Chapter Thirty-Two - Locked you away behind cast iron doors

We talked for about an hour after that, then we parted ways. Group two wanted to slap around some more monsters, and we had to prepare for getting Sam’s stuff. We piled into the car again, using the bathrobes Greg had prepared, then drove home and had a quick shower session. After the big one in the future training room, this one was more along the lines of a quick kiss. Working around Chloe, who was also in dire need of a shower, was an interesting obstacle.

Then we went upstairs and got dressed while Greg drove Chloe home to her own wardrobe.

“Ok, here’s the battle plan,” I announced. “Livia and Sam, you two get to somewhere with good CCTV. Make sure you are being recorded and that Sam is identifiable in the recordings. Keep that up until I phone you. Geri and I will go with a set of goons to Sam’s old home. We two will pack your things, Sam, and the goons will provide security theatre.”

“Why the alibi?” Livia asked.

“Because I expect trouble and look like Sam,” I said, not going deeper into my plan. It still had too many holes, as I was missing key information. “Livia, can you help me make up my hair so it falls forward around my face? Make it harder to identify me unless someone gets a frontal look?”

“I can do that,” she confirmed. “Should I ask Greg to wear a bodycam? We do have a couple of those in storage.”

“Good idea. I’ll tell him to try not to get my face on camera. And I can ask him myself; you two should be going,” I confirmed.

🙚⚜🙘

“So you’re not going for self-defence?” Geri asked when they had left.

“I thought about it, but it would wrap me up in a criminal defence for months, maybe even put away in jail,” I said. “Getting us out of the investigation by very clear video evidence is easier. We just have to hide me from the investigators if we need to use that.”

“So it’s plan B? What’s plan A, then?”

“Not get seen. We finish the moving, I’ll keep my eyes open to plan what to do when I come back later. If we can pull off good witnesses for us leaving while he’s still alive, I do it right after; otherwise, I’ll come back at night.”

“If we have to do that, I’ll do it. I’m way stealthier at night,” Geri offered.

I shook my head. “I need to kill him. I need the kill for my class selection. And I have a skill that would like the XP, too.”

“XP from a normie?”

“Classless everyday skill. Those work whenever you do the thing, not just when it’s monsters.”

Geri raised an eyebrow and looked at me.

“Ok, sure, Livia already knows. It’s literally ‘killing people’, and it’s not at level one.”

“But not at level three.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Starting at level three, you get XP for assists.”

“How in the hells did you get that up to level three?” I asked without thinking.

“Turns out you get a big XP bonus for doing it to yourself.”

“The system’s crazy.”

“What else is new?”

“I just wonder why we got no killing skill for goblinoids or impishes or whatever they’re called,” I said.

“Fighting or killing, you don’t get XP for both. It’s in the skill description.”

“That I don’t get again. Great. Why doesn’t the system just give me a printout of what would be in my menus if they were working right?”

“Don’t ask me, ask the system.”

“I just did…”

🙚⚜🙘

Greg had gotten us a white van and a stack of moving boxes, both things I hadn’t considered. But that’s why you delegate tasks to competent workers, isn’t it?

The goon from yesterday, I really should ask his name, drove Geri and me while Greg took the van. There was a third car with four more goons, but they kept their distance and were intended as backup should anything happen.

The O’Brians lived a bit outside, in a suburb wedged between the Merseyrail and the M58. It reminded me a bit of American ‘burbs, many single-family houses, each on their own plot and plenty of cul-de-sacs stopping any stray through traffic. The houses certainly were upper middle class, but not as high-end as to suggest the chief would need to rely on bribe money to live here.

When we pulled up, a minute to four, having waited two streets over for the right time, an expensive car sat in the driveway, and Mr O’Brian stood waiting in front of the front door. I was sure it was him—his picture was on the police website; I had checked on the way over. Last second? Sure. But better just in time than never. Just like my rent payments…

Greg and “reoccurring goon” got out first, then Geri and I followed. I kept my head behind the goon to judge Peter’s (no way was I calling him Mister) reaction. It was quite rewarding.

“There you are! Stop this nonsense right this moment and send these ‘people’ away, Samantha. I will not let this charade continue a moment longer,” he barked once he spied me behind Goony’s back.

“Oh, come on, arsehole,” Geri said quite loudly. I doubted any neighbours would hear, but she had the right idea there. “Where’s the else to that? Will you pull out your belt and make her scream?”

