Imprisoned: A Jason King Thriller (Jason King Series Book 2) Page 10

  He saw King looming over him, at least five inches taller and fifty pounds heavier.

  He saw the force with which his friend had been hurled across the pavilion by a single tug.

  He turned and walked quickly in the other direction.

  ‘Good call,’ King muttered under his breath.

  The new guy collapsed to the floor, panting, resting his back against the mesh.

  ‘You okay?’ King said.

  ‘Yeah, I think so,’ the guy said between deep inhalations. ‘Just scared. Fuck.’

  British, King noted.

  ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Percy Reynolds. I’m from Birmingham.’

  ‘Jason King. I’m from … all over.’

  ‘You sound American.’

  ‘I am. Don’t live there anymore though. Haven’t spent much time in one place for years. Well, until now, I guess.’

  ‘Clearly. Goddamn, how the fuck did I end up in here…?’

  Percy had the distinct look of someone struggling to believe their own reality. King tried to imagine being thrown into this Venezuelan hellhole if he’d lived nothing but an ordinary life. It would be madness.

  But his life had been far from ordinary, and due to that he’d grown accustomed to the chaos far quicker than expected.

  ‘You tell me, buddy,’ King said.

  Percy wiped a sweaty hand over the strands of hair matted to his forehead. He thumbed a finger into each eye, raising a pair of spectacles that had been cracked in the altercation with the two thugs. He let out a single, feeble sob. Then he composed himself and dropped the glasses back down onto his nose.

  ‘I’ve been a bloody straight shooter my entire life,’ he said, speaking quietly. ‘Just a normal guy. I work in human relations at an IT firm. Done that for the last ten years. Now I’m here.’

  ‘And how exactly did you end up here?’

  ‘I bought drugs.’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘First thing I’d ever tried that wasn’t what I was supposed to do. That’s what this whole trip was. Shake things up a bit, try and get out of the nine-to-five — escape the soul-sucking rat race. I’d heard that Venezuela could be dangerous which was exactly why I came here.’

  ‘Mid-life crisis?’

  ‘I guess so. Face my fears, be more outgoing. That sort of thing.’

  ‘I get you.’

  ‘Didn’t really work out, did it?’ Percy said, staring at his surroundings, still sporting a perplexed expression. Still trying to process his new circumstances.

  ‘So what exactly happened?’ King said.

  ‘I met this guy at one of the markets. He asked if I was looking for drugs, and I said yes, because I’ve never done anything like that before. Thought now might be the perfect time to try new things. Branch out a bit, you know.’

  ‘You don’t have to justify everything to me, Percy,’ King said. ‘Buying drugs is very low on my list of morally questionable activities.’

  ‘You sound like you’ve seen a lot of shit.’

  ‘I have. Continue.’

  ‘Yeah, so, this guy told me to come back the next day and he’d have a whole bunch of good stuff for me.’

  ‘A drug dealer didn’t have any product on him?’

  ‘No, I guess not. I don’t know. Beats me how any of that stuff works.’

  ‘That’s a red flag already, Percy.’

  ‘Like I said, I just did what he said. Came back the next day. He showed up. I gave him the money he asked for. He gave me a quarter of what he promised me.’

  ‘You sure there wasn’t a mishap on your end?’

  ‘I’m sure. I’m … tight with money. So I made sure to outline exactly how much I wanted before handing over the money. And he gave me three grams of cocaine when I paid for twelve.’

  ‘What’d he say?’

  ‘Not much. I started carrying on and he shoved me up against a wall. Called a pair of cops over. He talked to them in Spanish for a bit — I’m still pressed against the wall, mind you — and then they carted me away. Threw me straight in here.’

  ‘No trial?’

  ‘No trial.’

  ‘This can’t be normal,’ King said. ‘I didn’t get one either. If this happened regularly it would cause all sorts of diplomatic uproar.’

  ‘That’s what I was thinking.’

