A La Carte

The menu hit the table with a soft thud.

“It’s all in there, I’ve done everything you asked.” His knuckles whitened as he gripped the edges of the table. He leaned in his blue eyes locked onto hers. “Now leave me, and my family, alone.”

“I…”

“I don’t want to hear it Sarah, it’s over.” He pulled his phone from his jacket pocket, “I’ve got your photo, if I ever hear from you again, I’m handing it all over.” He let go of the table and wiped his hands on his blue jeans. Straightening up he ran his fingers through his sandy hair and headed for the door.

She watched him go, mouth open, the fork stopped halfway to her mouth. She twisted on the seat, the dark red vinyl squeaking as she peered around the end of her booth, eyes tracking him as he made his way past the counter. There was a plop as the meatball slid off her fork and hit the plate, her eyes snapped to the plate and back to the man. He paused at the door looking back at her, their eyes met briefly.

“It’s Anna.” Her voice, caught in her throat, not more than a whisper drowned out by the hubbub of the diner. She coughed and called out again, but he was gone. The door slowly closing behind him.

A waitress in a dark red blouse brushed past, name badge pinned to her left breast pocket. It said Claire or Clara, the odd italic writing made it impossible to read.

“Is everything okay with your meal?” she asked.  Eyes vacant as she stared over the top of Anna’s head gazing out of the window.

“Yes, great thanks.” Came the automatic reply. “Actually no, the spaghetti is over cooked, and the meatballs are like rocks.” But those words went unspoken, it was her number one eating out rule, never complain, never make a fuss. If they took your plate away to sort it out, God only knows what went on in the kitchen, behind closed doors.

The waitress started the lift the menu to add it to the stack already in the crook of her arm. Anna’s hand shot out slamming it back to the table. Finally tearing her gaze from the window, she glared down at Anna.

“Sorry, I just… I just need to keep this for a few more minutes.”

The glare continued to bore down at her. “Whatever.” Came the curt reply, before she moved off to the next table along the row, and resumed her vigil, once more staring out of the window.

Anna slid the plate of soggy pasta to one side, pulling the menu in front of her. The corner of brown paper envelope was just visible poking out between the cracked leatherette cover. She flipped the menu open and lifted the large envelope. It was about half an inch thick and heavy. There was a faint impression of a staple showing in the top left corner. She turned it over, blank, no writing, no marks, nothing to indicate what was inside.

The door slammed open; the hubbub died away. Anna heard the squeak of vinyl and rustle of clothes as all eyes turned to look at the man in the doorway. He was tall, with long black hair that fell around his face half obscuring his features. He wore dark glasses, and a black leather jacket that came down to his knees, rain dripped from the coat already forming a small puddle where he stood. The door slowly closed behind him. The noise of the diner resumes. People turned away, conversations resumed, the momentary distraction of something new was over. Just another customer getting out of the rain.

He stood there scanning the customers, gaze flicking over each one. It stopped on Anna, then on the envelope still clutched in her right hand. His right hand slipped into his inside jacket pocket as he started towards her. She spun back into the booth, ducking down, pressing her body into the seat, as if somehow, he wouldn’t see her. Heart racing, she dug around in her bag, her fingers closing around the cold smooth plastic of her phone. Dragging it out, fingers frantically scrabbling on the keypad, she dialled 999, then paused, what would she say? A man gave me an envelope, and another man came into a diner?

“Hello Sarah.”

           She jumped, letting out a small shriek, as she dropped her phone. It clattered to the floor by his feet. Casually he stood on it, the screen cracking beneath the heel of his black leather shoes.

           “Hey, you’re going to pay for that.”

           “Hush now Sarah, you need to come with me.” He said leaning in. His voice was soft and quiet, but his face was hard and carried countless small scars.

“Who the hell do you think you are.” Anna said.

“I’m the man you are going to be leaving with.” He reached down and gripped her arm. His right arm moved, opening his jacket slightly, the glint of black polished metal in his hand.

“Oh my God!”

“You know what this is?”

“Y-Yes.” She swallowed. Her mouth suddenly paper dry. “But this is London, not Los Angeles.”

“Exactly, and unless you want all of these people to get hurt, you will come with me.” His grip tightened on her arm as he dragged her from the booth. Her feet slipping on the wet tiles as he pulled her towards the door.

She pulled back twisting in his grip, but he just dug his fingers in harder. Blinking back tears, Anna mumbled, “But I haven’t paid.”

“That, is the least of your problems.”

“Hey Lady!” the man behind the counter called out.

Anna turned “Help.” She cried out, her reply drowned out by the screech of tyres outside the door. A white van mounted the kerb, coming to a halt, the side door slid open. Anna was dragged through the doorway and thrown onto the metal floor of the van.

