Only ten feet separated Hatch from the unguarded door to the VIP access door and the chaotic free-for-all taking place in front of it. Using the unexpected disturbance to her advantage, Hatch slipped the full beer from the mesh-wearing drunk's hand. The amber liquid splashed down onto the power strip below.
A loud popping followed by crackling. The sound of the electrical fire replaced the blaring techno music. Acrid smoke rose in front of the DJ platform as the fire rippled along the network of cords until it reached the wall. In a matter of seconds, the wall behind the turntable, the same one where the VIP access door was located, ignited.
Fire licked its way up the wall. The topless girl next to the teal haired disc jockey screamed. Her pitched screech sent those in earshot into a frenzy of movement. Hatch was momentarily swept up in a sea of panicked bodies. She swam against the flow, and after wedging her way through, found herself at the VIP access door.
Bald Bull delivered a final devasting blow to the already unconscious American. He was now busy fending off the panicked crowd who saw the VIP room as an escape from the inferno. Nobody noticed when she checked the knob. Locked. She saw a key attached to a lanyard on Bald Bulls right hipline.
The fire tripped the circuit breaker and power went out as the overhead sprinkler system activated. Hatch felt the relief of the cold water raining down on her as she used the darkness to close the gap with the bald headed security man.
Hatch swept Bald Bull's legs out from under him. A quick stomp to side of the downed man's shiny head ended the fight. She pulled the lanyard and unlocked the door.
In the ensuing chaos, Hatch slipped into the VIP area undetected.
Sixteen
Hatch clicked the door closed behind her and slipped the Glock into her left hand. She focused her vision ahead while keeping her right hand on the doorknob. The contact with the door served as an alarm system of sorts, should the hulking Bald Bull try to barge in on her little rescue mission.
Light spilled under a door at the end of a hall leading outside. Only one other door existed in the otherwise barren hallway. The longer she stood in the dark, the better her eyes adjusted to it. And in her renewed vision, Hatch was now able to make out the darkened glass tubes of the blacked-out neon sign's letters. VIP.
The door remained closed and for a brief second, Hatch's heart sank at the thought that she'd missed her opportunity to recover Angela from her abductors. She released her contact with the doorknob, trading a known threat for an unknown one, and made her way toward the VIP lounge. She was a foot from the door when it opened outward, shielding Hatch from the person opening it.
"Back in a minute." was what she understood from the guard stepping into the hallway in front of her. It was the same guard who'd escorted the girls in through the back door of the club.
He closed the door, keeping his back to Hatch. And just as the obnoxious tourist had never seen Bald Bull's wild haymaker coming, the armed man in front of her didn't see Hatch’s attack coming either. Although Hatch's attack wasn't an out-of-control limb wielding amateur hour as demonstrated by the bouncer. No, hers was a refined series of movements designed to incapacitate her opponent quickly and silently.
Hatch dispatched a violent three-move assault on the unsuspecting man, first stomping down on the back of his right knee and following with a debilitating brachial stun to the side of his neck with the butt of her Glock. Those two moves sent the medium sized guard into a heap. Her third and final move might've been overkill, but Hatch needed to ensure he'd be out long enough to carry out the next step. Snaking her arm under his chin, she cinched herself tight, restricting blood and oxygen for an eight count before releasing him back to the laminated flooring to resume his nap.
Hatch bound the man's wrists and ankles with plastic zip ties she found in his pocket, the same ones used to bind the girls she'd seen earlier. She gagged him and took the nickel-plated .45 from the man's waist and tucked it in hers. No spare magazines. Effectively pillaged in a matter of seconds, Hatch then dragged his unconscious body to the door leading back into the club and wedged him snug against it.
Satisfied her thug doorstop would hinder any attempts to enter the hallway, if only briefly, Hatch made her way back to the VIP access door. She checked the handle. Unlocked. She settled her breathing.
When Ayala had given her the limited information he had on Club de Fuego, there were no details beyond the location and general layout. Hatch was blind to what waited on the other side of the door. Only one way to find out.
The four girls in the room were already topless and were now in a state of suspended animation, frozen mid-dance as they stared at Hatch. She could see why, Hatch caught sight of herself in the mirror platform one of the girls was dancing on. Her shirt, still knotted above the waist and soaking wet from the sprinkler system, now had accumulated blood from choking the guard in the hallway. The gun in her hand finished off the deranged look as Hatch visually assessed her situation.
A Mexican businessman sat on a wide-backed dark leather chair with a cocktail in his hand, watching the half-naked girl standing on the mirrored platform in front of him. The other girls were standing nearby. Club Fire's VIP lounge was missing two things, Angela Rothman, and the Mexican's American counterpart. The only thing keeping her from crossing the ten feet of fuzzy purple carpeting, separating her from the room to the left marked private, was the other member of the security team from the van. His dark eyes peered out from under a black baseball cap. His hand was already moving toward the pistol tucked in his waistband.
A drink caddy with expensive bottles of liquor and wine were lined up behind glasses atop a polished silver cart on wheels, dividing the distance between Hatch and her adversary. Gunshots would alert the others. Gunshots would greatly reduce her chance of survival.
Her bootlegged pistol was already up and on target. The front sight post hovered over the Club de Fuego's red flame emblem stenciled into the form-fitting black shirt. She had him dead to rights. The security team member, who was of similar size and height as her, had his right hand tightly gripped on the gun tucked in the front of his pants. The white of his knuckles looked like big pearls as the fear seizing control of his mind increased the tension of his squeeze.
If this were game of slapjack Hatch would've won, hands down. Question now was, what to do about this paused standoff. Seize the opportunity that presents itself and be ready because it may be the one you least expect. Her dad's voice in her head brought an added layer of clarity to Hatch's already intense focus.
Keeping her weapon on target, Hatch thrust-kicked the metal cart, stomping her boot into the push handle and sending it torpedoing forward at the man. Instinct took over and he released his gun hand to stop the rapidly approaching cart. A moment later, the beverage tray slammed into his midsection with a crash.
Hatch was already pouncing as he cast the cart aside. She snatched a diamond encrusted bottle of champagne as the tray crashed to the floor beside them. Hatch swung for the fences and connected with the man's chin. The impact from the bedazzled bubbly spun him in a drunken pirouette and sent him into dreamland before he hit the ground.
Hatch searched his pockets just as she'd done with the man in the hall. Finding a similar cache, she secured the downed guard, zip tying and gagging him. She took the gun he'd unsuccessfully tried to pull on her, and instead of keeping it as she had the other, Hatch walked over to the half-naked girl standing in front of the businessman. He was still rooted in frozen terror on the seat in front of her and she handed the dancer the gun out of necessity. If she was to effectively clear the next room, she had to ensure the wealthy A-lister didn't escape and alert the others. His panic-stricken paralysis would only hold him so long.