Chapter 3
Awareness crept back in slowly and inevitably, the same way a sunrise pushes back the receding night.
Steve's hearing came back first until he could make out the sound of an engine in the distance and then, closer, his own breathing.
He began to feel the aches of his body as memories of what had happened slowly returned to him. He'd been attacked while trying to help a homeless man. His attacker had used a chemical...chloroform. That explained the acrid sting at the back of his throat.
Other sensations started to come back to him. He was slumped in a chair and there was a pulsing pain in his jaw that seemed to be getting stronger with each passing minute. His head felt heavy and woozy and there was a dull, hot feeling in his shoulder.
Steve tried to lift his arm to touch it, but found that his wrists were restrained. He inhaled in surprise and pulled against his the ties holding him, realising that his ankles were also tied to the chair.
Blinking his eyes open groggily, he saw only dark shadows and felt the rough material of a cloth. He was blindfolded.
Shit.
Not only had he been attacked, he'd been kidnapped too.
"Guess it'll take more than chloroform to keep a copper down." A mocking voice said from somewhere off to the left of him.
Steve stilled instantly, knowing that this was likely the man who had attacked him. The man in the balaclava. He knew Steve was a police officer.
"Where am I? What do you want?"
"You almost broke my nose, you know." The voice said, ignoring his questions. "Didn't realise you actually knew how to fight without your gun."
Steve tensed. He knew that accent, that voice. Had heard it taunting him when he'd had his hand stuck in a vice. Had heard it recently when they'd been investigating Jo Davidson.
"What do you want, Pilkington?" He asked, defiance creeping into his voice.
He could almost feel the other man stiffen in surprise.
"I would call you PC Pilkington, but I think attempted murder against two fellow officers revokes your right to be addressed by rank."
Steve heard a snarl and then movement before his blindfold was ripped off. He blinked quickly, momentarily stunned by the sudden influx of light.
Once his vision cleared enough, he could see the black-clad form of Ryan Pilkington standing over him. They appeared to be in some kind of empty warehouse from what Steve could tell.
Ryan's expression was cold and closed off, but Steve could sense the waves of ire emanating from him. He was angry about having his identity revealed so soon.
Steve could also see the remains of dried blood under the other man's nose from where he'd headbutted him and the start of a bruise on his temple.
"Attempted murder will only hold up in court if there's a reliable witness to testify," the younger man replied. "The last I heard, Jo Davidson was being rushed to hospital with a potentially fatal gunshot wound. No witness, no conviction."
"There's Kate."
Pilkington took a step back, assessing. "Ah yes, DI Fleming. Remanded in custody. Who's to say she didn't shoot DCI Davidson to frame me?"
Steve gritted his teeth. "You know that's not true."
"Do I?" He questioned, smirking.
The fuzziness from the chloroform was starting to wear off, bringing back clarity to Steve's thoughts. He decided to change track.
"Why run then, if you're innocent? Why flee the crime scene?"
Pilkington shrugged lazily, circling Steve. "I knew I was being framed and feared for my own life. I fled to ensure my own safety."
Steve frowned. "And what happens when Jo and Kate tell their version of events?"
"It's their word against mine. Neither side will hold up in court and the case will be thrown out."
"What about when we check your phone records? CCTV? What happens when we search your house? Are you sure you haven't left a single piece of evidence behind?"
Pilkington paused so Steve pressed his advantage.
"Even if you haven't, you've kidnapped and assaulted an AC-12 officer. I'd say that's pretty damning."
The younger man stepped forward, his gaze turning flinty. Steve saw the exact moment he dropped the act. Piece by piece the affable PC was replaced by a hardened OCG member.
"That's why you're going to tell me everything AC-12 have on the OCG. And on me. Every piece of evidence that's concrete enough to condemn me. Once you're done, you're going to call DI Fleming and give her a location. She'll meet me and I'll finish what I started."
Steve felt dread pool in his stomach at the thought of Kate being put in danger again. Whatever else happened, he resolved to do everything he could to stop her from getting hurt. Even if it meant putting himself directly between Kate and Ryan.
"No." He said quietly, looking the other man straight in the eye.
"No?" Ryan echoed. "You're not exactly in a position to negotiate."
"I won't tell you anything." Steve said resolutely. "And leave Kate out of this."
"Oh, she's already involved. I know she was investigating both Davidson and me when she was undercover. So why don't you tell me what she told you. Then I'll be on my way and I'll leave a nice little paper trail for AC-12 to find you."
"You expect me to believe that?" Steve almost laughed.
"I don't care what you believe. Just tell me what evidence there is." Ryan deadpanned.
For a moment the two locked stares again, neither looking away.
"No." Steve said again, firmly.
Ryan sighed, a long-suffering, insincere sound. "OK, then. I thought it might go like this." He said in an oddly acquiescent tone that Steve had only a moment to be suspicious of before the other officer lunged toward him.
Pilkington's fist connected with the arch of Steve's cheekbone, the unchecked force snapping the DI's head sideways. He grunted in pain, trying to right himself as the chair teetered.
The next blow caught the edge of his brow on the opposite side of his face and he immediately felt the stinging sensation off a cut open up.
More blows rained down on his stomach, shoulders, and head until Steve was curled in on himself, breathing hard. At some point, he must have closed his eyes against the pain, because he opened them now to see blood dripping from his brow onto his suit trousers.
His head felt heavy as he raised it up to look at the other man.
Ryan stood over him, arms folded, knuckles bruised and bloody. He seemed barely out of breath.
"Feeling more talkative now?"
Steve huffed out a breath. "Less, actually."
The younger man smiled coldly and there an unchecked venom in his eyes that made Steve wary.
