The London traffic was not helping Yohji’s frame of mind one little bit. Nor were the red traffic lights and the stop-start movement along the Old Kent Road. He kept checking his watch and kept being surprised that they’d only left home forty-five minutes earlier. The road had, mercifully, cleared quite considerably after they passed Camberwell and he was relieved to realise that he would make it in the hour he’d promised Aya.
He fervently hoped they were not on a wild goose chase. For all they knew, Chloe could have been taken to the house in Wales to star in one of the target’s snuff videos. That appalling thought had him gripping the wheel until his knuckles turned white. Then again, if Chloe had turned up at Wales, Free or one of the boys would have let them know. No. He had to be at the warehouse. He just had to be there.
Finally he reached the place and pulled into what had obviously once been an employee’s parking lot to one side of the warehouse. The space had doubled as a loading area with a loading bay, running down the whole side of the building, that was shuttered and apparently locked but, other than that, nothing. No signs of life at all.
He exchanged a look with Ken and they both climbed out of the car. Just about to start looking for other entrances they were disturbed by the scrunch of tyres on gravel as Aya’s car pulled into the lot. He climbed quickly but gracefully out of the car and headed towards them.
“Anything?”
“No signs of life at all. It’s as if the place has been abandoned for years. If there ever was an office attached to the warehouse it’s either long since gone or part of the interior. The only entrance appears to be the locked loading bay.”
“We haven’t checked the front or back yet,” Ken said, “but like Yohji said, it looks like the place has been abandoned for years.”
“Yet there were fresh tyre tracks in the gravel,” Aya said.
“We could have made those.”
Aya was shaking his head. “No, they were headed towards the back of the building. Check them out. I’ll check out the front.”
Yohji wanted to argue for sticking together but Aya had gone into stone cold Abyssinian mode and wouldn’t thank him for the waste of time. He contented himself with a murmured ‘be careful,’ and followed Ken.
* * * * * * *
The sound of an approaching car made Chloe wince. Were they back already? There was the sound of closed doors and voices. Then another car and… was that Aya’s voice? He wondered if he was delirious but, if that really was Aya… and Yohji, he needed to let them know he was in here. Too weak to scream or kick at doors, he dragged himself to the window. He couldn’t stand so he slapped at the condensation-covered window in frustration. Tears ran down his cheeks as he collapsed back onto the floor.
* * * * * * *
Aya moved silently into position at the corner of the building. He glanced along the front and saw several windows, misty with condensation after the cold of the night. One of them suddenly caught his eye. The condensation framed a large yet delicate hand print. Somebody was in there and trying hard to attract attention. Calm, he had to stay calm.
He signalled to Yohji and Ken and they vanished round the side of the building. He would create a diversion if it was needed.
He charged the front door, kicking the decrepit looking structure and feeling immense satisfaction when it gave under his booted foot. That should bring anyone else in the building away from the others and straight to him.
Nothing. No sign of life, and yet he could still see the hand print in his mind’s eye. It had been freshly made with very little water dripping down the window. He headed left from the door, in the direction of that particular window, and came up against a solid door. Okay, seemingly he was on the right track.
Squatting down, he drew out lock-picking tools from a pocket and set to work on the door. The others soon joined him.
“No sign of anyone,” Ken said. “Are you sure…?”
He ignored Ken and kept working. The lock finally yielded. He took a deep breath and opened the door, terrified of what he might find beyond it.
Chloe was lying on the concrete floor just under the window, naked and bleeding. He swallowed hard and rushed forward, stripping off his coat as he went. He placed it round Chloe, wondering if he was covering a corpse. No, he couldn’t be, the hand print was fresh!
He felt for a pulse. It was slow and weak but it was there.
“Chloe?”
A cold, wet hand found his and squeezed as well as it was able. Aya let go of the breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding.
Yohji was doing an automatic tally of probable injuries when he gasped suddenly. “We need to get him to a hospital.”
“No!” Chloe’s voice was hoarse, cracked as if he’d been screaming. “Please…no… find … again.” It was all he could manage before falling silent.
“Don’t worry, Chloe, we’ll get you home and call Dr Roberts.” Thank Krypton Brand’s desire to take the best possible care of them. Dr Roberts was on their payroll and would neither ask questions nor pass information on.
But Chloe was still agitated. “Aya…bait…why…alive.”
“It’s okay, Chloe. I understand. Don’t try to talk.”
He thought quickly. It was imperative they got Chloe medical attention but equally important that they didn’t lead any possible watchers to the shop or KR’s home. If anyone was watching they would follow whichever car they put Chloe in. Unless… He turned to Ken.
“Was there anyone at the back?”
“We didn’t see anyone but there were plenty of places where they could hide both themselves and a car.”
He nodded. “Okay, you two take Chloe home. I’ll run decoy. Go via the main roads and don’t stop for anything. If they follow us, I’ll spot them and head them off.”
“Surely they’ll try to follow us,” Yohji argued.
