Chapter 6

Written by: Suraya Dewing

Servany sat behind his large opaque glass topped desk and put his hands behind his head. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs at the ankles. He wore heavy, thick soled shoes and a collarless shirt under his expensive silk jacket.

One of the thugs, Thomas, shoved Brad into the room and he tripped as he was propelled forward. There was no point resisting.

Servany unfolded his body and strolled over to Brad then chucked him under the chin.

‘Nice to see you back in the real world.’

Brad’s ice blue eyes fixed on Servany’s grey menacing ones. Servany’s voice became soft.

‘You see my wife’s been nagging me for those cranes so guess what she’s going to find under the Christmas tree?’

Brad cocked his head, in a show of accepting his fate. Servany dismissively flicked his hand.

‘Take Tony to them.’ Brad flinched at the sound of his old name. ‘He has quite the reputation for coming across antiquities.’ He laughed at his own joke.  The sarcasm turned the air to treacle. Brad could barely raise a smile.

The gun pressed uncomfortably into his back.

He frowned and glared at Thomas. ‘Tell your man to quit digging me with that thing.’

‘Go on Thomas, give the guy a break. We’re all on the same goddammed side.’ Servany had a way of appearing sincere. Only those who knew him well knew not to trust that.

‘I’ll get your bloody cranes just don’t hurt my wife.’

Servany nodded and as he did his face transformed until Brad imagined he could poke Servany and find the skin had turned to concrete.

‘You play the game and she’ll be fine.’ Servany dismissed them with a wave.

They got in the lift, the door glided shut and it droned down nine floors.

The early evening crowd parted and closed as they made their way along the street then turned down an alley of dark, deserted shops. They came to a display for an antique shop with a sign directing them to go down some dimly lit concrete steps. The shop appeared to be deserted but Brad knew it was like Fort Knox. The goods inside belonged to an elite group of collectors. The key was in Brad’s back pocket and the code to the safe memorised from the piece of paper in the gemmed chest. But he knew he had the one thing no-one else did – the third part of the code embedded in the red tattoo on the back of his hand.

‘Hey Brutus,’ Brad yelled at the guard throwing his own captor off guard. Brad elbowed Thomas in the stomach. 

The guard ran over. ‘This guy was going to steal your famous birds,’ Brad said. ‘Lucky you’re here to sort him out.’

The guards clipped handcuffs on Thomas.

‘What brings you here?’ the guard asked. Brad pointed.

‘Him. He reckons I should steal from these good people.’ He shook his head vigorously… ‘The guy's got me absolutely wrong.’


We certainly know who the bad guys are and I thought the description starting...The early evening crowd... was particularly well written; concise and to the point but giving us all the relevant details to further the plot. With a hint of hidden violence I thought this was really good and something the next writer can work with easily. Action chapter that announces the beginning of the end of the story.