Beginning Again Ch. 05

"The directory shows the first letter of the first name, the full last name and the apartment number," Mac replied using the same hushed tone, "There are two A's on the fourth floor. McDougall and Halloway. Either of those sound familiar?"

She shook her head.

"Okay, we'll try McDougall first," he said, then pressed the call button. There was a long, tense pause as they awaited a response.

"Yes?" came an elderly-sounding female voice from the speaker. Definitely not Aden.

"Uh...sorry ma'am. I pressed the wrong button by accident," Mac said. The lady disconnected.

"Aden Halloway it is," Mac whispered, "Let's be sure."

He pressed the call button. There was a much shorter wait.

"Hey. We're running late. She'll be down in ten," muttered a man's voice.

He heard Nadja's sharp intake of breath. No doubt about it now – it was her former pimp. They had him!

"Sorry...wrong button," Mac replied. Aden cursed and disconnected.

"Apartment four-eleven," Mac whispered.

"Great. Let's get out of here," Nadja said, already tugging him in the direction of the exit.

She didn't need to say it twice. He quickly moved them to the door, opened it...

...and came face to face with a middle aged man hobbling towards them, leaning heavily on a wooden cane and favouring his right leg. He wore a dark trench coat to ward off the wind and chill. Probably a businessman or something.

Mac stepped back and held the door. "After you," he offered.

"Thanks. Much appreciated," came the reply. The other man hobbled past them and into the foyer of the building.

Mac tried to lead Nadja out but she stood rooted to the spot, then started to tremble violently.

Another panic attack? Jesus, not here of all places!

As casually as possible he slipped his arm around her waist and half-carried, half-dragged her out the door and into the frigid evening. When they were alone he spoke to her in calming tones even as he continued to bear her away from the building.

"We're going home. We'll be there in a few minutes. Just relax."

"That voice...it was him," she whimpered.

"It's okay, don't worry about Aden. He didn't see us. We'll be in the apartment before..."

"No...the man we passed...he..." she started, then her voice broke and she went quiet.

"They guy we passed just now? You know him?" Mac quickened his pace, eager to get Nadja home in case she melted down completely. At least she was walking on her own now.

She nodded. "The devil."

"Ten minutes. We'll be home in ten minutes. He can't hurt you."

Suddenly she stopped dead. Mac tried to get her moving again but she shook off his efforts. She definitely wasn't faring well.

"Nadja, just a few more minutes. Hang in there..."

She stood still, trembling, her eyes closed, fists and jaw clenched.

A couple of minutes passed in that state and he began to wonder if she'd gone catatonic. He just stared at her silently, helplessly, not having any idea what was wrong. Stupid! Stupid of him to bring her out here like this. He should have guessed the trauma of hearing Aden's voice again would be too much. How did the guy with the cane factor into all this?

He quickly glanced up the street, gauging the distance to his apartment. Two blocks, maybe slightly more. He could carry her, but it would attract tons of attention. He considered trying to flag down a taxi instead.

"We have to go back," she said in an even tone. She'd stopped shaking, and now seemed calmer. Maybe a little too calm, given the circumstances.

"Back?"

"To Aden's building. We have to stop that man who passed us on the way out."

"Why?"

"Aden said 'she'll be down in ten'. That means he's got another girl now. Another girl he's forcing..."

"Okay. Let's go home. Go home, call the lawyer and go to the cops right away. Tonight, I mean."

"That man we passed, his name is Gammage. He's..." she searched for the right word, then gave up and shook her head. "He needs to be stopped. Now, before he gets his hands on the new girl."

"There's a pay phone a block away. We'll call the cops." He cursed inwardly – if cell phone plans weren't so fucking expensive he'd have one and this would all be simple.

"By the time the police arrive it'll be too late. She'll already be alone and helpless at his house. Mac, he'll hurt her...in ways that won't heal."

He didn't need to ask how she knew these things; the answer was obvious. Anger welled up inside him at the thought of anyone hurting Nadja. Anger...and a new appreciation for her strength. As terrified as she clearly was of this Gammage guy, she was willing to intervene to save another girl from a horrible fate.

How could he do any less?

"Alright. Let's get you someplace safe, then I'll hurry back and do...something," he said, looking around for someplace he could leave her. A convenience store, maybe, or a coffee shop? There were plenty of stores still open, but he didn't want to leave her someplace sketchy.

He felt her hand slide into his.

"No. We do this together." her voice was quiet, but firm.

"What? Forget it. Way too dangerous." he protested.

"There's no time, Mac," she said, and began pulling him back towards Aden's building.

"This is stupid. You can't do any good if it gets violent. I'd feel better if you were out of the way," he said.

"I'm not leaving you," she said, and it sounded final.

Reluctantly, he followed, and turned his thoughts towards the conflict to come. He figured one older guy with a bum right leg shouldn't be a big problem. He'd walk up to Gammage casually, then kick him hard in the right knee. Or maybe sucker punch him in the gut. The guy would go to the ground, they'd grab the girl, flag down a cab and go straight to the cops. Nice and simple.

Mac knew it would be an unprovoked attack; a flagrant violation of his parole. The sidewalks weren't crowded but there would still be a few witnesses to the incident. The cops would throw him in jail, but he'd get a phone call. He'd call Bob Gordon and enlist the lawyer's help getting Nadja her police declaration and eventually her visa.

Bottom line: they'd save the girl and Nadja would probably get her visa, but he'd go back to prison on a parole violation.

Fuck.

Well, maybe whatever public defender got assigned to his court case would be better than the last one was. Or maybe the judge would believe the story that he was just trying to save a girl he'd never even met. Heck, the girl might even testify in his defense. Not goddamn likely, but not impossible.

