Steel World Inc. Chapter Twenty Seven

 

“I’m so sorry, Mr Frick. I was just scared, so scared of Karl Magnus, and I wasn’t thinking straight. I would never normally do anything to disrespect you, but it was a moment of madness, that I really regret.”

 

“I’m sure you do, boy. I’m sure you do.”

 

Frick stared at me as I sat in a heavy wooden chair in the basement of the farm house that was bolted to the floor so that it couldn’t move. I had hoped that the sound of gunfire and a grenade going off would have roused the local police in the countryside to investigate, but an hour had gone by and there was no sign of anyone in blue. My ankles and wrists were secured to the legs and arms of this chair by thick leather straps threaded through buckles. I was naked and shivering. I was also having trouble controlling my breathing from the waves of panic that swept over me. 

 

I had seen this situation before in many films. I knew what this situation meant.

 

“I’m begging you, Sir. You have Emily now. She’s yours. Please don’t hurt me. Please.”

 

Emily knelt on the basement floor in nadu, with her wrists locked behind her back in a pair of steel slave bracelets. Her head and hair was down and in the harsh strip lights of the basement I could clearly see marks on her body that suggested she had been brutally raped upstairs while I sat down here, helplessly listening to her screams. 

 

I was honestly terrified. 

 

I don’t think I can stand much pain. 

 

“The thing is, boy, you backed the wrong horse. Karl Magnus scared you, but what you didn’t take into account is that Karl Magnus would only have killed you. He has no taste for torture and doesn’t see the point of it. Now, me, well, I know how to deal with cattle rustlers on the Lazy F, and that’s just what you are, boy – a thieving cattle rustler.” He took his tailored jacket off, and neatly hung it from a wooden peg, before undoing his tie. “Where I was born and raised a man doesn’t steal another man’s heifer. Or, if he does, there are consequences.”

 

“Please, Sir, I made a terrible mistake. Please I beg you!”

 

“You made a mistake all right, boy. Like I said, Magnus would only have killed you. Me, I’m going to keep you alive for a long time. And no one’s coming for you. The police know not to investigate a Steel World safe house.”

 

I started crying, blubbering, and then I felt a release of piss as I wet myself. It poured quickly like an open tap onto the cement floor.

 

“Don’t be ashamed of that, boy. Happens to the hardest men when they know what’s coming to them.” Frick placed his silk tie over the back of another chair and began to remove the cufflinks from his shirt. “You may be wondering about your girl, whether she’s going to get a decent burial?” He regarded me.

 

“I’m so sorry, Mr Frick! I’ll do anything! Anything to make up for this!”

 

He ignored me and continued to talk about Arabella’s body. “She won’t be getting a grave, or mourners, or flowers. I’m going to have her ground up into pig meal and shipped out to Montana. There’s plenty of hungry pigs on the Lazy F. Shame to waste some good dinners.”

 

I cried some more. Arabella’s remains would be mutilated and fed to farm animals. Her family would never know what had happened to her. Tears ran from my eyes as Frick removed his shoulder holster and then then his shirt and neatly draped both on the back of the same chair as his tie. 

 

“You’re probably curious how I found you ?”

 

“I have some money! Not much, but it’s all yours, Mr Frick, Sir! All yours! I’ll pay… I’ll pay even more as I earn it! I’ll pay you everything I earn from now on! I’ll set up a direct debit!  Just, please, for God’s sake, don’t hurt me!”

 

“Magnus is a bit clumsy with Earth tech. Doesn’t really appreciate it for what it is. He forgot that his phone was still on the table after Lord Jeremy used it to speak to the Prime Minister. Magnus left the house without it. He’s clumsy like that. Doesn’t check for his phone  the way the rest of us do. Goreans. They think they’re so smart. Was a simple matter for me to go back and pocket it after I realised what you’d done. I didn’t answer any calls – let them all go to voice mail. Didn’t want Magnus to think his phone was anywhere but still on that table when he finally realised he’d landed in Amsterdam without it. Then I just waited for you to call. I do a pretty good impression of Magnus, don’t I, boy?”

 

I sniffed. “You hacked his phone password?”

 

“Didn’t need to. I watch and I listen. It’s why I’m successful. Watch and listen.” He tapped the temple of his forehead with two fingers. “Magnus makes no attempt to hide his password when he types it in. I watch for things like that. Never know when they’re useful or not.” He unbuckled the belt from his trousers and then slipped them down his legs. Again, he folded the garment neatly and placed it over the back of his chair.

 

“This is going to get messy, boy. And it’s an expensive suit.” He removed both shoes and the corresponding socks, which he rolled into balls and stuffed into the shoes. I could see that he still had a trim and muscular body, despite the fact he was probably in his late forties. “I’ll give you credit for not saying where you were over the phone. Smart move. But you lose a lot of points for letting me talk long enough for my people to trace your phone signal. Shouldn’t have done that. How did you get wise to my men?”

