The Vault of Hercules

Chapter 4

Nina watched as her new lackey crept toward the bald man. His friends had no idea what his venture was about, but they looked on while reluctantly continuing their training to make sure the man did not notice that anything was amiss. But Colin was young and dumb, leaving his subterfuge wanting. He started up a conversation with the abrupt man, who sounded like a World War II radio broadcast. Nina listened to his meticulous eloquence and for a moment she imagined he would suddenly start reporting on D-Day or announce an evening curfew.

Suddenly the bald man sighed, “Listen laddie, unless you’re going to spot me or tell me that the manager wants to see me, you should leave me alone, alright? I’m not here to socialize or to check out the ass value here, alright? Now get.”

Nina was disappointed. It turned out that her target was not forthcoming towards the younger generation, not even those who asked for training advice. Colin came back from his shunning. If he had a tail, it would have been tucked between his thighs. His droopy eyes attested to his failure and he hardly had the guts to look at Nina.

“What the hell was that all about, Cols? Are you tacky in the head or something?” one of his pals asked.

“Nope,” the other sighed as he motioned to Nina with his head, “just whipped, I’d say.”

“Jesus, are you crazy? Do you know who that is?” a trainer asked as he joined the cluster of boys at the leg press machine. Nina looked at him as the others shrugged.

“I am sort of curious, actually,” she told the floor trainer. “Who is that?”

The trainer looked spooked by her forward manner, even retreating a step before forcing out an answer to the nosy and dominant beauty in the black tights. “W-well, he is sort of… an enigma around here,” he revealed. “Ex-SAS, they say. Loner who moved here recently after he came out of Wakefield a few months back. Bought a house in Edinburgh and now works out at our gym.”

“Why are you so interested in him?” Colin asked Nina.

“None of your business, sweetie,” she said plainly. “Doesn't he remind you of Charlie Bronson, though?”

The group of young males looked confused. Nina rolled her eyes and tried again. “Michael Gordon Peterson?” Nothing. “Also known as Charlie Bronson?” Still nothing. “Christ, don't you read? The most dangerous inmate in British history? Been in prison for decades on and off, but just causes trouble so that he can go back?”

“Nope. Never heard of him,” Colin's mouthy friend replied.

“Tom Hardy. Do you know the actor, Tom Hardy?” she asked with a complete lack of enthusiasm.

“Aye!” they all agreed.

“Good!” Nina said. “Look up a movie of his called Bronson, okay? Have a few beers on your newly discovered enlightenment or something, 'cause I am suddenly terrified for the future.”

With that Nina whipped her towel over her shoulder and left them behind, walking past the peculiar man with the strength of a comic book monster. For a moment she cast a glance back at him and felt her hair stand on end. Something about him was unnatural, but it was not his strength. The trainer who delivered the short exposition jogged up behind her as she reached the steps. “You think it is Bronson?” he asked eagerly, constantly looking back at the man. “He was in Wakefield too, right?”

“Aye,” she replied casually, trying to shake the trainer off so that she could do some spying without being interrupted. “And some high security asylums too, so steer clear of him, just in case.”

The trainer, roughly the subordinate of Colin's age, glowed with excitement. Nina turned and stopped him in his tracks. “No, really. Stay away from him. You saw how quickly he lost his temper. Who knows what he could do to you outside in the parking area tonight when you knock off, you know?”

“I can check his membership details,” the trainer baited her as she tried to enter the ladies’ locker rooms. Nina turned and raised one eyebrow. “You could get fired for that.”

“Come on, lady,” he said, “we both want to know and we both know that there is more to life than walking up and down a bloody gym floor, babysitting amateur wrestlers and fat netball goalies.”

Nina actually gave it some thought. She could not help but admire a young man who wanted to evolve so badly, and the fact that he knew about a notorious prisoner in penal history scored him two points already. His smile and shining eyes reminded Nina of an excited golden retriever, over-zealous to impress and oh-so-eager to make his mark. Her dark eyes looked around for any eavesdroppers or eyes on them, just as Sam had taught her. “Alright. What’s your name?”

“Joel Thompson,” he almost shouted, elated that she’d allowed him into her twisted curiosity. “My name is Joel.”

“Okay, I'll be in again tomorrow. You find out what his address is, because his name could be fake,” she ordered. “And don't get caught.”

“I won’t,” he assured her.

“And if they catch you, don’t implicate me,” she warned. “You’ll find I have some very unsavory mannerisms when fucked with.”

Her desired effect on the young man was unsuccessful, leaving him far more excited by her forcefulness than she had hoped. Nina walked into the deserted ladies’ change room and unlocked her locker to retrieve her vanity case before heading toward the shower. Shedding her sweat-drenched training clothes, she hung her dry shower towel over the partition and turned on the taps.