  King explained the events that had transpired over the last few days. He gave no hint of his past, and didn’t care to mention that one of the prison guards had something to do with it. He needed more time to think about Rico. It would do no good for Percy to have to speculate on that lead too. The man had enough to worry about as is.

  By the time King finished talking, Percy had become slack-jawed.

  ‘Wait, so this Tevin guy wants to kill you?’ he said.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Does that put me in danger?’

  ‘You’re in a pretty terrible situation, Percy.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘If I leave you alone, the animals in here will beat you, rob you, maybe kill you. They might rape you beforehand. I don’t know how rabid they are. I haven’t been here long enough. I can protect you from all that. Most of them fear me. But if you stick around me, you’ll probably make enemies. Just as many people want me dead. It’s up to you.’

  ‘Seems like there’s risks either way.’

  ‘You’re in a prison in Venezuela. Get used to it.’

  ‘Well, you helped me out. And fuck being in here alone. So I guess we’re friends, Mr. King.’

  King paused. ‘Was that a serious title?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  ‘Good. Don’t ever call me Mr. King again.’

  Percy smiled, the first flash of teeth King had seen since he’d met the man. ‘Got it.’

  King held out an open palm and Percy took it. He tugged the man to his feet. ‘Follow me.’

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘We’re too exposed out here. There’s nothing to stop someone killing us in our sleep.’

  ‘Doesn’t look like there’s many alternatives.’

  ‘There’s a few.’

  ‘I wouldn’t imagine they are pleasant.’

  ‘They’re certainly not.’

  Percy sighed. ‘What are we doing?’

  ‘We’re evicting the occupants of one of the rooms.’

  ‘Forcibly?’

  King nodded and cracked his knuckles. ‘Forcibly.’

  CHAPTER 18

  The inmates kept their distance as King led Percy through the pavilion, heading for the hallway. A few seemed eager to intimidate the new arrival but King kept him on a short leash so he didn’t venture out into the crowds. He wouldn’t put it past any of the savages in El Infierno to attempt a murder. They made sure not to antagonise King — fearing he may retaliate — but anyone else seemed to be fair game.

  As they crossed the open space a fight broke out nearby between a group of inmates. The sudden commotion caused King to react reflexively. He shielded Percy with a large hand and searched for the source of the screaming.

  Two men brawled in the centre of a pack, vying desperately for the upper hand. A third joined, throwing wild punches with venom behind them. One of the original pair caught a glancing blow across the side of his face, knocking teeth loose. He spat blood and reached into his belt.

  ‘Oh, that’s not good,’ King whispered.

  He came out with a makeshift shank, sharpened from a wooden stake. The guy who’d struck him couldn’t get away in time. He wrapped an arm around his enemy’s neck and viciously punched the tip of the shank into his chest; once, twice, three times. King lost count. The motions had the intent to kill behind them. The victim spluttered crimson and his eyes glazed over. Blood pooled from multiple stab wounds dotted across his torso, covering the attacker. He threw the stake away and let out a primal scream, his arms stained red.

  ‘Jesus Christ,’ Percy whispered.

  ‘Let’s get out of here,’ King said.

/>   They pressed on through the madness. The spontaneity of the killing had taken him by surprise, but he imagined such a sight was a fairly common occurrence within these seemingly lawless walls. Just another reminder to secure a room before he found a shank sliding between his shoulder blades while he slept.

  The hallway was dank and decrepit at this time of the day. It was approaching midday, and the sun had reached its apex in the sky. Only a sliver of natural light made it into the corridor. Percy walked timidly behind King. He heard the pitter-patter of the man’s feet. Like he didn’t want to disturb the residents.

  Unfortunately, residents have to be disturbed, King thought.

  He chose a room at random. One of the doors close enough to the pavilion to provide a means of escape into open ground should the opportunity be necessary. Far enough away from Tevin’s room to be able to prepare for an all-out assault. The door was shut. King looked back at Percy.

  ‘Maybe stay out in the hallway while I deal with this,’ he said.

  ‘W-what?’

  ‘They might not be too happy that I’m crashing their party.’

