“What are you gonna do? Blow his head apart in front of witnesses?” Gina asked, her arm still around Greg’s back.

“I don’t plan to leave any witnesses,” Amy sneered as she leveled her gun at Greg. “I like to keep things tidy,” she added and let the gun sway between Greg and Paul.

“I hope you’ve got some strong floor cleaner then?” Gina chided. “Not that that pair have a lot of brain matter to spray the walls with.”

“Gee thanks, Genie,” Paul scorned, not taking his eyes off the gun. “I’d like to think I could at least have my grey matter form a piece of art. Warholesque, maybe.”

“I think you’re generalizing about all men and I take offense,” Greg agreed. “I won the Weakest Link you know,” he added, looking at Amy, who seemed baffled by the banter between her intended victims.

“Shut up, all of you,” Amy snapped.

“You’re going to take on three of us then?” Gina laughed.

“Oh please, no decent man would tackle a woman,” Amy retorted.

“She’s right,” Greg breathed.

“I’m not decent,” Paul shrugged.

“I’m not a man,” Gina hissed and stepped forward. Amy levelled her gun to Gina’s chest. Her finger tightened on the trigger.

“Go on, shoot me,” Gina said, a determined look on her face as she moved closer.

“Shit,” Greg breathed and gave a sideways glance to Paul who looked amused. “Aren’t you worried?”

Paul held up a hand to silence Greg. “What’s her name?”

“Gina,” Greg replied.

“The woman, you fuckwit.”

“Amy.”

“Hey Amy, want some of this?” Paul beamed, slapping his hands down either side of his groin. Amy was distracted and looked over at Paul as Gina rushed forward and grabbed the gun. She twisted it out of Amy’s hands and pushed her back against the wall.

“Bitch,” Amy hissed as Paul and Greg took to darting around the room to find something to tie her up with. “I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Not if I kill you first,” Gina grinned and pistol-whipped her. Amy sunk to her knees as Greg and Paul started tying her wrists together with a small length of rope.

“You really shouldn’t piss Gina off,” Greg mused as he held Amy’s arms together. “Threatening her husband was a bad move.”

“No, threatening you was a bad move,” Gina corrected. “Couldn’t give a damn about him,” she added and jokingly kicked Paul’s leg as he was crouched next to her.

“Thanks honey,” Paul sarced as he stood. “What are we doing with our new friend?”

“I’m thinking large plastic barrel, acid, empty bank vault,” Greg mused.

“We could give her to the lost dogs home?” Paul suggested.

“No, the wayward home for lost psychopaths and henchmen,” Greg laughed.

“She’d be right next to Ritza then,” Paul perked.

“Actually, Ritza’s in Amsterdam trying to save us,” Gina piped up.

“You what?” Paul gasped, looking from Gina to Greg and back again. “Is that some kind of sick fucking joke, because if it is it’s not funny and the punch line could end up with us being disembowelled.”

“It’s true and she has helped us before,” Greg nodded, although even he wasn’t sure why he was defending her.

“Yeah, so much so I got locked in a shed,” Gina muttered. “I say we take Amy here as a hostage.”

“Take her where?” Greg demanded, bewildered by the suggestion.

“We could dump her with that heavy?” Paul suggested.

“What heavy?” Greg queried.

“The one we kidnapped earlier,” Gina said bluntly as if it was perfectly obvious as to what heavy she was talking about.

“What are we going to do with a kidnapped psychopath?” Greg gasped.

“Trade off, bait, something to do during down time,” Paul smirked.

“I think you two have been watching way too many movies,” Greg scolded, not at all comfortable with the idea of taking a hostage.

“It’s settled then,” Gina perked. “You two grab her and I’ll warm the engine.”

“How come we have to take her?” Greg huffed.

“Because I’m weak, fragile woman who can’t lift heavy inanimate objects,” Gina countered as she opened the door. Paul and Greg pulled Amy to her feet and she managed to stop the pain resonating in the back of her head enough to focus on walking.

“By the way,” Greg piped up as the descended the stairs. “Why do you two smell of dope?”

“This isn’t good,” Danny swallowed as the car wobbled on the edge of the embankment. “Are we gonna die?”

