Perfect Kill

‘There are screens above your head that will capture any action you can’t see from where you’re sitting. Don’t worry, we won’t let you miss a thing.’

Elenuta couldn’t see the screens the audience had access to, but she didn’t need them. It was all here, ready for Finlay to gloat over. She wanted to refuse to watch, but even if Finlay would let her get away with that – and he wouldn’t – knowledge was a currency, and at the moment she was flat out broke. She needed to know what possible dangers lay ahead.

‘Turn up the lights!’ Finlay shouted and, like a Broadway show, the camera rose into the air – Elenuta assumed it was a drone – and lights flickered on in what was apparently a vast warehouse, fitted out with a maze of partitions. Here and there, metal staircases, more like ladders, rose above the temporary six-foot walls and facilitated access to a different part of the building, but using those ladders would make the women more visible. There were what appeared to be cupboards, large bins, piles of sheets, all providing the false promise of a place to hide. Elenuta estimated the warehouse interior was maybe twenty thousand square feet. It was hard to tell with the sketchy light and movement of the drone. It was vast, by any reckoning. The drone dipped closer to the floor and lengths of barbed wire came into focus, which would force the runners to either jump, dip below it or turn back. Dappled light on the ceiling caught her eye.

‘What’s this?’ she asked without thinking, giving Finlay a chance to enjoy her interest.

He pointed at the warehouse floor although there was nothing to see from the drone’s viewpoint.

‘Smashed glass. Five different patches of it. There have to be some handicaps, after all.’

‘But they have no shoes,’ Elenuta said. ‘It’s not fair.’

‘Not fair? I paid good money for those whores. I need a return on that investment, and that means putting on a proper show. Do you have any idea how much it costs me to house and feed you lot?’

Elenuta stared at him, the space between her eyebrows a knot of wrinkles as she waited for him to laugh. He didn’t. He meant every word of it, the resentment at the bills incurred feeding them stale bread and out-of-date chicken nuggets. The heating was turned off overnight and only put back on during client hours so they didn’t get complaints. The sheets were the only items washed regularly. The women handwashed their personal items in the sink overnight. Elenuta wondered how far gone Finlay was if he had genuinely persuaded himself that he was somehow being taken advantage of by the women he held captive and sold every day.

‘Here we go,’ Finlay told Elenuta, his face alight with excitement. ‘Now don’t you fucking look away. I don’t want you missing any of the good bits!’

‘One final word of warning to you all,’ on-screen Finlay wagged his finger. ‘First man to lay hands on any woman gets her to himself. Once a man has her, no other man can touch her. Three men, four women. The last woman standing gets a good meal, a hot bath and a comfy bed with none of you cunts in it tonight. That’s it!’

He raised his left hand in the air. ‘Countdown! Five.’ The last race’s winner looked deep into the maze, head down, knees bent. The other women looked terrified, hands still wrapped together.

‘Four.’ The audience was on its feet to a man, and the noise coming from that side of the warehouse was deafening. Elenuta couldn’t hear Finlay count down after that, but she watched his lips move.

‘Three, two, one!’

The previous winner was gone. She flew into the maze, taking an outside lane, glancing back over her shoulder only once as the other three women looked on, dazed and bemused.

‘Run, you fucking whores,’ Finlay shouted. ‘If you don’t want to die where you’re standing, then friggin’ run!’

As one, like the herd of zebra that’s spotted the lion, they bolted, moving chaotically, tripping over their own feet and each other’s. Elenuta wanted to shout instructions to them, as if she were watching in real time, but it was way too late for that. The camera focused on a clock on the wall, the countdown already at thirty-seven seconds and falling as Finlay’s champions jumped up and down, ready for the off. Tattoo had his teeth bared. The big man was sweating profusely, sparkling in the half-light. Elenuta prayed that a heart attack might strike him down in his revolting excitement before he could set off. The scarred man, though, was something else. Something bestial, his face twisted with a hatred so terrifying that Elenuta could hardly bear to watch. She pitied anyone who crossed his path. He was a man without limits. She’d met such men before and been grateful to have survived the encounters.

The image suddenly split into four quarters, presumably a reflection of what the audience in the warehouse had seen. The footage was from drones, four separate cameras. This was no small operation. Finlay had to have had four men, one set to follow each woman, to provide constant footage. Two of the women had stuck together, and the others had gone off alone. The countdown was at ten seconds, and the men were poised and ready to sprint.

