Chapter 5 : Not my father! (ú- nin adar!)

The black car crashed into their silver one with the force of a battering ram. The engine took most of the hit as the airbags deployed to protect its occupants. The bonnet buckled and the windshield shattered with the impact, showering the occupants with a faceful of glass. A loud screech was heard as the silver car spun out of control coming to a stop feet from the silent black car that had shadowed them discreetly.

Carson Drew felt his eyes closing and an overwhelming sense of terror gripped his heart.

Diana.

He tried to open his eyes to see her but warm, thick liquid dripped from somewhere on his forehead clouding his lids.

Diana.

She was just beside him. He could hear her ragged breathing. He tried to move his hands to search for her but he couldn't find them.

Diana.

Desperately, he tried to open his eyes again and this time, his lids lifted enough to let a sliver of light in. The passenger door opened and someone lifted something off the passenger seat. As the door closed, the light was extinguished.

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"Broken finger. Concussion. Bruised ribs." said a monotonous, sleep deprived voice. "Lost a lot of blood too. He'll take a while to recover." The equally sleep deprived doctor who'd been listening opened the door of the ward and walked in to find his patient detaching the IV drip from the back of his hand. Carson Drew dressed quickly and walked out of the hospital ward blithely ignoring the doctor's protests.

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Tiny hammers were beating on top of Diana's forehead. The hammering became more intense as the minutes passed and she blearily opened her eyes to a strange place. The room was dark and furnished by just a weathered chair. The walls were made of sheets of metal. A few pieces of splintered wood lay in a corner. The only source of light was a dim bulb hanging from the ceiling. It took a while for her to realize that the hammering was actually the throbbing of her forehead from where she'd hit the dashboard of the car.

The airbags saved me!

Ughh! She was suddenly aware that she was lying on the dusty floor and made an effort to stand. The room spun and she was forced to hold on to the chair in front for support. She took a couple of steps and almost fell into the chair holding her head gingerly.

Wherever the hell am I?

The last thing she remembered was the black car crashing into theirs. She had no memory of this place. The door opened suddenly and an absolutely grotesque face stared at her through the darkness.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhh-"

Her cry was cut off in a second as she was gagged. The face, she realized as the man barged in, was not a face at all, but a grotesque carnival mask. The man wore all black and his ice blue eyes seemed to burn as he bound her hands tightly. He walked out the door and slammed it shut. She heard a lock click.

Where am I?

Who are these people?

Why have they brought me here?

Unanswered questions were going round and round in her mind sharpening the pain inside her forehead. And then a truly horrible thought occurred to her. What if Dad.... Diana's mind was seized by a terror so horrific that she could not breathe.

NO! I don't know that.

With difficulty, she brought her breathing back to normal, constantly telling herself that she had no proof that her father was dead.

I need a plan.

The room had no windows so there was no way to know where she was or even what time it was. So, she crept to the door and peeped through the keyhole. Outside, she saw a dimly lit hallway with walls made of metal like those of a warehouse. Shadows moved in the hallway and she ran soundlessly to her seat.

The man with the ice blue eyes returned. He stood aside looking expectantly at the door. Three more men walked in, each dressed in black wearing identical carnival masks. The one in the middle was short and stocky and judging by his graying hair, much older than the others. He was flanked on either side by burly bouncer-like giants. He had the same ice blue eyes as the first man.

The short man's eyes went all over Diana critically. "Rebenok khoroshen'kiy. Zhal', chto ona takaya molodaya." He smirked, raising goosebumps up her arms.

"Papa!" The man who tied her up was shocked at his father's cavalier words. Too bad the girl is so young!

"Molchi!" The short man was enraged. "No slips! That is, if you want to send her back alive." His heavy Russian accent made the words difficult to understand. "I'll make the first call now." He turned around to smile menacingly at Diana. "Pretty baby's daddy would be worried." One of the bouncers took out an old flip phone from his pocket and dialed a number before handing the phone to him on speaker mode.

"Hello, Mr. Drew." The Russian drawled. "What a pretty daughter you have. She will be a fine beauty when she grows up."

Mr. Drew controlled his anger as best he could and spoke calmly. "Who are you?"

"Ah! My name is not important. What is important is that your pretty daughter is sitting in front of me bound and gagged. My terms are very simple. You release Ludvig Petrov and I release your daughter. You will drive him in a car to the co-ordinates I send you and your girl will be sent back in the same car." He had walked right upto Diana during the conversation and now took out a thin silver knife from his pocket. Diana's eyes widened in fear. He pressed the blade up to her face and violently dragged it across her cheek. Her scream was loud enough to echo through the room.

"Try to act smart and I will send my own car with the girl's body in pieces." He cut the call and handed the phone to the bouncer who broke it into two halves before throwing them aside. The stocky man took out a white handkerchief and wiped the blade clean. He smiled at her happily - creepily - and left, taking his entourage with him. The lock clicked again.

