The Naked Room (13 page)

A hand came through the window and grabbed me by the throat.

My lungs strained to suck air as I struggled desperately to find the button to power the window up.

No button.

Fuck!
This car had a wind-up handle.

A blast of hot breath blew into my face; I snorted in Aramis.

His eyes burned into mine as he leaned closer to get leverage.

His hand slipped, releasing the pressure on my windpipe not a second too soon. He fought for a better grip as I punched wildly at his face. The window was almost up.

He grunted and tried to bite my hand before I could rip it away.

I shoved him hard, trying to break his hold on my throat.

He squeezed harder.

I got my hand up again and lashed out, trying for his nose.

He jerked backwards, letting me go.

I held my throat with one hand, started the motor with the other as I fought for air.

He lunged again and caught me by the shirt collar.

I wound the window back against his arm, rammed the car into gear and slammed my foot onto the accelerator. It shot forward, dragging him with it.

The car scraped the side of the tree, jouncing the steering wheel out of my hands.

I grabbed it again.

He screamed and cursed, struggling to keep his feet.

As the car gathered momentum, I wound the window down and released his arm.

He dropped to the road.

I gunned the motor, raced along the driveway to the front of a house, hurled the car around the forecourt, bounced it over flower beds, flattening rosebushes and narrowly avoiding the fountain.

My lungs whistled as I struggled to breath. Driving like a maniac, I passed the gum tree, the headlights catching my attacker on his knees at the side of the driveway.

Roaring out onto the main road, I swung down the mountain, trembling with exhaustion and fear.
What the hell had Jess gotten into?

CHAPTER 21

Painting by Rote

James

Tuesday: midnight.

Eloise had fallen asleep on the settee. I sat in the armchair opposite staring into the fire, reflecting how one’s life can completely change in the time it takes to speak a few words. Flames flickered in the grate. A log occasionally disintegrated amid a small shower of sparks, pretty much mirroring our spirits. The music of Bach played quietly in the background, but I found no comfort in it. The ticking clock on the mantelpiece measured our time to wait for the phone call.

Pictures flicked through my mind like images from an old film—the night I first met Eloise in a pub full of shouting students, her very shyness attracting my attention after she fell over my feet, instant heat springing between us as our eyes met. Springtime, lying beneath a tree, deep in an English woodland, my head in Eloise’s lap as she traced my face with her delicate fingers, tickling my throat and chest, sliding inside my jeans under cover of the surrounding foliage. The memory of her warm, satiny skin seeps into my nostrils. The smell of wildflowers, the feel of the woollen rug beneath our bare legs…

I harden, remembering our passion, opening her shirt, sliding her bra up to stroke and lave her rosy nipples, to bury my face in her hot, full breasts. Eloise performing sentry duty—‘Someone’s coming, James, quick!’—and we’d curl into a ball, like pythons, wrapping ourselves in her shirt to hide her nakedness, kissing until hasty footsteps signalled an embarrassed retreat, giggling at our duplicity. I doubt I would be agile enough to avoid detection now. My well-regimented life has been swept away as though it never existed; my facade of self-containment has collapsed. How did she feel about me after thinking I callously abandoned her all those years ago? Did she want me now? And if so, how would I cope if she left again, this time of her own accord?

The pain of losing her has remained with me all this time. Could I handle it better now I’m middle-aged? I looked at her, imagining her beautiful mouth pressing against mine, our tongues twining together. I have only to move a metre and take her in my arms again. God, how I’d loved Eloise.

I forced my thoughts in another direction, one of equal doubt. How will Ally feel when she finds out I’m her father? Despite my initially ambivalent feelings, I’m beginning to come to terms with my fatherhood. I knew Susan Prescott and her young colleague thought me a cold, unfeeling bastard during our interview earlier today. Behind my public facade is a mass of good old-fashioned guilt and desperate—yes, a father’s fear. I know I appeared to be an old fool who fancied his chances with a woman young enough to be his daughter. At one time they’d have been right.

