There was noise. Lot’s of it.
Booted feet running.
Men yelling.
The unmistakable bang-bang-bang of gunfire.
Chaos reigned.
Then some loud, thumping bangs. Some fizzing noises that I didn’t understand. More gunfire. More thump-thump-thumping bangs, closer now.
Then the shouting died away. Got more distant. The gunfire seemed to move further away.
Out of the relative quiet there were three ear-splitting, thump-thump-thumps incredibly close. The bangs reverberated around of small enclosure and our ears hurt. Sparks flashed out in the darkness from one edge of the door, a flash for each thumping bang. The hinges were being blown out, I realised, just before the door fell inward. We all scrambled to avoid being crushed by it.
Flashlight beams sliced into our darkened room, highlighting my face, blinding me. After the almost continual shocks of the past 24 hours or however long it had been, I felt on the verge of a cardiac arrest. I could feel my heartbeat in my chest. I could barely take in enough air. I genuinely wasn’t sure how much more I could take.
Then the lights were back on. The little bulb above flickered and flared and the room and corridor outside were dimly lit once more. There were men, lots of them, all dressed in black combat gear, all removing what I assumed was night vision headgear. There was a man with a massive pump action shotgun that he’d used to blow the hinges. He stepped out of the way saying “He’s here” and someone else entered the room. I didn’t know who these people were.
Was I safe?
Then, like some sort of magic trick, there was Master Johns. He removed his night vision gear and pulled a balaclava off his head revealing his face. I cried out, an incomprehensible vocalisation of joy and elation. Could it be that I was safe? That I wouldn’t be sold and raped and butchered to death? That these men were here to rescue me – to rescue us all?
“M…..master……..” I started, but I just couldn’t get the words out. I was crying. Tears were streaming down my face, which was screwed up like a kid who’d dropped his ice cream in the playground.
Master Johns knelt. He placed a hand on my shoulder. “Just Jonno” he said softly before turning all businesslike again. “Now get it together kid. I still need you. We aren’t out of the woods yet.” He stood, turned, barked at his men. “Get these lads uncuffed. Give this young man the med kits. You, you, and you remain here – guard these boys with your lives. The rest of you…. on me.”
I stood as someone came with a huge set of bolt cutters to slice through the chain. I guessed that taking the cuff off would have to come later. Master Johns turned to me. “I need most of these men with me. Some of the boys here need some medical attention and there’s a kid three rooms along who needs a lot of help. I don’t know if he’ll make it. My men will help you free him. Take charge. Help him. Help them all.” His face was a mask of barely contained fury the like of which I had never seen in another human. It took my breath away.
He turned away. “Let’s clear this nest out!” He he bellowed and he was off. He practically growled as he led his men up the corridor and into the rest of the building. Gunfire started up again almost immediately. I thought about that look on Master Johns face. I almost pitied anyone who got in his way tonight. He was on fire. My hero.
This was my opportunity and I grasped it with both hands. I ignored my nakedness. I hadn’t any choice. I took the medical kits and I ran. I called for the other two boys to get off their arses and follow. I rounded up seven young men in total, mostly okay, able to walk, able to get the hell out of here any way they could. They were all filthy, naked, in various states of bruising, some with cuts and burns, some with whip line scars. All with fresh hope in their eyes.
Then I entered the last room.
There was the young lad from my cell.
I retched at the sight.
One of the men was cutting through the chains that bound him to a set of stocks that was fixed up on top of a steel table. The boy was on his knees with his ankles clamped in the stocks. He was reaching behind himself between his legs and his wrists were clamped back there too. It kept him bent over, his head down, his ass up in the air, almost folded in two. He had a chain around neck, pulling his head down into a tray of what looked and smelled like piss. He would have been constantly fighting against the chains to keep his face free of the liquid so he wouldn’t drown in it. I pushed the tray out of the way and let it drop off the table, splashing its contents over the floor.
The boy looked up at me, his face a bruised and bloody mess. One eye was almost closed and his lips were split in multiple places. His nose was obviously broken and thick dark blood was oozing from his nostrils. His jaw was hanging open so I could see that he had lost several teeth, leaving him drooling bloody saliva. There was a small steel tray on the table with a pair of rusted thin-nose pliers to one side. The rest of his teeth were there too, along with a scalpel, a screwdriver, and some clamps.
The boy’s back was a horrible criss-cross of bloody red slashes where he had been whipped. I could see patches where he had been burned. There were a couple of patches where the skin and flesh beneath had bubbled like it had been scalded with something chemical. His sides were purple where he’d been repeatedly and viciously punched. There was a canister of salt on the table and I could see where they’d poured it on his back.
I gulped. Was this what had been lined up for me? Or worse, perhaps? In the hours he had been here they had tortured this young man horribly. He just looked at me. I wasn’t even sure he knew what was going on any more. His eyes had lost their light.
“I don’t know what I can do with this” the man with the bolt cutters said to me. “This is….. it’s way outside my experience.” He motioned with his head. His voice snapped me out of my trance, imagining the things I’d like to have done to the well-dressed man.
I stepped to the back of the room and I gasped. The boy’s anus was stuffed with a spreader that must have been made for a large farm animal. The boy was split at the top and the bottom of his hole and gaping open like I had never imagined was even possible. But worse than everything, worse than anything I could ever have imagined, the boy’s scrotum was sliced open. One of his testicles had been removed and had been placed inside his rectum, the thin strand of whatever keeps your balls attached still trailing from groin to ass.
I brought my hand to my mouth. I thought I might vomit. I felt totally helpless. I looked around. Everyone was stood, staring. No-one knew what to do. My heart broke for this kid. This boy who’d been a virgin before he was knidnapped by these bastards. He would never be the same again, not after treatment like this.
I hoped that Master Johns blew them all to hell.
The boy shuffled slightly and made a whimpering noise like a small animal caught in a trap. I got a sudden rush of adrenaline and emotion. Tears streamed down my face, tears for this boy who I didn’t know and tears for me, for no reason. A voice went off in my head. A sergeant major telling me to take charge. To help him. To help them all.
I snapped out of it. I got to work.
“You, finish cutting him free. You, get those medical kits open. I want bandages and gauze. Whatever you’ve got. Lots of it. You and you, search this area. I want clothing if there is any here. Something warm. Don’t get in the way of the army men.” I took a deep breath. “I need two of you to help me.”
The older boy from my room stepped forward. He had a steely expression on his face. It was a look that I knew I’d never forget. Another boy, younger, came forward too. “I can help” he said in a small voice.
“Take some wipes and clean up his face. Carefully. Keep him still.” I told the younger lad. “I need you here.” I said to my old roommate. He looked as though he might have a steadier hand. And we needed a steady hand. And clear heads, too.
I heard a shuffling noise. I looked off to the side of the room where the well-dressed man who had taken this boy away was sat propped up against the wall. There was a trail of red running down the wall, from chest height. He’d been shot, twice, through his upper right-hand abdomen, but he was still alive. He hadn’t suffered much. That was a shame, I thought.
The military guy with me brought his machine gun up, but I waved him off. My blood was boiling at what he had done here and my fury redoubled knowing this bastard was alive. I snatched the screwdriver off the table and crouched down. The man opened his eyes and he looked at me, pleading silently for my help.
I held up the screwdriver, tilted it towards him so he could see it clearly. I pressed the blade against his breast and I slowly pushed it. I mustered all of my strength, put my body weight and all my force behind it. I buried it in him, pushed it right through his heart.
There was a whimper and an escape of air. The bastard’s eyes tightened and he looked shocked as his life drained away. I couldn’t tear my own eyes away. I had never wanted anyone dead so much as I wanted this guy to spend eternity in hell.
The military guy placed his hand on my shoulder and I looked up, tears in my eyes. He looked down on me, nodded. It’s done, he was saying. He didn’t need to speak. He is eyes said everything. I stood. From nowhere I spat on the dead body. Then I turned and finished what I had started.
Between us we carefully removed the boy’s testicle from where they had shoved it and somehow we closed and removed the spreader. It must have been incredibly painful, but the boy seemed kind of numb to it by now. He hardly flinched, but his breathing changed every time we touched him. Maybe he realised we were trying to help. I don’t know.