The blue-eyed man had either made a rookie mistake or taken pity on her by binding her hands in front. She quickly spat out the gag and untied herself. The cut wasn't deep but it bled; she tried to stem its flow by putting pressure on it with the gag. It was now imperative to get out. Even if somehow, Mr. Drew managed to get Ludvig Petrov released, the first thing he would do after being free would be to kill her father. She tried to control her panic by holding her breath.

Think! What would Dad do?

She methodically checked every wall of the room. No openings. The metal was nailed shut, like a coffin. The door was the only means of escape. In one corner of the room, she could hear the faint sound of cars honking. She sat there desperately trying to think of way out till exhaustion finally kicked in and she fell into a disturbed stupor.

A ray of light fell directly on her eyes irritating her into wakefulness. Her eyes traced the ray of light to a small hole in the ceiling.

A hole!

She surveyed the surroundings for something she could use to get up to the hole. The chair was not high enough for her to reach up to the ceiling by standing on it. There was nothing else in the sparse room. Her heart sank. But as she sat, staring at the hole, an outlandish plan began forming in her mind. It was a stupid plan. So much about this plan depended on things beyond her control or knowledge.

I can't just sit here doing nothing.

She clambered onto the chair on her tip-toes and used the longest piece of splintered wood to try and widen the hole, all the while praying that the chair would not give out under her. The top was covered by tarpaulin that moved easily enough. She untied the cloth that she'd used to cover her wound and threw it under the hole. Then she took up her position at the door peering through the keyhole. Waiting. After what felt like hours, she saw a shadow pass outside. She ran to the chair and pushed it so that it would fall with as much noise as possible and scampered back to the door.

The door opened with a bang and one of the burly bouncers, without his mask on, dashed into the room. He took in the scene - the empty room with the fallen chair and the hole in the roof. As he stood, mouth agape, a strong blow fell on his shin and his knees buckled. He cried out in pain as a pair of small feet pattered past him. Diana was not a runner, but when it comes to running for your life, everyone becomes a runner.

She threw away the wood with which she'd assaulted the man and sprinted out the door. Into the hallway, in the general direction of the cars that she'd heard from the dusty room, out the door at the end of the hallway, out into the street.

I'm free!!

The 21st street, Bastion street-sign was just a few intersections away. A car drew around the corner and she thoughtlessly threw herself in front of it yelling, "Help! Help!"

It was a black car.

When the stocky man got out of the car, she turned to run but she knew it was useless. "Stop! Or I shoot!" Reluctantly, she turned around with her hands up. Her heart sank. She was just so close to freedom. She was picked up and thrown back into the dreaded room. The stocky man listened to the bouncer who was wincing in pain as he told him what had happened. When he finished, the stocky man barked a laugh. Even the blue-eyed man had the ghost of a smile on his face. He turned to look at her. "Pretty girl is smart," said the stocky man. "If you were a boy, I would have kept you. God knows we need smart men." He threw a disapproving glance at the bouncer. "Unfortunately, smart girls are not useful." He shook his head. "Dangerous, yes. But not useful." With lightening speed, his blade slashed a cut at her other cheek. No one was smiling anymore.

"This is a reminder girl! Next time you try a stunt like that, my blade will draw flesh." His face was painfully close to hers by the end of the statement. She whimpered in pain.

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I'm never going to get out of here! I've seen their faces!

The thought was a parasite that kept sucking at her will. The blood flowing down her cheek trickled into a small pool on the ground. Tears rolled off her eyes dripping on the floor beside the blood. Hours passed and she fell into a fitful sleep.

R...........

She sat up breathing hard. Silky covers fell off her body as she tried to pull in larger mouthfuls of air.

Im tur-'t thui-! I can't breathe!

A loud squawk was heard and something feathery brushed over her head. The walls are closing in.......... Air! Air!

"Im tur-'t thui-! " she shouted again.

At once, she heard the sound of hurried footsteps. "'hat na- ha?! 'hat na- ha?! What happened?! What happened?!" Soft hands held her and everything went dark.

When the door opened, she found herself on the floor, puzzled and afraid. It was a dream. And yet it had felt so real. She couldn't bring herself to move, she was so very weak from the fear and blood loss. She turned her head and ended up facing the broken remains of the burner phone. It's screen was lit. Diana sat up, her heart racing at a thousand miles a minute.

Could it really be working?

She grabbed the phone and found that the bouncer had only managed to tear off one side leaving the screen glitched but still working. 5% battery! I'll need to be quick. With shaking fingers, Diana dialed 911 and held her breath. The phone connected at the same time that the lock clicked. Diana slammed it to the floor making sure that the screen was facing downwards and laid back on the ground.

The stocky man entered and put his hand in his pocket. She cowered in terror till he pulled out another cell phone and dialed.

"Mr. Drew, I have sent you the co-ordinates where Mr. Petrov is to be delivered."

"Yes, your daughter is fine. Relatively." He rolled his eyes. "Here, talk."

"Dad..."

"Oh God! Diana, are you all right?"

The stocky man pulled the phone away from her. "There. Now you know that she's alive. And you know how to keep her that way."

"How do you know I'll keep my word?" He laughed. "You don't. Your daughter now has cuts across both her cheeks. Fail to believe me and the next one would be on her pretty neck."