 

I sobbed. “Your text, You used American spelling, Sir.”

 

“Ah. It’s always the small details.” To my horror, Frick pulled down his underpants, revealing his flaccid penis. What was this? He’d already had Emily, presumably? He wasn’t going to bugger me as well, was he? Not like in the film, Deliverance! 

 

“Anything else?” he asked.

 

“Your man… the one I shot… he knew I had Miss Whitlock here. I hadn’t mentioned her to you.”

 

Frick nodded. “We went round to get her of course. It was obvious to us why she wasn’t in her flat, fast asleep. You moved quickly boy. You did everything right. Except you trusted Karl Magnus’s voice over the phone.” 

 

“I’ll work for you, Sir! Anything you want! Anything!”

 

“And why, boy, would I need to employ a snivelling little shit like you, hmm? What possible use would you be to me?”

 

I couldn’t answer. My chest felt so tight that I could barely breathe. I felt another dribble of piss trickle and leak to the floor, between my feet. 

 

“Before you called, I had my people stateside look you up online, to get some idea of how you think. Seems you’re something of a film buff? You write reviews of films on websites?”

 

I nodded.

 

“Quite liked your review of the Wild Bunch, actually. Sam Peckinpah knows how to make a great film. Now, he’s a man’s director, not like this modern shower who talk about diversity and representation. Anyway, thought you might appreciate some film references in amongst the pain you’re going to be feeling.” Frick placed his phone on a wooden table close to the door and pressed play. A couple of seconds later I heard the familiar voice of Gerry Rafferty’s seventies band and, bearing in mind the context of the song to film, a fresh chill seized hold of my gut.

 

Well I don't know why I came here tonight

I've got the feeling that something ain't right

I'm so scared in case I fall off my chair

And I'm wondering how I'll get down the stairs

 

Frick grinned as he began to mimic the slow ‘Dad Dance’ to the music that was immortalised by Michael Madsen in 1992.

 

Clowns to the left of me

Jokers to the right

Here I am stuck in the middle with you

 

“Please Mr Frick, please don’t!”

 

I watched helplessly as he picked up a set of heavy pliers and a dental gag designed for forcing and holding a mouth open.

 

Yes I'm stuck in the middle with you

And I'm wondering what it is I should do

It's so hard to keep this smile from my face

Losing control, yeah I'm all over the place

 

Frick continued to dance towards me, taking one step to the left and then another to the right, smiling all the time as he mimed to the lyrics of the song. And then he was beside me, forcing my mouth open and inserting the metal clamp gag to keep my teeth apart. I screamed as he looked down at me and asked, “Is it safe?” As I thrashed around on my chair, he grinned and added, “that’s your second movie reference, boy. Hope you liked it.” 

 

And then, taking his time, he ripped out one of the premolars from the left side of my lower jaw, tearing it out, bit by bit, from the raw gum.

 

The pain was excruciating. I screamed again, spitting blood as he placed the first tooth in a jar. “We’re just getting started, boy. But here’s how we make it a fun game. Thought we’d include Emily in the frolics.” He glanced back to where she knelt, numb with shock, on the cement floor. 

 

“After each tooth, the little heifer gets to arouse me with her mouth. I have an egg timer that runs sand for three minutes. If she can make me come in that time, well, the torture stops and I give you a clean death. Bullet in the head. Nice and quick. If she can’t, well then, we move on to the next tooth. And eventually you’re going to die anyway, but there will be plenty of pain before you do, unless the little slut can suck well.” He crossed over the floor and wiped his bloodied hands on a towel. “Let’s see what you can do, kajira. You’ve got three minutes before your boy here starts screaming again. Want to save him from losing another tooth?”

 

His penis was already semi risen from the excitement of torturing me. I watched as Emily raised her head, her eyes terrified, as Frick stood before her, having turned over an egg timer beside his phone.

 

A quick death. I didn’t want to die, but if I was going to die anyway – if it was inevitable - then I’d rather skip the torture.

 

“Please, Emily,” I begged. “Don’t let him do this to me! Please!”

 

Our eyes met and I saw the black bruises across her face, and what looked like multiple cigarette burns on her shoulders. Frick had been brutal when he had taken her, upstairs.

 

Slowly, stiffly, her body no doubt still hurting, she lowered her head submissively, parted her lips, and took Frick’s penis into her mouth.

 

“You’ll be doing a lot of that, slut, on the Lazy F. My cowpokes work hard and you know what they like? Some fillies in the stocks with their mouths open that they can go to for some relief during their coffee breaks. We designed our own stocks where a girl can be locked in position, bent over with her legs parted for use, along with her mouth positioned nicely for a second man to use at the same time. Work hard and play hard on the Lazy F.”

 

I watched as Emily slid her wet lips along Frick’s now hard shaft. She had perhaps two and a half minutes left to spare me further torture. And then I heard the most horrible scream I had ever heard in my entire life as Emily opened her mouth wide and suddenly bit down with her teeth with all the force she could muster. 