There was blood everywhere. Miraculously his testical was still attached, so we put it back where it belonged and wrapped the whole area with bandages padded with as much gauze as we had. We kind of made a loincloth for him. We had nothing like enough supplies to treat his back or the huge welts I noticed on the soles of his feet, but we did the best we could. I just hoped that someone, some medical professionals, could treat him and fix him. And soon. It really needed to be soon.
The others returned with a selection of clothing so that by the time we were done everyone was wearing something to cover our modesty and make us feel warmer. We placed a large warm coat over the boy. We gathered in the corridor outside one of the rooms, none of us wanting to spend any more time inside these prison cells. We carried the boy with us. He couldn’t walk. As we all settled down behind our armed guard, the lad lost consciousness and while I could see he was still breathing, it was shallow and I wondered whether he would die.
Just as despair was starting to wash over me again, Master Johns returned. He stepped into the corridor like some kind of Demi-god. He was covered in blood and his fists were gloveless and raw. He looked like a huge, muscled, angry bear. I thought back to when I first met him. I remembered thinking then that this was a man who could take care of himself. I corrected myself now, seeing him like this. This was a man who was very dangerous indeed.
“We’re all clear” he said loudly, and his men lowered their weapons. He stepped closer. “Aiden…..” He said, scanning the group of us. “Thank god. Thank god!” He placed a hand on my shoulder and I stepped into him. He put his muscled arms around me and he pulled me into a bear hug. I cried then. I was suddenly safe, suddenly secure in the arms of a beast of a man. I felt overwhelmed but like nothing could touch me in this man’s arms. My relief was elating and draining at the same time.
“Thank god you’re safe” he said. He released me, pushed me back to look at me. “You’re okay” he said, more a question than a statement. I nodded dumbly. Yeah, I was okay.
“The boy…?” He asked. I looked back at him.
“I don’t know. Bad” I said. I noticed the fabric of Master Johns sleeve was torn and he was bleeding. “You’re injured!” I said.
Master Johns touched his upper arm. His hand came away bloody. “I’m okay. Had worse. Bullet skimmed the surface.” He said. “This place is secure now. But we can’t move out until I get the all clear from Control. We must hold this position.”
Out of the frying pan, but not out of the fire. Not yet, I thought.
“Let’s get to an upper floor. We can make you all more comfortable. There are camp beds and blankets. Some food and water. We’ll look around. Maybe more medical supplies, I don’t know.”
“What are we waiting for?” I asked, not clear, worried again.
“The guy who runs all this was lured away. He took most of his men with him. All part of the plan. We dare not move until we know he has been dealt with. He has a lot more men. And he’s been secretly controlling the roof-top routes that street kids and thieves use to get around the district. That’s how he has caused us so much trouble. But my job is to take this base and then stay put. And for once, I’m doing as I’m told. Someone else is dealing with the boss man. That’s not my job.” He smiled a little.
“So….. who’s dealing with him if you’re here….?” I asked. I wondered who could possibly be more suited to hunting down Papachka than Jonno the Enforcer.
“Blue. Jaimie. And that’s all I know.” Master Johns looked worried. “But come on. I found an old friend of ours upstairs. He’s beaten to shit, but he’s gonna be okay.”
St. Constantine Square was huge, surrounded by closely packed four storey buildings that made up the old town hall and various union headquarters and associated buildings, the centre of power in the city from back in the day. In the centre of the square stood a column with a four sided clock high up above.
These days nothing here was occupied by legitimate businesses and after the flooding from the recent surge of rain, everything was abandoned. The buildings were borderline derelict anyway. There had been talk for years about getting funds together, to regenerate this part of the city, but so far it was just talk.
Flood water had ripped through here but since the rains had stopped the water was gradually receding. Still, there was an inch of water over the square, giving it a glass-like look in the moonlight.
A single car, a large black SUV, pulled up next to the clock tower. The lights were shut off, but the engine was left running.
From the opposite side of the square another vehicle approached. A station wagon. Blacked out windows. It stopped maybe thirty yards from the clock tower and it too went dark.
A door on the SUV opened and a man stepped out. He was immaculately dressed in a grey suit, black raincoat, an ornate orange tie and black shiny shoes that caused ripples in the water to bloom outward. He slammed the door shut and took a few paces toward the other car.
Another man exited the station wagon. He seemed older, less well dressed. The sneakers on his feet were wet in seconds. He too closed the door of his vehicle and he took two steps closer to the clock tower.
“You came alone, deSanto?”
“I’m alone if you are Dmitri” came the reply.
Both men chuckled to themselves.
“Today could be the day you underestimate me, deSanto” called Dmitri. “How many men do you calculate I have at my disposal?”
DeSanto took one more step forward. “I thought of a number and then doubled it.” He said.
“Maybe you should have you quadrupled it” Dmitri said and he stepped forward one more pace.
“Maybe. But Dmitri, our organisation has grown since you ran with us. Perhaps you underestimate us…..?”
“Us…?” Dmitri called.
“Dmitri…. Pasqual is here too.”
There was a long pause. A silence.
“I knew I could smell something” Dmitri called. “Those damn cigars of his.”
“We have to put a stop to what you’re doing, Dmitri. This time, we have to stop you for good.”
“Call me Papachka, deSanto. I prefer it. Dmitri is dead and buried.”
“What a coincidence” said deSanto. “Papachka can join him.”
DeSanto signalled and four men got out of the SUV. All four unshouldered rifles and aimed them at Dmitri.
Dmitri raised his hands. “Maybe tell them not to shoot just yet” he called. He whistled.
DeSanto looked down. He had five, no six red dots on his chest. He could just make out laser sights from people in the buildings around him.
“I’m not sure that counts as ‘alone’” deSanto called back. Silently he said a little prayer.
Dmitri laughed loudly, a kind of fake laugh designed to intimidate. “Pasqual is running late, yes?” He said, imitated Pasqual’s accent and speech pattern. Three more cars drew up next to the station wagon.
DeSanto frowned. He glanced back over his shoulder. Where was his backup? He thought he caught the sound, but maybe not.
“Looking for the cavalry?” Dmitri shouted. “Sorry to tell you, your cavalry is…. how should I say? Ah yes, stuck in traffic.”
DeSanto smirked. So, that was Dmitri’s plan. He was using some of his people to hold up Pasqual’s convoy. Well, they knew it would be something like this. Now they knew for sure. “You keeping the old man busy?” He called back.
“I like to divide and conquer” Dmitri said. “It wasn’t part of the plan, but sometimes plans change. If you’re both here I will take you out first, while you are alone, and then I will take out that cigar smoking asshole. I’ll take over your interests as it should always have been.”
“Don’t let Pasqual hear you talk like that” deSanto said with a laugh. “He’s killed men for less, you know?”
“Yeah maybe, deSanto my old friend. Maybe. Listen, I know you want to play for time but I can’t allow it. I will need to kill you now so that we can go join the fight down at the quay. With you and your men gone, Pasqual will be…. what would you call it? Low hanging fruit?”
DeSanto laughed. A real, genuine belly laugh. He almost bent double.
Dmitri narrowed his eyes. What was so damned funny. Was this a trick? A ploy from deSanto to buy time?
“What’s funny my old friend?” He called, and there was a less sure tone to his voice. “I admit I did not think you’d find your death this amusing”
DeSanto composed himself.
“Ah, Dmitri. Papachka. As usual you overestimate your intelligence. In your incredible arrogance you never could see why Pasqual was our natural leader. I’ll tell you. It’s because he was a better tactician than you. He turned our childish schemes into money, more money than you could ever dream of. You know why? He thought ten steps ahead. He was thinking about next month while you were still stuck on tomorrow. Your activities were always petty by comparison, a side hustle. A dangerous side hustle that always attracted too much attention. If you’d stopped when you were told you could have risen to great things. But you couldn’t stop, could you? You have a sickness. You’re not well, Dmitri.”
Dmitri tried to interrupt by deSanto wouldn’t let him.