“Really, get a grip,” Ritza sighed and clambered into the back seat of the car. “Undo your belt — seatbelt.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.” Danny reluctantly undid his seatbelt but refused to take his hands off the wheel. “You’re going to have to let go of that wheel sometime, Bambi.”

“Bambi?”

“Deer in the headlights,” Ritza sighed. “Now face the passenger door.”

“Why?”

“Because when I count to three we’re both going to throw all our weight against that side.”

“Right, why didn’t I think of that?”

“If you stopped panicking for a moment, you might’ve.”

“Thanks, remind me to nominate you for the citizen of the year.”

“This from the man whose tongue was literally sliding along the floor when Fenny walked into that café.”

“It was not.”

“Oh please, I know the look of two people who want to fuck each other’s brains out.”

“Funny, I thought you spawned when dropped in water?”

“Big talk for a man that supports the Swans,” Ritza laughed.

“Hey, we’ve been a bit down since Plugga retired, but we’re coming good.”

“Oh please, you couldn’t win against Carlton.”

“Need I recite our line up as opposed to Carlton?”

“Can we move this car first?”

“Fine.”

“One, two…THREE,” Ritza yelled and they both flew forward putting all their weight on the opposite side of the car. They felt it jerk and repeated the process a couple more times before Ritza was satisfied and clambered out of the car. Danny appeared a few seconds later rubbing his shoulder.

“Should be able to ease it away from here now,” Ritza perked.

“Still doesn’t help Fen though. I mean we’ve well and truly lost them now,” Danny sighed.

“We’ll find them, Bambi, don’t you worry,” Ritza smiled as she walked onto the road to guide Danny out.

“Well thanks Cruella, I’m convinced,” Danny muttered as he dragged himself back to the drivers seat.

“Come on, come on, come on, come on,” Brad recited as he bounced on the spot desperately needing to empty his aching bladder. “If I have to wear this exclusive number from the ‘henchmen’ range, the least they can do is stop me from pissing my pants.”

As the last words tumbled from Brad’s mouth, the door flew open and the same heavy who’d presented him with the suit appeared. He looked Brad up and down and seemed to approve.

“Would you like me to twirl?” Brad asked.

“Would you like me to remove your spleen?” hissed the heavy.

“I kinda like my spleen, but you can have my bladder.”

The heavy’s eyes narrowed. “OUT,” he snarled.

“Oh, where are you taking me?” Brad asked as he headed for the door. “Dinner? Dancing? A movie?” The heavy gave him a shove into the light and Brad noticed they were docked somewhere. “Aw, a weekend trip, and we don’t even know each other.”

“Will you shut up,” snapped the heavy.

“But there’s so much we still don’t know about each other,” Brad gasped. “Why, I don’t even know your name.”

“Does anyone have any tape?” the heavy asked, looking at the small collection of people who were there to greet them. They all shrugged and the heavy looked slightly defeated.

“We should get him to Franco’s,” one of the other heavies piped up.

“Mr. McIver gave me strict instructions…”

“Beven, McIver doesn’t mean shit.”

“Your name is Beven?” Brad mused, looking at the heavy.

“You sure none of you have tape?” Beven sighed.

“Lots of things rhyme with Beven, did you know that?” Brad chirped. “Seven, eleven, seven eleven, Seventh Heaven…Do you think there’s a Seven-Eleven up in heaven, Beven?”

“Someone hit him,” groaned a smaller man in a dark suit.

“Can’t, he’s got a full bladder,” huffed Beven. “Let’s go,” he added and led Brad toward a waiting dark car.

Fenny looked helplessly out of the window as the lights of Amsterdam reappeared. The car twisted and turned through the small streets, past places she had no idea about. Eventually the car pulled to a stop in what Fenny believed to be a wealthier part of town. She was led from the car into an apartment building, up several floors and down a never-ending row of corridors. Eventually they stopped outside a door and one of the heavies knocked what was either a sign of bad coordination or a secret knock. The door opened and Fenny’s throat closed as Don stood there with his ever-present sneer.

“Well done, men,” he smirked. “And nice to see you again, Fenella.”

“Can’t you see I’m thrilled,” she spat.

“Bring her in,” Don mused and wandered back into the room. Fenny was escorted in after him and noticed they weren’t alone. There was a woman perched on the couch, her long legs tucked under herself. Fenny recognised her as Claudia.

