear anything being said, it wasn't really necessary. It was obvious he was pleading for his life, and it was obvious Sasha wasn't interested in his pleas. One shot and he dropped to the ground as if boned.
The shot brought Fiona back to her senses, she was out manned and out gunned, killing Sasha wouldn't get her out of her predicament. Having seen enough, Fiona retreated, and went looking for the garage, or at least some way off the property.
She didn't find a garage, or any unlocked parked cars, but when she reached the back of the villa she spotted a large van. A sign on the side proclaimed it belonged to A1 Elite Cleaning Services. Seeing nobody around, Fiona made a dash to the side and round to the back door. A quick try of the handle and she climbed inside.
The interior was full of floor cleaners, buckets, mops and boxes full of cleaning supplies. Making her way through all the equipment she found a hiding place under a pile of dust sheets and made herself as small as possible.
"We're not finished yet." She could hear the sound of at least four or five people approaching.
"You, finished for now. You come back tomorrow." The second man had a heavy Russian accent. They were outside the van now, the back doors opened and more equipment was loaded inside.
"You're not our only clients, I have another two houses to do tomorrow."
"You come here tomorrow finish the job." The man ordered.
Fiona felt the van rock as people entered the cab and then the engine started and they were off. She was just starting to breathe easier when they stopped again.
"Open up." She cocked the SIG, if they found her now she stood little chance of escape.
The doors opened, she held her breath as a man climbed inside, briefly rummaging through the the boxes and moving some of the larger equipment. Luckily he didn't check out the whole of the interior. As soon as he got out there was a creak as the gates opened and they were on their way again. Fiona relaxed back and tried to rest, for now at least she was in the clear.
Fiona stayed hidden in the back until the van came to a stop and the people in the cab got out. After waiting a couple of minutes she opened the doors and slid out, hurrying away. She was on an industrial estate, beside a small warehouse.
She knew she had to get away quickly, it wouldn't take long before Sasha realized she must have sneaked out with the cleaning crew. Once that happened she would send men down to check out the area.
An old red pick up truck caught her eye. Being an older vehicle it's security would be easy to get round, and it looked big enough to go through the industrial estate security barrier. Trying the doors she discovered it was locked, unfazed, she brought up the SIG holding it by the barrel and used the handle to smash the window.
She drove out of the gate at speed, smashing through the barrier and ignoring all orders to stop. With no idea where she was, Fiona made the decision to try to head south until she recognized a sign or a landmark.
Eventually she saw a sign for the Sawgrass Mill Mall, following the directions, she ended up in a large car park. Leaving the pick up, she weaved in and out of the other cars looking for something inconspicuous and easy to steal.
Sasha would go to the cleaning company warehouse, and then possibly find out about the stolen pick up. Even if they had friends in the police, which of course was possible, a swap to another vehicle should allow her a little breathing space.
She decided to head for one of the emergency spots that Sam had set up. There would be water there, and at least a few power bars. More importantly there would be a phone and she would be able to find out where the others were hiding out. She just hoped she had got away in time to stop Michael completing whatever job it was Sasha was blackmailing him into doing.
…...
Since leaving Madeline at the motel next to the airport, Michael had been doing his best to push down all his emotions. He had taken out all his anxiety on his mother, scaring her half to death in the process. He wasn't sure if she would ever fully trust him again after what he had put her through.
Burying the guilt he was feeling as deep down as he could, he attempted to concentrate on his plan to rid of Sasha once and for all. Arriving back at the loft, he collected the holdall containing the weapons from the trunk of the charger and laid them out for cleaning on his work top.
Rubbing the bridge of his nose trying to fend off the tiredness that was threatening to ruin everything. He placed his phone on the work top and dialled Larry's number. While he waited for an answer he got a yoghurt from the fridge.
"Michael." Larry's smooth tones came through the loudspeaker. "What can I do for you?"
"I've been thinking about what you said, and you're right. Can you set up a meeting for me?" He spooned yoghurt into his mouth.
"Sure thing kid. What changed your mind about making a deal?" Larry's cheerful voice grated on his nerves.
"Just get me a meeting tonight." He couldn't help but sound tired, he was as good as dead on his feet.
"I'll see what I can do, you should get some rest. Tell Sam I said hi." Michael winced at Larry's parting comment.
With the call made, and the yoghurt forced down Michael checked all the doors were locked, and placed his SIG under his pillow he prepared to get some rest. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he removed his shoes and lay down on top of the covers.
He dreamt of Fiona, of screaming at her in anger, of beating her because a meal was late. Of dragging their children out of their beds to deliver punishment for perceived crimes. He was nothing like Simon or Larry he was sure of it now. A new monster was haunting his dreams. He was just like his dear old dad. Even his own mother thought so.