“I know where you’ve been all this time. I thought we’d killed you, but instead we fucked up your plans and that left you to grovel back to your business partner. Am I right….? Yes I thought so. But you partner wasn’t very forgiving was he? So you spent years in some gulag until you finally found a way out. Crawled back into the world. And even then you have botched every attempt to regain your fortunes. Every. Single. Attempt” deSanto spat the words.
Dmitri laughed but it was hollow. “Okay, so you know, so what?” He called. “None of this matters. Goodbye old friend. It’s time for this to end.”
He whistled again. DeSanto held his breath and closed his eyes. Nothing.
He opened one eye. Thank fuck, he thought. Thank fuck for Pasqual and for that kid and for the blue-eyed boy and his contacts. He whistled, loud and clear. A different tone. The red dots moved off him and they trailed along the flood waters of the square until they rested on Dmitri.
Dmitri laughed and clapped. “Very clever” he called. “Nice trick.”
“Pasqual is certainly tied up with your men at the quay” deSanto explained. “But we already had men here. You see, we have made new friends here. They have been watching you as you have been watching the city. So other men, not ours, were stationed here last night. A genius concept. But Jaimie is a very clever young man. And Pasqual’s new friend Chris….. well it turns out he’s quite the tactician.”
The door of the SUV opened and a young man dressed in smart jeans, a jacket, and work boots stepped out. He walked to deSanto’s side, his azure blue eyes on Dmitri/Papachka all the way.
“You have been a thorn in my side since before I was even born” he said. He voice was quiet, but it had a quality that carried.
Dmitri was worried now. This was not the plan. “Emporium?” He asked.
“Emporium” Jaimie replied. “I am Jaimie Sandu-St.John. I am the last of the Lost Boys. You killed my mother and father. You are responsible for my brother’s death. And your people did more harm to me than I have the energy to explain.”
Dmitri laughed. He unclipped a radio from his belt. “Well, mister Emporium. You’ve equally been a thorn in my fucking side. So here’s how it is. I walk out of here, or my men will gut every boy I have taken. All you will find is a stinking pile of blood and guts. You might not care about all of them. But you care about two of them. This much I know. The black haired boy, such a delightful little thing with such a pretty little ass. And your man. Your collector.”
Jaimie’s look was steel, his eyes blue-gray with fierce anger the like of which he’d never felt before.
“Go ahead” he called.
Dmitri frowned. “Go ahead and walk away I guess you mean?” He said. He didn’t mean to ask a question, but that’s how it came out, his uncertainty betraying him.
“No. Go ahead and call your base of operations.” Jaimie said. Clear, calm, quiet.
Dmitri froze. What was this, now? This was time to kill deSanto at last, maybe even see Pasqual dead. Now this lost boy bastard child was here. And he was full of himself. He clicked the button on the radio.
“This is Papachka.” He said.
Static.
“This is Papachka.” He said again.
Static.
“Dammit! Answer me. This is Papachka!”
The radio clicked off static. There was a pause. Dmitri smiled and even this far away, Jaimie and deSanto could feel his confidence building.
“Papachka” came the voice in the radio. Dmitri beamed, his grin from ear to ear,
The radio clicked again. “Papachka, this is the Enforcer. Your people can’t come to the phone right now.”
Dmitri screamed into the night and threw the radio at his feet in utter disgust. He bellowed an incomprehensible string of words at the other two men.
Suddenly there was motion everywhere. The lights on Papachka’s vehicles flared and two of them moved in to protect him. Papachka ran for his car, but bullets whizzed and screamed, hitting the ground in front of him and forcing him back.
A cacophony of deep thudding noise came from nowhere as two, three, no seven fully armed military attack helicopters sliced through the sky overhead, dropped low over the square, banking in formation to circle only a few feet off the ground. They opened fire and tore Papachk’a vehicles literally to shreds with their high calibre weapons. The cacophony was deafening.
Jaimie stepped forward to where Dmitri/Papachka stood in shock only a few feet away. He raised his arm as Dmitri turned toward him. He was cool, steady, prepared. He knew what he was doing and was ready.
“You made me what I am today, shaped my future and my present.” He said, his voice low and clear. He paused for a second. He let that sink in. Then: “This is your reward.”
He squeezed the trigger slowly and deliberately. A single shot. Right on target.
“You will not shape my future.”
Dmitri fell backwards in slow motion. He hit the ground with a splash and for the briefest of moments he lay in the cold water and wondered how things had gone so wrong. He felt the edges of his world going dark and start to close in. His breathing was ragged like he had bubbles in his breath.
Jamie and deSanto walked over to Dmitri as he lay there, blood flooding from a gaping wound in his chest and spluttering from his nose and mouth as he struggled for breath. The older man barely noticed as two of the helicopters landed. Barely heard the running, booted footsteps splashing through the water. He couldn’t tear himself away from those eyes. They were an azure blue, they were…..unbelievable. Quite beautiful. Oh how he’d have loved to put those lights out. Exquisite.
And then a strangely familiar voice. An authoritative tone. “Not quite dead, you old bastard?” Dmitri snapped out of his dying fantasy and looked up.
It couldn’t be, Dmitri thought. Not Marcus. Marcus was gone. Vanished a long time ago. Wasn’t he?
DeSanto nodded to his old friend. Marcus nodded back. “It’s…..good to see you after all this time.” He said. DeSanto nodded again, saying nothing.
A young man climbed down from the helicopter. He sauntered over to the small group. “Did you kill him?” He asked of Jaimie in a casual tone.
“Not yet, Chris.” Jaimie replied. “But I don’t think he’s walking away from this one.”
Dmitri looked up. It was Marcus. Marcus was here and looking down upon him. How could this be? Was his mind playing tricks on him? He was freezing cold. Maybe this wasn’t real.
“I would like to ensure he doesn’t” Marcus said. He unshouldered a machine gun, cocked it, and pointed it down where Dmitri lay. “No walking away this time you stinking piece of shit!”
Dmitri tried to speak, to offer up his case, to appeal to his old comrade. It was too late though. It only took about three seconds to unload the entire magazine into him. Bullets tore his chest cavity apart like tiny knives through butter, leaving an unrecognisable bloody mess. Red spattered Marcus, but he ignored it completely. The muzzle of his gun smoked as his ammunition ran dry.
“Christian, he’s dead now.” Marcus said. “It pays to be sure, as Pasqual would say. And I’m sure.”
Chris smiled. “Good.” He brought a radio that he was holding up to his face. “Enforcer, do you copy?” He said. The radio crackled and a voice on the other end said “I copy.”
“You have the all clear. Papachka is dead. Air support should be with you now.” Chris waved his arm in a wide circle in the air and most of the helicopters raced away at speed.
There was a pause and then the radio crackled once more. “Blue…..?” The voice said.
Chris looked at Jaimie. He raised an eyebrow, cocked his head to one side and smiled. Jaimie shook his head and rolled his eyes theatrically. “Okay, okay” he said. Chris handed him the radio.
“I’m here Jonno. I’m okay. Let’s go back home.”
“Sweet Jesus, thank fuck” came the response.
Chris laughed. “Don’t forget you promised to introduce me” he said to Jaimie as he took back the radio. “He sounds like a lot of fun.”
Jaimie chuckled. “I will. But if Pasqual asks, I had nothing to do with it.”
“Young man, I believe you have a place I can land at your Emporium?” Vice President Marcus asked.
“You could land them all in my grounds” Jaimie grinned. “It’s quite an extensive property.”
Marcus grinned back. “Just one is enough. I have a helicopter carrier off the coast. Diplomatic mission. Capturing human traffickers in support of your government. Took some doing, but between us we pulled a few strings.” He placed a hand on Chris’s shoulder and smiled. “Good job too, because if I know Pasqual he’s leaving a pile of bodies down at the quay.”
DeSanto half turned to leave, to get back in the SUV. “I’m done here. I appreciate what you did today, Marcus, but I don’t know that I can’t forgive what you did. Not now that I know.”
Marcus made his weapon safe and stood tall. “I understand deSanto. I never meant to hurt you. When I gave the details of that flight to Dmitri, I had no idea who was on it. I didn’t know it was your lover. That’s why I left. When I found out what that bastard had done, how he’d used me, I had no choice but to leave. Pasqual was right all along and I’m ashamed I didn’t see it until it was too late. I never meant to hurt you, but I can’t blame you for hating me.”
