“What are we going to do?” Gina asked breathlessly as they started to walk hurriedly up the street away from the hotel. “I mean, we can’t just leave Greg, he might be there.” She stopped near a narrow thoroughfare.

“I don’t know,” Paul shrugged, still looking wired. “Is there anything we can do? I personally need to go and writhe in pain for a while before my lower bowel collapses.”

“What if they turn on him?” Gina gasped, ignoring Paul and leaning against one of the walls in the thoroughfare. She started to slide toward the ground, her entire body shaking and her face pale. Paul stepped forward and stopped her falling by wrapping his arms around her waist; the shock had hit her.

“And I was going to say, you’re verging on an emotional breakdown,” he sighed. “You can’t fall apart.”

“Why? Fen’s allowed to.” She swallowed as she gripped his arms.

“Because it’s not you,” he soothed. “We need you to be the brains of the operation. You fall apart and we all do.”

“Thanks for the extra emotional burden,” she breathed as her shaking stopped. “You’re the hero though, always getting your head caved in for us. Who would have thought the creature from the back room had balls of steel, huh?”

“Me? I’m shit scared,” Paul mused, letting her go to run his fingers through his hair. “I’m just running on adrenaline and…”

“And what?” Gina asked noticing Paul had taken to looking at his feet. “McDermott?”

He was quiet for a moment. “Alcohol. I’m usually quite drunk when I do stupid things. Should we find a hotel?”

“Don’t you think that’s the first place Don’s henchmen will look?”

“Good point. I know a backpackers hostel a few blocks away. It’s not five star but we should be left in peace.”

“Sounds fine to me. Can we buy some food along the way? I’m starving.”

“Funnily enough, there’s a Macca’s over the road from the hostel,” he smiled as they headed through the thoroughfare. She noticed his limp for the first time and slid her arm around his waist. They looked at each other a moment and he gingerly put her arm around her as they walked in silence toward the hostel.

Danny knocked on Greg’s hotel room door. There was no response. He knocked again and started having a feeling of déjà vu. There was an unpleasant feeling in the pit of his stomach — this was how the whole thing had started with Gina. He still wasn’t entirely sure he believed what was going on, or perhaps it was just he didn’t want to. He tried the door and it opened. Timidly he stepped inside, and like Gina’s, it was empty. Greg’s bag was still where he’d left it, as was his shirt, but apart from that, there was nothing.

“Fucking hell,” Danny breathed as he backed out of the room and smacked into a maid who screamed something at him in Dutch. He apologised and handed her a wad of cash. The money seemed to cheer her up, and she disappeared into a nearby room with a mop. Danny hurried back to his room and grabbed his cell phone from where he’d chucked it on the bed. He pored through the numbers in his phonebook until he came to Fenny’s. With a slight reluctance he pressed the call button and was furious to receive an electronic message. He was redirected to her message bank.

“Hi this is Fenella Grey, I’m either busy, not listening, or have lost my phone, so leave me a message and I’ll get back to you…”

“Fen, this is Dan. I don’t know what the fuck has happened, but Greg has disappeared I’m going to — oh shit…” Danny dropped the phone as he found himself looking down the barrel of a gun, a situation in which a weaker man may have literally pissed his pants.

“Amsterdam, finally,” Ritza yawned, stretching as they made their way through the terminal.

“Where should I wear my wings?” Brad asked, fiddling with the small trinket.

“I hardly think that’s important right now,” Fenny scorned. “Paul, Gina, and now Greg are missing.”

“I know, I hadn’t forgotten,” Brad huffed, still pawing his wings.

“It’s fairly late, we might as well crash for the night,” Ritza declared as they stepped outside to look for taxis. Half a second later one pulled up and the driver smiled politely. “So, are we finding a hotel?” Ritza asked.

Fenny shrugged and Brad nodded. Ritza jumped into the front seat and Brad and Fenny slid into the back.

“Which hotel?” Brad piped up. “The nearest one maybe?”

“Do you speak English?” Ritza asked the driver, he nodded. “Great, can you take us to a hotel?” The driver nodded and started off.

