Ch.8
London, England.
Martin leaned back, the steel of the chair pressing in to the muscles in his back.
He had shed his suit jacket and his sleeves were rolled up his forearms.
He slouched.
A man usually flawless in dress and in manner looked tired, worn.
"Daniel Martin?"
Martin looked up at the woman standing before him.
She held out her hand. "Agent Caroline West, MI6"
Martin shook the elder woman's hand.
"I know you've been over this, but one more time Agent Martin." She said adjusting her pen and paper.
Martin leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table between them.
"Samantha Gray. She was supposed to meet me in London a few days ago. She was transferring with her target, Gareth Bishop from Paris. She was to check in as soon as she made it in to the city. I was to meet her, provide her with her new living quarters; money as well as I would receive an update on Bishop's statues.
"And she never met you in London?"
"That is correct. And there is no record that she boarded a plane at Charles De Gaulle and landed in London at Heathrow."
"And Mr. Bishop's status?"
"He is missing as well."
"Private plane?"
"Yes ma'am."
"And where is that plane?"
"We have questioned the charter company. There was no jet ordered."
"Do you think Ms. Gray could have gone rogue?"
"No ma'am. I believe that Ms. Gray is committed to her job, committed to her assignment. She has been diligent towards her assignment."
"At your last meeting she mentioned a British man that you consider a man in question?"
"Ms. Gray said she thought he was British, though he spoke to her in French. She said, he seemed strange, and as he was talking to her, Gareth arrived and he disappeared in to thin air."
"Did she seem worried?"
"No ma'am. If anything I was more concerned."
"And you have a description of this man?"
"We're narrowing down suspects as we speak. Ms. Gray described him to me in good detail."
"You will pass along that information?"
"As soon as possible."
"Agent Martin, do you remember what Ms. Gray was wearing when you saw her last?"
"She was wearing jeans and a heather gray sweater. She was barefoot at the time, her hair pulled up in a pony tale. I remember this because I commented on how relaxed she looked. She may have changed clothes though, she was to meet Mr. Bishop later that afternoon."
"We have agents looking for her here. I know agents in France, as well as the United States now have government in Europe looking for her as well. You have my word, and our word here at the MI6 that we will do our best to find her."
"Thank you ma'am."
Agent West stood and Gareth rose from his chair. She shook his hand again. "Good luck Agent Martin. We will be in contact."
Martin waited for the door to close behind her before his fist hit the table.
"Fuck!" He yelled in to a now empty room.
AOAOAOAOAOAOAO
She awoke with her cheek pressed against the cement floor.
Cold, hard, damp.
She tried to regain her senses.
It was no longer complete darkness. A light bulb hung from a wooden beam 10 feet from her.
She tried to move; hoping this last time that she had passed out and whatever was in the needle had worn off.
Her body ached.
Every muscle felt like it was on fire.
She suddenly realized her arms were bound behind her back, but she could once again move her legs.
She tried to roll over on to her back, and then work her way in to a sitting position.
She looked down at her body.
Her legs covered in scrapes and bruises.
Had she been dragged here?
She surveyed her surroundings.
A basement.
Original she thought.
Blank stone walls, cement floor, no windows.
The blanket that had been wrapped around her was now lying next to her.
She looked down to see what she had on her body.
An oversized shirt.
Not hers.
No underwear, no bra, no pants, no shoes.
A shirt, that wasn't hers.
She swallowed hard.
She needed to get to the door.
She attempted twice to stand, but her legs faltered, her body back against the cement wall.
Tears streamed down her face though she was trying to will herself not to cry.
Suddenly a rattle at the door, one lock, two.
Moments later he appeared.
"Ahh Sleeping Beauty is awake." He said, his boots clicking against the ground as he walked towards her.
Olivia quickly tried to scoot herself higher against the cement wall.
"Who are you?" She asked, her voice hoarse from silence.
He squatted down close to her.
In her space.
Too close for any comfort.
The smell of his cologne permeating around her.
The smell made her feel sick.
"Lucas." He answered, as he pushed strands of her hair from her face.
She flinched.
"Now Samantha no need to pull away from me."
"What do you want from me?"
Lucas leaned in and the reared his hand back, slapping her hard across the face.
Her face stung, reminding her of the blows to her face she had taken in the alley.
"Samantha. I wanted you, now I have you to do as I please."
"Where am I?"
She flinched when he raised his hand to her. This time, he drug his fingers up her throat and then gently placed his fingers at her chin.
"Samantha all that matters is that you are here with me now."
"Is Gareth behind this?"
"Gareth?" he said leaning in pressing his lips to hers.
He pulled away and then kicked her, slamming her hard against the pavement.
She cried out, unable to deny the pain that rushed through her stomach where his boot had made contact.
He kicked her again and again for each cry she made.
Lucas stood over her before learning down pushing her knees apart.
"No, no, please no!" She begged.
Lucas hit his knees, pressing his lips to the lobe of her ear.
He breathed in and then out methodically.
He cupped his hand against her bare core.
"Mention his name again and you'll wish you were dead." He said pressing in to her.
He body tightened, her eyes clinched shut.
"Please no," she said quietly.
He let go of her, leaving her lying on the floor with her hands bound behind her.
"Goodnight beautiful Samantha." He said before leaving her.
The door clicked shut. One lock, two.
Tears were streaming down her face.