This United State (14 page)

She became aware she no longer had her shoulder bag. He had her Browning somewhere. The feet came towards her. She knew when he stopped he was standing, gazing down at her. She kept her eyes closed, her body limp. He began to talk. Then she knew he was American, a coarse voice.

'Wake up, lady. You and I are going to have a fun time. You've got things to tell me. Questions to answer. What the hell is the matter with you? Wake up!'

He began to slap both sides of her face with his rough hand. She let her head flop from side to side with each blow. I have to get back to normal before he knows I'm conscious, she kept telling herself. The slapping stopped. He swore foully.

He was walking away from her again. She took in deeper breaths of the cold air without moving. Got to clear my head, get my strength back. I need more time. The clumping came back in her direction. She wasn't going to get more time. There was a musty smell which suggested a building that hadn't been opened for a long time. The heavy footsteps stopped in front of her.

'Wake up, you friggin' twist,' the coarse voice ordered. 'If you don't you'll get a bucket of cold water over you. You're going to be sodden wet soon, whatever you do or don't tell me.'

Inwardly she cringed. What was he talking about?

There had been something very sinister in those last words.

Then his hands grasped her shoulders and he was shaking her from side to side. She kept her eyes tightly shut. His grip was strong and painful. She kept her body loose, let him go on shaking her. She was breathing in and out slowly, clearing her mind.

'OK. You get the bucket of water...'

She moaned, moved shakily, opened both eyes. He was very ugly. His bald head gleamed in the light from the naked bulbs suspended from the rafters high above them. His eyes glittered with anticipation at some pleasurable experience. He hauled out the Colt from a wide leather belt under his windcheater.

'Try any funny tricks with me and you get a bullet in the head. Can you hear me?'

'Where am I? Who are you?'

'My bloody pals call me Baldy. Guess why?'

'I can't move.' She slurred the words. 'Can't see you. Where am I?'

'In a place where we won't be disturbed. You and I are going to have fun and games.'

'My head's swimming.'

She closed her eyes again. He administered several more hard slaps to both sides of her face. The pain was helping her to become more alert. She heard his feet clump a short distance, realized he was behind the couch. Then something cold and weighty was dropped round her neck. A chain. She fought down the terror which was threatening to overwhelm her. Now she was able to think, she realized her desperate situation. She was going to end up dead. Kidnappers who intended to release their victims were careful never to show their faces. Baldy hadn't even attempted to cover his face. She felt even more helpless with the chain round her neck.

'OK. You can get up now. Or I'll drag you up like a dog.' He giggled. 'Dawg on a chain. That's what you are.'

She opened her eyes. He was holding a length of chain in one hand. It must be attached to the collar of chain round her throat. She placed both hands on the couch as though for support.

'I don't think I can stand up.'

'So I'll drag you.'

'Give me a minute.'

'Get on your friggin' feet!' he screamed at her.

She stood up slowly, more slowly than she needed to. She stood still, bracing her legs to strengthen them. Now she could see far more. She appeared to be in an ancient warehouse used to dump unwanted furniture. There were a number of couches scattered round the planked floor. She saw her coat thrown carelessly over the back of a battered old wooden chair. Her shoulder bag dangled beside it. The clasp was still fastened. She felt sure he hadn't even bothered to rummage inside it. Which meant her Browning was still in the secret pocket. It could have been a mile away for all the hope she had of getting her hands on it.

'We are going for a little walk,' Baldy said, grinning. 'I may fall down..

'Fall down, then!' he screamed. 'Then I'll drag you.' 'I'll try and make it.'

Baldy was holding a long length of chain. The end was attached to the part at the back of her neck. The links rested loosely on her skin, looped below her chin. She kept stopping as he approached the beam above them. During these brief pauses she stretched her legs without moving them, testing her strength.

'Keep going, little dawg,' he sneered. 'Haven't got all night.'

'My legs are going to give way,' she lied.

'So I drag you along the hard floor. Your choice, honey.'

She wished she could punch his leering face. She was feeling utterly humiliated. Then suddenly a cold fury took hold of her mind.
This wretched little thug from the back streets of God knows where!
She lowered her eyes so he couldn't see her change of expression. Which meant she was looking at the floor.

Stretching towards them from below the beam a section of the floor appeared to be a huge elongated panel, a closed trapdoor. At the far end, inset into the wood, was a small depression, and inside it, fitted level with the floor surface, was a wide metal lever. Terror returned again as she imagined what this might be. She suppressed the terror, concentrated on slowing him down.

'Come on, honey. Make with the legs.'

He jerked the chain and she nearly fell forward. Recovering her balance, she padded deliberately forward, her shoes clacking on the planks. She was almost under the beam when he moved behind her, still holding his long length of chain. Before she knew what was happening he had lifted the chain collar round her neck and inserted an extensive length under it.

'I'm not talking tied up like this,' she snapped.

'Shut your stupid female mouth. You'll talk your head off.'

Still holding the chain, he clumped over to a table. It supported a bucket of water and a glass. Dipping the glass into the water, he drank some, ran his thick lips slowly round the rim of the glass, then hurled the contents in her face. She had a double shock. The cold water dripped down inside the top of her dress. She shivered. The second shock was to have liquid in her face after he had run his foul tongue round the rim. He was behind her now. He was doing something with her ankles. She looked down. He had looped a section of chain round each one, with a gap between them of over a foot long.