DeSanto went to speak. “But you knew some young man was on it. You knew this bastard would be taking him and selling his body like it was a side of beef to the highest bidder.” He said, and there was acid in his voice.
An argument was brewing, but surprisingly it was Chris who interrupted. “Actually deSanto, Marcus…. you’re coming with us back to the Emporium. This all happened a very long time ago and I get that you are still raw, but it’s done and there are bridges to rebuild. Let’s remember that the bastard who orchestrated all this is gone now. Really gone. There’s no coming back from that.” He grinned and nodded toward the pile of bloody gore at their feet.
“Chris” deSanto warned. “What you did in these past few days, what you have done for Pasqual over the the two years you’ve been with us….. it buys a lot of goodwill. But don’t presume to order me. I don’t want to argue with you. There’s only one man who I allow to tell me what to……”
Chris smiled broadly and held up the radio. “My sweet Jesus you people talk, talk, talk, yes? I have had to fight this evening, clear up the messes while you all have your little party and have all of the fun, eh? I’m tired, I need a good drink and a new cigar because some fucking asshole shot my fucking cigar if you can believe this shit. So deSanto, Marcus, get your asses moving to our new friend’s wonderful house and stop giving my little Prince the grief, yes?”
DeSanto closed his eyes and took a deep breath, torn between anger and amusement. He looked up, locked his gaze onto Chris. He muttered something rude but in the end in winked at the younger guy. “Tell the old man we’re coming” he said. “And I am going to spank you until your bottom is red raw, young man.”
Chris grinned and winked. “Promises promises” he said. “Old man, you hear that?” He spoke into the radio.
“Aye I heard all that. But my little Prince, if my men start calling me the ‘old man’ because of you I’ll spank you myself. Hurry now, and be safe.” Before he released the radio button they heard him bellowing for someone to find him a “fucking cigar”.
Chris rolled his eyes and giggled. He was enjoying tonight, being in the action for once. “Check your breast pocket old man” he said into the radio.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
The gunfire at the quay stopped as suddenly as it had started. Pasqual had taken them in a pincer movement. They weren’t expecting it. They had expected a surprise attack, quick in-and-out, but instead they were surprised. It had been a tough fight and Pasqual had lost several good men tonight, but every one of Dmitri’s fuckers was now laying dead.
The sound of booted feet echoed. Someone was running. Pasqual looked around him. He honed in on the sound and saw a lone man running for his life.
All but one, Pasqual corrected himself.
He leaned on the hood of the car, took aim, and fired. It was a long shot with a handgun but Pasqual was an exceptional marksman. The man shuffled to a stop, reached back with both hands liked he was trying to pull something off his back. He sank to his knees, then slowly he slumped forward into his face.
Okay, now they were all dead.
One of Pasqual’s men handed him the radio. “Christiano is ready” he said.
Pasqual took the radio with a twinkle in his eye. He caught sight of his cigar in a puddle near to where he was standing. It was broken almost in two and now soggy from the ground water. He pulled a face. Such a waste.
Still, he thought, the bullet that had taken the cigar almost had my name on it. I got lucky tonight, he thought.
He adjusted the volume on the radio and listened. He could hear the conversation. It was getting heated. He knew that tone. It was deSanto. He rolled his eyes. What was it with these people? He saw his opening.
‘My sweet Jesus you people talk, talk, talk, yes?” He said, tired of this bullshit. “I have had to fight this evening, clear up the messes while you all have your little party and have all of the fun, eh? I’m tired, I need a good drink and a new cigar because some fucking asshole shot my fucking cigar if you can believe this shit. So deSanto, Marcus, get your asses moving to our new friend’s wonderful house and stop giving my little Prince the grief, yes?”
Some said something that he didn’t quite hear, then he caught “tell the old man we’re coming”. Old man…. my little Prince had started something there. Then deSanto threatened to spank him. Pasqual chuckled. Chris was certainly pushing his luck tonight. But he deserved to flex his muscles after what he planned here.
“Old man, you hear that?” he heard Chris saying.
“Aye I heard all that.” He acknowledged. He pressed the button again. “But my little Prince, if my men start calling me the ‘old man’ because of you I’ll spank you myself. Hurry now, and be safe.” Pasqual’s man turned away slightly to hide his smile.
Pasqual released the button and shouted at the top of his voice “What in the name of the fuck has a man gotta do here? I guess I have to die first, yes, before someone will get me a new fucking cigar!?”
The radio crackled and he heard a child-like giggling. “Check your breast pocket old man.” It was his little Prince again.
Pasqual frowned. He patted his breast pocket, reached inside with two fingers and pulled out his favourite brand of high quality Cuban cigar. He smiled to himself. That boy was good to have around. He toyed with saying something nice to Chris but he decided it would only go to his head. He’d show some appreciation later. The way Chris liked it.
He tossed the radio back to his man, took a matchbox from his pocket and lit the cigar. He took a series of puffs until it flared red all around the tip. He took a long inhale and then tipped his head to one side to crack his neck. Yeah, he’d show his little Prince some appreciation. And that boy was definitely getting a smacked bottom.
Pasqual chuckled to himself. They’d both enjoy that. He pictured Christiano’s little ass and he made a throaty sound like a growl. That boy was so good for him. No other fucker here thought to pack a spare cigar. Just the little Prince.
“Okay people, let’s get the fuck out of here.” He shouted. He was eager for a reunion.
Pasqual’s people jumped in their vehicles and sped away leaving a trail of blood, body parts and destruction for the local police to handle.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
We had moved to the top floor of the building where a makeshift barracks had been set up for Papachka’s men. There were camp beds here, and blankets, some food, some spare clothes. The young guy who had been tortured remained unconscious. He hadn’t made a sound. He hadn’t moved. Every time I saw his chest rise and fall with his breathing, shallow though it was, I had a little sigh of relief. I was glad he was unconscious though. No-one deserved to be awake with what he must been suffering. I just hoped he would make it.
As we had carried the poor unconscious boy between us, we had passed dead bodies in the stairwells and we could see more through the open doors. Papachka’s men littered the building like we were in some kind of zombie apocalypse movie. Master Johns had been through this building like some kind of feral beast. I had been glad about that. These bastards could rot in hell for all I cared.
As we had reached to top floor I was reunited with Master Connor. He was seated on a camp bed, being tended to by one of the men. He was shirtless and I could see that he was bruised all over. He must have been used like a punch bag. His face was puffy, swollen and bruised. His eyes were almost closed and his lip was split, but he had still greeted me with something approaching a smile. He was a hardy fellow, I had thought. A real fighter under that soft exterior. I guessed it took real grit to lose a hand and still come back fighting.
We had placed the boy on a camped and covered him. One of the other guys had tried to give him some water, but it had been mostly unsuccessful. In the end he had taken a rag and wet it with the water and he made a good effort to clean the kid up a little. It had been a pathetic sight. Heart rending, really.
The other boys had gathered nearby, wrapped in blankets, subdued, not yet sure if they were free. I had gone to see Master Johns. I interrupted him talking with his people.
“Master Johns…..” I had said in as commanding a voice as I could. He had turned and glared until recognition dawned on his face and his features had softened.
“Sorry” he had said. “When I lose it…… it…. It takes me a little while to come back down.” I had looked from him to the man who was with him who shook his head. There had been a clear signal there. Don’t poke the beast. Not yet anyway.
“If that boy doesn’t get proper medical help, he’s not going to make it” I had said. “And Master Connor needs proper attention, too.”
“I know.” Master Johns had replied. “I know.” He had looked me in the eye then, thinking, trying to work out what else to say. Eventually he had said “I hope it won’t be long now. We can’t move from here yet. That bastard has all the rooftops covered. That’s how he has been watching us. The old thieves highway. I have been told to wait until support arrives.”
I was about to speak, but the radio that the other guy had been holding crackled to life. “……Control….. Enforcer group…… Emporium Enforcer……. Copy?”.
It had been a young voice, I thought. Maybe my age. Something like that. There was a lot of background noise so it was hard to be sure.