“Who the fuck are you? The whore who bedazzled her or her pimp,” he replied. I wish I could have seen his face, it should have been beetroot red. I held up my hand, the middle finger extended. We were now just a step away, and he took the bait by closing the distance and grabbing my hand.

I noticed Greg had turned his body as quickly as Peter had moved to keep the bodycam on him. Really, he needed a raise. I couldn’t yet finish the bastard, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t hurt him. And if it was on camera after he assaulted me…perfect.

I waited until he had my hand firmly in a grip, musing on how slow normal people now seemed to move—they even gave me time to muse—then I grabbed his wrist with my other hand as if to try prying him off. I could have done that easily, but I had something else in mind—I pulled away.

That made him follow—not because he wanted to, but because I was way stronger than what he had braced against—and, as there was a goon in the way, that sent him flying. Right on top of me, because the weight of a grown and heavyset man falling onto a slender young woman very “naturally” pushed me over. Sadly, it was such an unlucky fall that his arm got wedged between my back and the concrete floor. And even more unlucky, it landed just right to break right above the wrist. Honourable judge, you can see that me rotating the hand that gripped that spot can’t possibly have something to do with that, can’t you?

Unluckily, this time honestly so, my knee, which I had bent while falling, didn’t hit him in the nuts, just the belly. With only his weight behind that, it did no real damage.

I contemplated making a scene, but that wouldn’t help our overall plan. Instead, I pulled on my acting skill to force out tears and snivelling, just like I had seen from Sam the day before. I rolled out from under him a bit and hid my face in my hands while assuming that protective embryonic curl.

I had briefed our protection duty on some contingencies before we left, and this was one of them. The goon Peter had tripped over, took the cue and lifted Peter up by the shirt. “Do not attack our charge, sir,” he said coldly. Geri, meanwhile, gave Peter a very ineffective slap, even missing his face and so only brushing off his shirt, while crying, “look what you’ve done, you oaf!” Then she bowed down to “comfort” me.

They say shock is a very effective painkiller and it showed here again. Peter didn’t seem to have noticed his injury yet and instead protested loudly about being manhandled. “Let me go, or I’ll send you to jail for a century. You have no right to keep me away from my daughter.”

Greg handled that one. “Sir, she is an adult woman who has expressed in no uncertain terms that she does not want to interact with you. Unless you present us with a court order saying otherwise, we will keep you away from her using all the force necessary to prevent your unlawful assaults.”

That seemed to shut Peter up for a moment. I couldn’t see if he was baffled or overwhelmed by his rage, but I guess the former. He wouldn’t have his job if he were that bad at controlling his emotions.

“However,” Greg continued, “I recommend you allow us to call you an ambulance. You seem to have hurt yourself while attacking our charge. Looks like a nasty break.” The yard should have frozen over instantly so cold was the delivery of the last part.

This was enough for Peter to notice his injury. He ranted for a bit more, accusing me of doing that to him, to which Greg responded, “We’d be happy to provide you a copy of our bodycam footage once we’re done here. Just as we will provide a copy to our client in case she wants to sue you for assault.”

Damn, that had me shivering, and Greg was my guy. “Your dad’s the best,” I whispered into Geri’s ear. She was still shielding me from Peter and the bodycams.

It also shut Peter up, who should know well enough how deep into shit’s creek he could ride himself when talking on camera.

Sir,” the other goon said, “can I recommend you sit down? You look pale.”

Meanwhile, Greg was on the phone ordering an ambulance, giving them some patient information and that “he got injured when attacking a young woman”. Those calls were taped, so we had yet another point of evidence. He also had identified himself rather loudly as being from some protection agency, something I was sure was correct on paper. If Peter had any doubts he was dealing with professionals, that would be taken care of now.

“Can we get her stuff now? She doesn’t even have a second pair of panties!” Geri shouted after Greg had hung up, putting plenty of distress into her voice.

“Very well, mam,” Greg said. “Sir, we have been hired to provide security for our charges, not as movers. As a matter of professional courtesy, we can offer you to oversee the moving and make sure no objects are removed from your home by our charges, seeing how you are prevented from doing so at the moment.”

“Fine,” Peter grumbled, sounding like the pain had set in, and gave Greg directions to Sam’s room, demanding nobody to touch anything outside it. Greg confirmed, then helped me up and led me into the house, cleverly staying between my face and Peter. Geri ran off to the van to get moving boxes. All the best strength doesn’t help when you have a jumble of little things to move.