  Percy looked at him, still perplexed. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘Just a guy.’

  King thundered a foot into the door. It was weak, like Tevin’s. It sprang open, revealing another pair of bunk beds in a semi-spacious room that smelt like shit, just like everything else in El Infierno. Apart from the thin frames, the room was completely bare. Three tattooed muscle-bound thugs dozed in separate bunks.

  One reacted faster than the other two. As King stormed into the room he swung his legs off the flimsy mattress and got to his feet.

  ‘Qué coño haces, gringo?!’ he roared.

  King punched him in the teeth, mid-sentence. Blood sprayed and he fell back in a tangle of limbs. The other two launched out of their bunks, spurred on by adrenalin. They charged across the room at him. One had both hands up, balled into fists. King ignored him. The other was in the process of reaching for something in his belt, running with an awkward gait to compensate for the movement.

  He’s a problem.

  King bolted directly at the man scrambling at his waistband. It wasn’t a large room. By the time he produced the pistol, King was on top of him. He tackled the guy into the concrete wall, knocking him senseless. The gun clattered away. King pinpointed where the sound came from. In one motion he turned and dove. Fingers scrambling for the weapon. He saw it a second before he snatched it up.

  Another Zamorana.

  Seemed like the only thing going on the black market around here.

  They must have missed it during the raqueta.

  He sensed movement directly behind him. He turned and put a bullet into the third man’s foot. A geyser of blood fountained from the wound and the guy dropped like a sack of shit, reeling from the nerve damage. King had suffered a similar injury back in Australia. It had taken months to fully heal. The scar tissue remained.

  He tucked the gun into his own waistband and took his time hurling the three men out into the hallway, one by one. The first man he’d punched in the teeth put up somewhat of a fight. He swung wildly, managing to clip King in the ear. He shrugged it off and returned with a blow of his own.

  The patented liver shot.

  Every ounce of fight in the man dissipated instantly. He groaned from somewhere deep within. King tossed him out after his friends. The three goons collapsed in the mud outside, dirtying their clothes — which were already putrid in the first place.

  King loomed in the doorway and tapped the barrel of the Zamorana against the frame.

  ‘Anyone tries to come back and I kill you,’ he said, slowly and succinctly in an attempt to cross the language barrier.

  To make sure they got the message, he mimed firing a shot at each man successively. They watched him from the ground like he was a lunatic.

  He beckoned Percy inside, slammed the door shut and left the previous occupants to pick themselves up.

  The dilapidated interior of the room was unpleasant to say the least, but at least it provided protection from a sneak attack. There was one way in, and one way out. There were no windows whatsoever, making it a little more cramped than Tevin’s room. But it meant they could barricade the door and take cover in the vulnerable hours of the night ahead, when they needed rest. Then they could head back out into the pavilion during the daytime. Fully alert. Ready to go.

  ‘Are you tired?’ King said.

  Percy looked at him as if he were crazy. ‘I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep for a week,’ he answered.

  ‘You’ll manage eventually.’

  King selected one of the beds and stretched out on it, keeping a finger tucked inside the Zamorana’s trigger guard — just in case. In the sudden quiet, Percy’s panicked breathing filled the confined space. King listened to it for a few minutes. He kept his mouth shut, deciding not to overload the man with information just yet. He needed time to process what had happened to him. Even though he could handle the drastic change of surroundings that came with being thrown inside a third-world prison, he didn’t imagine an ordinary civilian could.

  He drifted into a state of tranquility. It came naturally to him. After spending years scouting enemy strongholds in the far corners of the globe, he found it effortless to tune out and simply be. He lay on the bed. He watched the door. He controlled his breathing. He didn’t let his mind wander. Percy sat sideways on the bed opposite, intermittently rubbing his eyeballs.

  After what could have been close to a couple of hours, the man spoke. The words came quickly, in an outburst, like he’d been mustering the courage to talk for a long while. ‘How-are-you-doing-this?’