Master Johns had snatched the radio. “Control this is Enforcer group” he said, hope and relief apparent in his tone. “Base is secure. Two casualties. Serious. I need to evac asap!”
“Enforcer group, stand ready. We’re at the end here. Support to you in fifteen, copy?”
“Control, we copy. Support in fifteen. Please hurry.”
Master Johns had looked at me then and smiled. He had grabbed me and hugged me. “Hey kid, you did a great job. I’m so fucking sorry I got you into this!” He had said, and he meant it. I had cried a little then. I couldn’t help it, even if it annoyed me. Relief at having gotten away without being badly hurt. Relief at being alive. Relief that I wouldn’t have to face being sold and subject to what that boy had gone through and worse. I had pulled myself together quickly though. I wasn’t all Emporium yet. I was in street kid mode and I wasn’t a pussy.
Master Johns had pushed me away and clapped me on the shoulder.
“Thanks Master Jo…….”
He had interrupted me.
“I think after what you’ve been through, all at my request, you get to call me Jonno, okay kid? I won’t tell you again.” And he grinned.
I had smiled. “Jonno” I said.
The next fifteen minutes had been long. Everyone had heard the radio message. We all wanted out. We all wanted to know we were free. I had looked at each boy, all of whom had been locked up with these bastards far longer than me. I had wondered what they had been through. It had made me shudder to think.
I reckoned fifteen minutes had just about passed. I looked at Jonno who was pacing from wall to wall. He looked like a caged animal. Even his men were giving him a wide berth, staying right out of his way. Until we were out of here, Jonno was a dangerous man. I pitied anyone who got in his way tonight.
The radio crackled again. My blood froze in my veins as a voice came through, loud and clear. “This is Papachka.”
My eyes shot to Jonno. Jonno looked over at me. Our eyes met. To my enormous surprise Jonno grinned from ear to ear. He started to cross the room to where the radio was propped up on a window sill.
“This is Papachka.”
That voice. It made me cringe. I almost felt that bastard’s hands on me and it sent a chill down my spine. I looked to the boys and they were practically cowering, crouched down on the floor, making themselves as small as possible. I realised this man had probably raped every single one of these guys. Probably more than once. I remembered the chain around my neck. My heart went out to them.
“Dammit! Answer me. This is Papachka!”
Jonno reached the radio. He turned to me. Held a finger his lips and winked.
“Papachka” he said into the radio. He was still grinning. He stopped, composed himself. After a moment he pressed the button again: “Papachka, this is the Enforcer. Your people can’t come to the phone right now.”
Jonno held the radio away from his ear as the man on the other end launched into a tirade of abuse before the sound was abruptly cut off. None of us could understand a word, but we got the gist. I grinned at Jonno. He was enjoying this way too much.
There was a pause. We all held out breath. What was going on? There was obviously a plan here, something I was ignorant of. Jonno held the radio and he looked like he was praying into it.
Everything was taking too damn long.
Minutes ticked by.
“Enforcer, do you copy?” It was the young man again, much clearer this time. Jonno brought the radio up. He click the button.
“I copy.”
“You have the all clear. Papachka is dead. Air support should be with you now.”
I slumped to the ground, crouching down in utter relief. Crouching before my knees gave way. Not trusting my legs in that moment. Papachka dead. Good. I hope he fucking suffered. The men around me looked like they felt the same. The boys all seemed dazed. They’d get it, they just needed time.
Jonno wasn’t done though. He cleared his throat. He pressed the button down again. “Blue…..?” he asked. There was a tremor in his voice. He was worried. What was Blue doing?
Another pause. Jonno frowned. He was about to speak again when another voice came through.
“I’m here Jonno. I’m okay. Let’s go back home.”
Jonno rubbed his forehead, swept his hand over his eyes. He smiled. “Sweet Jesus, thank fuck” he said into the radio. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, puffing his chest out and rolling his shoulders back. He tossed the radio to one of his men and as he did so we all heard the unmistakable thud-thud-thud of a helicopter.
I guessed that was the air support we had been promised.
One of the men came away from lookout duty at the window. “Four choppers, military. Where the fuck did they come from?” He said to no-one in particular.
Jonno grinned. “I don’t exactly know. I just know that the guy who organised all this said there would be air support. Maybe Blue invested in some military hardware?” And he laughed. Several of the men did too.
The helicopters circled around and there was some machine gun fire. By this point it all seemed quite normal. Then a bullhorn from one of the helicopters.
“Enforcer group, all clear. We’ll take you off the roof!”
Jonno was moving already. “Come on, get everyone up. You, you, and you get that boy outta here first. You guys help Connor. Come on!”
It was action stations. People were moving, really hustling. We got to the steps up to the roof and I was right behind Jonno. He unbolted the door and walked out onto the roof where a huge military helicopter was in the process of landing.
And then more chaos.
Someone bolted from behind an exhaust vent on the roof. I saw a glint as one of the lights from the helicopter caught a metal object in motion, arcing up and slicing down. The person ran into Jonno and big man shouted out.
It took me a second. Then I realised. It was Grigor. He must have hidden up here like the cowering rat he was.
Jonno was going down, Grigor standing over him. I ran headlong into them, not thinking, just doing. I put my head down and pushed into Grigor like crazy, with all my strength, my slight body weight just enough to heave him off Jonno. We tumbled to the ground, rolling over one another again and again. I felt him hit me a few times, a nasty punch to my ribs knocking the wind out of me. He dropped the knife and as it clattered away I saw it was covered in crimson blood. He must have stabbed Jonno, the bastard.
Grigor was on his feet first and reaching for the knife again. I rolled over but before I could move he was over me, knife in hand. This is it, I thought. I survived everything in my life so I can be knifed on a rooftop in the poorest district of the city, but a scumbag. What a shitty way to go.
Then Jonno was there in full beastmode. He was a charging bull. He grabbed at Grigor, one hand on the scruff of his neck, the other on his crotch. Jonno lifted him above his head as if he weighed no more than a small child, his momentum carrying him forward. Then he threw with all his might.
Grigor screamed as he realised, as he saw the rail pass beneath him. As he sailed over it. As he saw death a long way below. His arms and legs flailed wildly as his brain sought to grab onto anything. But there was nothing. Just him, a whole lot of air, and the road below.
I heard the sickening thud even over the helicopter engines and propeller. I jumped to my feet to help Jonno, still winded. As I got to him he turned back from the rail, one hand clutching his side. A deep red was seeping from his wound. His clothing was covered in sticky red. His eyes started to roll back up into his head. Then one of his men got to him. Then another and another.
They pressed down on the wound but kept looking to one another with serious expressions. Someone was out of the helicopter now. Running towards us. The boy was being placed in the back and Connor too. They hoisted Jonno up and they practically threw him in. One of the men grabbed my shoulder. He pushed me in too.
“No time!” Yelled one of the men above the noise. “Site ‘B’, now!”
The noise of the helicopter intensified and we lurched into the air. Men were there helping Connor, helping the boy, but more were working on Jonno. There was nothing I could do now but keep out of everyone’s way. As we banked, I felt tired and a little dizzy. I rubbed my chest where Grigor had punched me and it was wet. I found I was struggling to breath. My throat felt weirdly wet. Maybe I just didn’t like flying.
I tried to call to one of the men, to ask if there was anything wrong with me. I was confused. Blood sputtered from my mouth. Instead of speaking, I coughed up blood. I looked down at my hand and it was red and sticky. I felt around on my chest, dazed, confused, not clear about what was happening.
“Shit, he’s been stabbed!” One of the men was looking at me.
Stabbed? Yes, Jonno was stabbed. Why were they looking at me? Why were two of them rushing toward me? The helicopter seemed to tilt to the side and the floor came up to greet me.
As the men got to me, I closed my eyes. I just needed to do a really long blink and clear them, you how it is sometimes. When you’re really tired. A really….. long….. blink……..
The radio crackled. “This is control. Evac successful? You guys on your way to site A? Copy?”
The helicopter pilot was sweating. He’d never flown this fast over a big city. Fast, and very low. He had to hurry. He had to concentrate. The co-pilot spoke.