Rough hands grabbed her, dragging her in, holding her. The door slammed closed. In the semi darkness she could only make out confused shapes. There was a tearing noise, tape stuck over mouth, wrapping around her head, yanking at her hair. It shook her out of her shocked daze, kicking out there was a grunt, her nails connected with something soft, raking them back, there was a curse and something hit her in the side of the head.  She saw stars in the darkness as a heavy weight pressed down on her legs, her arms dragged out above her head.

She tried to scream but the tape held firm, stopping the sound before it left her.  A dark shape loomed above her, she thrashed as it bent down, slipping a bag over her head, tightening the drawstring below her chin.

She felt the hands on her and the dread realisation hit, she twisted and trashed harder. More hands grabbed her, arms and legs pulled out straight, spreadeagled on the hard metal of the van floor.

Her breath coming hard, in out, not nearly enough air. The bag was stifling. Unable to scream or move, she twisted trying to break free.

“Easy now.” A gravelly voice in the darkness. “This will go much easier for you if you don’t fight us, Sarah.”

“I’m Anna.” She tried to scream out, the tape gag muffling everything. Tears now freely streaming down her cheeks, soaking into the coarse fabric of the bag.

The hands started again, up and down her sides. Her blouse was pulled out, there was a popping noise as the buttons were ripped off. The flimsy material dragged over her head and off each wrist in turn. She felt the hands move again, over her breasts, running along the edges of her bra, twisting and gripping the underwire through the lacy material. Fingertips slid around the straps, under her back meeting at the clasp between her shoulders. She squirmed and kicked trying to stop them.

“Nothing.” Came the voice again.

She felt cold metal against her stomach, she flinched away, it dragged down with the sound of tearing fabric and her skirt was gone. The same insistent fingers sliding over the cotton of her underwear, down her thighs, pulling off each sock in turn.

“Nothing here either. She’s clean.”

Her hands were dragged together, there was a zipping noise and something hard bit into the flesh around her wrists. Her ankles felt the same bite as they were forced together.

“Night, Night.”  There was a sharp pain at the base of her neck, then the world went black.

*****

Anna groaned and hugged her knees tighter to her chest, teeth chattering as she looked around the dark room. The room was empty, barely larger than a cupboard. The thin band of light, under the door showed just enough to make out there was nothing, not even a door handle. Bringing her hands to her face Anna scratched at the tape, numb fingers searching for the end. A thin trickle of blood ran down her forearm as she struggled against the cuffs, working at the tape until the end came free.

She screamed, the tape ripping out clumps of hair as she unwound it.

“Yes.” She croaked in the darkness, panting and blinking away tears.

Footsteps echoed down the hall outside, stopping outside the door. Two shadows breaking the line of light. Anna pushed herself back into the corner, as far from the door as possible as it swung inwards. Flinching, she covered her eyes against the light flooding into the room.

“Wakey, wakey.” The same gravelly voice from the van. A shadow blocked the light in the doorway, Anna lowered her hands. The shadow moved and a bucket of cold water sluiced over her.

“What do you want with me?” She cried out, between sobs.

“Time for questions later.” He stepped into the room bending over her, his dark face inches from hers. “But we’ll be asking the questions.” He grinned a gold tooth just catching the light.

Another man stepped into the room; their bodies pressed together in the small space. Both men bent and grabbed her under the arms, dragging her out of the corner.

“Up, up, up.” The newcomer said, his voice was high and nasal.

She twisted in their grip, her wet, bare, skin slippery in their hands. Their grip tightened, fingers tightening like bands of iron. She hissed with pain and stopped fighting.

They dragged her from the room her bound feet sliding behind them, toes grating across the tiled floor. The corridor was brighter still, white walls and cracked red tiles, ending at a metal staircase. Two doors down they paused, there was a click and the door swung inwards. A small thin man dressed in a white coverall and overshoes held the door as they dragged her inside.

In the centre of the room was a metal chair, large bolts held it to the floor. Under the chair a metal grating was set into the tiles. A large mirror ran the length of one wall.

“No, no, no! Let me go! Get off me!” Anna twisted and trashed I between the two men as they dragged her to the chair.

Dumping her down in it they secured one wrist and ankle with wide Velcro straps. They stood back, breathing heavily as she continued to fight against the bindings. Grinning as he reached behind his back, the first man pulled out a long knife, the blade glinting in the harsh fluorescent light. Anna went rigid, eyes tracking the knife as he lazily waved it in her direction. They both moved at once grabbing her arm, the blade flashing between her wrists, the knife slicing into the soft flesh on the side of her arm. The plastic cuff fell away and they quickly secured her arm, followed by her other ankle. Further straps followed on her knees and elbows. Smiling at her the nasal man picked a long strap from the floor, she twisted, desperately trying to follow him as he walked behind her.

