Eye for an Eye (30 page)

Harry leapt
back from the door, then did a double-take and shone the light in
her face again.

‘Holy crap, how
the hell did you get here?’

‘Who’s that?’
demanded Robyn, dazzled and confused.

‘You can call
me a friend of a friend,’ sneered Harry, ‘just no friend of yours.
You’d better come with me and we’ll see what the boss wants to do
with you.’

He moved the
torch off her, so Robyn was able to recognise his squat shape
outlined in the doorway. She gathered her strength for a flying
leap across the room, pushed him aside, and ran for her life
through the studio. At least, that was what her mind said she was
doing. In reality, her over-used muscles let her down and she fell
in a heap on the floor at Harry’s feet. He picked her up roughly
and pushed her back on the couch.

‘Sit still and
don’t move till I tell you, you stupid bitch.’

He pulled out
his cell-phone. ‘Mr. Symons, Harry here. I’m inside the studio, and
I’ve got company. No, the girl’s here. The one we thought was in
the lake. Yes I’m sure! I’ve seen her plenty before, using the gym
and going up to your apartment, it’s the same girl. Yeah, I guess I
missed, OK.’

He advanced on
Robyn with the phone. She closed her nose to the sour smell of
sweat and unwashed clothing. There was a dark stain of grease
around the edge of his collar where it rubbed against his neck.

‘He wants to
talk to you. Better be nice now, because it’s him that gets to
decide what happens to you.’

Robyn took the
phone and tried her best infuriated Canadian accent.

‘Hey, who the
hell is this? What are you, some kind of lunatic? This guy bursts
in where he has no right and starts threatening me - you tell him
he’s in the wrong damn place and to get the hell out of here right
now!’

She handed the
phone back to Harry, who took it and listened. A nasty smile spread
across his face. ‘Sorry, sweetheart, you didn’t fool him for a
minute. Now you get to take a little ride with us. Don’t make a
fuss now - I’d hate to have to hurt you.’

His voice told
her otherwise, and she was chilled to see him pull a chair over and
sit down, positioning himself between her and the door.

‘I thought we
were taking a ride, Harry? Didn’t Colwyn tell you to take me
somewhere?’

‘What’s your
hurry, sweetheart? Don’t you want to make the most of the little
time you’ve got left?’

‘Oh for God’s
sake, do both of you have to talk like gangsters in a B movie? Be
original Harry, dazzle me with your spontaneous repartee.’

‘Shut up, you
snotty little tramp!’

‘Come on Harry,
you can do better than that.’

‘Sure I can,
but I’m not wasting words on you.’ He stood and unbuckled his
belt.

‘Oh Lordy
Master Harry, yo’ ain’t gonna give me a whippin’, are you?’

He sneered.

‘Why would I
waste my time with that? I can think of much better things to do
with your hot little body, especially if it’s struggling.’

‘What’s the
matter Harry, not getting enough at home? Doesn’t the wife let you
do it any more?’

‘You leave my
wife out of this! She’s worth ten of you, you little slut. At least
she treats me with respect. She knows how to behave, and when to
keep her mouth shut.’

‘So no oral sex
for you then? How sad.’

‘Hey, I said
shut up, bitch!’ He looked at his watch. ‘Shit, you talk too much.
I’m out of time here. Now we have to go for that ride, and if you
want it to be a comfortable one, you’d better keep quiet, you got
it?’

She nodded
mutely, keeping her eyes downcast. Her muscles were recovered now,
and adrenalin was coursing through her system.

When he was
standing in front of her about to pull her to her feet, she struck
upwards with full force at his crotch with both hands joined. He
doubled over with a long whooshing groan, and she shoved him
sideways as hard as she could while he was off balance. He crashed
to the floor leaving her way clear. This time her flying leap took
her past him and halfway across the room.

She sprinted
for the door and slammed it behind her, then sped through the dark
studio to seek cover, a weapon, or a means of escape. She was
hoping to gain enough time to find a phone and call the police, but
Harry recovered quicker than she expected. She heard him fling open
the props room door and bellow into the huge room. ‘Fucking bitch!
You’re dead meat.’

