Thread: Transporting Taylor (Dere and skittish_butterfly)

There was something about India that made Martin feel at home. Perhaps it was his British Army background that found an echo in the colonial remains. Or maybe his fondness for the bizarre found a ready home in a country that worshiped a hundred gods. Whatever it was, there were few times he was more relaxed than in Mumbai, even when he was working. Seated in an anonymous black SUV parked outside the airport, he drew languidly on a Dunhill while holding an earpiece to his head. By means of a powerful digital audio scanner, he could surf through the innumerable phone calls racing across the vast aerodrome. Every language known to man seemed to babble aggressively right into his ear. But he knew the bandwidth he was after, and soon found the voice he wanted among the pandemonium. It was the clear, kind tones of a young American woman, one Taylor Swift - and his latest target. As he was not exactly a close follower of pop music Martin had never heard of her until two weeks before, at the briefing in Dubai. But when reviewing her photos and dossier he found himself thoroughly excited at the prospect. Nubile, virginal, blonde princesses were his preferred prey, and here was a perfect specimen served up on a silver platter. One of his regular clients, a sadistic Saudi prince, shared his taste in flesh. He had laid 10 million in gold and Swiss francs in exchange for Martin abducting Taylor and delivering her to him. Details of a covert sojourn she was making to India had been uncovered by his networks and the opportunity was too good to pass up - she would be extremely vulnerable and any help for her would be limited. With the tight time envelope of a fortnight, Martin ensconced himself in Mumbai ahead of her arrival and began to prepare her kidnapping. Martin was no novice at this nefarious task. In fact, his criminal skills had been supplied by Her Majesty's Government, and his gift for torture was honed at taxpayer's expense. As a 'snatcher' for MI6 he became very good at disappearing people who crossed his bosses in Whitehall. With some experience he learned the arts of pain and a hundred ways to make someone scream, then exported these skills to intelligence forces from Nigeria to Cambodia. That was until he discovered there was much more money in the private sector, and he became the personal kidnapper to Saudi royalty. He endeared himself greatly to a particular prince by snatching a beautiful blond American journalist who was outspoken against the corruption of the Saudi regime. Martin delivered her bound and gagged to the feet of the man she had ridiculed in the media. Whatever happened to her after she disappeared into the prince's harem, he did not know. But from that day Martin earned millions of dollars as a professional slaver, working abduction to order. Recently having turned 40, he had maintained himself well enough to pass for much younger than that. He was by no means handsome, with a rubbery round face and fat lips, but he definitely had a presence. Small green eyes flickered between narrowed lids, and gave him a distinctly untrustworthy air. But he stood a solid six foot and was extremely fit. Wearing light khaki suits and aviator shades, he just seemed another anonymous expatriate to the hordes he moved amongst. As Taylor's voice tinkled in his ear he was only half-listening to her girlish prattling. His feral eyes, thin and green, were darting about the bustling airport exit. He could see her limo now, the black glossy luxury a sharp contrast to the dusty taxis and beaten-up trucks cluttering the road. The driver was a local, some boy who obviously had been pushing a muck cart a few months before. The pair of bodyguards were a different proposition, but both of them reeked of amateurishness to Martin. As the beggar children crowded around her, and one of the heavies held her back, he noticed a nimble-fingered urchin deftly lift the wallets of both men without either of them realizing. They would have got at Taylor's jacket too, if she hadn't made it into the back of the limo just in time. The limo moved off into the chaos of Mumbai traffic, and Martin began to discreetly follow it. He had a relay of well-bribed police on motorcycles who could keep tabs on it by relay if it disappeared into the dusty city. It would be an hour before they made the edge of the actual city, and another before they hit the countryside. Martin knew the heat, boredom and strain would dull the alertness of her bodyguards and make her all the more passive. Once the limo hit the outer suburbs, they were going to meet a roadblock, and Taylor would receive a most unpleasant introduction to the local constructable. That was were the snatch was going to do down. He lit up another Dunhill as the dust blew up and allowed himself a slight smile.