The Transporter

Chapter Two-Meeting

The night was cool and complete. Heavy with darkness that cloaked the moonlights weak rays. Far below, on the edge of a forest road, a sleek, black car hunched, the engine purring nicely.

'What the fuck am I doing?' I asked myself for the hundredth time as I sat in the smooth leather seat of the car.

The bitter smell of new leather filled my nose-filled my head. I felt nauseated and was ashamed of it. This was my job for god's sake! A job I was good at, that I enjoyed.

Why was the small man chained in my boot any different to the millions of illegal goods I had transported from the age of 18?

'Because he's a person. He has a life with him, a life you're going to end. You're sending him to his fucking slaughter.' My head was in full revolt. I couldn't believe how torn up I was over him-he was a murderer, the scum of society. I should be happy to rid the world of him.

But I'm not. The fact still stood.

Sighing, I clicked open the heavy door and stepped onto the dirt track on the edge of the road.

It seemed like an age before my hand was resting on the cool flank of the car, finger poised on the unlock button.

I felt fear and I was furious at myself.

"What the fuck do I have to fear?!" I whispered to myself harshly.

Clicking the catch I raised the smooth metal.

As I opened the hatch, he turned his head to me, not to the now open space but to me-looking into my eyes. I was unnerved. He should be groggy still but his eyes told of unnatural awareness.

He was curled in the large boot, ankles and wrists cuffed with a length of electricians' tape over his mouth. His eyes bore into me with such unadulterated anger it seemed to burn, even on that freezing night. His eyes were like boiling blood; the pupils dilated and seemed to suck your gaze into their cold depths.

God, this guy was creepy! No wonder he had been locked up for so long. He chilled you yet made your blood burn at the same time.

Forcing myself to appear aloof and uncaring I reached unflinchingly into the boot and two fingers hit his neck, exactly over his pulse point. It was strong but slow, unusually normal for someone just round from animal sedatives and found themselves inside a boot of a strange car.

Now what to do? Take him into the car or leave him here? I couldn't do the latter for the irritating humanity suddenly present in me, yet the former was too risky. I started into his face for several minutes and his gaze never wavered. I made my decision.

Reaching for the bonds around his ankles, I pulled his legs out from under him and round slightly. Slipping a syringe into a capsule of weak sedative a slid it into his slim thigh and held on, waiting for the muscles to relax, then tugged his docile form into a half sitting position. Giving him a quick check over I deduced he had no injuries I would worsen by moving him and lifted his light frame from the deep boot and without any care for ceremony, threw him onto the back seat.

Shutting the boot again, I noticed the wiry carpeting clogged with blood near to where his legs were. I would have to check that out, make sure no medical attention was needed. Moving to where he was, unconscience again but

not as deep this time-a five-minute job used if a delivery got out of control. Using my time wisely I unlocked the cuffs on his wrists and threaded them through the thick door handle by his head, then did the same with his ankles at the bottom so he was rather effectively stretched along the back seat, held for the moment.

I reached to the thick yellow tape over his mouth and ripped it off in one quick jerk, twisting his head violently. His lips were unnaturally dark for a man and the tap had pulled some skin off the bottom lip, a trickle of blood slipped to his chin.