Free The Child Taker & Slow Burn by Conrad Jones Page B

demand double that price at least.
    “Are you going somewhere, Jack?” A gruff voice startled him as he descended the small metal steps which led down from the caravan. The dark clouds raced across a new moon, casting shadows as they blocked her radiance.
    “What’s it got to do with you?” He replied. The sudden interruption of his thoughts startled him and his heart quickened.  He ran his skeletal fingers through his greasy hair nervously. He couldn’t see where the voice came from but he sensed the malice in its tone. “Who the fuck are you anyway?”   
    “That’s very rude, Jack, considering my client is your best customer. I’m Alfie, and this is my colleague, Brian.” The man stepped from the shadows, joined by another man who appeared from the opposite side.
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jack tried to sound aloof but there was tension in his voice. “I don’t have customers, I’m retired.”
    “Really?” Alfie smiled. “What about the little Asian boy you sold last month, surely you remember him?”
    “Go away, I don’t know you. You’ve got me mixed up with someone else.” The child taker went pale with fear. He stepped off the last step onto the grass. They were thickset men and tall too. The child taker was no fighter, and he needed to get away from them quickly. He was confused to say the least. He had moved the caravan twice in the last two days, never staying in one place for more than one night. He couldn’t understand how they had found him, but he knew that they weren’t here to socialise. Jack was careful not to give his location to anyone, especially not the people that he did business with. They were dangerous men. He took a deep breath and tried to walk past them.
    “Where do you think you’re going, Jack?” A heavy blow hit him in the solar plexus, and he creased up. The wind was knocked out of him by the force of the blow. “Now then, my client thinks that you might renege on the deal again. He wasn’t best pleased the last time around, and so we’ve taken a few precautions to make sure that it doesn’t happen again.” Jack felt a strong hand on his collar, and it lifted him effortlessly from the damp grass. He couldn’t breathe, his jacket garrotted him. A choking sound came from his throat as they dragged him. The heels of his loafers slid on the damp grass, finding no purchase there. 
    “Let’s see what’s in the caravan, shall we Jack?”
    The two men opened the caravan door and dragged him up the steps. His knees scuffed painfully on the grated metal, but he didn’t cry out. There was no point. He had picked this spot because it was miles away from anywhere. No one would hear him shouting for help, and at the end of the day, he didn’t want to attract too much attention to the caravan because of the precious cargo it contained. He clung to the doorframe for a second, but a sharp kick to his skinny fingers halted his futile resistance.
    “My fingers!” He complained loudly. “What the hell do you think you’re playing at?”
    “Search him.” They dropped him heavily onto the floor and he heard the door closing behind him. He felt rough hands fumbling around in his pockets.
    “Let’s see what we have here… Keys for the van, a random door key, a wallet with ten pounds in it, and a memory stick. I wonder what sick shit you’ve got on there.” Jack recognised the man’s voice as he inventoried the contents of his pockets. He’d spoken to him on the telephone during his last deal. The fact that he’d identified one of them didn’t offer him any comfort – in truth, it had the opposite effect. The people that they worked for were evil sadistic businessmen. They had set up an online live feed where fellow perverts could pay-per-view and watch the young boy that he’d sold being subjected to things that even the child taker himself couldn’t stomach watching. He had watched it, out of a morbid curiosity, to the point when the