“Are you sure it’s even going to work?” Claudia asked, looking Fenny up and down.

“Of course it will, darling, once you weave your magic on the poor urchin,” Don cooed.

“Need a lot of magic,” Claudia muttered.

“I’m sorry, it’s hard to look glamorous when you’re fearing for you life and being dragged along the ground,” Fenny sarced. Don shot her daggers and marched over. One of his hands clung to her face, squeezing it as his mouth and nose spewed out enough hot air to make Fenny feel light-headed.

“Listen you sarcastic little bitch. Not only did you cost me money but you led me on…”

“You wish,” Fenny sneered and felt Don’s fingers press tighter into her flesh.

“You need to repay your debt to me and you’re going to,” Don snarled. “Otherwise I kill you and all your friends. You wouldn’t want to be responsible for that, now, would you?”

“Get fucked,” Fenny breathed. Don pushed her back and she fell to the floor. Claudia gave a throaty chuckle.

“I’ll leave her in your capable hands, darling,” Don grumbled. “I need to do some recruiting,” he added and clicked his fingers, causing the heavies to follow as he left. Fenny got to her feet and looked over at Claudia who was still looking like the cat who got the cream.

“I wouldn’t try anything sweetie,” she purred, getting to her feet. “You wouldn’t want anything to happen to that little boyfriend of yours. You should have seen him all over me.”

Fenny looked at Claudia unconvinced, no one described Brad as little, and he wasn’t her boyfriend. The only ‘little’ male Fenny knew was – Paul. She bit her lip to hide a smile.

“Do I have to sit in the back with Amy?” Greg huffed.

“Yes,” Gina and Paul said together.

“You lot are so going to pay for this,” Amy spat.

“Someone muzzle her, please,” Gina sighed.

Paul opened the glove compartment and fumbled through it and eventually pulled out a roll of electrical tape. He tore a piece off and slapped it over Amy’s mouth.

“So much better,” Gina mused as she slid into the driver’s seat.

“What’s that noise?” Greg asked.

“Phone,” Gina piped up. “Her phone,” she added, looking at Amy. Paul and Greg started patting her down and eventually Greg pulled the phone from her pocket.

“Who’s going to answer it?” Greg asked. Paul snatched the phone and started pacing outside the car.

“Yeah,” he said in a deep cockney accent.

“Where’s Amy?” It was Don.

“How the hell should I know?”

“Can you tell her we’ve got the American girl? Claudia is dealing with her….”

“Is she okay?”

“Who?”

“The fucking Yank.”

“Why do you care?”

“Makin’ conversation,” Paul held the phone away and mouthed several obscenities. “We’ve still got the four-eyed Yank.”

Gina stuck a hand out to cover Greg’s mouth; there would be no way he’d let that one go.

“We’ve got the other Yank back in England. Got a few jobs for him.”

“Wot about the Australians?”

“We’re working on it. Claudia still wants the guy’s testicles.”

Paul did his best moronic laugh. “So boss, wot d’ya want us to do now?”

“Kill the yank, he’s pretty useless.” Paul gave another moronic laugh. “And then you can help me round up clients for the girl and Amy can go and look for the Australians.”

“Clients, boss?”

“Yes Terrence, I’ve only told you a million times.”

“Well ya know me boss, fick as shit.” Don laughed. “I’ll pass the message on the Amy.”

“Good. And I expect to see you by tonight.”

“Right Boss, bye Boss.” Paul ended the call and let out a long breath.

“Well?” Gina asked, moving her hand from Greg’s mouth.

“You wear glasses too you insolent little fuck,” Greg spat.

“Right,” Paul nodded and looked back at Gina. “We’re to kill Proops and then I’m to help our friend Don round up clients for Fen.”

“Clients?” Gina asked.

“Kill me,” Greg gasped.

“Clients to deal to maybe?” Paul said equally as blankly.

“I think Amy wants to say something,” Greg piped up and tore the tape back from Amy’s lips. She let out a curse.

“He’s pimping her, you fuckheads,” Amy gasped. Greg slapped the tape back.

“Oh, and Brad’s in England,” Paul added. “Pimping,” he added, startled as if the message had only just made its way into his brain.