“Teams four through seven are outbound to site A. Team three on med-evac to site B. Repeat, team three to site B.”
“Site B? Why? The kid is that bad?”
“Unknown. Four casualties on board. Urgent med-evac to site B.”
“Four? There were two…..” there was a pause. “Who is injured?”
“Unknown. Site B aware incoming. Significant blood loss in two casualties. Both in CPR. Landing at B now….” The helicopter banked, came down fast and heavy.
Jaimie looked across to Chris. They were all wearing headsets. They had all heard.
“Site B is Memorial Hospital, right?” He asked.
Chris nodded.
“Get me there. Now”.
Chris tapped the pilot’s shoulder. No words were needed. The helicopter banked sharply and dropped altitude. The increase in speed pushed them all sideways in their seats.
“Hang on” said the pilot and the engine screamed.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Jaimie jumped and ran, not waiting for the helicopter to land properly. Chris was a half-step behind him. They sprinted down the hospital corridor.
There, near the end. Was the administrator. He was arguing with one of the military men. Jaimie shouted. The administrator looked up, took a moment, then recognised the young man. He should recognise him, Jaimie Sandu-St.John had donated more money to the hospital than anyone in its history, money for the treatment of the homeless and the abused.
“Let them pass. Get me the Chief Executive. These people are to have anything. Everything. You understand me. Just send me the bill!”
The administrator blinked. Who was he to argue? He nodded, turned on a heel and ran.
“You, who was injured?’ Jaimie called, almost there, almost at the military guy.
“Who wasn’t in the end?” The man said. “We had a unconscious boy and a beat up older man, and then we were attacked on the rooftop. Lone man, knife. Managed to stab Enforcer and a boy, dark hair. Both serious. Critical I think, but I’m no doctor. We lost one of them on the chopper. I don’t know which.”
Jaimie skidded to a halt. “Where….?” He asked.
“All taken to the ER. I would be down there but that guy from the hospital stoped me and wanted to check my credentials….”
Jaimie was off. If he knew the Chief Executive, she’d still be here even at this late hour. She practically lived here. And he knew the way to her office. He overtook the administrator as he ran down winding corridors to the executive floor. Breathless and sweating, he burst through the Executive’s office door just as she was packing her laptop into her bag. She was just about ready to go home for what was left of the night.
“Jaimie….?” She said, surprised. “What……?”
Jaimie spoke at a hundred miles an hour. Told her what she needed to know. She sat calmly and reached for the phone on her desk. She picked up the receiver while Jaimie slumped down to catch his breath.
It took about three seconds for someone to answer. “Trauma in the ER. Four patients. Two stabs wounds. Urgent critical. Two torture victims…..yes torture….. I’m authorising anything. Everything….. yes, anything at all. Wake Sanders. Who’s around…? Ok. Ok. Great, get him. No, get him now. Can’t wait. Send a car… no, wait, get a bike to him. Faster. I’m going to take it personally if someone dies tonight. Where will I be…..? I’m on my way to the ER.”
She swept past Jaimie and Chris and she was gone. Jaimie suddenly recalled she’d been a talented ER surgeon before she made director. Worked in poor areas, dealt with gunshot and stab wounds as a speciality.
Chris caught his breath. “You ok?”
“I won’t forgive myself if anything happens to one of those people” Jaimie said.
“Let’s get to the ER. But let’s walk. I can’t run any more. I’m all out of adrenaline!”
Jaimie smiled. “Yeah, me too. Pulling that trigger….. it took it out of me, you know….?”
Chris pulled Jaimie to his feet and embraced him. “You did the right thing blue-eyes.” He said. “And we’re in the right place if someone is hurt. That’s why we chose site B, remember?”
Jaimie nodded. He patted Chris on the back. “Come on then. Let’s find out what we’re looking at.”
They walked quickly, took an elevator, and made their way to the ER. When they got there one of Jonno’s men approach them.
“How bad is it?” Jaimie asked.
“We’re not certain, sir,” the man said. “Master Connor is alive, but beaten half to death. He’ll live though. We picked up a boy was was in the process of being tortured. A snuff movie, we think. He’s critical. Suspected internal bleeding, we know that much.”
Jaimie nodded. “And…..”
The man gulped, took a breath. “It’s Master Johns, sir. Jonno….. he was knifed in the side. Looked bad. He’d already been shot in the arm. Lost a lot of blood tonight. And the lad…. Aiden was it….? He was there. He took a knife in the chest. Collapsed lung, for sure, or I don’t know anything. He lost a lot of blood too.”
“One of the military boys said you’d lost one on the chopper?” Jaimie asked.
Again the man gulped. “It was Jonno, sir. Sorry, Master Johns. His heart stopped. Probably blood loos….. We had him on CPR. The boy too though, sir. Both of them. We don’t really know. It was a confusing mess up there….”
“Thanks. Why don’t you get your men out of here. My security detail will be here shortly. We’re fine. You boys had a long few days.”
The man stood to attention. “Sorry sir, but no-can-do.”
Jaimie was about to protest but the man ploughed on. “We all talked. We all agreed. We’re here until you’re safely back at HQ. It’s what Jonno would want, sir. And we won’t let him down, not when he’s…. not around!”
Jaimie patted Jonno’s man on the arm. “I understand” he said. “Go make sure your men are fed and watered at least.” As the man saluted again and turned to jog off, Jaimie stopped him.
“Jonno…… if there’s anyone tough enough to survive being stabbed and shot in one night, it’s Jonno.” He forced a smile.
The man nodded. “He was…. crazy….tonight. Like the Enforcer from the old days. People’ll be talking about tonight for a long while. He…. he didn’t want to let you down again, sir….. I felt you should know.”
Jaimie felt tears come into his eyes. He blinked them away and nodded. He didn’t trust himself to speak.
Then deSanto and Marcus were there, having finally caught up with Chris and Jaimie.
“Is there anything we can do?” DeSanto asked.
“I have medics trained in combat injuries aboard the ship. You need me to have them brought here….?” Marcus asked.
Jaimie looked weary. Chris stepped in. “No.” He said. “If the good doctors and nurses here can’t save these people, no-one can. Now we wait.”
Jaimie looked at the three men and nodded his thanks. “I need to make a call” he said. “Jonno’s husband should be here.”
Chris looked at Jaimie. The poor young man looked to be at the end of his rope. “Pavel, right?” He asked.
Jaimie nodded.
Chris pulled a mobile phone from his pocket. He pressed a button and held it to his ear.
“Pasqual. Yes, I know. Listen to me. We’re at the memorial hospital. Are you at site A? Good. Pavel is there? Good. Bring him. Jaimie wants him here. Jonno is injured.”
He hung up the phone. He looked sheepishly at the men. “I know, I know….. but it’s the twenty-first century for god’s sake!”
DeSanto placed an arm around Jaimie’s shoulder.
“Come on, young man. What you did tonight, it takes courage and saps your strength. Let’s find some hot tea and a place to sit.”
The big man led Jaimie away. Marcus turned to Chris. “You’re full of surprises, Christian. Or should I call you Christiano? Are you coming?”
Chris winked. “One more call” he said. “Jaimie looks like he needs a damn good hug, doesn’t he? I think I can arrange one last thing tonight. I think I can arrange that.”
They sat together in a spacious lounge. Pavel had arrived with Pasqual and one of the surgeons had come to see them all.
Touch and go, he had said.
The older gentleman would be fine with plenty of rest. It could be six months before he was back to his old self, he had warned. The man had taken one hell of a beating, multiple times, over an extended period. But he seemed resilient. He’d pull through.
The others were touch and go. That phrase reverberated around Jaimie’s mind.
Touch and go.
The young man, the younger of the two. What a mess….. He had severe internal bleeding. Must have been used as a human punch bag, among other things. They had operated. The bleed repaired. The other injuries patched up. He should live, technically, the surgeon had said. It was more a case of whether he wanted to live after what he had been through. Touch and go.
The dark haired young man. Knife wound to the chest. Very difficult. Right through the lung, which collapsed of course. Lost a lot of blood internally. Needed CPR. The Chief Executive brought him back. Not out of the woods by a long margin. Moved to intensive care. Touch and go.
