THE GIRL NEXT DOOR
Chapter Three: Gulag
Jesse and Ellie were thrown forcibly into the dark depths of a large van. Its windows were blacked out so the only light which penetrated the shadows came from a small opening in the division between them and the driver. Ellie landed heavily on her left elbow with a sharp cry of pain and immediately Jesse began to rise from his position on the other side of the van. One of the balaclava-clad, gun wielding, men growled, "Don't move."
Despite his well-justified fear at the situation in which he now found himself, Jesse was not cowed. He pointed at Ellie saying, "She is hurt. I am a doctor and I intend to help her."
Without waiting for a reaction, Jesse covered the short distance between himself and Ellie who was cradling her elbow. Even in the near total darkness, Jesse could see the pain in her eyes and the fact that she was sweating. After a brief examination, he removed his jacket and sweater. He fashioned the sweater into a makeshift bandage which he tied gently into the left side of Ellie's neck, her elbow supported in the soft, still warm material. He then wrapped his jacket, with equal care, around her shoulders in order to stop her from going further into shock. Only then did he recall his captors and he looked up.
"The elbow is broken. She must go to hospital at once."
The only reply was a snort followed by an expletive that, had Jesse not been a gentleman, he may well have been tempted to utter himself. Correctly interpreting the expletive as a refusal of his request, Jesse could only content himself with leaning back against the humming wall of the van and pulling Ellie gently against him.
For what seemed like an age, the van moved smoothly on its way. Obviously the driver was not being pursued as they occasionally stopped, Jesse assumed for lights, and when a corner was taken it was done smoothly without the screeching wheels that usually attended a car chase. Abruptly, the van stopped and Jesse heard a sound that was both familiar and elusive to him. After a minute or so forward movement resumed and even the small amount of light that illuminated the interior of the van vanished.
"What are you going to do with us?" Ellie spoke for the first time since being thrown into the van, her voice filled with the pain from her injury.
"Nothing," came the husky voiced reply, before continuing, "for the moment. Your continued good health lies in the hands of young Hugo back at that grease pit."
Jesse's hands clenched into fists at the unjustified slur on Bob's good name but he wisely did nothing. He remembered the old adage, 'sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me." Names certainly couldn't hurt but the gun that was now pressed into his neck certainly could.
"Out!" the monosyllabic order was accentuated by a shove with the gun and Jesse moved towards the door which had been opened.
As Jesse stepped carefully from the van, turning to help Ellie down, four large lights came on flooding the area in which they now stood. Blinking against the sudden brightness, it took Jesse a few seconds to realise where they were. There were four large floodlights, one at each corner of a square, illuminating a large, bright red container which stood in the centre.
"What's that?" Jesse asked.
"Your new home," replied 'husky voice' and Jesse could have sworn that the man was smiling, "Move."
Once more, Jesse put a cautious arm around Ellie and led her towards the steps which descended from the rear of the container. At the base of them he turned to look at the man behind him, who simply jerked his head in the direction of what was to be their abode for the foreseeable future. Slowly, Jesse and Ellie climbed in. They had hardly stepped into the container, when the doors closed behind them with a resounding CLANG.
For a split second they stood huddled together in absolute darkness, but just as Jesse was beginning to feel the early stirrings of panic he heard the whirring sound of a generator starting up and two lights came on, illuminating the interior of the container. Jesse stared around and his heart sank. Their abduction had obviously been well planned, for in one corner he spied two bedrolls, a large refrigerated container and, in the opposite corner, an oversized, covered pail. Taking his arms from around Ellie's shoulders, Jesse moved across to the sleeping bags and rolled one out for her to sit on whilst tucking the other behind her.
"Jesse, what is going on?" Ellie asked, watching as he opened the refrigerated container.
"Hugo," Jesse was succinct. "Obviously the people he is involved with have decided to add a bit of personal leverage to the situation."
He continued to rummage about for a minute and then sat back on his heels and said, "At least they do not intend for us to starve while we are here, there are plenty of sandwiches and drinks."
"What if Hugo won't do what they ask?" Ellie voice betrayed both her fear and her pain.
"Steve will find us long before we have to worry about anything like that," Jesse reassured her.
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The room swam hazily into focus and Hugo groaned as an involuntary move of his leg caused a sharp pain to shoot all the way up his thigh.