The taxi zipped through the streets, the driver uncharacteristically quiet as he concentrated on the road. Not that the three passengers really cared, they were tired and glad of the peace, the loud hum of the plane still vibrating in their ears. A short while later the taxi pulled to a stop outside a hotel and Ritza and Fenny stumbled out onto the footpath as Brad paid the driver.

“Wow, this is some hotel,” Ritza gushed. “The Savoy.”

“What?” Fenny gasped, her eyes going wide and stepping further out on to the pavement to look up at the large illuminated “Savoy” sign.

“You have Savoy issues?” Ritza asked as Brad trotted over to them. Fenny wasn’t quite sure what to say. Perhaps it was just a coincidence.

“No, I’m just tired,” Fenny shrugged and latched onto Brad’s arm as they made their way into the lobby. They booked two rooms for the night, and then piled into the elevator. They reached the floor their rooms were on and were standing in the hall when Brad piped up.

“Shit, I meant to ask them to give us a wake up call in the morning,” he pouted. “I’ll be right back.”

“Whatever floats your boat, babe,” Fenny mused as she watched the doors close on Brad.

“I’m exhausted,” Ritza yawned. “I’ll see you guys in the morning.”

“Night,” Fenny nodded and turned to unlock her door.

Brad had travelled several floors down when the elevator doors opened and a well-built man in a leather jacket joined him.

“Evening,” Brad smiled.

“Yeah,” the man replied and joined Brad leaning against the back of the elevator. Almost instantly he felt something poking into his ribs. He looked down and noticed it was a gun.

“I take it your not a hunting man?” Brad swallowed. The man smiled, showing off a gold front tooth.

“You shut the fuck up and come with me and you don’t die. Yet,” the man said in a hushed voice.

“Can I phone a friend?” Brad asked and felt the gun dig deeper into his ribs. “Shit, okay,” he gasped as the doors opened. He walked with the man back through the lobby and into the dark street.

“This way,” ordered the man, shoving Brad in the back as they walked into a dark carpark. Three more men appeared from a car and Brad felt his stomach do a backflip. The first punch winded him, the second bled his lip and the third knocked him to the ground. He felt heavy boots leave their marks on his back and then a series of hands pulled him into a van before he passed out from the pain that had ensnared his body.

Greg blearily opened his eyes. His head felt blurred, and he was more than a little disorientated. He tried to sit up but was gripped by nausea, so he lay down again and tried to get his bearings. He remembered being in the hotel. He’d changed his shirt. Then Amy had turned up and he’d had a drink and then…. A horrible feeling spread itself through Greg. The normal, unassuming, helpful Amy, that good old American girl, she was one of them. He sat up again and felt for his glasses. He was surprised to find them on the pillow next to him. The world swam into focus again and Greg found himself looking at the oddest shaped room he’d ever encountered. It appeared to be, of all things, round. Ignoring the protests from his body, he slid his shaking legs off the bed and tried to get to his feet. He couldn’t stand and fell back onto the bed.

“I wouldn’t bother trying to escape,” Amy sneered, appearing at the door. “I’ll shoot you if you do.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Greg gasped. “And what the fuck have you done to me?”

“I’m helping out a friend, and I drugged you.”

“Drugged me with what?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“So would you if you were drugged and kidnapped.”

“I think it’s time you stopped now.”

“Why? Is it the intermission?”

Amy let out a huff and disappeared from the room. She returned a few moments later with some thick electrical tape and tore off a strip, which she slapped over Greg’s mouth. He said a muffled obscenity before there was a sharp blow to his head and he was swamped with darkness.

“Are you pissed because we have to share a bunk?” Paul asked as he and Gina sauntered into the small hostel room.

“Nah, you don’t take up much room,” Gina mused and clambered onto the bunk, kicking off her shoes in the process.

“I need a piss, I’ll be back in a minute,” Paul declared and wandered out of the room again. Gina fell back onto the pillows and tried to put the last day or so of her life in perspective. So far she’d reunited with her husband, been kidnapped, beaten, nearly raped, and watched Paul shoot someone. Well, if she hadn’t needed therapy before, she was definitely going to need it now. Paul reappeared and hopped up on the bunk next to her. He kicked his shoes off and then pulled something from his pocket.

“Where’d you get a joint from?” Gina asked, propping herself up on one elbow.

