The Business of Time Travel Tourism

Chapter 11: In The Grip Of Danger

June 26, 2014. Thursday.

One of the men tried to take the backpack away from Sally, but it was attached to her back in a magical way with no visible straps or other means to remove it. He tried opening it, but due to a sophisticated lock and sharp edges of the clasp he had to give up after cutting his fingers. "Stupid lock," he cursed sucking on the bleeding finger.

Sally struggled to get free, doing everything in her power to hurt the two big men holding her hands locked. She trampled her feet on theirs, kicked their legs with her heels. Nothing worked. She then kicked upwards. Knee touched her chest as the boot swung over her shoulder and hit one of the guards just below the neck doing no damage. Were the man holding her shorter, the kick could have easily knocked his teeth out.

Figuring that force was not going to work Sally attempted to open her mouth and let out a scream. But the moment she tried to, it was shut down by a large hand that covered half of her face. She bit the hand, and during the few seconds it was removed, she shouted, "People, we are being kidnapped, help, help,—" but was shut up after the hand returned back to its position now wrapped in a not so tasty black tie.

"My employer has a great interest in you," Whiskey spoke to George.

"I bet he does," George replied, taking a step back. Two steps later he put a hand inside a pocket and took out a mobile phone.

"What do you think you're doing? Put it back in! Or better,— " Whiskey spoke louder with every next word, — "give it to me. I say give it to me!"

George ignored the command and pushed the combination of three numbers. The pace of his steps increased and soon he was turned around, running away through the platform towards the station.

A calm female voice answered the phone, "Nine-one-one, what's your emergency?"

"My friend and I are being attacked in Crossroad train station. Need immediate police assistance. Thugs are wearing black suits, black shoes, black ties, black— "

"Enough!"

George felt his legs slip, he lost the balance and fell. A strong push from behind helped him to go face first to the ground. At some point during the fall, his phone slid out of the hand. As it hit the hard concrete, it split into many pieces of glass and plastic. Every part of his body that touched the ground hurt: the knees, the shins, the palms, the face, especially the face.

"MMmmmmph mmm m m," mumbled Sally with wide eyes.

"Your orders, Whiskey?" inquired Quebec.

"Everyone except you—" Whiskey pointed at the largest subordinate, who had just spoken, Quebec,—"take off your glasses, your ties and tops of your suits. Tuck them into that bin over there." Whiskey pointed at the recycle bin by the closest bench.

"What about the guns, where do we hide them?" one of the men asked.

"Throw them away together with holsters, mine and Quebec's will be more than enough."

The men obeyed and soon the four of them stood in a line with their clothing adjusted according to the order. Sally was held in front of them, her hands locked, mouth covered.

"You,"— ordered Whiskey pointing at his colleagues one after another,—" remove your shirt. You, roll your pants up. You, roll your sleeves up and you,"— he pointed at Quebec,—" go first, grab a random idiot, make a scene by forcing your way through the entrance. You will be our decoy."

"It will be done," Quebec said vigorously and rushed towards the crowded station.

Whiskey approached George. Helping him get up, he whispered into George's ear, "Your tricks won't work on me, devious Mr. George. I've seen many men like you, men that would do anything to escape. Be assured, all of them fail. No one escapes once I get my hands on them." He squeezed George's arm and continued threatening, "Now we'll walk straight for the exit and you won't say a word. If you try to. I promise. I'll whack your girlfriend over there." He glanced at Sally. "You would make me very upset because I hate killing people and especially I hate killing women, but if I need to, I won't hesitate. I love my job. It pays well and I would hate to lose it, just because I didn't have what it takes. Because I do. Now, I hope we understand each other."