Aaaah. Sunday's with the little family have given way to tapping away at my computer these days! Haha, how times have changed. Aw shucks. Thanks again to Miss Mango, Frankie, Becks7 and my unknown reviewer for the last chapter, you guys are superbly awesome.
Rated T for violence, adult themes and threats of a sexual nature.
Guide You Home
Chapter Five
Barbara Blight stood by the wall-to-floor windows of the top floor office, gazing down at the airfield below. She tapped her fingers against the glass, feeling bored and restless as her breath fogged up the transparent material separating her from the ever-present heat outside.
She hated this place. Loathed it. Blight had been here for a month and had been hired by Plunder to oversee the exportation of some very illegal 'product'. Blight was the only female within the group with the same lack of moral integrity, so Looten Plunder had made her an offer too good to refuse.
Over an unexpected late-night phone call to her lab, Plunder had carefully explained the operation and Blight's potential role. She had listened intently, careful not to betray the fact that she was actually rather impressed with what she was hearing.
Her job was to be two-fold. The first role was to find and 'manage' the recent acquisitions. Doctor Blight had frowned but Plunder was as smooth as always, explaining that he needed a woman there to provide a feminine influence. He had requested her services because 'any potential targets would be more likely to see her as a nurturing, motherly figure'.
Blight had snorted down the phone at that particular statement. "Me, nurturing?" she had said, her chest heaving with the effort required to contain her laughter. "Oh Plunder, darling… that's rich."
Her second role was to come prepared in case of 'unexpected guests'. Blight had figured out that vague reference rather quickly, her eyes passing over the rocket launcher prototype that she was planning to sell to some North Korean military contacts.
Planet Pests. Perhaps a test-drive of my newest equipment may be in order?
The pair had bantered back and forth for another half-hour, discussing payment and other joyless frivolities. They had argued over customers and traded snide remarks but as always, it was the bigger picture that linked them towards their common goal.
The offer was there and she had accepted. Plunder had flown her to Mali and she had set to work immediately, scouring the local streets and interstate markets for potential victims. She had dressed in civilian clothes when visiting the hot-spots but had still insisted on wearing her favorite shade of fuchsia, her hair carefully styled to hide her scars.
And stock she had certainly found: roughly 30 of them, between the ages of seven and twelve. Blight had been careful not to draw attention to one particular location, but to scatter her scouting missions as far afield as Senegal, Nigeria and even Tunisia.
She always befriended them first, offering the girls sweets and Coca Cola. Orphans and street urchins were the easiest pickings but if an opportunity presented itself, Blight didn't hesitate to pounce.
Argos Bleak usually traveled with her. She supposed he was useful in his own way, providing the brawn once the child was suitably passed out as a result of the sedatives added to the soft drink.
Sometimes she wondered if she should feel something. An ethical outrage, or even the slightest level of discomfort regarding their operation. Blight probably considered such things more so than the rest of the eco-villains. Her intelligence was a double-edged sword: that she knew their actions were morally reprehensible but she lacked the conscience and empathy required to do anything about it.
In all honesty, she didn't care. She'd stopped caring years ago.
Blight squinted out the windows again and watched as a vehicle passed by. She narrowed her eyes as a figure darted past her line of sight.
She turned and walked towards a small cubicle, sinking into a padded swivel chair and propping her legs up against the cheap melamine desk. The laptop sitting on the same surface blinked to life and a ghostly face appeared, grinning at the scientist.
"Penny for your thoughts, Doctor?"
Blight frowned. "Darling, my thoughts are worth much more than that." Her voice was smooth and sultry as she studied the laptop display, her brow furrowed with concern.
MAL chuckled, watching as his creator leaned forward and accessed the main operating system with three keystrokes. MAL soon shrunk until he was a small square in the right hand corner of the screen as various lines of code appeared on the monitor, spiraling downwards in a quick progression.
"Looking for something?"
"Yeah," she murmured, scratching her head. "Bring up the security feed for the admin building."
"The front?"
Blight nodded, her hard gaze turning back towards the windows. "Yeah."
The screen blinked to life again as a flurry of activity greeted the scientist, recorded in black and white.
"How far, doctor?"
"Ten minutes. I have a feeling…"
MAL stopped the video at the required frame and they observed the admin front doors for several moments, the video switching between the entrance and the car park. Blight's eyes scanned the data; her finger hovering on the tracker-pad and a familiar figure caught her eye.
"There!"
MAL froze the image and Doctor Blight leaned forward, studying the face intently.
She smiled, her eyes dark and cold as she recognized the figure on the screen. The man was tall with dark skin, short hair and the telltale Planeteer insignia was visible under the Earth Planeteer's jacket.