“Christ, we better get back to Amsterdam,” Gina gasped and started the engine.

The only thing Brad could tell was that he wasn’t in Amsterdam anymore. That and if he didn’t get to a bathroom soon he was going to do something he hadn’t done since childhood and piss his pants as well. The car slowed outside a battered looking pub. Brad noted the sign: the Cock & Bull. He wasn’t sure if it was ironic or just amusing as he was led inside.

“Please can I go now?” he begged once inside the confines of the quiet pub.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Beven sighed and grabbed Brad by the shoulder as he led him into the men’s toilets. There was no time for performance anxiety as Brad fronted the urinal, although to be honest he found it more amusing having someone watching him than he should have.

“So Beven, buddy, do you come here often?” Brad mused.

“You talk a hell of a lot,” Beven sighed, his arms crossed.

“Well I figure if we’re going to be spending so much time together, we might as well get to know each other,” Brad mused as he zipped his fly. “I’m Brad by the way,” he added holding out his hand. Beven raised an eyebrow. “You’re right,” Brad nodded and sauntered over to the grimy looking sinks to wash his hands.

“How can you be so fucking calm?” Beven asked. “Your life is at stake here, man.”

“Trust me, I’m far from calm,” Brad replied as he looked for something to dry his hands on. After a moment he gave up and used his pants. “So what am I here for?”

“Illegal gambling,” Beven replied.

“Oh great, I fail at Snap and you want me to gamble,” Brad breathed.

“Don’t worry, Franco will teach you his system. You can’t loose.”

“They said the Titanic was unsinkable.”

“The Titanic didn’t have the prospect of being kneecapped to keep it afloat.”

“Did the Titanic have knees?”

Beven closed his eyes and Brad was sure he was fighting a smile. “Come on, I’ll buy you a drink.”

“Really?” Brad gasped. “Does this mean you like me?”

“It means I’m going to refrain from removing your brain with a straw for now,” Beven mused as he opened the door. “Get out.”

“Put this on,” Claudia ordered as she passed over what Fenny thought was a piece of satin cloth. It turned out to be a red corset, undies, garter belt and stockings.

“You’re insane, right?” Fenny chided.

“Would an insane woman do this?” Claudia mused and produced a gun from beside her and levelled it at Fenny.

“Yes, actually,” Fenny replied bluntly.

“Put it on,” Claudia ordered and tightened her finger on the trigger.

“Right here?”

“Yes. Not bashful, are you?”

“You know those girls who showered together after gym class? I was the one locked in a toilet cubicle trying to get changed under my towel.”

“Oh darling, there’s no room for that now.”

“No?” Fenny sighed as she reluctantly sat on the bed to undo the laces on her sneakers. “Any reason for me needing to dress up like a whore?”

“You said it yourself.”

“Huh?” Fenny said, baffled, and ran back over her words. “…dress like a who…Oh no.”

“Don thought you’d be wonderful, says you’re a right prick teaser,” Claudia smiled as she concentrated in the mirror and fixed her flawless mascara. Fenny, feeling trapped, reluctantly changed into the lingerie, glad that for once she’d bothered with her bikini line and amusing herself with the idea of what Brad would think if he saw her dressed like that. Claudia got to her feet as Fenny clipped on the last stocking.

“Now, we must do something with that hair and get rid of…those,” she added slipping off Fenny’s glasses.

“Yeah, that helps,” Fenny sarced, hoping she didn’t fall over anything. Claudia guided her to a seat and Fenny was surprised at what happened next.

“Tilt your head back,” Claudia ordered. Fenny did so with reluctance and after a few seconds her blurry world came into focus. “Contacts,” Claudia said bluntly as she turned to her make-up case. She coated Fenny’s lashes in mascara, blackened the outline of her eyes with pencil and gave her dark eye shadow. The final touch was bright red lipstick.

“Yup, that says whore,” Fenny mused.

Fenny’s hair was quickly straightened and looked probably the most immaculate it had ever looked. She barely recognised the person looking back at her in the mirror.

“Now you look the part,” Claudia smiled and handed Fenny a heavy black fur coat. “Put this on,” she added and Fenny slipped it on along with the most frightening pair of red knee-high boots she’d ever seen.

