Page 35 of Need to Know

My henchman was a bruiser of a man, bald, square faced with Asian features. He lay flat on his back, and chewed in his sleep, the sounds reminding me of a cow. His arms were inside the sleeping bag, one hand seemingly resting protectively over his junk. Gabe’s henchman was slimmer and younger, with long, equine features and a mop of badly bleached dirty blond hair. He was curled up in a foetal position, his hands inside the sleeping bag pressed together beneath his cheek. His snores echoed louder than my bruiser’s. My brows rose and I shared a mischievous smile with my partner on spotting the press-pull toggles on the sleeping bag hoods. I suppose that, while camping, having a hood and pull toggle would be quite handy for ensuring no body heat escaped on frosty nights. But now the toggles would be these men’s undoing! Aden met Gabe’s eyes and nodded. Gabe nodded in return and then counted down, three—two—one. Together we folded our knees to be squatting in front of each henchman. I held my breath, so as not to breathe on him, and then slowly I clasped the pull cord and toggle. The henchman snuffled and licked his dry, cracked lips, then let out a vile smelling burp. My eyes watered as I looked up and met Gabe’s again. He was in his ready position too. With a nod, we both pressed down on the toggle to open the springs and pulled hard on the cord. The hood openings retracted to the size of a child’s fist, with just enough space for the men to breathe through. Neither man moved. Gabe and I grabbed for our table legs, stood up, stepped back, and then tip-toed towards the door. But, it was then that I stepped on a loose floorboard. An empty beer bottle fell over with a clink and a roll that echoed in the timber room. The silence was over. My henchman woke up, startled by the noise and then a roar erupted from the bruiser’s mouth. I guess he didn’t like that he was trapped inside his sleeping bag. He rolled over, wriggled like a caterpillar, trying to kick out, and struggle to get onto his feet. “Viktor, Viktor,” he yelled. This woke the other henchman, who cried out in alarm at his imprisonment and he wriggled around like an electrocuted snake. Honestly, if we weren’t running for our lives I would have liked to stay and watch because it was fucking hilarious. But Gabe and Aden couldn’t hang around. I sprinted towards the door, grabbed the handle, and pulled it. The door wouldn’t open; the bastard henchmen had locked it. Then, on hearing another violent roar I turned to see that the bruiser was now on his feet, and he had something with him inside his sleeping bag. I thought he was cupping his cock as he slept, but no, a deadly erection was thrust through the middle of his sleeping bag at his belly. It was a fucking hunting knife and he was attempting to hack up to cut his way out of the fabric cocoon. Aden sent an alarmed look to Gabe, who was side stepping the other henchman who was rolling and kicking out, trying to knock my partner to the floor. Gabe came to me and placed a scorching kiss on my lips, then in a very manly tone said,

“Stand aside, honey! I’ve got this!” In all honesty, it was a little bit swoony and I wished this scene was on film! Then Gabe proceeded to drop his table leg, and pull the stolen revolver from the back of his jeans. He clicked the safety catch off and aimed it at the door lock. Nate was far more experienced with firearms than me. I’d done some training on a gun range, but preferred the spud gun to the real thing. The shot was deafening, the sound reverberating in the confines of the boat lounge, rattling the windows and making my ears ring. But it was also perfect, the bullet going straight though the keyhole. My heart fluttered a little at seeing Nate take charge. There was a weighted moment of silence, both henchmen frozen in the act of trying to escape from their imprisonment. Then the creaky door swung open letting in a cool morning breeze. The moment of silence ended with the delayed shattering of the door’s porthole window. Gabe secured the gun and shoved it into his waistband. My table leg thudded to the floor and Gabe lurched then, gripping my wrist, dragging me through the doorway and onto the main deck. I took a quick glance behind to see the one guard with the knife blade sticking through the sleeping bag had not been able to manoeuvre it enough to slice upwards and free himself. The other henchman was wriggling and roaring obscenities in Mandarin while his partner decided to bunny hop after us, the wicked blade pointing outward through the layers of fabric. In the moment I was terrified, and yet, I also wanted to laugh hysterically, but Gabe never let go of my wrist. We hurried across the main deck and toward the gang plank, taking the exit and sprinting onto a scaffold gantry and then down steps, to the ground. At hearing an alarmed roar, I glanced back again and finally saw what kind of ship we’d been imprisoned on. It was some kind of long river barge with two stories of accommodation. I also saw the bunny-hopping, swearing henchman slip on the polished deck and tumble arse-over-tit. He flew over the rail and land on the concrete below with a painful “Ooof!”

“Come on, we gotta get out of here,” Gabe said as we rounded the ship, jumping over the thick rubber pipes that connected the ship to mains water and sewage. We left the dry dock shed and found ourselves in a bank of trees that backed onto the marina. The atmosphere here was so removed from the drama of escaping that we both paused in our tracks and took in the quiet mundanity before us.

The marina was made up of a collection of prefabricated cabins; one had signage that showed it was a shop for residents and holiday makers to buy last minute supplies. Another was an office for boat rentals, and a third looked like someone’s home. In the open garden was a bench surrounded by twee cast resin sculptures of gnomes, rainbow plastic toy windmills that spun in the cool breeze, and there was a wishing well.

“What does that say?“Nate asked, no longer using Gabe’s raspier voice. He pointed to a sign that I translated as Shipyard at the Grey Pike,. I knew Berlin well; it was one of those walkable cities where you could have the best of worlds, city life, good public transport and nature right on the doorstep.