“This is Amsterdam, drug capital of the world,” Paul mused. “You can practically buy them in a supermarket.”

“How did I forget that?” Gina sighed.

“Are you going to lecture me?” Paul asked, lighting the joint.

“On the contrary,” Gina replied. “I might just join you.” And to Paul’s surprise she snatched the joint and expertly took the first smoke.

“Since when did you know how to smoke a joint?” Paul asked, nothing short of shocked.

“That’s classified information,” she mused, handing him the joint back. “Besides, I need something to ease the memory of Don groping me.”

“I just need something to mask the pain,” he breathed, handing the joint back to she. She’d forgotten he’d been beaten to near unconsciousness, the cut on his head still clearly visible.

“Bastards,” she huffed, letting her head rest on the pillow next to his.

“These people scare me.”

“Which people?”

“The people that write the shit all over the walls. ‘Sven is a poof.’ I mean really, if you’re going to graffiti, you might as well make it worthwhile.”

“You can spot the Aussies.”

“Yeah, the ‘Aussie, Aussie, Aussie, Oi, Oi, Oi’ thing kinda gives it away.”

“That and the ‘G’Day Mate from Downunder.’ Please, don’t these people have any individuality?” she scorned as she took the joint from Paul again.

“This is going down as the second most surprising thing you’ve done,” he declared trying not to giggle.

“What’s the first?” she asked, handing the joint back.

“Fucking off back to England after we renewed our vows.”

“I had my reasons.”

“You made me cry.”

“Aw diddums,” she cooed and patted his cheek.

“Thanks for the sympathy.”

“Would you rather I tore open you pants and gave you a blowjob?”

“Are you offering?”

Gina weakly slapped his arm and then burst into giggles. Paul wasn’t far behind as they lost it completely, although neither were entirely sure why.

“Who the hell are you?” Danny breathed, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his eyes focussed fully on the gun in front of him.

“Disposal,” replied gruff voice.

“Disposal of what?” Danny asked, looking for something, anything to defend himself with. The man with the gun laughed; the laugh sent a shiver down Danny’s spine as he fumbled for something to hit his potential killer with. His hand gripped around something and he sprung forward, knocking the man to the floor and striking him hard across the head. The man went limp and Danny dropped whatever it was in his hands. It was the complimentary hotel bible.

“Jesus Christ,” Danny gasped. “I mean, fuck…sorry lord,” he babbled, grabbing the gun, his phone, and backpack and racing from the room. He bolted from the hotel and ran blindly into the night, leaving the man on the floor with a bloody bible.

Fenny switched on her phone and got the alert to call her message bank. She did so and waited impatiently as she listened to her own voice. Her heart started pounding when she heard Danny’s voice. He was panicking and she didn’t blame him, and then, nothing. Fenny tried to play to message again but her hands were shaking. She’d have to tell Brad when he got back. He was actually taking ages to organise a simple wake up call and she felt another twinge of nerves but tried to ignore them by switching on the television. She sunk down onto the bed but was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Who is it?” she asked cautiously.

“Ritz,” Ritza replied and Fenny opened the door. “Can I borrow your…”

Fenny’s eyes went wide, she saw two familiar looking heavies behind Ritza. Ritza looked at her strangely, almost reading her expression and before Fenny could burst into tears Ritza had leapt into the room and locked the door.

“Oh my god, they’ve got Brad,” Fenny babbled. “He hasn’t come back.”

“Fuck. Well don’t go to pieces on me,” Ritza ordered. “They’ll be in here any second.”

“What are we gonna do?” Fenny gasped.

Ritza scanned the room. “Balcony.”

“Hey?”

“Get those doors open,” Ritza ordered. “I’m serious.”

Fenny, who was trying to take deep breaths and calm herself, rushed to the door and started fiddling with all the locks. She could hear the hotel room door being shouldered by the men outside. Ritza stood her ground waiting.

“I can’t open it,” Fenny yelped, looking back hopelessly at Ritza.

“Fucking hell…we’ll have to do this the hard way then,” Ritza hissed as the door flew open and the two large men burst in. Ritza lunged at the first one, kneed him in the groin and then cracked his head on her knee. He slumped to the ground, nose broken. Ritza grabbed his gun and pointed it at the other man. “Want a bullet in your dick?”