The bellow
subsided to a mutter, then she heard a low voice talking. She
guessed he was calling Colwyn for instructions.

While he was
concentrating on the phone, she slipped out of the door at the far
end of the studio heading for the stairs to the floor below. There
were plenty of hiding places down there where she should be able to
hole up until other workers began to arrive in the morning.

It was very
dark down there.

She felt her
way cautiously down the stairway and through a set of swinging
doors into the main fashion shooting area. A dim glow from a power
pack showed her a stand of still life gear, with cutting blades,
stone weights and other bits and pieces. She took a moment to fill
her pockets with useful items, especially some heavy rubber
bands.

At the back of
the shooting area she remembered there was a storeroom with lots of
big cubby-holes. She’d be able to climb into one of those and cover
up with a piece of cloth. Provided she could keep still, Harry
would never find her.

She felt her
way along the wall till she located the cubby holes, then found one
that had enough room to climb into. Once there, she settled in and
waited, breathing quietly through her mouth so that dust from the
cloth didn’t provoke a sneeze.

It didn’t take
long before she became aware of an urgent need to use the bathroom,
and she cursed the cup of coffee she’d enjoyed so much before going
to sleep. Fear added its spur to her need though she tried
valiantly to ignore it. Finally she could stand it no longer, and
reluctantly untangled herself from her hidey-hole. She had no idea
where the washrooms were on that floor, but with careful listening
she heard the automatic flush of a men’s urinal. She homed in on
the welcome noise, found the door, and slipped inside to do what
she had to do.

As she opened
the door to come out, she listened carefully. Not a sound. Perhaps
Harry had assumed she’d escaped out of the broken window and had
given up the search. It wouldn’t be a safe bet though, so she felt
her way back to her hiding place and crawled inside. It occurred to
her that real life would be a whole lot easier if it came with
background music. If the bad guys were closing in, there’d be some
kind of dramatic chords playing and she’d know what was
happening.

Time passed
agonisingly slowly, although the hands of her luminous watch were
still moving despite her feeling that they’d frozen at 3am and
would never turn again. She closed her eyes and tried to doze.

A smell roused
her. Not the sour sweat of Harry’s greasy body, but a sweet, heavy
cologne that she recognised instantly. Colwyn’s, and he must be
very close.

Tension in her
muscles prompted a cramp in one leg. She bit on a fold of material
and kept still.

‘Come out,
Robyn. You don’t have to hide any more. Wouldn’t you rather be home
in a comfortable bed? Let’s put all this silly fuss behind us.
Harry didn’t really mean you any harm – he was trying to scare you,
that’s all. It’s just me here, Robyn. You know me. You know I
couldn’t hurt you. Come on out now.’

The words were
persuasive, the tone hypnotic. Her resistance was weakening. It was
almost as if he was looking right at her and knew exactly what she
was thinking.

‘Come on Robyn,
don’t be silly, you can come out now and there won’t be any
trouble, I promise. I’ll take you straight to the airport so you
can go home. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? No more chasing around.
Back home to safe little old New Zealand. You can go there right
now, Robyn. Come on, what do you say?’

She opened her
mouth.

Harry
spoke.

‘Don’t think
she’s here boss. Let’s try through there. If we don’t find her we
can just lean on that Kent guy until he tells us where she is.’

‘You idiot!’
hissed Colwyn. ‘If she’s here she’ll have heard that. Christ, can’t
you get anything right?’

The sweet scent
faded away and was replaced by Harry’s sharp stench. She heard him
belch wetly as he walked by. Both her legs were trembling with the
strain of being doubled over, but she kept absolutely still until
she was certain they must have gone.

Weak with
fatigue, she unfolded herself from the cubby-hole and stood up
shakily, stretching the cramp from her calf muscle and rubbing it
to restore the blood supply. Her brain was spinning with the
implications of what she’d heard. No wonder Mike hadn’t answered
his door - they’d got him and were keeping him prisoner. She’d have
to find him somehow.