Now Pamela Miller knows I’m Ally’s father I couldn’t see the point in hiding my relationship to Ally, but Eloise swore both of us to silence. She feels the least number of people who know the easier it would be to keep the fact of the ransom demand secret. She’s right. Pamela, offered to scrape as much money together as she could. Of course, I wouldn’t accept, but we promised to ask for help if needed.

The shrill ring of the telephone sent my heart rate into orbit and started the dog barking.

I froze.

Eloise’s eyes flew open. She sat upright in one fluid movement, threw off the travel rug and leaped to her feet. ‘Answer it!’ Her hand hovered above the mobile phone which had arrived in the mail that afternoon. Ashen-faced, eyes wild in the firelight and despite her small stature, she resembled a warrior woman. She spoke slowly, as if I was one of the bewildered and of course, I was. ‘James, you have. To. Answer. It.’

My heart pounded. Fear churned my stomach. She nodded encouragement and quickly reached out to touch my hand. I took a deep breath, picked up the phone and pressed the “talk” button.

‘Yes, is Ally safe? I want to speak to her.’

The familiar voice rasped back into our lives. ‘She’s alive for the moment and that’s all you need to know. Have you got the money?’

Eloise’ eyes met mine, willing me to remain calm. I took a deep breath. ‘I’ve got a hundred and eighty thousand in cash and nine hundred thousand coming within three days. I need more time to get the re—’

‘Shut up and listen carefully, because I’m only going to say this once,’ he snapped. ‘This is how you’re gunna do it. The hundred and eighty thousand is to be put in a bag which will be at your letter box by one o’clock this morning. A little something will be waiting for you inside it as a sample of what could happen if you don’t follow instructions. Right? Do you understand?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good, because you’ll be watched. You are going to register yourself with eBay, using the names, Hamlet88 and Frisbee88. By tomorrow morning there’ll be two hundred items posted and the item numbers will be on a list tucked in with your present. The current ones have been on the site for several days and each auction is due to finish on Saturday. Some are Buy Now. That’s only the start. As you buy them, there’ll be more posted and more numbers will arrive in the mail box. Don’t think you can watch it either, because then you’ll get something you really don’t want. Right?’

‘Yes.’

‘Now, each item has its starting price listed and that’ll be the least amount you have to pay for each transaction. You follow?’

‘Yes.’

My hand trembled as I scribbled the aliases under which I had to bid, on the back of an envelope. I hoped I would be able to read it later. Eloise’s jerky breathing was interfering with my concentration. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw her press trembling hands to her stomach.
Christ, don’t throw up now, El.
The voice continued. ‘Don’t pay way over the starting price unless other bidders join in, because if you pay too much, it’ll be suspicious. But one thing you have to do is make sure you win every item. Your girlie’s life depends on it and you better believe it! Right?’

‘Yes, I understand.’

‘Don’t think you can find me through eBay, because the items are up for auction under different vendor names. All payments will be direct deposit in cash, into especially set up bank accounts. You can’t put a trace on them, because they’re going to be closed minutes after the money shows up.
No PayPal, no cheques.
Each transaction will go through and you leave positive feedback all along the way. The only difference is you’ll never get anything you buy. Just follow the instructions bit by bit, like painting by rote. All right?’

‘Yes. How long is this going to take?’

‘As long as it needs to. And get more cash out because you’ll be making a lot of deposits at your letter box. Remember, your daughter’s life depends on you carrying out the instructions and not telling the cops.’ He disconnected.

Eloise looked at me, white-faced, as she sank onto the settee. I poured a dram of whisky, but her hands shook violently as I helped her hold the glass. She gulped, choked and started coughing. I took it away, gave her my handkerchief then sat beside her, rubbing her back. I wanted to smash the kidnapper’s face in, run over him with the car—anything.

I slowly recounted the instructions we had been given, adding more to the paper as we recalled it. ‘The bidding ends on Saturday,’ I reminded her.

‘Does that mean we get Ally back then?’ Eloise asked, her eyes alight with hope.

False expectations wouldn’t help either of us. ‘There are no guarantees.’

She listened to me intently, the handkerchief obscuring the lower half of her face. Her mass of hair had dropped out of its coil and flopped onto her shoulders. I stroked it away from her neck and she collapsed against my chest. A wave of desperation and love swept through me, my arms automatically enfolding her as though we had never been apart. Tremors coursed through her body.