  King rolled on his side and raised an eyebrow. ‘What?’

  Percy repeated the question, slower, more controlled.

  ‘What do you mean exactly?’ King said.

  ‘I’ve never been more scared in my life,’ Percy said. ‘I think I’m going to vomit. How are you coping? This seems like just another day to you.’

  ‘Because it’s just that,’ King said. ‘Just another day.’

  ‘It’s madness! A few days ago I was holed up in a cubicle, filing tax returns. This is total fucking madness…’

  ‘To you it is. I’ve had certain life experiences that — to be honest — are far worse than this. These people are civilians. Sure, they’re violent drug addicts, most of them, but they’re just low-level gangsters and thugs. It’s all about perspective.’

  ‘You’re not scared of them?’

  The conversation oddly mirrored Raul’s sentiments at breakfast.

  ‘I’m just as scared as you are,’ King said. ‘I feel the fear. I experience the same things you’re experiencing right now. You feel nauseous. Your throat’s dry. Your hands are shaking. But I control it. I compare the situation I’m in to ones I’ve been in before. Then it doesn’t sound so bad.’

  ‘You used to be a soldier, didn’t you?’

  ‘You could say that.’

  ‘Prefer not to talk about it?’

  ‘You got it.’

  Percy nodded. ‘Isn’t it ironic?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The one time I decided to stray from the typical straight-shooter existence that I’ve been living my entire life, I end up here. In this place. The worst hellhole imaginable.’

  ‘There’s worse places than this.’

  ‘But you’re some kind of superhuman,’ Percy said. ‘Us normal folk lose our minds when this kind of stuff happens to us. Not sure if you understand that.’

  ‘Oh, I understand alright. I was exactly like you.’

  ‘I find that hard to believe.’

  ‘That’s why I joined the military in the first place. Had high levels of anxiety growing up. Everything freaked me out. I’m naturally introverted. Then I signed up to serve my country and things ramped up from there. First time I got shot at, I thought I was going to die from a heart attack. I know exactly what you’re feeling right now. You want normality.�
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  ‘And you don’t?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’m trying to live a peaceful life now. Seems like I keep getting sucked back into shit like this.’

  ‘What happened to you to change you into who you are now?’

  ‘My career happened.’

  ‘The one you’d prefer not to discuss?’

  ‘That’s the one.’

  ‘You’re scarred from it?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ King said again. ‘I honestly have no idea. I think death became such a recurring aspect of my life that these situations feel like nothing out of the ordinary.’

  Percy smiled. ‘We’re the exact opposite.’

  ‘Are we?’

  ‘I’ve never been in trouble. Seems like you’ve never been out of it.’

  King nodded, running a hand over the Zamorana. ‘Seems that way.’

  ‘I—’ Percy began.

  King cut him off. ‘Look, Percy, I’ve had a hell of a lot going on the last couple of days. We got ourselves a room. We have all the time in the world to talk later. Right now, I need some rest.’

  Percy nodded. ‘Got it.’

  ‘If I doze off, just yell as loud as you can if you hear anything suspicious. Or if the door opens. Got that?’

  He nodded again. ‘Yep.’

  The afternoon passed fast. They remained undisturbed. Every now and then King would wake to movement on the other side of the door, but it would quickly dissipate. Just prisoners passing by.

  Nothing threatening.

  Not yet.

  His sense of time all but vanished in the space. The bulb on the ceiling didn’t rise or set. It stayed soft and flickering for hours. Without venturing out into the main area, King wouldn’t know when it was dark. And he didn’t dare leave the room. He’d made a lot of enemies during his brief time in El Infierno. Right now, he was priority number one on many hit lists. He wanted to let the nervous energy dissipate before he considered showing his face again.

  At some point, Percy piped up. ‘I’m getting really tired.’

  King smiled. ‘What did I tell you? You dumped all your energy when you came in here. Now you’ve crashed.’

  ‘Do you mind if—?’

  ‘Not at all. Get some sleep, Percy. I think we’re in for a long night ahead.’