“Now what?” Fenny asked. “Am I giving out blowjobs here?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Claudia mused and opened the bedroom door. Don was waiting eagerly in the living room.

“My, she does brush up well,” Don sneered and walked over to Fenny. He pulled the jacket open and Fenny felt nothing short of totally exposed. “Oh nice, very nice.” He took the liberty to grope her breasts and Fenny had a mental image of him salivating like a dog on all fours.

“When’s her first?” Claudia asked.

“Half an hour,” Don replied, seemingly agitated by the disruption. “We should go, cover yourself,” he ordered and led the way from Claudia’s apartment.

“Can’t wait,” Fenny sighed and looked over to Claudia who looked almost sad.

“Good luck,” she mouthed.

“Maybe we should just throw her off a bridge,” Paul suggested as they fell into their fifth round of what to do with Amy.

“Cement shoes are hard to come by,” Greg countered.

“Fine, we’ll pick up some cheap plaster.”

“Why plaster?”

“I can’t lift a bag of cement.”

Gina giggled. “Or one of those big bags of flour.”

“The reason I dropped it was because a cockroach came bolting out from under it and I had to kill it, you know that,” Paul said defensively.

“I thought that was the bag of sugar?” Gina chided.

“There’s a car coming,” Greg pointed out.

“I can lift things,” Paul huffed. “Not big things, but I can lift.”

“Are you going to start holding up bricks to prove your point?” Gina teased.

“Can you please stop flirting and stop us from going head first into that car,” Greg snapped.

“Car, shit,” Gina breathed and swerved. She managed to avoid the ditch and stall the car.

“What idiot drives on the wrong side of the road,” Gina hissed as she noticed the offending vehicle stop a short distance from them.

“I don’t care as long as they’re not idiots with guns,” Greg scorned.

“I’m going to have words,” Gina declared and unclipped her seatbelt.

“Genie,” Paul pleaded as she slid out of the car. “Christ,” he added and followed her. The door of the other car opened and its occupants stepped out.

“DANNY!” Gina screamed and raced over.

“Fucking hell,” Danny gasped as his friend threw herself into his arms “We’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he added, hugging her back.

“So Greg said,” Paul declared as he sauntered over, looking annoyed at Gina’s happiness at reuniting with yet another man.

“We lost Fen,” Ritza announced, stepping out of the car.

“We know, she’s going to be pimped off,” Paul said bluntly, crossing his arms.

“No, that fucker, he can’t do that,” Danny spat.

“Yeah, that’d be why we’re going back to the city,” Paul sarced. “What’s your excuse for nearly wiping us out?”

“Dan doesn’t know the Dutch road rules,” Ritza shrugged.

“Sorry, we’re not all au fait will the rules of the road,” Paul spat.

“What is your problem?” Gina scorned. “You’ve been narky since the windmill.”

“Gee I wonder why,” Paul huffed. Gina rolled her eyes and then they heard the roar of an engine and a screech of brakes.

“Was that your car?” Danny asked.

“Yeah,” Paul nodded.

“She’s gonna kill Greg, you realise that?” Gina announced slightly panicky.

“We’ll follow them,” Ritza declared.

“What about Fen?” Dan piped up.

“Christ,” Paul breathed.

“Well Dan and I’ll follow Greg,” Ritza piped up and pushed Danny into the drivers seat.

“I’ve still got Amy’s phone,” Paul sighed. “I’ll call a cab and me and her’ll deal with Fen.”

“I’m her now, am I?” Gina scorned as they watched Danny and Ritza disappear the same way Greg and Amy had.

“Oh shut up,” Paul sighed, “I don’t have the energy to argue,” he added, slipping the remainder of the previous night’s joint out of his pocket.

“You’re not serious?” Gina scolded, looking slightly horrified at the suggestion they smoke dope while the rest of their friends were in mortal danger.

“Well my entire body is gripped with pain again and there should be enough here to numb it,” he huffed and lit the joint as he sunk into the grass on the side of the road.

“In Rome do as the Romans do,” Gina mused and snatched the joint.

“We’re in Amsterdam, what do the Dutch do?” Paul asked.

“Wear clogs.”

“Smoke dope.”

“Stick their fingers in dykes.”

“Now there’s an…”

Gina shoved the joint into Paul’s mouth. “Just get us some transport.”