Steel World Inc. Chapter Twenty Six

 

I was only too aware that the clock was now ticking, and in maybe ten minutes or so we would see the tell-tale signs of car headlights as it drove down the narrow bumpy lane to this isolated farmhouse in the countryside.

 

For the first time in 24 hours I felt a trace of uncertainty that bordered on fear.

 

“You can’t be serious? You surmise all this from the way a single word was typed?”

 

“Yes! And if you go out there to greet those men, unarmed, they will kill you,” said Emily, again. 

 

“Wasn’t it you who implored me a short while ago not to carry a gun? Didn’t you say I’d probably shoot myself in the foot?”

 

“The circumstances have changed, Simon. And for God’s sake, will you please unlock these handcuffs?”

 

“Slave bracelets,” I corrected her.

 

“All right, slave bracelets. At least give me the chance to defend myself if that car turns out to belong to Frick! At least give me that!”

 

My mind was reeling. What was I supposed to do? How was I supposed to come to some rational decision based on such flimsy speculation? Rational logic told me that the car was sent by Karl Magnus, and there would be two armed men inside tasked with protecting us. And on the basis of an interpretation of a single word in a text message, Emily wanted me to shoot them dead the moment they stepped out of the car? Shoot them dead with no warning whatsoever? That was no small thing. 

 

“I think we should unlock the slave bracelets,” suggested Miss Whitlock. I could see she was as troubled now as I was by this sudden warning of danger. Ludicrous as it might seem, Emily’s words had succeeded in sowing an element of nagging doubt in both our minds. It was like an earworm - a catchy tune that you don’t actually like, but you can’t banish from going round in a loop inside your head. “Just in case she’s right.”

 

“All right. But I’m going to take some precautions with her.” I produced the key to the slave bracelets and unlocked the one ring around Emily’s left wrist. I watched as she moved her hands back in front of her body, with the other steel ring still locked around her right wrist.

 

“About time,” she said. 

 

And then she cried out in protest as I took the loose ring and snapped it about Miss Whitlock’s left wrist.

 

“Simon!” cried Miss Whitlock as she now found herself to be the custodian and guard of Emily. “What are you doing?”

 

“Until I know what is happening here, I’ll feel safer with Emily handcuffed to you. She’s not going anywhere that way, and you can keep an eye on her while I’m preoccupied, but if her warning proves correct, the two of you can at least flee together.”

 

“I don’t want to be handcuffed to her!” exclaimed Miss Whitlock. She raised her arm and shook the short length of chain, which by context meant she lifted Emily’s right wrist in the process.

 

“You’ve handicapped us both,” said Emily.

 

“I’m going to open the back door of the house. If things turn out to be dangerous, you can both flee through that door and head into the countryside.”

 

“We’ll be slower, chained together,” said Emily.

 

“I don’t think it will actually come to that, but I can’t set aside the thought that this is some sort of double cross on your part that I don’t fully understand. Do you want me to shoot Magnus’s men, and while I do that you flee from here, unencumbered? Is that your plan?”

 

“You really are the most incredibly stupid man I have ever had the misfortune of falling in with,” said Emily. “Your arrogance and self-centred thinking will be the death of you. Probably in ten minutes’ time.”

 

“And yet I’m not the one dressed in a skimpy slave tunic with a steel collar locked around my throat,” I pointed out. “I’m doing quite well in the circumstances, thank you very much. You, on the other hand, managed to enslave yourself. And I believe Karl Magnus criticised your recent performance in a management capacity? You’ve made mistakes, Emily. I have to assume this is a mistake, too.”

 

Despite Emily’s rather condescending attitude, I felt I now had the situation very much under control. And if the women could stop squabbling and complaining for a few minutes, I felt sure I’d be able to assess these new developments and come up with the correct course of action to save us all. 

 

“Simon… I don’t want to be chained to Emily.” Said Miss Whitlock. “You’ve locked slave steel on my wrist.” She pouted. 

 

“It’s only for a short while, until I get to the bottom of this.”

 

“He’s going to die and we’re both going to be slaves on the Frick ranch,” said Emily as she raised her chained wrist. “He really is that stupid.”

 

“Enough.” I stared hard at Emily. “Another word like that and I’ll…”

 

“You’ll what? Whip me?” Emily looked defiant. “You’re not that kind of man. And even if you were, you’re probably going to be shot dead in ten minutes or so, so pardon me for not being scarred of you anymore.”

 

“The car is going to be here soon,” said Miss Whitlock. I could tell her anxiety was growing, as was mine.

 

“Get the gun, Simon,” said Emily. “Just get the fucking gun!”

