Scott Andrews - Children's Crusade

The other side of the door was a different world. Kate walked from a low rent sweatshop into a plush corridor decorated with velvet wallpaper, laid with deep red carpets and decorated with modern art prints and photographs, all soft core, nothing too obvious.

The next door led into a lobby area that felt more like a lounge or a bar. Leather sofas and armchairs dotted the room, ringing small round tables with table lamps on them, casting a soft glow. There was an unmanned bar in the far corner..

"Sit," said the giant without looking at her. She did so as he left by a small door beside the bar, going deeper into this hidden world.

Kate sat there, collecting her thoughts. The transmitter was gone, so all Cooper knew is that she had been taken. He'd have no idea where she was now unless he'd been able to physically keep the car in sight at all times. She figured the torrential rain made that unlikely.

She was on her own. There was no cavalry coming.

Worse than that, Spider would know by now that she had betrayed him. He might react in a number of ways. He could kill her outright, but she thought at the very least he'd want her to examine the new intake first. Alternatively, he could disappear her into his system, send her to some dank cellar or a dungeon somewhere to be kept on ice ready for a client who fancied a girl who'd put up a fight. That seemed most likely. After all, she was a resource he could use to turn a profit.

She told herself to stay calm and clear headed. As long as she was alive, there was a chance she could find a way to alert Cooper.

The wild card here, she knew, was her brother. What might Spider do to him?

She didn't have to wait long for an answer.

The internal door swung open and Spider entered. He was wearing a different but equally well cut suit, this time of dark purple. His face was impassive and he moved with controlled, almost robotic precision. He walked behind the bar without acknowledging her, took a glass from beneath the counter and poured himself a whisky before looking up at Kate.

"Drink?" he said.

Kate considered for a moment before nodding. "Red wine, please.

He took a wine glass down from a shelf and began to open a bottle.

"I thought we had an understanding, Miss Booker," he said as he pulled the cork out with a soft pop.

Kate thought it best to stay silent.

"I thought that you understood the consequences of betrayal," he continued, pouring the wine into the large glass.

"My lieutenant thinks I should give you to him. He thinks it would be fun to rape you while strangling you. Although he enjoys fucking them, I think he does not like women very much. He likes to cut them with the bayonet his grandfather used in the Second World War. He keeps it very sharp." The glass full, he put the bottle down, walked over to Kate and handed her the drink. "Does that sound like an appropriate punishment to you, Miss Booker?" he asked.

She took the glass and had to put it down immediately, as her hands were shaking too badly to hold it steady.

Spider remained standing, looking down on her. "I worry, though, that if I were to let him have his way with you, you would not learn your lesson."

The internal door swung open again and Kate stifled a cry of fear as she saw her brother being led into the room by the giant.

He saw her and smiled. "Hi Kit," he said. Then he registered the fear on her face and the single minded focus with which Spider was regarding her, and his step faltered.

"I think," said Spider quietly, "that a different punishment would be better." He turned to James and smiled. "Hello, Booker."

"Hi Boss," said James, giving the most unconvincing smile Kate had ever seen.

"James, how long have you been working for me?"

"Ooh, six months now, I reckon."

"Six months." Spider nodded. "You have been a good worker."

"Er, Boss," said James, trying not to let his fear show. "What's up?"

"Your sister has betrayed me to the police. She tried to bring a transmitter here with her."

Kate met James' eyes and she saw all the hope vanish in an instant, replaced by total despair. Spider reached into his jacket and pulled out a huge hunting knife, shiny and sharp. He turned and walked over to James and caressed his cheek with the sharp edge, tenderly.

"I like you, James," said Spider.

"I, I like you too, Boss," James stammered.

"You have kept me amused far longer than most lovers, but I don't think you do like me. Not really," replied Spider, who was now standing close to James, pressed up close to him. "I think you are scared of me. And that is how I like it. The one thing my lieutenant and I have in common is that we both know there is no enjoyment to be had from fucking someone who is not scared of you."

Kate found her voice at last. "Stop this. Please," she said, rising to her feet. "He's done nothing wrong. It's me you've got the problem with, Spider. There's no

reason to hurt him."

"What do you think, James?" asked the Serbian, standing behind the terrified young man, chin resting on his shoulder, knife pressed up against his temple.

James had nothing to say.

"Do you think I should kill you? Or perhaps your sister?" There was no reply. "Petar wants her. You know what he would do to her."

Tears began to stream down James' cheeks but still he stayed silent.

"You still need me to examine the new shipment of girls," said Kate, desperately.

Spider shook his head. "Once I learnt of your betrayal I diverted that container. To the bottom of a river."

"I'll tell you anything you want to know," said Kate, using the only bargaining chip she had left. "I know the policeman who's running the operation. I can lead you to him."

"Do you mean DI Cooper?" he laughed. "We know all about him. What else you got?"

Kate had nothing else.

"Thought so," said Spider.

Then he pushed the knife through the thin bone plate on the side of James head, straight into his brain.

She doesn't remember what happened next. All that survives is a sound; a low keening that goes on forever and ever. The second the knife went in, the world went black and her mind stopped creating memories.

The woman who gradually became aware of her surroundings however many hours later was a different person. Someone as yet unnamed. Someone at whose very core nestled a cold, hard knot of calm determination and resolve. Someone with only one thought in her head.

Vengeance.

The world came to the woman a piece at a time.

First it was the faint smell of burning hops. Then the sound of her own breathing. She floated in a dark void, examining the smell and the sound for a long time before her body began to send back signals that told her she was lying on a bed. Then there was a taste of stale wine and bile. Finally, she opened her eyes.

The world looked… different. The room was monochrome — black walls, white nurse's outfit hanging from the white hook on the inside of the door, shiny grey buckles on the straps that adorned the sturdy black wooden cross, white trolley with black implements strewn across it — whips, dildos, clamps and catheters. But even despite the lack of colour, the woman who awoke on that bed (and was it a waking, truly? Had she been asleep or just comatose? Had she really opened her eyes or had her optic nerves instead rebooted themselves after a long shutdown?) somehow knew that even had the room been painted in fluorescent colours they would have seemed muted.

The way she saw the world had literally changed.

The bed springs creaked as she sat up. She had been expecting a headache, but her head was clear and her senses were sharp. There were no windows in this dark place. The only illumination came from four uplighters, one in each corner of the room.