 

Frick seemed to explode, thrashing around as Emily ground her teeth down, trying to tear his penis in two. He struck her on the side of the head with his balled fist, but Emily held on, biting down with a savage intensity that shocked me.

 

Frick continued to scream and then he fell back, and as he did so, his head caught the corner edge of the side of the table. 

 

Emily released him, with blood smeared over her lower face. I watched, stunned, as she dropped to the floor, drew her legs together while Frick was screaming on the cement floor and drumming his feet in spasms, and squirmed until she was able to bring her back braceleted wrists past her feet and in front of her.

 

I heard heavy boots thundering down the stairs to the basement. Emily sprang forward, ignoring the howling figure of Frick. She grabbed the gun from Frick’s shoulder holster in both handcuffed hands and brought it round in an arc just as the basement door was flung open to reveal Steve with his assault rifle. 

 

The gun in Emily’s hands boomed in the echoing basement as she pumped shot after shot into Steve. He managed to get off two bursts of semi-automatic fire that splintered the ceiling, showering me with plaster, as the shots from Emily’s gun flung him backwards against the stairwell. 

 

And she kept firing, bullet after bullet until Steve’s body stopped twitching, except to jerk to the impact of each further shot.

 

“Emily! Help me!” I screamed as I struggled in the chair. 

 

She was crying, snot running down her face as the hammer finally clicked on an empty magazine. Then she crossed over to where the fallen assault rifle lay, scooped it up, pointed it at Frick’s shuddering body and pulled the trigger, only to find the magazine was empty. 

 

“Emily! Help me!” I cried. I had seen enough films to recognise the scene where the main protagonist is helpless, thinks he’s about to be rescued, but the rescuer is then killed because he delayed freeing the captive. 

 

Emily clubbed Frick’s head with the butt of the rifle, and then turned and moved towards me, wiping snot and blood from her nose and mouth with the back of her hand. She looked wild and capable of anything while adrenalin ran through her body.

 

“He raped me! He raped me because you didn’t fucking trust me!” She spat full in my face. There was blood in the thick phlegm as it dripped down my cheek. “Do you fucking trust me NOW?!”

 

“I do! I do! Please, untie me! There may be other men!”

 

“There isn’t. Frick came here with two men.” She began to unfasten the buckles on my wrists. “I didn’t see anyone else when he passed me over upstairs. Both men took their turns with me.”

 

“I’m sorry, Emily. I can’t even begin to imagine what…”

 

“No. That’s right. You can’t possibly imagine.” She released my second wrist from the straps and then, as she began working on the ones around my ankles, Frick suddenly lurched to his feet, blood streaking his scalp where he had either struck the corner of the table or been clubbed by the butt of the rifle. He staggered for a moment, concussed, and then swiped the mobile phone from the floor and ran in an erratic fashion towards the basement steps leading to the ground floor.

 

I thought for a moment that Emily was going to rush after him, but Frick was a strong looking man, even if he was horribly injured, and she made the wise choice of finishing with my restraining straps as Frick lumbered up the stairs, taking them two at a time. We’d stand a better chance of tackling Frick together. 

 

“We need to be careful. He’ll still be able to fight,” said Emily as we hovered by the bottom of the stairs. 

 

“I am so grateful, Emily, you have no idea.”

“Later. Frick first.” We could hear him still groaning as he reached the semi-ruined ground floor of the farm house where the rifle grenade had blown away a section of the front wall. 

 

I looked around for something I might use as a weapon and my eyes fixed on a shovel leaning against the far wall. That would do. Armed with the shovel, I led Emily up the stairs. I had no idea what time it was now,  but the house was dark once we emerged from the strip lights of the basement. I felt a pounding of fear and adrenalin in my body, knowing that Frick might be waiting to ambush us. But he wasn’t. Instead he had made his way, with agonised difficulty, out into the front garden. He seemed to be calling someone on his phone.

 

And then we saw it, just as he did. Car headlights – two sets of them – winding their way down the pot holed private road towards the gravel driveway at the front of the house.

 

“He has reinforcements,” said Emily. 

 

“No, I don’t think he has.” I saw the way Frick staggered back in surprise as the cars rounded the last bend and drove, separating, to the left and right on the gravel to park in such a way that Frick’s direct escape route was cut off. Doors on either side of the cars slammed open and heavy set men with guns emerged from the driver and passenger sides. 

 

And then from the back seat of the second car, another man emerged. In the light shone by the car headlights, I could make out the distinct figure of Karl Magnus. 

 

Magnus’s eyes narrowed as he watched Frick stumble to a halt, a few yards from the first of the parked cars; his phone still clutched in his left hand. 

 

“Hello Willard,” said Karl after a while. “Am I interrupting something?”

 

TO BE CONCLUDED