 

“Fine, fine. I’ll carry the gun. Will that satisfy you?” I went to the table where the gun rested in its box. I picked it up, examined the loaded clip and then inserted it into the magazine space. I was aware of the lack of an external safety, and so I left the first round unchambered.

 

“As soon as they get out of the car, you shoot them, and you keep shooting.”

 

“Be quiet!” I ordered. I then walked to the back of the house and opened the door there. Beyond the house was the rear garden and a low stone countryside wall that bordered a wide expanse of meadow land as far as the eye could see. A brief run of forty or fifty feet would reach the safety of some thick woodland.

 

If the worst transpired, the girls could run toward the woodland while I fired at the men.

 

But why was I thinking that might even be necessary? Emily’s paranoid delusions were at best that: paranoid delusions, or at worst some form of treachery I couldn’t quite fathom. That was a concern, but even more of a concern was the fact that my hands were shaking, Try as I might I couldn’t steady them. I suddenly felt very scared, even though the possibility of that car actually belonging to Frick was so remote as to be implausible.

 

Frick had no way of knowing where I was. No way at all. I had spoken to Karl Magnus. I know I had spoken to Karl Magnus.

 

I picked up the gun again and felt it tremble in my hand. It’s one thing to shoot at targets and quite another to shoot at a man. Particularly if that man is coming here to help you. 

 

What to do? What to do?

 

“Simon,” Miss Whitlock put her free hand on my arm. “I’m scared.”

 

“Don’t worry, Miss Whitlock. I’m here, by your side.”

 

Despite the fact that women are of course fully our equals in every respect, save perhaps for some trivial physical matters, women secretly take comfort and reassurance from being under the protection of a man. I kissed her softly on the cheek and whispered that I loved her.

 

“And I love you, Simon,” she gasped. “I want to spend my life with you.”

 

She was so lovely, So pure. So innocent, So in need of my protection. But my hands were still shaking, and now both the girls noticed that.

 

“You could give the gun to me,” suggested Emily, but she knew I wasn’t going to do that. I didn’t even bother to acknowledge the request. I had to remind myself that Emily was far from an innocent here. I had to remind myself of her role in Magnus’s organisation. She would happily have arranged for Miss Whitlock to be cruelly abducted, enslaved, and sent to serve in a sexual capacity on a ranch in Montana. She was not a good person. In many ways I now found it fitting that she herself had been enslaved. 

 

“The car will be here in a few minutes. I’m going to greet the men, and assure myself that everything’s fine. I want you both to stay in the house, close to the back door, just in case.”

 

Miss Whitlock gasped. “I’m not leaving you, Simon.”

 

So brave. And yet what could she do if there was actually any trouble? 

 

“You’ll do as I say, Miss Whitlock. Is that understood?”

 

“Yes.” Her eyes seemed wide and she sucked in her breath as she understood that she was to obey me now. I think she wanted to obey me. I think it reassured her to do so. 

 

I heard the approach of the car before I saw its headlights. I walked out through the front door and onto the front facing porch of the farmhouse building. The driveway down to the house was riddled with potholes and I saw the car, or rather its headlights, bounce as it twisted and turned to reach the gravel driveway. This was absurd. Emily’s warning was absurd. There was no rational sense to it, but the words had set off alarm bells in my head. Could Frick possibly have intercepted the call? And even if he had, why would that mean he was capable of finding this house and getting here before Karl’s men did? I had been careful not to describe the location. Only Karl would know where the Southend safe house was located. 

 

And yet Emily’s warning continued to twist and turn inside my head like an ear worm. 

 

I placed the gun down on an outside table that supported a few withering plant pots. The gun would be out of sight when the car arrived, but I could reach down for it at a moment’s notice if I felt something didn’t seem right. 

 

I made my decision. The spelling of a word in a text message did not justify shooting at unarmed men as they emerged from a car. But I kept the gun close, just in case.

 

The car made the final turning before it drove the last twenty yards onto the driveway. It was clearly a Charcoal Audi A6 Avant, but in the gloom of the setting sun I couldn’t make out the licence plate. That wasn’t a concern. The chance of Frick having access to the same make of car so quickly was unlikely. 

 

It’s strange what you think of when you’re facing a stress situation. My mind was suddenly clear, even if my hands were still shaking at my side. I watched the car come to a halt and I realised quite clearly how much I was in love with Miss Arabella Whitlock. All those carnal thoughts of Emily were dishonourable. Miss Whitlock was my woman, and I loved her. I suddenly felt very ashamed that I’d even considered fantasies of keeping Emily as some sort of personal possession. How would that have made Miss Whitlock feel? 

