Sowerbutt's Offer

A bucket of cold water had revived the two Russians. Bound and blindfolded, the two men were stretched out on the floorboards of an empty shop in Whitechapel.

Speaking through her scarf to disguise her voice, Madame Komarovski asked the men in Russian what their names were. A string of short words answered her. She mouthed, “Expletives” to Sowerbutt who winked at One-Line. The giant man knelt over one of the Russians, clamping his left hand over the man’s mouth. Pushing the strong fingers of his right hand into a point, One-Line began systematically jabbing the Russian’s ribcage, armpits, neck and groin. Sweating profusely, the Russian rolled on the floor in agony, muted screams and grunts could be heard behind One-Line’s huge hand.
After a couple of minutes, One-Line got nimbly to his feet and walked around to the other Russian who was struggling to and fro in terror. Squatting beside the blindfolded man, One-Line pulled his American Ka-bar knife noisily from its sheath and stroked the blade along the man’s thigh. Every time it rose towards his groin, the man whimpered and began gabbling in Russian.
Madame Komarovski nodded to Spaghetti. As another bucket of water hit the two men, her voice snapped: “Games over, gentlemen. You die here and your bodies are taken on a one-way trip down The River. Or you go quietly to the West India Docks where a merchantman is sailing tonight for Liverpool and an Atlantic convoy. In Halifax, you will be released to do whatever you want.”
It took seconds for the Russians to grunt and nod their agreement.
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