"MAL baby, patch me through to Bleak," she said, standing and cracking her knuckles with glee. "We've got company."
"Get off me!"
Kwame stopped dead, hearing a familiar voice through the walls of the hanger. He held his breath as an angry shout issued from the next room, followed by a loud clattering sound. The African man crept along the wall and found a small window covered in dirt and dust above his head. He dragged a crate over and stood perched on top, peering through the small opening that provided him a limited perspective of what was happening.
He spotted Sly Sludge immediately, sprawled on his back amongst a collection of fuel barrels and struggling to get to his feet. Sludge's face was red and his fists were clenched as he advanced towards the struggling figure wrapped in a canvas bag, held in place by Argos Bleak.
"Teach you to kick me, planet-brat," Sludge yelled but Bleak swung his captive out of Sludge's reach.
"Calm down, you idiot," Bleak barked, heaving the bound figure towards a load-bearing pillar. "There's probably more of them around. Blight spotted another one on the security monitors earlier."
Bleak lifted and tossed aside the canvas bag, gripping the captive's wrists roughly. He dragged her across the floor towards the pillar, her shoes making desperate tracks through the dirty concrete floor.
Kwame's view was obstructed by Sludge's position but he immediately recognized the sneakers and the tangle of short, black hair peeking out behind Sludge's portly frame.
His heart sunk as he realized who it was and the implications of her sudden appearance.
Gi didn't make it to find help.
"You guys wont get away with this!" Gi spat, kicking out at Sludge's figure again. He jumped back, glaring at her. "We know what you're doing!"
Bleak crouched down behind the Water Planeteer, gripping her chin and forcing her head back. Gi gasped, feeling Bleak's hot breath on her neck.
"What are we doing, sweetheart?"
Gi shuddered but remained uncooperative, swinging her head back hard and making contact with the Eco-Villain's right cheek. Bleak chuckled and released his grip, the impact barely rating a mention.
"You're smuggling rare and endangered animals and birds and selling them to the highest bidder. You're ignoring international by-laws on the protection of animals. You're profiting from the proceeds of a crime," she said, before meeting his eyes in a defiant manner. "And you're an asshole."
He moved around and squatted in front of her, gripping her ankles to avoid a repeat performance of Sludge's earlier fall. Argos Bleak was clearly enjoying himself.
"Where are your friends," he asked.
Gi shook her head, turning away from his steady gaze. "How should I know?"
"Hmph." Bleak responded. He looked down on her, an amused smirk on his face. "Have a nice flight?"
Gi wasn't about to back down. "Yeah. Rough landing, though. You wouldn't know anything about that, huh?"
Bleak and Sludge glanced at one another, grinning. "Yeah, dolphin-girl. Reckon we might."
"Shouldn't we take her ring, Bleak?" Sludge queried, looking around nervously. "Just to be safe?"
"Take it if you want," Bleak said, jumping to his feet and dusting off his trousers as Sludge eagerly stepped forward. "Blight said they won't be able to do much with them anyway."
Kwame watched on as Sludge gripped Gi's ring and reefed it of her finger. She gave a cry of frustration, glaring up at him as he slipped it into his pocket.
"Why aren't our rings working? What've you done to them?"
Gi hadn't missed the exchange between the two men regarding their powers. She had found herself unable to even summon a few drops of water during her long walk. She pressed on, ignoring the derisive look the bald man threw in her direction.
Bleak shrugged, heading over to a metal locker. Using a key attached to a chain around his neck, he opened the lock and swung the door open. It hit the wall loudly, and both Gi and Kwame jumped in spite of themselves.
"Ask Blight. Something to do with radioactive isotopes." He had returned with a rifle and Gi's breath caught in her chest, her eyes never leaving the weapon clutched in Bleaks hands. Her mouth went dry as she looked around, fear etched across her face.
Kwame had also spotted the rifle and stepped down from his vantage point. He approached the swinging door separating the two rooms and peered through the crack, ready to launch himself towards them if needed.
Bleak had crouched down again, eyeballing the nervous water Planeteer. He held the rifle in one hand and snapped the magazine into place with the other, the sound causing G's blood to run cold. Her teeth pressed upon her bottom lip as she looked away, unable to maintain her steadfast gaze with the henchman any longer.
She was frightened and intimidated. Bleak's lips curved into a thin smile as he balanced the weapon across his knees.
"If I had my way, you'd already have a bullet in your brain," he said softly. "But I have my orders. We need you alive in case the others cause trouble. You're our bargaining chip. But the moment we round all you little shits up, your precious Gaia will spend the next eternity wandering the sand dunes, digging up your rotting bodies."