"You can either tell me what you know," he paused for a moment, "or I'll get the information by other means."
"The more harm you to do me, the more charges you're stacking up against yourself."
"Assuming this ever goes to court."
Steve gave him an incredulous look, so he elaborated. "Once I have what I need, I can disappear. I'll be given a new location, a new identity, and AC12 will never find me."
"You think it'll be that easy?" Steve asked.
Ryan narrowed his eyes. "We've been one step ahead of you at every turn at you still underestimate us."
"Judging by the amount of OCG members and corrupt officers we've arrested in the last six years, I'd say you've lost your step." Steve said, letting a smirk show.
He knew he was baiting the other man, but he needed to buy time; AC12 wouldn't notice he was missing until at least early morning.
A few hours had to have gone by since he'd been abducted, but he didn't know what time the Gaffer would realise he hadn't shown up for work or when Kate would get out of questioning and potentially come looking for him.
He needed time. And if he could make Ryan angry enough, he might start to slip up and reveal things he didn't want to. That would be an added bonus.
"Face it," Steve said, "you're expendable to them. They're using you to manipulate DCI Davidson and get whatever inside information they can. Once you've outlived your usefulness, they'll cut you loose."
Ryan's placid smile belied the irritation in his eyes. "You're wrong. They value me and they need me. I'm one of their best assets. They don't abandon those loyal to them."
"Then, where are they?" Steve asked.
"What?" The question seemed to catch Ryan off guard.
"Where are they?" Steve repeated. "If you're so valuable to them, why haven't they bailed you out yet? Why didn't they back you up when you attacked Kate and Jo? Why aren't they here, now? My guess is that this is your first deep cover mission; being trained and recruited into the police force was a test. They're monitoring you and waiting to see how you do before they decide whether to keep you or not."
There was a wary light in the younger man's eyes that said Steve was onto something. So he pushed a little harder.
"I've spent enough time chasing down OCG members to get an idea of how they think. I imagine that failing to kill a target isn't going to please them and that abducting an AC12 officer and blowing your cover won't look to good on your CV either."
Ryan advanced on Steve, but he wasn't finished.
"In fact, looking at your record so far, I wouldn't be surprised if they've already abandoned you. You're too young and inexperienced to carry this off."
Ryan grabbed Steve's shirt by the collar and dragged him forwards in the chair so that his wrists were straining against their bindings. In one swift movement, he had a switch blade pressed to the underside of Steve's throat.
"I know what you're trying to do and it's not going to work," he hissed. "Undermining me won't get you any information, so why don't you just tell me what you know and we can move this along."
Steve felt a bead of blood trickle down his neck and tilted his head further back to try and prevent the blade pressing in any further.
Ryan let go of his shirt and grabbed a fistful of Steve's hair instead to stop him moving his head.
"What do you know?"
Steve said nothing and just glared at the other man.
"I guess I'll have to be more persuasive."
Ryan stepped back, letting go of Steve's hair and removing the knife from is throat. He sliced through the top few buttons of Steve's shirt and pulled it open before resting the knife just below the dark haired man's collar bone.
"I want names and connections. Who do you suspect of being linked to the OCG? What operations do you have them connected to?"
When Steve remained silent, the younger man began to increase pressure on the knife.
As it sliced into his skin, Steve breathed out, hissing slightly as the pain increased. A cold sweat was prickling along his spine. Ryan was actually going to torture the information out of him. He'd half expected it to come to this, but he still felt panic set in as a line of blood ran down his chest.
He could offer false information, but he knew the OCG would have ways of fact checking it. How long would it be before Ryan found out his intel was a smokescreen and punished him for it? No, his best option for now was to say as little as possible and ride the pain out.
The blade cut deeper and Steve couldn't hold in a groan of pain, hunching forward slightly. It was still a shallow cut but each millimetre it pressed further set his nerve endings on fire.
"Start talking and I'll stop." Ryan said, his expression back to one of indifference.
He moved the knife to Steve's sternum and sliced a little more deeply.
"No." Steve ground out, even as his breathing quickened.
"Stubborn bastard." Ryan muttered, moving the knife to the opposite collarbone and creating another thin line that welled blood.
"And you're," Steve gasped, "just...a bastard."
Of all the things he had said and considered saying, Steve didn't think this would be the one to make the other man lose his temper. And yet, it did.
Ryan jerked the knife back like he'd been scalded, pausing for the briefest second as the words sank in, before he thrust the knife deep into Steve's right shoulder.
"Screw you." He spat.
A strangled cry of agony left Steve, as he bent double, riding out the wave of white heat that burst out of his shoulder.
He could tell he was breathing too fast, but his shoulder and the top of his arm felt like they were on fire and the intensity of the pain didn't seem to be diminishing at all.
"Don't assume you know anything about me." Ryan snarled before ripping the blade out.
Steve cried out as the pain redoubled, spiking through his arm and into his chest. He gritted his teeth and tried to breath through it, tried to form words, but as his ears started ringing and his body went hot, he knew he was about to lose his battle with consciousness. A few seconds later his vision blurred and went dark.
Ryan watched the DI slump forward in the chair, blood trickling from his shoulder and beginning to soaking his no-longer white shirt.
He knew what he was doing when he'd aimed for a spot that would avoid the main arteries but cause intense pain. There were a lot of tendons and nerve endings in the shoulders.
What he hadn't calculated for was the other man being so stubborn. A beating would make most people offer up everything they knew for a reprieve and the promise of no more pain. Steve Arnott had been beaten and stabbed and hadn't said anything.
It made Ryan despise him even more. Because now he felt a grudging sort of respect for the other man. He hated it.
He studied the unconscious man for a few moments. It might be time to change tactics.