“Which is why you’re taking the Porsche,” he said. “They’ll expect Chloe to be in the Merc.”
Yohji nodded his understanding and made no further comment as he took the Porsche’s keys and handed over his.
Loading Chloe into the back seat of the Porsche was difficult and he could only be glad when the wounded man passed out.
“Ken, ride shotgun with Yohji, if anyone you don’t know comes near the shop…”
“Yeah, I know.”
There was nothing more to be said so he climbed into the Mercedes and followed the Porsche out of the warehouse car park.
It wasn’t long before he spotted a black BMW pull out and settle into the traffic behind him. He flashed his headlights at Yohji, letting him know they’d picked up fleas and was pleased to see the Porsche pick up speed and pull away at the next set of lights.
He deliberately slowed down and let the lights change to red on him. The BMW pulled up behind him. When the lights changed he moved forward, still driving slowly, as though he had a wounded man in the back, then took a left at the next junction. The BMW followed much to his relief.
* * * * * * *
Yohji was silent on the drive home, mouth set in a grim line. When they reached the shop, and had closed the garage door on possible prying eyes, he helped Ken lift the still unconscious Chloe from the back seat and in through the back door. They laid him on the kitchen table rather than attempt to get him up the stairs and possibly do even more damage.
“You deal with security, I’ll phone the doctor,” he said. Ken nodded and disappeared leaving him to make the call.
Within ten minutes Dr Roberts was pulling into their garage. He took one look at Chloe and grimaced.
“He should be in a hospital,” he said.
“No doc. Bad men are after him and it’s too easy to find people in hospitals.”
Roberts sighed but didn’t argue. He knew the score. Instead he set about examining Chloe and dealing with the various cuts, burns, abrasions and contusions on his body.
“No bones broken,” he said, “so you can move him upstairs when I’ve finished… Oh my God! He’s been raped, repeatedly judging by the amount of blood.”
Yohji said nothing but his hand clenched into a fist.
“I need to stitch him,” the doctor said. “Can you help me please?”
Yohji moved forward to hold Chloe’s legs up and apart, exposing his naked body in a way that seemed obscene. Luckily the doctor set his stitches quickly and without comment and the ordeal was soon over.
“As well he was out for that,” Roberts observed when he’d finished. He glanced at Yohji, expression serious. “You realise, of course, that this will leave mental as well as physical scars.”
“Yeah,” Yohji said. He knew all about them. “Thanks, doc.”
Roberts gazed at him for another minute or two before nodding once and taking his leave.
When he’d gone, Yohji covered Chloe’s body with Aya’s coat again and stood staring down at him as he wondered how long it would take him to heal… if he ever did. He was interrupted in his musings by the arrival of Aya who had obviously lost whoever had been following them.
“How is he?”
He looked up then and Aya recoiled from the murderous look he guessed must be in his eyes at that moment. “He’s been raped, repeatedly. The doc had to stitch him inside and out. Other than that… he’s just fine.”
“Have you let KR and the others know?”
“It wasn’t actually highest on my list of priorities, Aya. Ken may have done so; I don’t know. Did you hear what I said? Chloe’s been fucking raped!”
Aya moved forward then, touching his cheek with a gloved hand. “I heard you, Yohji, and just like you, I intend to make the bastards wish they’d never been born.”
Finally he closed his eyes and slumped against one of the kitchen chairs, tears falling from his eyes and Aya simply held him as he wept.
* * * * * * *
Chloe came to in his own bed. Apart from feeling stiff and sore he seemed none the worse for wear, physically at least. Mentally he was a mess and he knew it. If the Rodriguez bitch’s people had wanted to get him out of the picture they couldn’t have done a finer job of it. His treatment at their hands had left him unable to go on as an assassin or possibly even as a human being. They had reduced him to the status of an animal, a screaming plaything and he doubted if he would ever recover from it.
He shuddered as memory overtook him and closed his eyes only to have visions of what they’d done to him assault the insides of his eyelids. Gasping he opened his eyes again.
“Chloe?”
He turned his head at the sound of Aya’s deep voice and found him sitting in a chair by his bed.
“Would you like some water?”
He shook his head, thought better of it and nodded. A strong arm raised him enough to drink and a glass was raised to his parched lips. He drank, remembering to sip rather than gulp greedily at the liquid, before turning his head away. He was lowered back onto his pillows as Aya replaced the glass on the nightstand.
“Sorry,” he whispered. “I was careless.”
“That doesn’t matter right now, Chloe. All that matters is you getting yourself well again.”
He snorted humourlessly at that. “What for?” he asked. “So I can become a productive little killer once again? It’s over, Aya, we both know it.” He coughed slightly and winced at the pain in his throat, damaged by so much screaming.
Aya sighed. “Let yourself heal before you make any life-changing decisions,” he suggested quietly. “It’s too soon to do so anyway.”
He shook his head. “You don’t understand, do you? If I so much as lay eyes on one of the men who did this I’m going to run screaming. They did their work far too well.”