Just at the crack of dawn, the driver stopped long enough for my captor to put a dark heavy hood over my head, and then we drove some more. Eventually I heard the sound of a large metal gate opening. I could smell the fresh sea air and heard the sound of a few gulls. No bets, this was probably the old sewage plant that May had spoken of.
Taken inside, my hood was removed we walked seemingly forever down repeated flights of stairs, across catwalks and finally down a long sub-basement corridor with irregular lighting. Finally at last we came to a shut metal door with a well-armed rifle-toting thug guarding it. I was immediately admitted into a fairly large and well-lit room with no other doors and no windows. I think once this had been a living area for the plant's maintenance crew but it definitely now served another grimmer function, interrogation.
Hanging tied and suspended from pulleys on the cement ceiling, feet dangling a foot off of the floor were the nude and wretched forms of both Allison and May. Neither of them were moving… not a good sign at all. Unfortunately for the next few moments I had problems of my own.
I was order to strip, which I slowly did, my clothes, faked identity papers and the roll of Fed cash were place on a table. I had spent most of my personal pocket money last night at the bar. I've never been in habit of carrying much cash on me. I was then handcuffed with my hands behind me and for at least the next hour I had the pleasure of being beaten, kicked and punched by a pair of sadistic goons without necks until my skin had a nice rich purple glow all over and my teeth were all thoroughly loosened (none lost, thank heaven for small favors).
I briefly considered trying to get a kick or two in myself to restore a little dignity but the facts were that I wasn't going to win this particular fight anyhow and I should save my strength for later in case there was a fight I
could
win. Plus making these two goons mad seemed like a really bad idea at the time.
When they had judged that I had bruised their knuckles enough, they dragged me over to a metal chair and sat me down facing the suspended Allison and May and secured me to the chair. I took a few minutes (ok, rather more than just a few minutes) to recover, and started to look around the best I could with two rather swollen eyes that didn't seem to want to work or focus well. Foggy or not, I didn't like what I saw at all.
Allison seemed to be in the best condition at the moment, but she was none too healthy to begin with. Her eyes were closed and her head hung down and her body was utterly limp. She didn't even seem to breathe; it was so slow and seemed slightly irregular. She had been well beaten and whipped all over with professional precision and didn't look like she could handle much, if anything, more. At least she was alive.
May I was much less sure of, and until I eventually heard her emit a bloody air breath gurgle and she quivered ever so slightly. She also had been worked over by professional sadists and for a very long time. The phrase beaten half to death was not just an expression. I guessed that they had only stopped beating, whipping and cutting her when they feared that she would expire on them. There was a frighteningly large pool of blood and urine under her and a slow but steady blood drip seemed to emit from her rectum. Definite internal damage... not good at all.
A metal medical table, covered by a clean white sheet, was nearby and in the far corner was a large chain link security cage maybe 8' square suitable for locked prisoner storage. There was a metal trap door in the center of this floor with a heavy iron ring that explained the fair smell of sewage. This must be where the bodies were dumped afterwards, in the outbound sewage drain into the bay. No other doors, no windows, no chances of anyone anywhere ever hearing our screams.
I discarded Plan W, shut my eyes and prayed for divine inspiration for a workable Plan X. Otherwise it was obvious that none of us were going to leave this room, at least alive anyway. Apparently we were all heading for that last swim in San Diego Bay after all.
Time passed slowly, minutes seemed like hours. I rested the best I could, the beating had taken enough out of me that if I hadn't been tied to my chair, I'd have probably fallen off of it long ago. I checked on the girls regularly and they at least seemed no worse. Allison was now twitching and occasionally emitting a moan but wasn't quite conscious yet. Good let her rest and recover if she could. May's slow blood drip never stopped but had slowed down just a fraction. She was now deathly pale.
Time continued to crawl.
******************
Eventually the door opened and an older well dressed man entered the room with two armed goons discretely by his side. This was one the big bosses, I guessed. He gave curt orders to have the women taken down and they were unbound and dragged off to the holding cage, still unmoving and unconscious. He pulled up a chair and straddled it, sitting facing me, looking me over.
"Do you know my name, Mr. Peter Wells?" He asked. I said I didn't, and he then hit right to heart of the situation. "Why are you interfering with my business and exactly what is your association with these two women - why did May contact you?"
This was not a good sign, my cover was obviously worthless and any lies that I could even begin to conceive of think of seemed less than useless. The man was smart anyway and probably knew enough that nothing less than 99% pure truth was going to have even a hope of saving us. I also caught the emphasis he placed on 'exactly', so I took the deepest breath my bruised ribs would let me manage, looked him direct in the eye and I unloaded with both barrels, figuratively speaking.
"Alright, Allison, my fiancée, was kidnapped about five years ago outside her apartment by her loser of an ex-boyfriend who wanted a hostage for his escape to Mexico, just one step ahead of the heat. He cuffed her to his car and poured booze down her throat until she was a helpless puddle by the time they reached the border. The useless asshole then proceeded to piss off one of your drug dealing associates who planted the worthless shit into a shallow grave. He was no loss, but it was decided that her flesh was slightly worth more alive rather than dead. So, for the last few years she's been dancing, stripping and fucking in your clubs or whorehouses while we've been searching for her. Nasty things adventures… make one late for supper!" The man relaxed just a little. I was sure he could read me like an open book and would know of the slight hint of flummery on my part.