It wasn't a perfect plan, but good enough. Sometimes 'good enough' was all you could ask for. He wished he could have more time to prepare, or that he were smarter, but unfortunately he'd have to play the hand he was dealt. A couple of minutes wasn't enough time to come up with anything better.

He fished his wallet out of his back pocket as they walked, removed his cash and debit card and stuffed them into the deep pocket of Nadja's winter coat.

"Listen, you've got eighty dollars in cash. My debit card access code is one-two-nine-eight," he said in a low voice as they walked, "If anything happens and I'm not around, the very first thing you should do is withdraw six-hundred dollars from a cash machine..."

Nadja tried to stop as the implication of his words dawned on her. "Wait! Let's think about this. There's got to be some way..."

Mac pulled her forward. They were a few steps away from the walkway to the apartment foyer. There was no time, and no backing out now.

"The rent is paid until the end of next month," he continued, "After that, talk to Maria. She likes you – she'll help you."

He stopped suddenly, dragging Nadja to an abrupt halt at the end of the walkway.

The middle-aged guy – Gammage – was limping slowly down the path towards them, leaning heavily on his cane with each step. A dark-haired guy – younger and taller, wearing jeans and a white hoodie – was walking with Gammage and the two men were talking. A young girl stumbled along between them, trying to keep up.

"Jesus, she's just a kid," he said quietly.

The girl looked to be in her early teens – fifteen, tops. She was black-haired and petite – rail-thin and dressed only in a red negligee and some ill-fitting high heels. Her thin arms were folded over her chest; she had to be cold. The expression on her face was one of hopeless dread. He could see a lot of Nadja in that young girl.

The thought made him even more determined to put a stop to this.

"There are two guys with her – Gammage and a tall guy," he whispered as he awaited them at the end of the path.

"It has to be Aden," she replied, and he heard the determination in her voice waver, "he usually walked me out to the customer's car. What should we do?"

"No idea," he replied, trying desperately to sort out a strategy. A two-on-one fight was a very different scenario than what he'd prepared for!

He could take out the limping guy fast – then at least he'd only have to deal with Aden. The pimp was taller, maybe six-two, but didn't look all that beefy. And Mac didn't actually have to beat Aden...even if he kept him occupied until someone called the cops it would amount to a victory either way. Suddenly, he liked his odds a lot more.

Mac was out of time; Gammage and Aden were right in front of him, oblivious to his presence. Holding hands and bundled up as they were, Mac and Nadja looked like any other unassuming couple out for a walk.

That would quickly change, but Mac was grateful that at least the first move would be his.

As soon as Gammage came within range, Mac unloaded his hardest punch into the older man's soft midsection.

Completely unsuspecting and unguarded, Gammage took the full force of the blow. He squeaked, let go of the girl, doubled over and collapsed onto the pavement.

"Take her," Mac growled, grabbing the girl's skinny arm and shoving her into Nadja. Both women stumbled off the walkway. He quickly turned back to Aden, hoping the surprise attack had caught the pimp off guard.

No such luck. A searing, shooting agony exploded on his right side just under his ribcage, a pain so intense that for a moment it consumed his awareness, shoving everything else aside.

He'd been stabbed.

Mac grabbed Aden's right wrist with both hands, trying to immobilize it and prevent the blade from twisting and jostling around in his guts. Aden pressed the attack, raining left-handed punches down on Mac's head and face. A few of them connected but Mac could only feel the point of the knife; it twitched and jerked inside his abdomen, doing serious harm, hurting badly enough to weaken his knees. But underneath the pain there was wrath, and as one increased so did the other.

Aden was taller, and he had the knife. But Mac was stronger – he'd spent seven years lifting weights and fighting with inmates in prison.

And Mac was angry.

He welcomed the rage – a pure, righteous, all-encompassing fury that began to drown out the burning pain of the knife wound. He looked up into the other man's eyes.

Aden was the man who had abused and dehumanized Nadja.

Aden was the man who had subjected her to pain and humiliation and the risk of lethal disease.

Aden was the man who had terrorized her and left her fearful and timid.

Mac snarled, gritted his teeth and tightened his grip with both hands on Aden's wrist. Tighter. Tighter. And then a slow wringing motion.

The punches continued to land on Mac's face; his ear, his jaw, his nose...but they were clumsy now. Glancing blows. Hurried. Panicked. Aden wasn't trying to injure him anymore. Aden was trying to disengage, to escape. The knife sawed and slashed as Aden struggled to free his wrist. Mac barely felt the damage.

SNAP.

The wrist broke. The hand holding the knife handle went slack. Aden howled. Mac grinned.

A couple more vicious twists of the ruined arm brought Aden to his knees, shrieking. Still clutching Aden's wrist with his left hand, Mac drove his right fist into the side of his opponent's head. The taller man lapsed into unconsciousness.

But Mac didn't let go. He wasn't finished – not even close. There was more damage to do. More bones to break – many, many more. And when he finished with Aden he would start on Gammage. The older man was still writhing on the ground, clutching his stomach. He would suffer for what he'd done...

He felt a hand on his shoulder and whirled, expecting an attack.

It was Nadja.

She was saying something. She'd shed her hat and scarf – given them to the girl – and he could see her lips moving, an expression of desperate concern on her face. It gave him pause, and he dropped Aden's limp arm.

Nadja was important. She was the only good thing in his life. He should listen to what she had to say.

He loved her.

But her voice was far away, and he couldn't make out the words. And then the world spun and she was above him, looking down at him with her beautiful, sightless eyes. Her mouth was moving but there was no sound.

He felt cold.

Then there was darkness.

**