Ashley's eyes opened a crack. The surroundings were cramped and dimly lit. She lay on her back; her wrists and feet were bound with duct tape. The place smelled of mildew and armpits. A splitting headache and nausea hit her, but she held back from groaning.
Ashley's eyes had adjusted to the lighting, and she could see two thickset men looming over her. The Serbs! Zetelica!
They seemed to ignore her.
It took Ashley another minute to realize that she lay on the molded carpet of a vehicle in motion.
'A van? A large wagon?'
Because of the poor lighting, her captors did not notice that she had returned to her senses.
A blinding migraine overwhelmed her for a few seconds. Ashley let the memories of the day flood back.
'Let me review the situation. The testosterone capsules have worked, apparently. They dulled the longevity of the sedative that Milan gave me in the coffee. I woke up much earlier than I was supposed to.'
'But then, what is the point of it if I end up getting killed anyway? Was it a foolish plan? Am I going to die a painful death again? Is Pavlov going to beat me up, try to force himself on me, and this time succeed in it?'
Overthinking only seemed to make her headache worse and cloud her mind more.
Ashley remembered the first part of her plan. 'If that does not work, I am doomed.'
She shut her eyes and leveled her breathing to battle with nausea. All those hours of kundalini yoga- it was time to put the learning into use.
A long time passed. Half an hour? A few hours?
Considering the henchmen of Zetelica were professionals, they were not unlikely to make any casual stops before the final destination.
Based on the absence of bustle outside the van, Ashley assumed they were on the highway. The Serbs were skirting around the city to avoid police check-posts and traffic lights.
Gulp! Ashley shuddered, thinking about the horrors of the terrace. She was going to have nightmares about Pavlov for months if she survived the day.
Screeechh!
The driver slammed the brakes, and the van came to a jerking halt.
Ashley's body was thrown against the seat's metal frame, and she almost yelped in pain.
One of the Serbs in the back seat fired at the driver, "Zasto si jebote stao? (Why the fuck did you stop)?"
"Pogledaj glupane! (Look at that idiot)!" the driver barfed.
Ashley recognized the voice of the driver as Pavlov's. So, he was one of the grunts.
“Presekao me je i parkirao svoje vozilo ispred naseg kombija! (He cut me off and parked his damn car in front of our van)!”
"Sta jebote? (What the fuck)? Da li je pijan? (Is he drunk or something)?"
The man in the non-driver front seat was livid. "Hajde da ga sjebemo! (Let us fuck him up)!" Ashley recognized the mealy-mouthed voice as Nicolai's. He seemed to be the leader of the group.
The two Serbs in the back seat threw open the back door and bundled out of the van.
Ashley tasted acid in her mouth, thinking about her experience with the two villainous Serbs.
'What are they going to do to the poor guy in the middle of the highway?'
She heard Nicolai hollering at somebody. "Hey, asshole! Move your fucking car!"
That was her chance!
Ashley tensed her core and sat up on the carpet without the support of her hands. Her yoga and martial arts training had been elementary, but had toughened her body.
Ashley had snipped her duct tape restraints on a metal edge of the van. Then she freed her legs as well. She peeked her head above the front seat, spying on what was happening outside.
Nicolai and Pavlov stood around six feet away from the rash driver. He was a tall man in a trench coat and a fedora hat.
Nicolai was gesticulating wildly, hurling abuses all the while.
The trench coat leaned against his car, a crimson Buick, utterly unfazed by the intimidating presence of the severe-looking Serbs.
Pavlov flipped out and charged at him. "Majku mu! (Motherfucker)!"
Ashley could not see what happened next except that the Serb raised an arm to hit the trench coat. The next moment, Pavlov was on the ground.
'Wait, what?'
Ashley tried to shake off her blurry vision to make sense of what transpired before her eyes. The scene unfolded before she could get her bearings right.
Nicolai stepped back and pulled his gun. Before he could point and shoot, the trench coat lunged at him in one flash step. A sharp chop landed on the Serb's right arm. As the gun fell from his hand, the trench coat caught it, reversed it, and slammed the butt of the gun into Nicolai's face. The latter fell on his butt, holding onto his smashed-in nose.
All the while, the trench coat held onto his hat with one hand.
Ashley climbed into the driver's seat. 'Regardless of whatever is happening outside, this is my chance to escape! I can drive away!' She fished for the car keys in the ignition.
'Nothing!' The driver had taken the keys with him!
'Darn it!'
Ashley looked through the windshield again.
The man had dropped his trench coat and fedora hat and stood with his left foot forward, his knees unlocked, elbows up.
Ashley had a little knowledge about martial arts. From the stance, she could tell what it was.
Krav Maga!
The Serbs fired shots at the stranger. The man ducked and dived around like an acrobat.
Both bullets missed him.
He made a dash at one of the goons. In a split second, the Serb's gun barrel was in his hand.
The stranger wrenched the Glock out of his assailant's grasp and, in a single movement, disassembled the gun, which clattered to the ground.
A punch to the throat brought the Serb his knees.
Before the other goon had time to fire a second round, the stranger was upon him like lightning.
A flip kick to the gun arm sent the weapon skidding.
Sock! Biff! Bam!
The stranger fired a volley of blows- one to the face of the Serb, two punches to either shoulder, and the final wallop into the gut.
A sweep of the leg knocked the goon off his feet. He fell on his head with a splotch. It was a massacre.