‘James, it didn’t seem real until now. It’s like we’re in a stupid…movie or something…and what are they going to send us as a present this time?’

Remembering the hank of bloodied hair, the first sample, I tried to sound re-assuring. ‘It’s all right, we’ll get through this, I promise you.’

The letter box is half a kilometre from the house. At 12.30am, I prepared to set out on foot, not wanting to draw attention to the expedition. My household staff would be justifiably curious if they saw me uncharacteristically tramping around in the early hours of the morning. As I shrugged into my outdoor coat, Eloise grabbed hers.

‘James, I’m coming with you!’ she announced briskly, as she thrust her arm into a sleeve.

The dog jumped to his feet. A midnight adventure! Things were looking up.‘Eloise, you should stay here,’ I protested weakly. She glared at me, tossed some used tissues into the wastepaper basket and then grabbed an extra handful which she thrust into her pocket.

‘If you expect for one minute you’re going to do this alone you’ve got another think coming!’ she replied, as she picked up the dog lead and a torch from my desk.

‘You’re exhausted; you should stay here and rest.’

‘Rubbish, I’m coming. This is not something you should be doing on your own. It’s dangerous. They might be out there!’ she said, bending down to clip the lead to the dog’s collar.

‘My dear, I couldn’t be safer. I’m the money tree, remember?’ I replied dryly. She snorted and headed for the door, towed along by Benji.

I was glad to have their company, but I wasn’t about to let her open the so-called present. Picking up my briefcase, I ushered her out to the foyer, collecting the key to the letterbox from the hooks beside my study door. At the bottom of the steps, I wrapped her small fingers in my own and thrust both our hands into the pocket of my coat, warm, comforting; too much so.

The leaves on the trees beside the drive rustled in a gentle night breeze. Stars blazed in the Milky Way giving dim natural light, augmented by the torch. An owl hooted nearby. By mutual consent, we didn’t speak. The only sound was our footsteps and Benji’s nails clicking on the tarmac as he panted along in front. My back cringed as though in the sights of a sniper’s rifle. Somewhere someone was watching, probably through night-glasses.

We reached the front gate after about twenty minutes and confronted the ugly metal castle, which my landlords obviously thought stylish. It had all the charm of a striking snake. I shone the torch onto the canvas sack folded at the base of the pole. A rope was tied around the neck. When Eloise let Benji’s lead drop, he went to the other side of the pillar and promptly lifted his leg. Eloise fumbled with the lock on the back door of the castle.

‘Wait! Eloise, I’ll do that, I’ve got the key,’ I said hastily, grabbing at her hand. ‘We don’t know what’s in there.’

‘Hurry
up
, James.’

She thrust her hands into her coat pockets. I switched on the torch, tucked it under my chin and opened the case. For a few moments, Eloise watched me scoop up the bundles of notes with clumsy hands before bending down to hold the neck of the sack open. It took only a minute or two to finish the job and tie the rope tightly.

‘Hold this— ’

I handed the torch to Eloise, fished the key to the castle out of my pocket and proceeded to turn the lock. A small golden gift box encircled with red ribbon tied in a huge bow, was in the cavity. My heart sank. Eloise looked on, fearfully. What next?

‘We’re not going to open it until we get back to the house,’ I announced, putting it quickly into the briefcase. I could hardly bear to touch it. She nodded slowly. I padlocked the castle and we headed along the driveway with the dog bringing up the rear, trailing his lead behind him.

Something tugged at my mind as we walked, about the key and the padlock, but the harder I tried to remember, the faster it skittered away. It’ll come to you.

It was all we could do not to run as we neared the house. I put the case on the desk and opened it. The golden swirls on the cardboard sparkled in the light reflecting the flame from the fire. I slowly untied the ribbon and lifted the lid off. Inside was a tiny parcel. I took a deep breath and peeled back the tissue paper.

A second before Eloise screamed, I recognised one of the elaborate gold and garnet earrings which the members of the orchestra had given Ally on her birthday.

It was still attached to a piece of bloodied earlobe.