"It's alright, Son," said a soft, voice in his ear, "you are safe with us."
"Where is Ellie?" Hugo's first thought was for his former fiancée.
"Steve and Ron haven't managed to find them yet I am afraid," Mark replied, "but they are working hard on the problem."
He paused for a few seconds before continuing, "Can I ask you something, Hugo?"
Hugo looked across at him, misgiving in his eyes. The last few weeks had given him little reason to trust anyone. "What do you want?"
"Your gambling," Mark began, "how did it start?"
This was the last question that Hugo expected and it took a few seconds for him to realise what he had been asked.
"How did it start?" he echoed Mark's question, giving himself a little more time to think, then he asked Mark a question in return, "What did your father do, Dr. Sloan?"
"My father?" Mark was silent for a while, "he was a police officer. I didn't know him very well as he was murdered when I was quite young, although I didn't find that out until very recently."
"My father is the co-owner of the import/export business that I work for. It is a very successful business, making both Ellie's father and mine very rich."
"Why would having a rich father cause you to start gambling?" Mark asked a little confused.
"When I was growing up, Dr. Sloan," Hugo answered, "I wanted for nothing. Toys, clothes, good education."
"But you wanted the love of your father," Mark interrupted.
"Not at all, Dr. Sloan. My father loved my sister and me, giving us all the time that he could. It was the fact that we wanted for nothing; there was nothing that we had to work for. There was no . . . . . . . . . . . " Hugo seemed to be struggling for the right words to use, "anticipation, excitement."
"And gambling gave you those feelings?"
"It did," Hugo said.
"Did you not realise that gambling is addictive and would eventually destroy you?"
"No, I didn't." Hugo answered, "At the beginning it was simply fun and I thought that I had a handle on it, that I could stop whenever I wanted. Initially I never laid a bet that I couldn't cover out of my salary, but somewhere along the way I lost the ability to know where to draw the line. First of all the bets began to get bigger so that I had to get advances on my salary, not hard when you are the boss's son, then I had to sell some of my things. Before I knew it I was in way over my head."
"Was that when the guys came to you with the offer about the money?" Mark asked.
"Yes, it was." Hugo answered, "At the time I didn't know what it was, all I knew was that they were offering me enough cash to cover all my debts."
"Did it not occur to you that it was illegal?" Mark.
"To be honest, Dr. Sloan, no it didn't. All I could see was a way out from under and, at that moment, nothing else mattered."
Understanding the innate selfishness that an addiction brought out in a person, Mark decided to change tack slightly, "Do you have any idea who these people were?"
"We didn't exchange names and addresses for Christmas cards, if that's what you mean," Hugo replied, with the first spark of real life that he had shown since the start of the conversation.
"No, that isn't what I meant," Mark answered, "it's just that if you have any idea of who they were, where they came from, then it will be a great help to my son."
"Your son?" Hugo queried.
"The police lieutenant that was with you at Bobs," Mark smiled, "is my son, Steve. So, do you have anything that might help?"
"They were going to contact me when they wanted the containers moved, I had no way of contacting them," Hugo answered and then his face changed as if he had suddenly thought of something.
"What is it, Hugo?"
"I have just remembered," he began, "one of the men who came to my office had a tattoo on his right wrist."
"What did it look like?" Mark asked, reaching out for a writing pad.
Hugo closed his eyes trying to picture the tattoo, "It was in the shape of dragon that was curled around some sort of building, I couldn't make out what. I'm sorry, that's all I can tell you."
"It's a start, Hugo," Mark replied, finishing the quick sketch he was making on the pad before rising, "I'll leave you to get some rest now and pass this onto Steve and Ron, maybe they will have some luck with it."
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Steve sat behind his desk, his head in his hands. It had been twenty-four hours since Jesse and Ellie had been kidnapped leaving him only 48 hours to find his best friend. Mark had phoned him with the information from Hugo but, so far, nothing had panned out on that and they were no closer to finding them. Steve was just about to reach out for his mug of coffee when the phone next to him rang.
Picking up the receiver, Steve barked, "Sloan."
"Lieutenant Sloan," came a smooth, heavily accented Eastern European voice in his ear, "It's so good to know that my tax dollars allow the police department to employ such charming detectives."
"What do you want, Nicolayev? I don't have time for the social niceties."
"I have some information about who shot Hugo Bordonov."