“That was fabulous, Greg,” I said in a low voice once we were inside.

“Should be more than enough to get a restraining order,” he replied at the same volume.

“Good idea, we should start this going ASAP,” I told him. That would throw suspicion off us, but I couldn’t say that aloud. There could be cameras in here. I was keeping my head down, but that wouldn’t stop sound from being picked up.

It wasn’t far to Sam’s room, but we had to pass the door to the master bedroom. I thought nothing of it until Greg pointed at the floor. There was a wire going from under the hallway rug into the master bedroom. It was taped there, and the tape did not look fresh in any way. What an arsehole, had he put in an alarm so his daughter couldn’t get out without him knowing?

My blood started to boil even more when I noticed her door had a deadbolt—with the knob on the outside. If I had any doubts about my plan, they’d been gone right this instant.

I wanted to step inside after Greg, but he stopped me. “Wait here while I sweep,” he said. Considering he didn’t have a broom, I took that as a sweep for bugs. Electronic ones. He must have some kind of device, as I heard it beeping while he rummaged around for a long while. Long enough for Geri to arrive with the boxes.

When he finally let us in, a pile of electronic devices lay on the bed. I counted at least three cameras of various sizes, one of them a big electrically swivelling one that was impossible to hide. Sam had lived with that on her bedroom wall?

Greg closed the door behind us. “Room is clean,” he said in a low voice, “but speak softly; mics outside could pick you up.”

“Where was that?” I asked and pointed to the big camera.

“Up there,” Greg said and pointed to a ceiling corner of the room, where it would have a perfect view over Sam’s bed. “He molested her, didn’t he?”

“Outright rape,” Geri answered, anger in her voice. “Started when she was ten.”

Greg growled. I felt more like shouting down the heavens.

🙚⚜🙘

Aside from the cameras, the room was…pink. Garishly pink. The walls were pink, the bed was pink, the bed sheets were pink, the rug was pink, the wardrobe…you get it. No wonder Sam wanted nothing of that; even a 9-year-old would say it was too much. It also was clashing. Salmon, pink, fuchsia and hot pink are not the same colour, for god’s sake!

We worked our way methodically through the room, left to right, ignoring everything that was pink. In the end, what landed in the boxes didn’t even fill up half of the first one. I ignored our no-pink rule for two items: the laptop and a diary. I checked that the latter had writing in it, but didn’t read it. The decorative lock was broken, so her father probably had.

The contents of her wardrobe didn’t look much better in terms of pinkness. A good half of its content was stuff that was, in one way or another, pink. We grabbed the rest, and it was just enough that it warranted using a second box.

Looking around, the room didn’t make the impression of having been cleaned out. “Should we box up the rest and dump the boxes? It doesn’t feel right leaving the stuff here.”

“We can as well,” Geri said. “Appearances and such.”

Greg also nodded and unfolded a fresh box.

That netted us another four very tightly packed (read: with some breakage) boxes. We even removed the bed sheet and stood up the mattress against the wall. It took us a good forty minutes, even without having to be careful, and the air had become stuffy in the small room. Greg had tried to open the window, but it wouldn’t budge an inch. Figures.

Greg wanted to grab some boxes, but I waved him off. “You said you’re no mover,” I told him and stacked three boxes for me. Geri took two. It was no weight for us, but I felt the carton buckle around the handholds. Whatever, aside from us, nobody knew how much was in them. “Lead us; I can’t see a thing,” I told Greg.

The procession to the van ran into no difficulties, no real ones, at least. When we left the door, Peter jumped up and called, “Talk to me, Sam, dammit,” but Goony MacGoonsen inserted himself between us. “Sir, please stay back.” Man, I had seen coppers who weren’t that professional.[^cf3]

I stayed in the back of the van to avoid showing my face when we took off. It was for a couple of hundred metres anyway, as we stopped as soon as we were around two corners to talk.

“Thanks, Greg, and, sorry, I never asked for your name…” I started.

“Eddy, mam,” he replied with a small bow.

“Thanks, Eddy. Now, the ambulance is not here yet?”

“Never called it,” Greg said. “Shall I do it now?”

