LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

target="_blank" rel="nofollow" href="#fb3_img_img_912721a0-2c81-537d-b0e7-9c7eaf88a6c0.jpg" alt="Image"/>ng shook her head, too frightened to speak. She stepped back and quickly tried to swing the chain at Pops’s face, but he grabbed her around the throat with one hand, smashing her down on the floor and landing on top of her.

      H

ng tried to yell and clawed frantically at the hand squeezing her throat. He grabbed at her fingers with his other hand. She heard a sound like the crunch of celery and felt the searing pain in her fingers when he snapped them backwards.

      H

ng writhed and kicked out violently with her feet. Pops punched her hard in the side of her ribs. She continued to squirm and gasped at the intense pain in her side with every breath she took. His next punch buried deep into her stomach, forcing what air she had to come gurgling past the hand clamped to her throat and out through her mouth and nose.

      She realized Pops was standing at the opposite end of the room with a bemused look on his face. She leapt to her feet and dashed toward the passage door. The chain went taut and she fell on her hands and knees, far short of her goal. It was then that she looked down at the shackle chained to her ankle and realized that she had been unconscious.

      H

ng knew she had nothing to lose and screamed as loud as she could, while cringing and waiting for the next attack.

      Pops did not move. Instead of trying to silence her, he started to laugh. She screamed again and again ...

      “Go ahead!” yelled Pops. “Louder! Louder!” he shouted with glee. His laughter and H

ng’s screams filled the room. “Come on, you can do it!” he shouted. “Let me hear you scream!”

      H

ng’s screams eventually became hoarse rasping cries of anguish. She stopped and held her face in her hands, before dropping to her knees on the floor and sobbing.

      “Please, Mister Pops,” she cried. “No. Why are you doing this to me? Please let me go.”

      “Maybe some day I will,” he said. “Or maybe I won’t.”

      Pops took a red felt marker from his pocket and with a smile at H

ng and a flourish of his arm, circled a date on the calendar that was exactly two weeks away. He made three more circles on the calendar in the week following the first circle.

      “You will have two weeks for behaviour modification,” he said. “These circles represent something special. There will be a different surprise for you on each red-circle day.”

      Pops hesitated as his hand hovered near the light switch and said, “I’ll leave this on. Have a good sleep.” He ducked into the passageway and H

ng heard the click and the creak of the secret door as it opened and closed behind him.

      She immediately got to her feet and walked to see how far the chain would let her go. She could just reach the centre of the room where the toilet and mattress were. She carefully checked out the chain where it was attached to the floor. There was nothing she could break or undo.

      She hopelessly looked around before sitting on the floor, using a loop of chain to smash at the padlock. She tore the skin on her leg and bruised her ankle before giving up.

      She started to cry and sobbed uncontrollably as she crawled over to the toilet and dipped her broken fingers in the water. The coolness of the water did little to soothe her. Eventually she quit crying and stared blankly at the calendar on the wall. What does it mean? What surprises do the red circles hold?

      As her eyes settled on the other pile of chain on the far side of the room, her terror reached a new crescendo.

       chapter five

      “You there, Jack?” whispered Laura, from where she sat in the darkened room of the property manager’s corner office. The blinds were open just enough to give her a glimpse of the entranceway outside, as well as a view of the main doors to the party room across the foyer.

      Jack was parked out on the street and sat slouched in the passenger seat of the car. From the perspective of anyone walking by, it would appear that he was waiting for the driver to return.

      He clicked the transmit button on the police radio and said, “Copy. Go ahead.”

      “Moustache Pete and the Fat Man are just opening up the doors to the room. They’re each carrying a case of vodka. Looks like they expect a few people tonight.”

      “Ten-four. Over an hour to go before the party is supposed to start,” observed Jack.

      Minutes later, Jack watched as a taxi van pulled into the crescent-shaped driveway in front of the apartment building and parked under the awning in front of the main doors. He reached for the binoculars.

      “Got it, Jack,” came Laura’s voice. “Can see the plate from here. Oh, it’s a taxi.”

      Jack watched as seven young women exited the taxi. They were all smartly dressed and wore high heels. Two of them wore coats that were trimmed with fur. The other coats appeared to be made of wool.

      Despite the cool February night, their coats were open and Jack could see that they all wore skirts. They also had something else in common. They were extremely beautiful. Three of them were blondes, the others were brunettes.

      Laura remained still and heard the women chatting as they buzzed the intercom.

      “There’s no answer,” one woman said.

      “Try again. These guys have used our agency before.”

      “You’ve worked here before?”

      “Oh, yeah. I call them Nikolai and Doctor Zhivago. They like that. Both pigs, but if you make them happy, they’re not afraid to open their wallets wide for a tip. Here, let me try the party room.”

      Seconds later the women were buzzed in and Laura saw the two Russians come to the entrance to the party room and wave them over.

      “Escort service,” Laura relayed to Jack. “Maybe the party is starting sooner than we thought,” replied Jack.

      Laura watched as the two Russians carefully examined the women, before taking one on each arm and heading for the elevator. The other three escorts remained in the party room.

      “Our boys aren’t greedy,” radioed Laura.

      “How so?” asked Jack.

      “They only picked two each and headed up to their room. Must be saving the other three for later.”

      An hour later, the entourage from upstairs returned. One woman made a motion to re-button the top of her blouse but the Fat Man playfully slapped her hand away. He laughed and shook his finger and said, “No, no, no. I like to look.”

      Laura noticed that both Russians had changed their clothes and were now wearing expensive-looking shoes, slacks, and silk shirts open at the neck.

      The next hour went by relatively quietly and a mixture of men and women started to arrive. As this happened, Jack would walk down the sidewalk while using the voice-activated tape recorder in his inside jacket pocket to record license plates. When people entered the apartment, Laura confirmed who was of interest and who wasn’t. In the end, Jack had recorded over two-dozen license plates and he estimated that, with the taxis included, approximately forty to forty-five people were at the party.

      Several hours passed and Laura whispered into her radio, “Jack,

Скачать книгу