“No,” the man peeped.

“Get on the fucking ground, then,” Ritza ordered. The man complied, and she snatched his gun and threw it at Fenny’s feet. Fenny looked horrified, but pulled herself together enough to grab the weapon. “Grab your stuff, let’s go.” Fenny nodded, and grabbed her backpack, locking the rest of her possessions and Brad’s in a closet.

“Take your friend and get out,” Ritza ordered. The man didn’t argue, pulled his friend to his feet and hurried toward the stairwell. Ritza raced from the room and into her room and reappeared several seconds later with a backpack of her own.

“Where did you learn the nose-breaking thing?” Fenny asked, not sure what to say as they hurried toward the elevator, guns hidden beneath their sweaters.

“Years of practice,” Ritza breathed as they slumped against opposite walls of the waiting elevator.

“Thanks,” Fenny said quietly. “I didn’t have a chance on my own.”

“I figure I kind of owe you a few,” Ritza smiled, and for the first time in her life, Fenny felt safe in the presence of Ritza Crispin.

“Did Don touch you up?” Paul asked as he and Gina found themselves three quarters of the way through their second joint, although neither could remember where it had come from.

“He had a bit of a grope. The man has a serious breast fetish,” Gina mused. “Made me grab his dick, well he tried to…couldn’t find it.”

Paul sniggered and Gina wasn’t far behind. “Claudia straddled me butt naked,” he managed to announce.

“No, really?” she giggled. “Butt naked.”

“Yeah, didn’t do a thing for me. I’m with Don, you’ve got great breasts.”

“You say the sweetest things,” she sighed, resting her head on his chest. He didn’t object. “Did she touch you up?”

“Didn’t give her a chance.”

“Aw, my hero,” she cooed, propping herself up to look at him. She couldn’t get comfortable. “I love you.”

Paul laughed. “Now I know you’re stoned.”

“No, I do. You saved me, and that was dead sweet. You’re like my hero forever.” She moved closer and pressed her lips against his. Paul was going to pull away, it being wrong to take advantage of another stoned individual, but her fingers crept through his hair and he couldn’t bear to pass the chance of letting all those familiar feelings re-emerge. He dropped the rest of the joint on the floor and caressed her face with his hands. Usually he’d go for her body, but he was too out of it and her face seemed fascinating at that moment. The drugs and lust were helping push his physical pain to the back of his mind until she pulled away.

“I think I’m sleepy now,” she declared, snuggling against him.

“You think you’re sleepy?” he giggled.

“Well I’m relaxed, which is probably a bad thing,” she laughed. “Could you imagine Don and his men trying to attack us now?”

“I think we’d make them uneasy. Your victims aren’t supposed to roll on the floor laughing.”

“No, that’d be wrong. I mean could you imagine suicide bombers trying to explode surrounded by hopelessly giggling people.”

“Or when Hitler was giving his speeches, if the audience just pissed themselves…” Paul broke into giggles again and set Gina off. “Just imagine if when we went to Gallipoli, the ANZAC’s laughed hysterically at the Turks, and the whole American Civil War could have been avoided, had people laughed instead.”

“Maybe you should become an advocate of make laughs not war.” This final comment sent them into fits again, and Paul realised he should probably retrieve the rest of the joint from the floor. He looked at it but couldn’t be bothered; he was relaxed and had Gina snuggled into him. He wasn’t going anywhere. Soon after they fell asleep, Gina promising to buy him a Superman costume, and he wanting her to dress like Barbarella.

The first shreds of sunlight poured through the window of the tiny bed and breakfast. Danny had barely slept a wink and had spent most of the night trying to get a signal on his cell, which had conveniently decided to die. He’d not undressed or even removed his shoes. He’d just lain on the bed and cradled the gun waiting for someone, anyone to burst through the door. The first rays of light brought some comfort, and he shoved the gun and phone into his bag and departed the bed and breakfast looking for a phone booth. He found one a short way down the street and slid into it. He ignored the countless fliers for prostitutes and shoved a few coins in, pressed in Fenny’s cell phone number and waited. A wave of relief swept over him when he heard it ring.