“That’s…actually perfect. Let’s do it this way: You call it in, then have the backup team position themselves to give us enough of a warning to get the van back to the house. I stay with the car. When the ambulance arrives, you tell them you just cleared out the room while waiting, and Sam was never here. We’ll move two boxes into the car to make that time frame believable, but if they are too fast, you started before the incident. Peter attacked Geri, claiming she was his daughter, and so forth. Make him look like a loon in front of the paramedics. Oh, and Greg, when you call in, drop that bodyguard part and tell them Peter attacked your daughter. You’re here as Dad and his chum because Geri’s Sam’s friend.”

Greg grinned. “That’ll work nicely.”

“Dad, how good are you with your fists? Can you give someone a black eye on purpose?”

“Um, never tried that…”

“I can,” I inserted myself. “I’ve got the “goon that roughs people up” training.”

Greg looked at me sideways. Seems he didn’t know everything about me. “What are you planning?”

“Simple, Jane will give me a black eye to show to the paramedics. They’ll have a look, tell me to put a steak on it and be done with it after noting it down. Next we’ll get those records to the newspapers. They’ll eat it up.”

“And aside from that, it will make the ‘hurt while being the attacker’ story one hundred percent more believable, now that we can’t use the bodycam footage,” I added.

“I don’t know if I like to see you hurt,” Greg said, but Geri waved him off. “I’ve had worse, Dad.”

“You thought about you know what being off?” I asked.

“Yeah, ready. Hit me.”

I did so. The trick to giving a good black eye is to burst as many blood vessels in the right area, preferably without damaging the bone or the eye. This is way easier if the subject holds still, as you don’t have to do it all in one blow against a moving target. In this case, I used the knuckle of one finger. I would have preferred a fingertip, but my nails were too long for that, even in my human form. We didn’t need scratches on Geri.

A dozen short blows from just a couple of inches away, powered by my inhuman strength and softened by Geri’s inhuman constitution, the area around her eye began to swell with the minute amounts of blood from countless tiny burst blood vessels.

“How does it look?” Geri asked, who hadn’t even flinched a millimetre.

“I’m hurting just from seeing it,” Eddy said with some disbelief in his voice.

“Realistic,” Greg said. “Otherwise, I’m with him.”

“Good, now get going,” I told them.

🙚⚜🙘

The plan went off without a hitch, a sure sign I wasn’t executing it. Ten minutes later, an ambulance rushed by the car I was hiding in, then I had to wait a good long while. I put on the audiobook again, but then realised I now could afford the subscription, so I paused the player and got it. I bought the first book in the series and listened to Tess’ wonderful voice: “Frost licked over Tala’s already sensitive skin, …”

“Hey, wake up, sleepyhead, we’re done,” Geri shouted into my ear as she shook me awake.

I jumped, not even having noticed I had fallen to slumber, looking around for magic inscriptions for a second before reality captured me again, and I remembered where I was. I paused the book with a short press on the dongle, then stowed the earphones away and looked at Geri. Her face was perfect, with no sign of the black eye left. “How did it go?” I asked.

“I’d say perfect,” Greg said, “but that would be an understatement.”

“The medics didn’t believe us when we said I was 18, and I told them I had no ID on me, so they called the cops. Now imagine two poor coppers being called in by paramedics because their boss assaulted a girl.”

“Rock and a hard place, I’d say.”

“Exactly. But the medics had the longer lever. They had called it in, so it was on tape, and they have nothing to fear from the chief. So they had to take statements and the whole shebang.”

“A police report has been filed,” Greg said. “It clearly states who was on the scene, who had injuries, how we said they happened, and that Chief O’Brian gave a very incoherent statement not matching the observable facts. We also called Sam with the officers, and she told them where she was and that she had been there for hours. We didn’t even have to point out that the place has CCTV, the female officer knew that and brought it up. Good job getting her in position, Miss Jane.”

“Thanks. It wasn’t for this exact situation, but it worked anyway. Is there any follow-up later today or so?”

“The officer asked Sam to go to the station to give her statement. We can do that tonight,” Greg replied. “The three girls and me, so you have an alibi?”

“Yes, but take Eddy, too. Ideally, I won’t be seen, so the alibi doesn’t help if someone points at him.”

“Good call. Simon can drive you.”

“Sure,” I said. “Damn, I really need to get a licence. I’m just not sure when I have the time for it.”

“If you can drive, I can get you a good fake,” Greg offered.

“Never even sat to the front right, so thanks, but no,” I said with regret.