Gray Resurrection Read Online Free PDF Page B

he heard a knock at the door and he immediately assumed it
was someone coming to complain about the television being too loud.  He
dashed into the toilet and grabbed a towel to wrap around his waist, then
opened the door a little and peered through the crack.  As he did so he
was shoved backwards and four men ran into the room, weapons raised and
pointing at him.  Two of the men had handguns, the other two rifles which
he recognised as American M16s.
    “On the floor!” one shouted.  Gray
complied, a little too slowly for their liking, and he got a rifle butt in the
shoulder for his troubles.  He sank to his knees, still holding the towel,
and weighed up the men before him.
    Three of them were about five feet six
tall, about average for Filipinos, while the one who’d struck him dwarfed them
by a good fourteen inches.  The rifle looked like a toy in his huge hands
and he was the only one without facial hair.  Grant decided to designate
him ‘Ox’, because the dumb-looking giant probably couldn’t spell it, but he
looked like he could lift one.
    Grant considered fighting his way out,
but they had too much distance between them, whether by training or chance, he
didn’t know.   Any attempt to take one of
their weapons would afford the others enough time to give him the bad news, so
he decided to wait and see what they wanted:  The longer he managed to
play this out, the more he could learn about them, in particular their
strengths and weaknesses. 
    It didn’t take long for them to reveal
the reason for the visit.
    “We are Abu Sayyaf,” one of them said,
and Grant decided he was the leader of the little group.  “You will come
with us.”
    “What for?” Grant asked, feigning
fear.  Back in his Army days he’d been taught that by acting submissively
in these situations his enemies would most likely be more lenient, whereas
someone who was antagonistic would be watched more closely and treated with
more aggression.
    “You will be our hostage.  You are
a rich man and will pay us a million dollars.”
    “I haven't got a million dollars,” Grant
said, incredulous.  “I just work in an office.”
    “Liar!”  The shout was punctuated
with another blow from the rifle butt, this time to the back of the head. 
He collapsed, his vision blurred and bells ringing in his ears.  “We know
you are a businessman and have a company in Manila.  You will pay us!”
    One of the men grabbed his clothes from
the chair and threw them at him.
    “Put your clothes on,” Leader shouted,
while another emptied Grant's bag out onto the bed.  After handing the
mobile over to his boss he put the rest of the belongings back in the bag and
swung it over his shoulder.
    Grant dressed slowly despite their
prompting, pretending to fumble with his clothes as he desperately thought of a
way out.  Leader had backed away to the door, covering him with his
pistol, and Grant realised that there would be no escape while they were in the
room.  The situation got worse a moment later.
    “Anton, tie his hands,” Leader said, and
one of the men stepped forward and produced something from his pocket.  It
looked to Grant like the flex from a lamp, and he put his hands out, palms
facing each other.  Anton was having none of it, and he gestured with his
own hands to show that he wanted Grant to place one wrist on top of the
other.  These guys have had practice, Grant thought as he followed Anton's
instructions.
    With his hands secure they ushered him
into the hallway, but even here they were too spread out for him to take them
all down, even if his hands had been free.  Once down the stairs he saw
that the reception desk was empty, and Ox used the muzzle of his rifle to urge
Grant through the front door where a battered Toyota saloon was waiting. 
    Leader opened the boot and told him to
climb inside, and he looked round for a possible alternative.  There was a
sprinkling of people on the streets and he considered crying out for