And the older man. Strong as an oxe, that one. By rights he should be dead. A vicious knife wound to his abdomen and gunshot to the upper arm. Lost a kidney. Barely had a drop of blood left in him. Need to keep an eye on his heart for twenty-four to fourty-eight hours. Loss of blood caused a cardiac arrest. Lucky to be alive. Fortunate that our best surgeon got here when he did.
Touch and go. Time will tell.
Jaimie dozed off in an armchair with that phrase in his mind.
Touch and go.
Someone took his hand and held it, stroked it. He began to wake. Did they need him? Was everything okay?
He opened his eyes and there was Arina. Her eyes were red and she looked as though she hadn’t slept in days.
They embraced.
“My son, my boy” said Arina. “I am so happy to see you well.”
Jaimie broke their embrace. He kissed his aunt, who took a tissue and wiped his tears.
“My son, are you alright? You took this thing on yourself. It’s a hard thing to do.”
Jaimie thought for a moment. He searched inside for his answer. “I’m….. I’m ok” he said. “I think I’m really okay now. I feel…. different….. now that bastard is dead. Maybe it was the closure I needed. I don’t know. But I know I’m okay”.
Arina held his hand and squeezed it hard.
“I will go and find out what’s happening.” She said.
Hours stretched by. Jaimie wouldn’t leave and nor would Pavel, but they ushered everyone else out. They could go back to the house and rest. Jaimie would keep them informed.
Finally, in the early hours of the morning, the Chief Executive came through the double doors. She peeled gloves off her hands and wiped her brow on her sleeve. Jaimie stood, a fearful feeling growing in the pit of his stomach.
“Are they…….?”
The hospital executive walked to him. Placed a hand on his shoulder. “They are both going to live, and I won’t be made a liar in my own damn hospital!” She said, and she smiled.
Jaimie breathed a sigh of extreme relief. “That’s not just wishful thinking?” He asked.
“No. Vitals are returning to near-normal. It’s going to take a while, but they’ll both pull through. We’re gonna keep them in the ICU for now so we can keep an eye of them. They will be okay though. I promise you, Jaimie, they’ll be okay.”
Jaimie thanked her profusely, his body flooded with relief. As the Chief Executive walked off, Chris put his arm around Jaimie.
“I have secured a room for you. I know you won’t go home until you’ve seen them, but you need some rest. I’m going to stay up until while you get a couple of hours. Then you can spot me.” He said.
Jaimie met his gaze. “You’ve been a good friend, Chris” he said.
Chris nodded. “Eighty-two.” He said simply.
Chris smiled as Jaimie walked away. His veins were full of adrenaline and there was no way he could sleep. He’d finally been able to get in on the action and he had loved every second. He had Jaimie to thank for that. He hoped Jaimie liked his surprise.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Jaimie closed the door of room eighty-two softly behind him. Craig was on the other side of the room sitting on the single bed that had been made up for him so that he could remain at the hospital. With the noise of the ward, he he hadn’t heard Jaimie enter.
Jaimie smiled. Chis really had been a good friend tonight. A sneaky good friend.
He studied Craig.
The slightly older of the two boys was sitting forward, his head bowed, looking at his feet. He looked sad, lonely, perhaps a little heartbroken. It reminded Jaimie of that fateful day when Craig had come to see him in his bedroom in the house he’d grown up in. Jaimie had been for hire back then, the most expensive boy on the roster, although he didn’t know it at the time.
Craig had been with Jaimie before of course, along with his wealthy cousin and a friend. They had all fucked on a cliff-top hill overlooking the sea. Jaimie had managed to turn things around that day. What was originally planned as a session of abuse for young Jaimie had become an incredible four-way orgy. Jaimie smiled slightly at that. It had been one of those days when Jaimie was starting to realise that he loved what he was doing despite the unusual circumstances.
Days later Craig had returned, alone. He hadn’t been able to get Jaimie out of his head and Jaimie had been daydreaming about Craig too. That gorgeous, tall, dark haired handsome young man with the most amazing, the most perfectly sized and shaped cock.
Jaimie smiled. Sex that day had been amazing. Mind-blowing actually. But better still, that’s the day they fell in love. From then on Jaimie knew that Craig was the guy for him, even if he doubted that wealthy and influential Craig could ever be interested in a poor boy being whored out for cash. Even Jonno started to pale in comparison to the wonderful Craig who had treated him so well, been so attentive, been like the boyfriend he’d never had on that day.
Craig left Jaimie that day with a spring in his step and love in his heart. Interested? He was more than interested. In his mind he made plans for them both. He plotted out his future with young Jaimie. As soon as Jaimie was free, Craig would be there. The city’s most eligible bachelor had taken himself off the market. There could be no one else for him. He changed for Jaimie, and he could do no more to show how much he cared.
Jaimie grinned. He recalled that day in such exquisite detail. Craig’s uncharacteristic shyness. His sparkling hazel eyes. His kisses that set Jaimie on fire and that perfect cock that still did things to Jaimie that even Jonno couldn’t do. And the way they had chatted and just spent time together like they were already lovers… It was like some kind of weird, twisted fairytale.
Craig sensed he was being watched and he looked up. He saw Jaimie there, his slim frame, slightly on the short side, leaning back against the door with his hands behind his back still gripping the handle. Sparks flew between hazel eyes and blue.
Jaimie grinned. He loved this man more than life. He wondered why he had walked out that day, why he’d felt so hurt. It seemed so silly now, a ridiculous reaction to something that was never designed to inflict pain. Quite the opposite. But it was water under the bridge. With Papachka’s death, the world seemed like a different place.
Craig smiled too, unsure at first. Were things okay between them? He adored Jaimie with all his heart. That boy was his life. His heart ached to be held and to hold him back. He deeply regretted his actions, sending a boy out on the streets in the way he and Jonno had. Not discussing it with Jaimie first, ignoring how Jaimie would feel about that, it was incredibly stupid and he knew it. Hindsight was a wonderful thing.
As if Jaimie had read Craig’s mind, he stepped forward and crossed the room. Craig stood. They embraced, a tight, warm embrace that went on and on.
Jaimie breathed in Craig’s scent and it made him dizzy with joy. He had missed this so much. Craig put his arms around Jaimie and pulled the younger man’s hot body in close. He was always hot. Hot in every way.
Eventually Craig started to ask “are we….” but Jaimie cut him off. He looked up and placed his lips lightly on Craig’s and they kissed long and slow.
Craig ran his fingers through Jaimie’s hair. He pushed his lover back so he could look him in the eyes. Those wonderful azure eyes that he could get lost in for hours.
“I’m sorry” he said. And he meant it from the depths of his soul. Craig’s eyes filmed over. It had been hard to say that, hard to say it when you really mean it.
There was an almost imperceptible pause, then: “I know” Jaimie replied with a smile. “Me too. You caught me off guard and I got angry. I’m over it. I didn’t mean to hurt you”. He said.
“Me…..?” Said Craig. He wanted to take the blame, accept the responsibility. It was his thoughtless stupidity that had caused a rift between them.
Jaimie put a finger on Craig’s lips. “Let’s not.” He said. He’d had enough of fighting, of pointless things, of animosity. “Let just put it behind us and forget it. I love you” he said simply. He didn’t say those words often and Craig knew he meant them when he did.
“God, I love you too….. so much” said Craig and they were in each other’s arms again, kissing, holding one another, touching.
Craig pulled away again. “You look so tired” he said, concerned. He knew what Jaimie had done tonight. He wondered how it might affect his lover.
Jaimie felt tired, exhausted even, but standing here in Craig’s company, in his embrace, he felt strangely energised. And with that energy came the need to make up properly. To Craig’s surprise Jaimie winked. “I’m not that tired” he said and he wiggled his eyebrows. That always made Craig laugh.
“Seriously…..? Here….?” Craig said, looking around at this hospital room with a single bed, a gurney, and a couple of chairs in the corner. The door wasn’t even locked….
“Okay, I’m tired” Jaimie said. “But I’m elated. It’s over and the bastard who messed with my life is…… gone. And he’s not coming back. And I want you. I want to feel your warmth and know we’re together and know all of this was for something good. Something wonderful”.