…...
Sam opened his eyes, as a bout of coughing caused his chest to ache. He was shivering with the cold, and there was a horrible crackling noise coming from his lungs. Confusion clouded his brain, he had absolutely no idea where he was or what had happened.
Lifting his head he looked around through bleary eyes. He was lying on a shallow bank, behind him a fast moving river ahead of him the bank rose sharply for about five feet and seemed to be topped off by trees. Over the noise of the river he thought he heard voices and tried to shout out. The words came out as a dry rasping groan.
Realizing he wasn't going to get the help he needed if he stayed beside the river. He attempted to get his legs moving, crawling to where the bank rose up he collapsed back to the ground. It was a start, but not good enough. He had to pull himself together, another coughing spasm passed and he made it on to his hands and knees again and attempted the arduous climb off the river bank and into the trees.
He didn't know it, but it took him over two hours to crawl up the bank and get through the thin stand of trees. It was just beginning to get dark when he fell unconscious on to a walking trail.
…...
Michael woke up covered in a layer of sweat, the sheets tangled around his legs. Sitting up he ran his hands over his face and through his hair. Getting to his feet he headed straight to the bathroom to tidy himself up.
Looking into the old cracked mirror above the sink Michael looked at his reflection. His mother had called him Frank, he had scared her so much she thought her dead husband had come back to life. He knew he bore an uncanny resemblance to his father, only their eyes were different. As he studied his features he tried to imagine what he would look like carrying a bit more weight, and with muscles slack from too much booze.
The phone was ringing, with a sigh he turned away from his reflection and headed back to the bed. Maybe he needed to channel a bit of Frank Westen's vindictive nature.
"Yeah Larry." He answered the call.
"I've found someone who might know something. He is a lieutenant in the Colombian cartel he'll be in the Apollo bar from eleven until whenever he decides to leave."
"Fine." Michael answered. He looked at his watch it was six, plenty of time to clean his guns and get ready.
"You're not going to this meeting alone Michael, you should take back up. The cartel aren't exactly known to play fair. You go in asking questions and they'll probably answer with bullets."
Michael sighed. "You want to come?"
"What? Do you want to take that wet rag Axe along? He'll ..."
"Shut up Larry." He snapped. "I'll ring when I'm ready to go." He hung up the call. Throwing the phone down onto the bed. He had no intention of letting Larry know what had happened to Sam. For one, he didn't believe he would be able to cope with Larry's cheering at the death of his friend.
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After Michael had finished cleaning the guns and had reloaded them. He tidied up his appearance as best he could, and then set about searching through the drawers on the work bench. Eventually finding what he was looking for, an ankle holster that had belonged to Sam and had somehow been left at the loft.
He slipped his SIG into the back of his waistband, and Fiona's Makarov into the front. Then the Heckler and Koch compact with the silver slide went into the ankle holster. It was eight o clock and he was ready to go. He intended on scouting the Apollo bar before the Columbian turned up.
Going over to the bed he retrieved his phone, glancing down he was surprised to see he had six missed calls. All from one number, he dialled through to voice mail and his heart jumped into his throat.
"Michael I'm at the emergency locker, come and get me." The last call had been three hours ago, while he had slept.
He tried to return the call but for some reason she had switched the phone off or the battery had died. Panic setting in, all the effort he had put into controlling his emotions gone to waste, as he ran out to his car.
It was usually a thirty minute drive to the emergency storage locker he made it in twenty. The charger skidded to a halt and Michael jumped out, handgun at the ready. Moving swiftly to the door he halted just for a fraction of a second before going through the door.
The place looked empty, he began to sag with disappointment when he spotted a small bloody foot. Disappointment was quickly turning to fear, he crept closer. Was this one of Sasha's sick games, dumping Fiona's body in one of his own supposed safe houses.
He could see her clearly now, her feet especially the soles were swollen and covered with cuts and scrapes. Her arms red raw from wrist to elbow and her face covered in scratches and bruises.
He dropped to his knees next to her, relief almost overwhelming him as he saw the even rise and fall of the chest. She was alive, cradling her gently in his arms.
"Fi." Her name came out in a sigh.
He carefully moved her hair off her face, stroking his thumb over her cheek. "Hey." He kept his voice soft, barely able to believe he had her back.
At the sound of his voice her eyes snapped open, and her fist shot out. Half expecting such a reaction he caught hold of her hand, and tightened his embrace.
"You're safe." He told her holding her trembling body tight against his, as his lips laid gentle kisses on the top of her head. "You're safe, it's ok." He mumbled softly in to her hair waiting for her to calm down.
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