“Who is it?” Fenny announced, her voice obviously edgy.

“Danny, Danny Brannigan.”

“Dan, my god, are you okay?”

“Apart from the guy that tried to blow my head off last night, I’m super, thanks for asking.”

“What happened to Greg?”

“How do you know about Greg?”

“Don answered Greg’s cell when I called,” she swallowed. “Have you heard from Paul and Gina?”

“No. We did have our car explode, though.”

“This is so not good,” she breathed. “Ritza and I had an encounter with a couple of heavies last night.”

“Ritza?”

“Don’t ask.”

“What the fuck are we gonna do?”

“I don’t know. They’ve got Brad.”

“Oh Fen, look, I think the three of us should touch base.”

“I agree, where are you?”

Danny looked around his immediate area and noticed a café. He told Fenny the name and Ritza, who was flipping through maps, declared it was only a block away and they’d be there as quick as they could. They ended the phone call and Danny slid out of the phone booth and headed across the road to the relative safety of the booth.

“Wake up.”

Greg opened one eye and saw Amy standing over him, her gun clearly visible in a holster around her waist.

“Good morning,” he muffled, his head feeling clearer than it had the previous night. Amy tore the tape from his mouth. “Jesus fucking Christ, woman,” he hissed as the tape tore stubble from his top lip.

“Listen, Proops,” Amy sneered, a hand pressing on his throat. “I have some business to take care of. I’ve left a couple of my friends downstairs in case you try anything, not that you will. You don’t have the balls.”

“Thank you for that observation of my masculinity, oh wicked bitch of the west,” Greg jeered and received a slap across the face.

“Don might take shit from you and your pathetic friends, but you won’t gain an ounce of sympathy from me.”

“Was that a threat? Why Amy, I think you’ve passed Kidnapping And Violence 101.”

Amy narrowed her eyes and let out a huff. Victims were not supposed to make jokes at your expense. “I’m going to blow your head off tonight, fuck Don and fuck waiting around…” she scowled as she stormed from the room. Greg lay on the bed and listened to her footsteps descend downstairs before he got to his feet. He was pleased he could stand again, and although still slightly disorientated, he staggered to the only window in the room. He looked through the grubby glass and soon discovered why he was in such a weird room.

“Welcome to the Moulin Rouge,” he breathed as he observed the sails of the derelict windmill that was his prison.

Brad woke to the hum of an engine and searing pain throughout his body. He managed to pull himself into a sitting position and felt the dried blood on the side of his face. He had no idea where he was, and no recollection of the previous night other the carpark beating. He’d never understood why Fenny, Paul, or Gina were so reluctant to share details of their trauma, but he suddenly understood. Imprisoned in the back of a van was enough to send anyone stir crazy, and he felt envious that the others had someone to share the harrowing experience with. The van suddenly halted and Brad felt his heart beat a thousand times faster. The weight from the front of the van shifted and the doors were opened.

“Where are we?” Brad asked, not sure if it was a good thing to talk or not.

Neither of the heavies responded to Brad’s question, and they pulled him out of the van. The sunlight stung Brad’s eyes and he squinted against its harsh glare. When his eyes adjusted, Brad saw he was at some deserted-looking docks. A rickety old boat was moored next to several others and a small, bent old man in a blue captain’s hat appeared and had a brief conversation with the heavies before Brad was escorted from the docks onto the boat.

“Don’t try anything stupid,” warned a heavy as he shoved Brad in a small room on the boat and locked the door. Brad was glad he wasn’t claustrophobic as he was plunged back into darkness. He tried to take in the tiny room. A stack of boxes were on one side, which he imagined contained drugs. There were a couple of old life jackets and some rope. Brad found the clearest spot and sunk to the floor. He didn’t like the way the boat creaked as the water moved beneath it, his stomach managed to lurch every time. He wasn’t surprised to see scratches from the other tenants of the small room on the walls: ‘help’, ‘more hash.’ And then Brad managed to smile as he found, scratched into the wood:

It was like a sign from the gods. Well, from Paul, anyway, and it meant that Fenny had been there once, too. Brad wrapped his arms around his legs and closed his eyes; he didn’t care what happened to him, he just hoped Fenny was safe.

