Super Blogger

17. ARCHER II

    
         ALAIN ARCHER'S POV

• 2 Days Later

Sweat drops gathered on my chin before falling to the ground with an echoing plop. Hank was also sweating bullets but unlike him, I tried to look confident, unafraid. Howbeit, the sound of my pounding heart spoke the true nature of things.

"Where's Cage?" I hushed rhetorically, glancing at the Rolex watch under my suit's sleeves. It was quarter to 18:00. They were ten minutes late.

Fear swirled inside me as a dreadful possibility crossed my mind. "Could it be..." I whispered, eyes bulging. "Did he find out about--"

A quick but reverberating squeak cut me off. I ducked down behind the large wooden crates, scraping cobwebs off onto my back as I crouched. Hank had followed suit, his huge body testing the integrity of the crates opposite from me. I listened beyond my beating heart to the sound of the warehouse door closing. After it slammed shut, sounds of approaching footsteps followed. Slow and many.

"Boss?" A whisper from that direction eased my tension a bit.

I cleared my throat to push back any hint of relief. "Where the fuck have you been, Cage? You think I have time to waste?"

I rose to my feet so they could see me. With the only source of light being the moon's beams streaking through the big tainted glass windows, I managed to make out Cage's figure along with ten others. They began to head my way.

"Forgive me, bossman. Some people needed... motivation."

I knew it. There were supposed to be eleven others. I surmised the last one had decided to cower away from my master plan and I trusted Cage made sure he couldn't cower ever again. Or do anything else for that matter.

"Tres bien," I nodded and vaguely registered him return the nod. "Are you sure you weren't followed?"

"I can smell blood around me, if I was being followed, I would know."

"It's not human blood I'm cautious about, Cage."

There was a thick silence before he spoke in a lower tone. "We were strictly stealthy when getting the bomb."

I nodded.

*****

We formed a circle around the wooden hatch. I pulled out my revolver from within my suit. "Open it," My command was quiet yet stern. The echo chamber of a warehouse amplified my voice.

The hatch was thrown open with a creaking noise. A crammed room below held our gagged and bound billionaire, married to a chair.

In accordance with my gesture, Hank pulled up Huan Gong from the hatch, who remained slumped between the ropes and the chair. He was likely unconscious from hours of low oxygen and muffled screaming.

Good thing the chair was sturdy, because the way Hank plopped it down in front of me was forceful enough to break a person's bone. To his merit though, the impact jolted the billionaire awake.

He wriggled vehemently, his dark hair dishevelled and his eye bags deeper than before.

I rose my eyes to meet Hank who towered behind the chair. "Has our guest been fed?"

"A ration of bread and a red cup of water." He reported.

I feigned a look of concern. "I see. Untie his mouth."

Immediately the gag came off, he bellowed in rage."Alain, you bast--"

I pointed my revolver at his forehead and pressed my other index finger against my lips. "Shhhh."