She felt like a fugitive from a chain gang. It intensified her fury. I'd like to strangle him with my bare hands, she thought. Slowly. He appeared in front of her, holding a double length of chain. He grinned, touched her cheek.

'Cosy now, ain't it, my lovely?'

'I can do without the compliments,' she rapped back. 'Temper. Mustn't give way to temper,' he taunted her.

'I'm not talking trussed up like this,' she blazed.

'Let's work out how things are.' He was almost drooling with enjoyment. 'Chain round your neck is looped like a noose. Bit by bit it pulls tighter - till you choke to death. Better start using that spitting mouth of yours to answer my questions. That gives me an idea.'

He worked his mouth, then spat at her, hitting her on the chest. She just managed to stop herself recoiling with revulsion.
Don't give the little swine any satisfaction
. Standing back, he gripped the long length of chain, hurled it upwards. It swept over the beam, a length fell and he grasped the end. With horror, she knew what he was going to do. She gritted her teeth, clenched her hands.

'Let's start now,' he said. 'Quip show. Like you get on television. Question, then answer. Get it? Question, then answer.'

'Put me back on the couch. Then we'll talk.'

'Listen to the lady! Giving me orders. Haven't you been listening, twist?'

He punched her in the ribs. Teeth still gritted, she didn't react. He'd used the hand holding the chain to deliver the punch so it had lacked a lot of his strength. Now he stood back from her and she tensed. While standing she had continued bracing her legs.

'Who's your boss?' he asked suddenly.

'Benson.'

'Wicked. Real wicked. Lying to Baldy.'

He hauled on the chain and she was elevated off the floor. Expecting this, her hands dived to her neck inside the chain, keeping it away from her throat. He went on hauling her higher until the top of her head was close to the beam. She found herself swaying, back and forth. She looked down and saw the top of his bald head.

'Swing 'igh, swing low,' he sang in his tuneless voice.

The strain on her hands was enormous. She knew she couldn't keep this up for long. Then he did something else which she had expected. He released the chain and she dived to the floor. She landed as she had been taught at the training mansion in Surrey, bending her knees to cushion the impact. She straightened up as his hated face peered round at her.

'You can't hold out for long. Who is your boss? Just the first question.'

'Benson.'

'Up you go...'

Again she was hauled upwards, held there, head almost touching the beam, but not quite as high as before. Again her body started swaying. She looked down. He was standing back a few feet from the beam. She forced herself to sway harder, hands protecting her throat against the chain. She was swaying back and forth through a greater arc, her knees lifted. She could never have done it without the aerobics and the exercises she had practised at the health club. She was beginning to sway back quite quickly when suddenly she dropped her legs to the fullest extent, opening them as wide as possible. She was staring at Baldy who gazed up at her in surprise. The chain round her ankles caught him under the jaw, round his thick neck.

He let go of the end he was holding, which she had known he would if she could bring it off. Probably break my bloody back, she thought. The chain slithered over the beam, she plunged down behind Baldy, landed on one of the many old couches lying round the warehouse floor.

Positions reversed. Now she had him in a stranglehold, the chain tight round his neck as she clamped her feet together. He was on his back, hands clawing futilely at the chain cutting off his air supply. His heels hammered at the floor. One heel-tip caught on the lever inset into the floor. The trapdoor he was sprawled along opened away from Paula. She whipped her feet apart. The ankle chain slipped up over his jaw. He was free. The trap slid downwards. Baldy let out a croaking scream. His body rushed forward, vanished into the gaping hole. Paula heard a distant splash, then silence.

Because she forced herself not to hurry, she released herself from the chain more quickly than she'd expected. She stood up off the couch, legs trembling. Cautiously she crept forward to the edge, looked down. Seeing nothing, she forced her aching limbs to take her across to the chair, took out her Browning, her torch. When she returned to the rim of the gaping hole she turned on her powerful torch. The tip of the beam just reached down to show her fast-moving water. The River Thames, she guessed. That was where she had ultimately been destined to go.

Forcing her arms into her coat, she picked up the chain, threw it down into the river. Behind her on the far wall was a closed door. She made herself walk quickly. An old key was in the lock. She had to use both bruised hands to turn it, to pull back a wooden bar. She had the Browning in her hand as she opened it and peered out. If any of Baldy's chums were waiting she was going to kill them.

She was gazing out into a deserted cobbled street, the buildings looking fit only for demolition. A wall lamp cast an eerie glow over a street sign. Eagle Street.

To her left the street ended. Beyond it flowed the Thames, with wriggling lights reflected in its dark flow. She turned right after closing the door behind her. She emerged into a wider street which reminded her of the East End. Nobody about. A taxi came crawling along the street, its For Hire light on.

She flagged it down madly. The driver slowed, peered out to examine her. He looked surprised at her good coat and shoes, illuminated by another street light. He leaned forward.

'What's a lady like you doin' in a place like this?'

'A row with my boy friend. I just got out of his car and he drove off.'

'Better get yourself another boy friend. Where to?' 'Park Crescent, please. Facing Regent's Park.'

10

Paula was so relieved when she saw the lights in Tweed's office windows. She had guessed he might be working late. Entering his room, she found not only Monica but also Newman and Marler. Tweed took one look at her, jumped up, went to her.