He shut the phone and turned towards the door to leave but the blue-eyed man appeared at the door. They carried out a conversation in whispered Russian often gesturing to Diana who was trying her best not to betray herself by glancing at the burner phone in their presence. The minutes ticked by and Diana's anxiety climbed higher. The phone battery was running out.

A dim light seemed to shine through the fog in her mind and she put in a last ditch effort. She assumed a vacant expression and beat her knuckles on the floor. Thud Thud Thud! Thud..... Thud..... Thud...... Thud Thud Thud!

A 911 dispatcher is trained to respond to a silent phone call by sending a police officer to the location from which the call originated. But since this was a burner phone, Diana could not be sure whether the location could be traced.

She continued beating her knuckles on the floor.

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The trainee stared at Mr. Drew's face with a puzzled expression that mirrored his. After launching a manhunt for his missing daughter, setting up roadblocks, alerting airports, railway stations and following every bit of protocol, he'd asked all relevant 911 calls to be transferred to Scotland Yard as a last resort. However slim the chance that Diana could escape her captors and reach a phone. Unsure about what to make of it, the responder of this call had transferred it to them on a whim. They listened to the weird set of repeating beats coming from the crackling speaker phone.

"SOS," he muttered, a wild light in his eyes. "SOS!" He shouted, grasping the trainee by his shoulders.

"What's that, sir?" The trainee was starting to wonder if it was a good idea to have taken up posting in this unit.

"This is it! This is it! Write it down!"

The speaker continued to squawk earnestly, "thud - thud - long thud - long thud - long thud"

The trainee now looked like he wanted to run.

"Dots and dashes, boy!"

"Oh!" The trainee picked up a piece of paper and wrote down the pattern that was getting repeated on the phone.

..--- .---- ... - .-. . . - -... .- ... - .. --- -.

HELP! 21 street Bastion!

That's my girl!

"We've got an address!" He shouted to the roomful of detectives.

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"Why do I need to learn Morse code?" Diana whined. "For your information, Dad, World War II ended in 1945." She pursed her lips staring grumpily at the laminated card that displayed every letter of the alphabet with its dotted and dashed counterpart in Morse code.

"You want to be a detective, you've got to learn Morse code." Mr. Drew said firmly. "The old ways may not be as flashy as your smartphones but that doesn't mean that they should be forgotten."

"Fine." she huffed, "I'll learn it but I'm telling you there will never come a day when it's actually useful."

Lost in thought, Diana almost failed to notice the low scuffling at first followed by a small thud. Again and again, she heard the same noises, getting closer. Keys rattled and the door was thrown open.

She couldn't help it. She screamed.

A hand covered her mouth in a second. It was a warm, calloused hand. A hand she would've recognized anywhere. Her father's hand.

"Dad... " she breathed.

"Shhhh Diana. I'm here now. Everything will be fine..." He looked into her frightened face, removing his hand from her mouth. She was covered in grime, her hair lank and lifeless, bruises had sprung up purple and blue around her mouth and forehead. Blood congealed on the wounds on her cheeks. She looked like the creature.......her mother.......

Bastards! I'll kill them all!

"C'mon Diana. We need to go now," he whispered urgently. He carried her, hurrying through the dark corridor. Mr. Drew stepped over the bodies lying in the hallway without slowing down.

Outside, under the flickering streetlight, two men were wrestling, one of them locked in a choke hold. Mr. Drew lowered Diana to the ground and ran forward to help, pulling out his gun instinctively. A man sprang from between the overgrown hedges pinning her father to the ground. He wrested the gun out of her father's grasp and it clattered a few feet away. Loud barks stormed the air and Alex bounded out of the police car, launching himself on the neck of Mr. Drew's assailant. He bit viciously, tearing off pieces of his shirt and the flesh underneath. The man yelled with pain and threw Alex off his body in a swift move. He scrambled towards the gun, and as Alex launched a second attack, he fired a single shot.

Alex!!!

Diana's strangled scream rent the air. But the man did not miss a beat. He turned and aimed at Diana's father.

Crack!

Not my father!

Diana didn't know when she'd gotten up. But she was on her feet, with one arm stretched toward the space between the attacker and her father. And there, shimmering in the orange light from the streetlamp, the bullet hovered in midair.

Diana turned her eyes slowly from the bullet to the attacker. Terror convulsed inside him as he saw the little girl who's retina was bleeding into the whites of her eyes. Black eyes stared back at him, radiating cold fury. He saw that face, the face of a devil for one second before the bullet whooshed back to hit him on his forehead.

There was a flash of blinding golden light. The devil screamed. Her scream was the last thing he heard.

Diana was flat on her back, her eyes would be shut any moment but she fought against the dizziness with all her might, waiting. She needed to see....

A few seconds later, a furry paw touched her shoulder. Another paw went over her body and she saw a furry black face staring at her. Hot, sticky liquid from the furry body drenched her dress. Big, brown eyes stared back at her. The furry body strained for breath. And as a tear fell down her eye, the furry faced licked it and then lay down his head on her neck.

She wrapped both arms around her Alex and finally..... closed her eyes.