‘Those drones are the bloody best you can get. Cost me a fuckin’ packet,’ Finlay lectured.

‘Uh huh,’ Elenuta murmured.

Her hands were gripping the bedcovers, as if to tether herself away from the screen. The previous winner was at the far side of the maze now, pausing, hands on knees and panting, looking behind her, then ahead, to decide tactics. Not getting yourself cornered was the obvious priority, and she wasn’t. She had three directions to run in. The next decision was whether to hide, or keep running. The problem with that was exhaustion. Sooner or later the after-effect of the adrenaline would be to drain the women’s energy, rather than to provide a boost, and then there would be nothing left to fight with if – when – the moment came.

Elenuta looked at the other screen sections. The youngest woman was trying and failing to open an old metal cupboard, tugging uselessly at the doors which had obviously been deliberately locked and put there to distract the runners.

Horns blasted, echoing hard around the bare walls. The men, like hounds released, began to run. The audience made noises that might have come from behind the bars in a zoo. The scene was nothing short of gladiatorial, if the surroundings were less than Romanesque. The young woman who’d been attempting to open the cupboard had finally given up on that plan and was trying to cover herself with a pile of old sheets that had been dumped on the floor. However slight she was, there was no disguising the person-shaped mound in the middle of the rags.

‘Get up,’ Elenuta hissed through the screen at the girl. ‘Get up now.’

‘She can’t hear you, love,’ Finlay laughed. ‘Entertaining, isn’t it?’

‘Animal,’ Elenuta said.

Finlay leaned forward, poking out his tongue to lick her face from eye to chin, leaving a trail of saliva for her to wipe away.

‘The big bloke’s surprisingly light on his feet. Watch him go here,’ Finlay pointed, as the largest of the three men took a corner at speed and caught sight of a woman ahead of him. ‘Oh, the tension,’ he mocked. ‘I should charge ten times what I do for this. People would take out loans if they had to.’

Elenuta chose to look at Finlay rather than the chase underway on the screen.

‘How much for ticket?’ she asked.

‘Ah, see, now you’re showing your true colours.’ He tapped the side of her head with his forefinger. ‘I knew there was a smart wee brain in there. One hundred and fifty for a seat in the audience. One thousand to participate. You can stop looking at me like I’m something you trod in, you snotty bitch. I’m a fuckin’ businessman, that’s what I am.’

A thousand pounds, Elenuta thought, to be able to chase and capture a woman to rape, beat and abuse on camera, in front of an audience. In the end though, not so different than what happened to all of them every day. Just less of a spectacle.

Three of the screen sections disappeared as one enlarged to follow the progress of the big man more closely. The drone was overhead both him and one of the women, face to face, each panting, him grinning, her glancing backwards at the stretch of broken glass on the floor behind her that was perhaps four metres long. Too long to jump but there was no way she was going to be able to climb the partition. The only other option was to fight the man, and hope she could deal enough of a blow to give her time to escape the way she’d come.

He motioned to her with his fingers, palms up. Come on then, was the message. Just you try it. The woman whipped round, dipping down as she went, grabbing a piece of broken glass in her left hand. She was no fool. He had several stone on her, and even though they were the same height, fighting him off was going to be tough unarmed. With the glass though, she stood a chance.

He took a step back, taking his time, before pulling a pair of leather gloves from his pocket. It wouldn’t stop the glass entirely, Elenuta thought, but it gave him more protection. Certainly he wasn’t about to back down now. He’d paid a thousand pounds and he wanted it repaid in flesh.

The woman stepped forward, keeping just out of grabbing distance, but presenting the man with an opportunity to try. He lunged for her and she leapt backwards and to one side, pulling the man’s arm and propelling him towards the glass-covered section of floor then letting him go. He fell under his own momentum, helped by his front-loaded gravity. Only letting himself crash to his knees first saved him from being peppered with broken glass from head to toe. Still, he howled in pain. The woman was already gone, leaping back down the corridor in which she’d been caught, glass fragment held out front. The man got up slowly, his knees and lower legs bloodied, staggering slightly before righting himself fully. Wrenching a shard of glass from one leg, he shouted into the empty area. Elenuta’s nails were her own shards of glass in her palms. If the man caught up with that same woman again, he would make her pay over and over, once for the pain and again for the humiliation. He hurled the slice of glass at the drone hovering about his head, and spun round to follow her. Slowly this time, though. He wouldn’t be sprinting again for a while. Elenuta allowed herself a smile.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.