Any Means Necessary. Shane Britten

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      Pausing at the front of the hotel, I stretched out unhappy limbs, rubbing a hand over the dog bite that was already mostly healed. I was blessed with a healthy immune and injury repair system but even that was starting to demand I give my body a break.

      Heading upstairs, I jumped in a cold shower and dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. I really didn’t know what to expect, so it seemed the most versatile clothing option. Every article in my wardrobe was tested to ensure I could run and fight, with enough manoeuvrability and flexibility, as well as material strength, to survive a combat situation. The thought made me laugh a little at the unique absurdity of my life – my clothes were fight-tested.

      The security manager was waiting for me downstairs, taking the suitcase with a taciturn nod and promise to keep it safe and untouched. He offered a receipt for it but I waved it off, not wanting a record of the fact that I had another bag. By 0830hrs, Tumi briefcase in hand, I was ready and waiting at the front of the hotel. I didn’t have to wait long. The large Jeep Grand Cherokee pulled up the hotel, the passenger side window sliding down to reveal the Hawk. Wordlessly, she gestured with a tilt of her head for me to climb in behind her.

      I opened the door and was immediately concerned. The third row of seats was occupied by one of the large, suited individuals who had attempted to follow me back to the hotel. If I got in, I’d be sandwiched between the Hawk in the front passenger seat, the large presence in the back and another suited individual in the second row of seats that would be alongside me.

      All in all, it was a terrible tactical situation. My decision needed to be split second if I was going to withdraw, because any further hesitance would signal my experience. I climbed in with an overly cheery greeting to all involved, which was met with silence. The car pulled away from the hotel fast enough for me to be pushed back into my seat. Despite the somewhat precarious driving, I ignored the seatbelt. It was a 50/50 call for people in my line of work; some operators swore by using seatbelts to avoid injury in case of an accident, while others felt they constrained tactical options and quick escape if needed. I was of the second school of thought, especially being wedged in between potential enemies.

      There was an energy in the car that pushed my suspicions into overdrive. It was pre-engagement nervousness, full of sideways glances at each other and small, barely perceptible nods of encouragement. Under the right circumstances, I could probably take them on in hand -to -hand combat, especially if their surveillance skills were any indicator. But in a confined space, it would only take one hit from the meatball behind me and my fight would be over. I had no idea if they were armed or just how sinister their intent might be. I did my best to assess the greatest threat. I thought it would normally be the Hawk, but the sheer size of the meatball combined with his positioning put him top of my list.

      ‘How far are we going?’ I asked, attempting to maintain a light, casual curiosity. The Hawk turned to look at me in silence for a long moment. I met her gaze evenly. It was only when she slowly smiled, the type of expression typically reserved for a crocodile about to be fed, that I realised how much trouble I was actually in.

      Attack was always a better first step than defence, so I did just that. I snapped around with a sweeping left hook that collided with the meatball’s cheek, sending him reeling back in surprise and pain. But my attention was already moving and my left arm immediately reversed, elbow catching the suit next to me just as he was starting to lean in. It was a solid impact that reverberated down my arm and sent his head into the window hard enough to spiderweb the glass. I was turning back towards the Hawk who was already in motion towards the second row of seats, moving with a speed that far exceeded my expectations. Her hand impacted my face before I even saw it moving, throwing me back into the seat. The meatball had already recovered from my punch and even as the world tilted unnaturally from a second lightning-fast strike from the Hawk, he grabbed the back of my shirt and dragged me back against the seat to wrap an arm around my throat. My angle to counter-attack was non-existent, and consciousness was far too fleeting to reposition. I heard the driver screech to a halt, everyone in the vehicle jerking forward except me, pinned in place by an arm bigger than my leg wrapped around my neck. My only satisfaction, before the world turned black, was I managed to flick a leg out at catch a glancing blow to the Hawk’s face.

      CHAPTER 10

      It was dark when I came to. The world was unstable but mostly as a result of my aching head. I tried moving and immediately regretted it, pain shooting not just through my head but my whole body. So, they’d worked me over a little while I was out. Brave but probably understandable given the damage I managed to inflict on them prior to being overpowered. As always, I’d reflect on that engagement later to think about what I could have done differently to have a more satisfactory outcome, the primitive fighter in my brain telling me I should have attacked the Hawk before the man alongside me.

      Concentrating on controlling my breathing, I slowly pushed myself up. I was on a thin foam mattress in what seemed to be a makeshift prison. The floor was dirt, with two of the walls made from brick and the other two from wooden slats that I was fairly confident I could break through if it came to it. I looked down at myself to find my clothes gone and replaced by a simple grey shirt and shorts, both substantially too big. My shoes were missing as well. I scowled. Hit me while unconscious and I’d be far from your friend, but take my Ecco boots and it was an act of war.

      I pulled the shirt off to inspect the extent of my injuries. Lifting my arms up hurt, indicating at least some broken or cracked ribs. As I got the shirt over my head, I was looking at an impressive collection of welts and angry red marks that were pre-bruise. Still, my legs felt ok and while breathing in deeply hurt, I seemed to have come off reasonably well. If my body needed a break before this, it certainly would need one afterwards.

      A slight scuff at the door made me realise someone had been there all along. I’d taken the slight shadow to be the result of the struggling exposed bulb outside the prison, but it was a person. I could only see a sliver of her from the gaps in the slats, but the voluminous brown hair, edge of a narrow chin, high, elfin cheekbones and the one pale blue eye I could see made me fairly sure it was the First Daughter, Jessica.

      ‘Have you come to bust me out?’ I murmured jokingly, pulling the shirt back over my head with a groan.

      ‘I came to see the fool who attacked WOLF security,’ she replied with an acerbic tone.

      I laughed, something that my ribs hated me for. ‘Fool for sure. I’m pretty sure my attack came about a second before theirs was about to be launched. Pre-emptive strike.’ I pushed myself up, steadying against the bricks as my head swam and couldn’t work out which plane the world was on. ‘What now?’ I asked. She shrugged and turned to go.

      ‘Wait,’ I called out, moving on tentative steps towards the padlocked door that separated us. ‘I’m Valen,’ I offered.

      ‘I know,’ she replied, continuing to move away until she faded from sight.

      Well, I was worse for wear and imprisoned, but I was reasonably confident I’d found 50 per cent of my mission. I pushed against the slats for a moment, debating testing out a kick or two against the wood and confident I could get through it, despite bare feet. On the other hand, a poor kick was entirely possible, given my body condition, and escaping with a broken or damaged foot would be a challenge too far.

      In the end, I resigned myself to temporary captivity and retreated to the mattress, lowering myself with a few murmured curses. I glanced down at myself and heard the old man’s voice in my head. Appearances…

      Shut up, Philip.

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