Steam enveloped her shapely, compact body as the soothing, hot water trickled over her curves and fell to the tiled floor of the shower. Her weary skin received the ecstatic meanders of clear streams that tickled her naked body as she closed her eyes to wet her hair. Nina was delighted that her recently defeated illness had not claimed her hair as it had initially threatened to do. She now had her beauteous tresses back — fuller and longer than before. Nina moaned softly as she submerged her head under the umbrella of gentle liquid and her slender fingers caressed her scalp with shampoo. The obscured Perspex partitions were enough to maintain her modesty, but still showed off her form as she turned slowly in circles under the showerhead.

She knew she had to make haste. It was a few minutes to closing time and she’d never taken the time to shower at the gym before. Usually she went back to her temporary apartment before taking off the sweat-soaked tights and vest she trained in. But tonight she wanted to be clean before she arrived at the B&B, just in case Sam showed up as he’d promised countless times in the past two weeks. He could have forgotten, but that was unlikely. Sam Cleave was the type who would want her to think he had neglected their dinner date and then show up out of nowhere to surprise her.

But he was not the one due to surprise her this evening. From the other side of her cubicle a creeping shape appeared from the dark recesses of the janitor's entrance. The historian had no idea that she was being watched. All she could think of was her rekindled friendship with Dave Purdue after he’d rescued her from captivity — and certain death — when she thought nobody would ever find her. Through her healing thoughts simmered the handsome face of Sam Cleave, the world-renowned investigative journalist. Unlike Purdue, he had been distant since they’d returned to the United Kingdom, but he’d still kept in touch. Nina hoped to see more of him while she was in town, but being due back home in Oban in two days, she doubted Sam would still pay her a visit.

Next to the last cubicle in the row something clicked loudly. Nina snapped back to reality, listening intently. Had she imagined it? Was it a staff member coming to check if the place were empty? It was rather near to closing time after all.

“I'll be out in a minute,” Nina said firmly, hoping that she could assert herself well enough to chase off any peeping Tom or curious staff member. But there was no reply and no movement following her statement, leaving Nina to wonder if she’d just imagined it. No sooner had she stopped considering the sound, when the power went out. Suddenly a clap screamed through the entire restroom, shattering the shower partitions between the janitor's entrance and Nina's cubicle.

Nina fell to the hard tiled floor and lay dead still under the shards of Perspex, while the showerhead wept over her. In the distance, she could hear women yelping in panic and men talking nearby, discussing the sudden power outage and the gunshot they’d just heard. Managers and trainers announced that they’d have the back-up generator running momentarily, but as they spoke Nina heard two frantic women enter the locker room. In the dark from where the shape had been came a light crunch of soles on slivers.

It's moving. Lie dead still. He can't see you in the dark, she told herself.

“I'm getting the fuck out of there, Bets. That was a fucking gunshot. Christ, they shot someone, I tell ya. They shot someone and I'm not standing around to get the next bullet,” the one voice said in an annoying Cockney drawl. “We’ll just stay in here. Just stay here until it's all over, right?”

“We can't leave. Listen! Listen, we can’t hide in here. They’ll lock us in when they chase everyone out. Don't be stupid. Let go of me, Sarah! Geez, it could have been an electrical circuit popping, man. You don't know…”

“Bets!” Sarah interrupted harshly. “Dad was in the armed forces, okay? I know a fucking gunshot when I hear one.”

From next to Nina the crunching steps turned away and within two light treads it was gone. Nina wasn’t sure if she should move. Could it be a trap to determine her vicinity?

No, not yet. Wait. Don't move, Nina thought just as the warm water ran out and the previously pleasant droplets became icy stabs on her chilled skin. But she couldn’t afford to move; not now. With the commotion outside the ladies’ changing rooms, Nina had trouble hearing exactly where the stalker was. Her body was freezing under the cold shower and she cold feel the sharp burn of tiny cuts to her skin. It didn’t even occur to her that she was stark naked.

At once the two women on the other side of the lockers started screaming hysterically, and it was then that Nina once more discerned the crunching footfalls toward their area. Squealing did not help. A loud crack of a fist on bone resounded, followed by a heavy thump. Nina heard how the other shrieking woman's mouth was covered, subduing her cries. Rapid footsteps knocked past Nina's static frame, accompanied by the woman's obscured sobbing. They helped to locate the position of the kidnapper as he moved.

Shit! Shit! Nina thought, contemplating chasing naked after the abductor while someone could still stop him. What if he is a serial killer? What if he is some depraved cannibal or a sick fuck who cuts women up like Jack the Ripper? her empathy urged. Can you live with the fact that you were right there and did nothing to avert a tragedy?

The woman called Sarah was wrapped up in the restrictive clamp of the kidnapper as they exited the maintenance area into the night. Terrified, the woman kicked, but the man who had taken her felt absolutely nothing. Like a machine he walked briskly with her as if she were a rag doll. He didn't notice the petite nightmare running full out towards them from the same exit with a large shard of glass in her right hand.