Suddenly his face was beside hers leaning over her shoulder, his coarse stubble grating against her shoulder. She felt his hands snaking around her, the strap wrapping, pulling tight, biting into her bare skin of her chest. He patted her on the head. “Have fun.” The two men laughing as they left the room.

The man in white overalls smiled, his face partially obscured by the hood of the coverall. “Hello Sarah.”

“I’m Anna.” Tears streaming down her face, she looked up. “Please, you’ve got the wrong person. I’m Anna Davidson, I don’t know anything.”

“I’m sure you do Sarah.” He walked across the room to where a long table stood against the wall, a white cloth covering it. He slowly pulled back the cloth revealing rows of knives, pliers, hammers and other odd-looking instruments.

 “You don’t understand, you’ve got the wrong person. I’m Anna Davidson.” She cried out, straining against the Velcro her breath coming in gasps. “I’m nobody, I work in a bank.” She paused, realisation breaking over her. “Oh my God! You want to rob the bank!. I’ll tell you anything.”

. “Oh, I know you will Sarah.” He chuckled as he walked to the door. “I know you will.”

There was a click and he pushed through the door. The lights went out leaving her in pitch darkness.

*****

Time ticked by slowly in the darkness. “Hello.” Her voice echoed in the bare room.

*****

The latch on the door clicked, the room was flooded with bright white light. The man in the white coveralls stepped back in, his suit rustling as he walked across the room.

“Hello again Sarah, are you comfortable?”

Blinking up at him she replied, “Please, I have to pee.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that Sarah. That’s what the grate is for.” He pointed beneath her chair with one foot. “There will be much worse going down there before we’re through. I don’t think anyone will mind a little pee.” He chuckled again as he walked over to the table.

Humming to himself quietly he picked up each of the knives in turn, holding them up to the light. “Now before we get started, is there anything you’d like to get off your chest, hmm?” He waved a curved, serrated blade at her. “Call me Simon by the way, it’s much nicer being on first name terms, and we do like nice I assume?”

“Yes, Simon, yes I’ll tell you anything, just please don’t hurt me.”

“That’s good Sarah go on.”

“My boss is called Andrew Sanderson, he lives in Kensington, I’m not sure where but it’s somewhere near the tube.”

“Go on, which tube station.”

“South Kensington, I think, but his secretary James would know.”

“Secretary?” Simon turned to face her.

“Yes, James, James Moran. He could give you all the details.” She looked up at him. “Please I’ll help, I’ll tell you anything. But I really have to pee.”

Simon looked at her, his head on one side. “Maybe, do go on.”

“The bank closes every day at eight, and it’s empty until…” Simon slapped her hard across the face, then back handed her on the other side.

Leaning in he grabbed her by the ears. “Cut the crap Sarah. This has nothing to do with a bank. I want to know about the papers.”

“W what?”

“The papers Sarah. Why did you have them?”

Shaking all over, she felt the hot wet run over the seat and under her thighs splashing down to the grate below. Simon stepped back. “I think we’re beginning to understand one another.”

Returning to the table, he selected a long thin blade. “Now Anna, I’m going to ask one last time. Why did you have those papers.”

“I don’t know.” She sobbed, tears and snot streaming down her face. “I’m Anna…” She screamed as he stabbed the knife through her outstretched hand.

“Let’s try that again.”

“A man.” She gasped. “A man gave them to me in the diner.”

“What man?”

“I, I don’t know he just…” She screamed again as he stabbed again through her other hand. This time he left it in there the blade, jerking as she shook with pain.

“Don’t test my patience, Sarah. Or this will get extremely difficult.” He looked sharply towards the door as a muffled crack, like the sound of a book being dropped, came from outside, followed rapidly by another.  Then four more in quick succession. Something crashed hard against the mirror making it bow into the room. Then nothing, only the sound of Anna’s sobbing, hitching breaths.

Simon spun to behind the chair, the knife hard against Anna’s throat. Blood began flowing freely down her neck. Time seemed to stretch out, each breath laboured. Anna pushed her head back, straining away from the knife.

There was a huge boom, the lock and hinges splintered and the door fell inwards. Two men dressed in all black stepped into the room. Both held pistols out in front of them.

“Don’t,” said Simon. The knife pressing harder, making Anna stretch further in the chair.

Another crack and Simon collapsed behind her, the knife spinning away across the floor. One of the men crossed to where he lay and casually shot him twice more.

Laying his pistol on the tiles, he crouched beside her, removing the straps from her legs.

“Hello Sarah.” He said without looking up.

“Hello Carl.” She smiled. “It took you guys long enough.”