Gina woke with the unmistakable smell of dope everywhere. It stunk and made her skin crawl, and it was now thoroughly in her clothes and hair, and she was glad her mother wasn’t in smelling range. It took a second after the thought of her mother to realise she wasn’t alone. There was a hand on her arse and it was Paul’s.

“Hey,” she announced sleepily, making a futile effort to slap it away.

“You should have seen where it was earlier,” Paul mused without opening his eyes. “What time is it?”

She looked blearily at her watch. “Ten.”

“We should get up.”

“I know.”

They stayed motionless for a moment before Paul rolled off the bed and loudly thumped to the floor. He picked up the remainder of the dead joint and shoved it in his pocket before turning back to the bunk and shaking Gina’s arm.

“Come on, we’ve gotta find some transport.”

“I want to sleep,” she yawned.

“Up,” he ordered and slapped her arse. She sat bolt upright and glared at him. “Hey, it woke you up,” he shrugged.

She slid off the bunk and straightened herself up as Paul rescued the gun from beneath the mattress. They looked into each other’s bloodshot eyes for a moment and gave small sniggers. “Where we gonna get a car from?” Gina asked as she followed him out of the room.

“Car hire place?” he shrugged.

“Haven’t got my license on me,” she replied.

“Dammit.”

“We could pinch Don’s, I know where it is?” she suggested.

“Will it be guarded?”

“Probably, but we can take on a couple of brain-dead heavies.”

“That’s my girl,” Paul perked, slapping her on the back.

“I’m not your girl,” she remarked as they stepped into the street and headed toward the hotel.

“It was a term of affection. We’re still married, I can use terms of affection.”

“And I don’t appreciate your butt fetish.”

“See, another form of affection.”

“You lying hound.”

“I’ll have you know I still have very strong feelings for you.”

“I’m not disputing that, I just don’t think in these circumstances it’s appropriate.”

“Oh, and licking my chest while Fen was being near raped last time was appropriate?”

“It was at that moment,” she mused cheekily as they hotel came into view.

“I think you’re a hypocrite.”

“I resent that.”

“You are, like last night you said you loved me and you even kissed me. Which despite what I may be saying, it was very nice, but if I did that to you, man, you’d use my testicles as a hood ornament.”

“I was stoned, my thinking was obscured, and right now, I may add, my brain still feels like cotton wool.”

“You’re still skirting ’round the issue,” Paul scorned as they entered the underground carpark.

“Oh please, I could kiss you right now and it’d still mean nothing.”

Paul stopped. “Go on then.”

Gina narrowed her eyes and then stepped forward, a hand crept onto his cheek, but before her lips could gravitate toward his, he dragged her behind a nearby car.

“What the…?”

“Heavies,” he whispered, pointing to the two large men who wandered over to Don’s car. One man opened the car before they stopped to chat.

“How are we gonna get it now?” Gina breathed.

Paul thought for a moment. “Wait here,” he ordered and then shot off into the carpark, crouching and moving as stealthily as an injured man could. He found a shiny red, expensive looking car and belted the bonnet. The car alarm shot off and filled the air with noise. He dashed back to Gina as the heavies pulled out their guns and raced to the car.

“Go now,” Paul panted as he led the way to Don’s car. Both he and Gina leapt into the back and hid themselves behind the seats. Squeezing themselves as best as they could on the floor behind the seats, they waited, Paul with his gun at the ready. One of the heavies reappeared and plonked himself into the drivers seat, the other one appeared to have left. Gina noticed the heavy’s gun on the passenger seat in front of her and carefully slid her hand between the seat and the door and pulled the weapon back into her lap. Paul winked at her, still surprised by her gall. The engine kicked in and soon they car was speeding through the streets. Gina looked at Paul for guidance. He raised an eyebrow and moved so he could poke the gun into the heavy’s side.

“Hi, we’re hijacking your car,” Paul announced. “Keep driving out of town or I’ll have to put a few holes in you.”

The heavy took one hand off the wheel and went to grab Paul’s gun, Gina sprung up from behind the seat with her gun pointed at his head. “Don’t even think about it,” she hissed.

“And this is my beautiful assistant,” Paul smiled wickedly.