The Trafficked

63

Mann began turning at the same time as Stevie Ho stood up and left Fat Harry’s table. Mann began running before Stevie could see him. If Stevie was there, it meant they knew who he really was and his cover was blown. But they had lured him there for a reason. Then it hit him with sickening clarity-Becky was the target.

Mann sprinted back up towards the hotel. He didn’t need to look back to know that Bob and Harry would give him ten minutes before realising he wasn’t going to show up and that he knew. Then they would alert their friends. Mann’s blood ran cold. All he could think of was Becky. He ran through the empty reception-no staff, and no guests. Something was going on that no one wanted to see. Whatever it was must still be happening in the room. Mann took the staff stairs to the third landing and walked halfway along until he judged he was just above their room; then he slipped into an open door whilst the chambermaid was cleaning. He crept out onto the balcony and listened. Diagonally across and down he heard Cantonese being spoken, the noise of excited, raised voices. He estimated there were four or five men. There was no sound from Becky. Mann stepped onto the ledge and jumped across to the neighbouring balcony. Now he was directly above the room. As he looked over he saw that the French doors to the balcony were open. He could just see inside.

He saw Becky on the floor. A man was over her. She was being raped. He felt the anger roar through him and felt as if he would spontaneously combust if he could not control it. He knew he must control it, because, more than anything, he wanted to rescue her. His senses became heightened as every fibre in him was preparing itself for a fight. He was poised on the railing, ready to swing down. He needed all the force he could muster to get through those balcony doors and into the centre of the room in one massive jump. He took a deep breath in, and on the exhale he held onto the ledge and propelled himself over as hard as he could. His feet contacted with the door frame. The door flew back and banged against the rattan cabinet to the right of it.

Mann crouched low and aimed high. From one hand he threw all five throwing spikes that had been strapped to his ankle. Three of them landed in the face and neck of the man nearest the door. Two were stuck through the shoulders of the man doing up his flies. He was now pinned to the hessian frieze above the bed. The third man had Delilah through his heart and was in the process of dying on the floor. Lastly, from Mann’s left hand he released the Death Star. It span through the air and sliced through the back of the neck of the man who was in the process of raping Becky. It severed his spinal cord, as Mann knew it would-he couldn’t risk injuring Becky in the process. He had to take the man out this way.

Mann watched him topple slowly sideways, then he walked over and picked him up with his foot and kicked him away from Becky. He checked her breathing; she had been badly beaten but she was alive. He pulled her trousers up and pulled her t-shirt down. Now Mann could let his anger loose. Now, as he turned to her attackers, he knew that he was the last man they would see on this earth. Anger was built in him that would not be quelled. Now he would have justice at any cost. He could never undo the harm they had done to her, but he could make them pay…and he would. She was still unconscious, but she was alive and she could wait one minute, one moment was all it would take for him to settle the score.