Craig didn’t need to hear any more. He cupped Jaimie’s face with his hands and he kissed him. His tongue touched Jaimie’s and the passion sparked instantly.
Jaimie reached up and began to unbutton Craig’s shirt, his delicate fingers exploring his lover’s chest as he went from button to button while they kissed.
Craig moved his hands behind Jaimie’s head. He played with Jaimie’s hair and gently caressed the back of his neck with his fingers and thumbs. Jaimie shivered. Craig’s touch always gave him goosebumps. He quickly finished unbuttoning the shirt and then he pushed it back off Craig’s shoulders. That chest, those shoulders, slim, athletic, defined but not overly muscled….. such a perfect body, Jaimie thought.
Craig pushed Jaimie so that the younger man was backed onto the gurney, his bottom resting against it. He fumbled with Jaimie’s belt, the button on his pants and finally the zipper. Eventually all three were undone and he pushed Jaimie’s pants down and thrust his hand into Jaimie’s underwear. Always expensive underwear, always exquisitely paired with Jaimie’s look. It was his thing, his one overt nod to his wealth. It was Jaimie sticking his tongue out to his past, when often his underwear was old, frayed, and too small for him. Jaimie knew how to frame his best assets with wonderful underwear and these multi-coloured trunks were no exception.
Craig loved to touch Jaimie’s cock as it was growing hard. He loved to encourage it, to play with it and stroke it. To make it dribble with pre-cum. To feel his lover’s pulse in it as it became hard and it twitched with Jaimie’s heartbeat.
Jaimie in turn reached for Craig’s pants. He couldn’t wait for buttons and belts and zippers. He simply pushed his lover’s pants down. He was so slender. He had to push hard to get the waistband over Craig’s ass, but he managed it. The way he felt right now, he wouldn’t have cared if the pants had torn.
They continued to kiss as their hands wandered and played and fumbled. They were like two schoolboys who’d found somewhere private where they could explore their bodies for the first time.
Craig ran both his hands through Jaimie’s hair. He giggled. “I love your hair.” He said. “It’s a total mess, no matter what you do with it, but I love it”. He ran his thumb underneath Jaimie’s eye, caressing the young man’s cheek all the way to his earlobe. “I love those eyes too. Big, blue, shining. And your skin. So pale and smooth.” They kissed again and Jaimie held onto the back of Craig’s neck.
“I love your big hazel puppy-dog eyes” Jaimie said with a smile. “And your neatness. I love that you’re always so neat and tidy and groomed. It sometimes makes me feel a little like you’re still the wealthy paying customer and I’m the subservient boy for hire. Just like the day we first got to know one another. You remember? Back in my old room. I was thinking about that earlier. That’s when I fell in love with you Mister St.John.”
Craig smiled. “I feel in love with you on that hill. Every time I blinked I saw your face from that moment on. The day in your room just cemented something I already knew. And when you were taken I almost died inside; when you were hurt it was unbearable. And when I fucked up and pissed you off the other day….. it hurts so much when you’re angry with me.”
Those big hazel eyes took on a sheen like Craig might cry any second. Jaimie pulled him close again and they kissed and hugged.
“I know. I felt the same way. We’re so good together. Just promise me….next time, talk with me? I felt so hurt when you didn’t and I admit, I lashed out.”
A tear dropped from Craig’s eye. He kissed Jaimie again. “I promise!” He said through the kiss. He’d never again do anything to jeopardise this relationship.
“Good, and I promise not to fly off the handle if we don’t agree” Jaimie said, and he grinned. “Now can we go back to that day in my old room? You wanna play rich Master and subby slave boy?”
Craig giggled. “I don’t remember you being especially subservient” he said through their increasingly passionate kisses. “But I guess we can give it a shot. You do know what subservient actually means, don’t you?” He asked. “How about I explain it…?”
Jaimie laughed and bit Craig’s earlobe. He brought his mouth close and whispered “How about you shut up and fuck me”.
Craig didn’t need telling twice. He paused for a split second before pushing Jaimie back onto the gurney. He yanked Jaimie’s pants down to his ankles, grabbing his legs and pushing them back. He grabbed the elastic waistband of his lover’s trunks and pulled them up over the boy’s beautiful, slim ass cheeks exposing balls that were hanging down near that pretty pink boy pussy. Craig held Jaimie’s legs back. He leaned down and buried his face between those cheeks.
He licked and tongued that hole while Jaimie squirmed with delight. Jaimie pulled his legs back further and shuffled back a little more onto the gurney. He wanted more, wanted it now, and Craig obliged. He brought his thumbs to play, pressed one of them into Jaimie’s tight entrance while he continued to explore with his hot, wet tongue. He probed and lubricated and licked. It was driving Jaimie crazy. Craig was so good at this. He was such an attentive lover and he knew exactly how to relax Jaimie, how to get him ready to be taken.
Suddenly he was gone and Jaimie’s pants and underwear were being stripped away and tossed over Craig’s shoulder. Jaimie’s legs were pushed back as Craig stepped forward. He spread his lover’s legs, leaned down and kissed his neck. Here it comes, Jaimie thought. That perfect cock that I love so much.
Sure enough, Craig reached down and lined up his cock. He gently caressed the head around Jaimie’s hole before finally resting it dead centre. His hazel eyes locked onto Jaimie’s blue, and he surged forward. He needed it. It had been too long and he need to feel himself buried in Jamie’s tight passageway.
Jaimie whimpered a little as Craig’s cock slid inside, his hands caressing Craig’s back and shoulders. He pulled his knees back and let them fall open so that Craig could get closer and they embraced and kissed and Craig’s hips did the real work.
The two young men fucked hard. It was full of fire and longing and the heat of true love and fast passion.
Craig turned Jaimie every which way as he pumped with his cock. Jaimie, for his part, was the true submissive, his only job being to take that perfect cock and grip it with his sphincter. On his side, his back, bent double…
Craig flipped Jaimie over onto his front, bent him over the gurney and slapped his ass. He placed a thumb in Jaimie’s gaping passage and dribbled saliva down to provide more lubrication. Then he lined up again, and he pushed himself back inside with longer, slower strokes. He stood and watched as his cock was buried inside Jaimie, then he looked on with lust as he pulled back until the head was almost out. He loved the way it looked, Jaimie’s perfect ass, his beautiful buttocks and his delicious ring tightly gripping Craig’s shaft.
Craig leaned forward to kiss Jaimie’s shoulder, his back and his neck. He took Jaimie’s dick in his hand and began to caress it, pulling back the foreskin and using a slow jerking motion in time with his slow fucking.
Jaimie was hot and sweaty. “Oh god, I can’t last long if you do that!” He said.
Craig kissed his lover behind the ear. “That’s the idea” he said, a glossy sheen of sweat across his own face. “Because nor can I. It’s been too long”
“Oh… then fuck me, master!” Jaimie said with a grin.
Craig fucked and jerked and kissed and very soon both of them were at that point of no return. That point where everything builds and builds and builds and you know the only way out is to release. They could feel their own orgasms rising and they could sense it in the other man, so close was their bond. Jaimie cried out and shot a huge spurt of cum over the gurney and at that second Craig lurched forward and his cock pulsed and spasmed as he shot his cum inside.
Craig collapsed on Jaimie and held him tight, the spasms of their orgasms dying away gradually.
“Yeah we should definitely do that some more” Jaimie said with an exhausted smile. “I missed that cock. It’s the perfect fit. It always was.”
“Okay I’ll try to fit you into my schedule” Craig replied. “I admit, that’s a tight little passage for a subservient sex slave. I’ll see if daddy can afford to buy another slot in your schedule! I think I’ll buy a gurney too….”
Both laughed and embraced. Any and all animosity was gone.
Craig withdrew gently and he picked up Jaimie in strong arms. They collapsed onto the single bed and Craig pulled the sheets over them both. They lay there, warm, spooning, Craig’s softening cock nestled between Jaimie’s buttocks. Slowly they drifted off, a post-fuck snooze that they both needed, made all the better for one another’s company.
To be continued…