She glared at him from underneath her lashes, refusing to raise her face to him. Bleak smirked, standing and slinging the rifle over his shoulder. He turned and strode towards the internal door as Kwame scrambled to hide, knowing he was no match for a rifle should Bleak run into him.
"It's a pity your pretty little Russian friend isn't here," he called, before disappearing from view. "Would have loved to get better acquainted with her. Got a weakness for blondes."
"Go to hell, Bleak." Gi replied hotly.
Bleak laughed, moving through the next room, his voice reverberating. "I'm planning on giving her the special treatment before putting a bullet to her, though. You can tell her I said that."
Gi launched into a verbal tirade of English and Korean insults, her voice breaking and her heart pounding as she wiped tears away from her face using her shoulder.
Kwame flattened himself between the oil drums and the wall, barely managing to keep his anger in check as Bleak walked past. He peered out from his hiding spot, furious as he watched Bleak approach the jeep.
Plunder's employee tossed the rifle on the back seat and it landed on a collection of canvas bags similar to what Gi had been covered in. Bleak turned, annoyed as a voice called his name.
Sludge had followed him out, whining about having to keep an eye on the 'Planet Pest'. They had a heated exchange before Sludge backed down.
"Do I at least get a gun? What if more of them turn up to find her?"
Bleak grunted in response, exasperated.
"Fine," he muttered. "Come on. Hurry up, I've gotta check on the containers."
They returned inside and walked through the small office area, barely missing Kwame diving back into his hiding place amongst the oil drums. Bleak strode back towards the locker and swung it open again, retrieving a small pistol.
"Do you even know how to use this?"
Sludge nodded his head. "Yeah. You point and shoot."
Bleak rolled his eyes. "Guard her. Plane's arriving in an hour. Be on the lookout."
With that, Argos Bleak returned to his vehicle and vaulted the side, landing heavily in the drivers seat. He turned the ignition over and pressed the accelerator, streaking towards where the 'product' was stored.
The canvas bags in the back lurched and bumped around with the movement of the tyres. Bleak's phone rung and he flipped it open, listening for a moment and barking down the line to whoever was calling.
While distracted, Plunder's henchman was oblivious to the fact that his rifle had suddenly disappeared under the canvas sacks, before reappearing in the same spot about a minute later. The vehicle hit a pot-hole and a hidden figure stifled a groan as his head made contact with the tyre groove.
Wedged on the floor between the front and back passenger seats, his presence went undetected by Bleak as he continued launching sarcastic comments down the phone, presumably to his boss. The henchman's bad mood worsened as he approached the massive shed and heard screaming and cries for help issuing from the shipping container within.
He quickly pulled to a stop, still arguing with the caller. Bleak reached behind the drivers seat and grabbed the rifle; calloused fingers disturbing the canvas and coming alarmingly close to finding an unexpected leg instead.
Bleak hung up and tossed his phone onto the drivers seat. He exited the car and hurried towards the container, motioning towards the men guarding the front to follow.
They disappeared inside as Wheeler gripped the edge of the Jeep doors and hauled himself up, his face bright red from being covered in the mounds of thick fabric.
Wiping the sweat from his face, the American leaned over and grabbed the satellite phone from the front seat. Making sure there was no one around, he jumped out and flipped open the phone.
Wheeler jogged around to the back of the shed as he entered the emergency number, exhaustion setting in as he identified himself to the operator and requested immediate embassy and consulate assistance. He lent against a discarded tractor, steadying himself against the waves of pain radiating through his arm. The call was put on hold and he waited, eyes darting left and right for any sign of movement.
A voice picked up, American in origin and Wheeler exhaled, vaguely recognizing the name from their past travels. He gave a brief run-down of the details and their rough location, and was not surprised to learn that Plunder's current operation had already been flagged by the FBI and Interpol.
Wheeler breathed a sigh of relief as the official rendered assistance. The consulate employee also promised to contact the Russian embassy regarding Linka's unknown whereabouts.
Military and medical assistance were being expedited and Wheeler slumped against the tractor, listening to the man's rapid-fire voice. The red-head's breath caught at the expected time-frame.
3-4 hours to mobilize local forces.
He cringed, aware that the sun was already setting behind the mountains.
They'll be too late. Shipments will already be gone.
Wheeler swallowed, jumping slightly as a loud crack issued from inside the shed, followed by a short, sharp scream. The American froze, his conversation forgotten as he whirled around, clutching the phone away from his ear as he strained to hear more. Crying and muffled voices greeted him, followed by a more ominous silence.
"I gotta go," he hissed into the cell phone. Wheeler swore in frustration, hanging up on the consulate employee mid-sentence.
They were on their own.