 

The doors to both sides of the car swung open. I think the glass was tinted in some way, for I couldn’t see inside. 

 

“Hi,” I said, with a slight tremor to my voice. The grip of my gun, hidden behind the plant pots, was perhaps sixteen inches away from my loose right hand. 

 

“Simon Rogers?” said the man who had been in the passenger seat. Both men wore jeans and t-shirts and leather jackets. They both had very short hair and looked tough – precisely the sort of men you’d expect Magnus to send.

 

Or Frick, for that matter.

 

“Yeah, I’m Simon. You are?”

 

“Everything okay?” The second man, the driver, regarded me as he swung his car door shut. The passenger side door remained open. 

 

“Yeah, everything good. Thank you for coming. I’m sorry – Mr Magnus didn’t tell me your names?”

 

“Dave,” said the driver, casually. “And Steve.” He glanced towards the open door of the farm house. “Are the girls both inside?”

 

Both inside…

 

I had only mentioned Emily to Karl Magnus. Only Emily.

 

Something in my expression must have given my thoughts away, for ‘Dave’ suddenly realised he had made a mistake. He drew his gun with lightning speed, but I was already reaching for mine as his hand moved to his open jacket.

 

I must have panicked as I brought the Sig P226 up from the table, as I began squeezing off shots blind before the gun was even trained in their direction. I think perhaps that might have saved my life, for a series of shots from the gun smacked hard into the gravel driveway and then into the front of the car as I raised the weapon, before ‘Dave’ was able to bear down on me with his own gun. It was enough to cause him to move by reflex, just enough that his own first shots went wild. 

 

I just kept firing, and the moment was just noise and flashes of muzzle fire, and tunnel vision, punctuated by a scream.

 

By all that is Holy, I had shot him!

 

I was still firing, stumbling back, as ‘Steve’ drew a military assault rifle from the passenger seat. Suddenly there was a couple of bursts of semi-automatic gunfire as I dived back into the farm house, crouching low, in a desperate run for the back door.

 

“Run!” I screamed to the girls, and I was aware of their bodies hurtling down the corridor ahead of me. 

 

And then there was a sudden deafening explosion, followed by an acute ringing in my ears as ‘Steve’ must have launched a grenade from the lower barrel of his military weapon. A large section of the front of the farmhouse collapsed, and the hallway and front room was now burning and full of black smoke. Had we taken refuge in the front of the house we would now all be dead. 

 

I ran for my life, not daring to look back, or even turn to fire. I saw the girls sprint out into the back garden, their wrists chained together. 

 

It was Frick’s men! Emily had been right!

 

And then we were in the rear garden, running wildly, with no plan other than to escape the man with the military assault rifle. Once we were over the low stone wall, there was maybe forty to fifty feet to cross to the line of trees that made up the neighbouring woodlands. Forty or fifty feet, with low light to our advantage. 

 

Miss Whitlock was screaming as she ran, and I wanted her to be quiet, but she couldn’t hear me. No doubt her ears were ringing, too. 

 

The girls were already over the stone wall and running through the meadow grass as I vaulted it. Even with the loud ringing in my ears I heard more gunfire from behind me. I turned and saw the figure of the second man, ‘Steve’, and I fired some snap shots at him as he trained his weapon in my direction. This time my shots didn’t strike home, and I dropped behind the stone wall just as a burst of semi-automatic fire strafed the space where I’d been standing. 

 

I couldn’t stay there of course, so I rose into a low crouch and zig-zagged and ran after Emily and Arabella. 

 

There was more gunfire and then a scream. I saw Arabella’s body twist and stumble forward as her back suddenly arched. 

 

And then she fell with a heavy thump, like a sack of coal, into the wet grass of the meadow, pulling Emily down with her. 

 

I ran towards Arabella and dropped to my knees beside her.

 

Her body was convulsing. She was dying in front of me.

 

I must have screamed, because she gripped my hand and tried to say something. Blood was welling in her mouth.

 

“Arabella, no, God, please, no…”

 

She looked into my eyes, deep into my eyes and squeezed my hand tighter than anyone had ever squeezed it before. She tried to say my name.

 

And then she died in my arms. 

 

I just knelt there crying, in the shadow of ‘Steve’ and his machine gun. Arabella was the love of my life, and now she was dead, murdered in front of me.

 

A second figure joined Steve after a while.  

 

“It’s fair to say,” Frick remarked, as he pointed his gun directly at my head, “I’m very disappointed in you, boy. Very disappointed, indeed.”