Suddenly she
felt a breath of air as a door opened, and a shaft of torch-light
flickered at the far end of the room. There was no time to clamber
back into her hole. She’d have to make a silent dash for escape
before they came any closer. She edged along the wall, watching the
torchlight behind her instead of looking where she was going. A
roll of backdrop paper was leaning against the wall and she bumped
against it, sending it sliding in a slow arc down the wall to land
with a crash onto a pile of equipment. She heard Colwyn shout, and
the torch shone in her direction. She used its light to run as fast
as she could, ducking and weaving in case Harry had brought his
gun, until she was through the swing doors and beside the
stairs.

She pulled off
a shoe and threw it up to the first landing on the stairs, then ran
away from the stairwell into a store room where all the mannequins
were kept. She grabbed a wig off one and put it on, pushing her way
towards the back of a row of clothed dummies where she stood in a
matching pose, making sure she could hold the position without too
much strain. It was an old trick, but if she was lucky they
wouldn’t be able to tell the difference with just the feeble light
of their torches.

She heard
running footsteps, then a shout of triumph as they spotted the
shoe. Heavy feet clattered up the stairs and then the sound faded,
muffled by the office carpet.

Robyn sank down
cautiously, every muscle trembling in reaction to the stress it was
under. She forced herself to think calmly. Where was the most
likely place that they would keep Mike? The cottage at the lake was
ideal from a secrecy point of view, but a long way away. If they’d
brought him back, they surely wouldn’t have taken him to Colwyn’s
apartment, it was too public. The boat! That was a good
possibility. The marina was quiet at night with few people around,
and they could spirit a body on board relatively easily. It would
be just as useful for getting rid of him too. All they had to do
was weight Mike’s body and drop it overboard on a casual fishing
trip out on the lake. He might never be found.

She held no
illusions about Colwyn and Harry, not any more. Between them they
were capable of anything, and she was perfectly aware that both she
and Mike were in grave danger. But while both Colwyn and Harry were
currently occupied with searching the entire studio for her, Mike
was, presumably, unguarded.

Without a
second thought, she decided to rescue him.

She crept out
of her hiding place and moved towards the stairs. Good, her shoe
was still lying on the landing. She put it on and moved quietly
towards the office, sniffing cautiously as she went. Only faint
traces of cologne and body odour remained tainting the air so she
proceeded without hesitation.

The window she
had broken was right in front of her, sending cool night air into
the room. She paused. If they knew it was the only way in or out of
the building, they might be watching it. She had a sudden
uncomfortable feeling of being a mouse in a cartoon, knowing there
was a big fierce cat waiting for her to stick her head out of the
mousehole. Well, since it was the only way out... She stopped,
almost slapping her forehead in a “doh!” moment. She was inside
now, so she could open any window she wanted to make her escape.
She moved to a different wall in the office and unlatched a window
with extreme care. It swung open far enough for her to wriggle
through and drop to the ground, then she was off and running.

There was a
main road curving round the edge of the studio grounds and she ran
straight for it, hoping there would be a taxi cruising past that
she could persuade to take her to the marina in return for her
watch - the only valuable item she had with her.

As she reached
the edge of the road, there was a shout from behind her. Had she
been spotted? She cursed. Where was that miraculous taxi that
always appeared in movies just when it was needed? Someone had
obviously forgotten to write it into the script.

She leaped into
the road and flagged down the only passing vehicle - a nondescript
sedan with a tired middle-aged driver.

‘Can you take
me downtown please, to the harbour-front, as fast as you can?’

‘What’s the
problem?’

‘Just drive!’
she gasped, sliding into the front seat. ‘It’s a domestic, OK? My
husband’s been abusing me for months and I’ve just escaped - please
don’t let him catch up, he’d kill me right here in your car.’

‘Ugh, don’t
want that.’

The driver
pulled away with a squeal of tyres and accelerated down the road,
throwing Robyn back on the seat in a heap. He took corners faster
than she considered safe, but at least he was earning her a lead in
getting to the marina. She clung to the grab bars and steadied
herself, trying to work out her next move.