“Thank fuck! We’re not too far out of the city, thirty minutes by car, maybe?” I informed with relief.

“It‘s half-six now, we’ve got to get out of here before those meatheads escape. Follow me,” Nate instructed. Then he was off, keeping his body low, as he headed toward a rack of kayaks. I immediately knew what he was going to do and mirrored him, taking down a solo kayak from the rack, and then a double-bladed paddle. Together, on light feet we hurried down the pier, past yachts, sail boats, and small barges moored there. With just the gentle clinking sound of boats and rigging, and no cries of alarm we got to the end of the pier and laid the kayaks on the water. I stabilized Nate’s kayak while he climbed in. He then stabilized mine as I stepped in and took my position. We each grabbed double blade paddle.

“Across the lake or up the river?” Nate queried.

“We need to find a main road. I’d say we go up river.” It was a bright morning that I was sure was going to become another scorcher of a day. We pushed off and floated away from the pier. It was then I heard someone shouting in German, not one of the henchmen, but a woman.

“Hey, komm zurück, du kannst nicht einfach meine Kayaks nehmen!“ (Hey, come back here, you cannot just take my kayaks!)

I looked right to see a grey-haired woman in her late fifties had come out of one of the marina cabins. Nate and I shared a worried look and then began to paddle in earnest. Nate’s paddling style was low, stealthy, and fast. In moments he was moving like a machine, cutting through the water, and it was awe-inspiring. I copied his technique and together we flew up the river, leaving the calls of “Stoppen Sie den Dieb!“ (Stop, thief!) behind us.

The river itself was gorgeous, banked on either side by mature willow trees, and houses whose gardens came down to the water and their private moorings. No one was following us and so, alone on this gorgeous stretch of water we relaxed to a more leisurely pace. Ten minutes later, our only companions were ducks, swans, and small birds twittering in the willow trees along the bank. I had a feeling we were on the River Havel, and if we kept going, we would eventually get back to the city centre. But this wasn’t a Lord of the Rings quest! The tiered arches of a large iron bridge loomed in the distance—an overpass for a federal highway into the city.

I called to Nate, “We’ll get out under the bridge and climb the embankment, then walk from there until we find a bus stop, train station or a taxi,”

“Roger that!” he called back, appearing serine and in his element. The closer we paddled to the bridge the easier it was to see that the road above carried heavy goods vehicles and cars in and out of the city. Nate pulled over to the concrete abutment under the bridge and I steadied his kayak while he stepped out. He then helped me get out. We pulled the kayaks onto the bank and left them with the paddles. They were labelled with the marina address, so hopefully they’d find their way back.

“Jack, hang on, we need to ditch these guns,” Nate stated. I’d forgotten that I’d taken the weapons from the henchmen, and Nate was right, we couldn’t keep the guns. Nate tossed his into the river, and I followed suit, secretly hating that I’d littered in such a beautiful waterway.

We climbed the steep grassy embankment and onto the highway above. I was relieved to see a road sign that told me we were close to Berlin Olympic stadium, this helped me to orient myself. We began to walk up the road following the traffic heading into the city.

“What time is it?” I asked as we found a Metrobus stop. “Seven-thirty-eight,” Nate replied. I checked the timetable. “There should be an M49 bus here in a few minutes. It’ll take us as far as the zoo. Buses take credit cards so were all good,” I explained.

Five minutes later, the bus arrived and a fifteen minute ride through the city brought us to Zoologischer Garten station. From there, it was a simple taxi ride to our hotel.

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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Nate

Jack was silent, pensively looking out of the window of the taxi during the ride back to the hotel. I was worried about him. His cheek was colouring into a rainbow bruise and he might get a black eye too. Both Jack and I definitely needed a wizard of a makeup artist to cover up our scrapes before we walked the red carpet. I knew getting drugged bothered Jack deeply, it bothered me too, but Jack told me it had happened to him before. The loss of control was an awful thing to endure, confusing and humiliating. Maybe he’d trust me enough to tell me about his experience one day?

Our taxi paused at traffic lights before turning into the drop-off zone outside the Adler Kandinski Hotel. In my near my future I could envision drinking a gallon of water, taking a long, hot shower, and then eating a massive breakfast. I’d take a long nap and maybe, if he was in the mood Jack we’d get back on track with our sexy plans!

Jack tapped his credit card to pay for the ride and we got out of the car. I checked my watch to see it was just a few minutes after eight a.m. I was groggy, I smelled ripe, and my muscles ached liked I’d been in a bar brawl. From my vantage point I covertly looked up and down the street and over Pariser Platz, which, at this early hour was already filling up with groups of tourists keen to begin their city tour. We knew the men who abducted us took one of the keycards for our hotel room. The plan was to make a beeline for the elevator and get into our room to see what they’d done. Oh, as if it would be that easy!

“I can’t see anyone acting strange,” Jack said softly.

“Same. Think it’s safe to go in?”

“Should we not just go to a police station and report what happened?”

“Fuck no! We can’t go to the authorities. Can you imagine if the press got a hold of this story?” I exclaimed. “We tell our agents what happened so they can put out any fires,” I said decisively, “That’s all.”

“Lucy’s gonna be so mad with me. Who chooses a club that doesn’t allow phones? It’s like we were asking for trouble,” Jack grumbled.

“Don’t beat yourself up. Let’s just go inside and get cleaned up.”