Times of Trouble (34 page)

I willed my feet to
walk quickly. It was as if my mind wanted to go forward, but my
body was strangely reluctant to obey. The man I spoke to from the
equipment hire place had said the Quay Grand was at Circular Quay.
But as I got closer, I realsied I’d have to find out whether it was
east or west of the ferry wharfs. On the edge of the quay, there
was a tiny shop which looked like a cross between a convenience
store and a newsagent. The man behind the counter was counting the
money in his till, and he slammed it shut as I
approached.

‘
Excuse me. Do you
know where the Quay Grand Hotel is?’

He pointed left, and
said: ‘It’s in the toaster.’

To someone who wasn’t
familiar with Circular Quay, his response would have seemed
gibberish. But I remembered what’ the toaster’ was. One of the
musicians in the orchestra had told me she was staying there. I was
too embarrassed to admit I was staying outside of the city in a
budget motel. The building is called ‘the toaster’ because that’s
what it looks like.

I walked along the
edge of the quay towards the Opera House, still unsure of exactly
what my plan was. It was all very well to know what result I
wanted, but this still didn’t give me a clear idea of exactly what
to say and do. I wanted to keep walking, down into the lobby of the
Opera House, and maybe even grab a beer from the bar. But just as
the man in the shop had said, here was an elegant sign that read
‘Quay Grand Suites’. This was where I had to go.

There was an elderly,
rich looking couple entering the hotel next to me. They appeared
much more at home in the swish interiors than I did in my old cargo
pants and grey jumper. I hadn’t even bothered to brush my hair, not
realising I was going to have to look ‘five star’. The couple
approached the counter, and I could tell by the amount of luggage
they had that they were checking in. As they chatted to the man
behind the desk, I wandered around the lobby, hoping to look as if
I belonged there. Then as they bustled towards the lift, fussing
with their oversized suitcases, I breezed towards them, hoping it
would look like I was their quiet, sullen granddaughter who they
took no notice of. Nobody approached me to ask what I was doing, so
it must have worked. The lift doors finally opened and I stepped in
ahead of the couple, who hadn’t acknowledged I existed.

The couple were going
to level 2. I noticed the elderly man take a swipe card out of his
jacket pocket and use it to choose his floor. I would have to get
out at the same floor as them, then roam the halls. I wouldn’t make
myself known to anyone just yet. I wanted to snoop around first, to
make sure I was still on the right track. When we all got out of
the lift, I turned left and walked purposefully towards the
furthest end of the corridor, hoping to look like I was a guest
going back to my room. The couple, thankfully, turned right, and
eventually disappeared around a corner, the noise of their fussing
disappearing as quickly as they did.

The silence in the
hallway made me wonder exactly what I was hoping to find. If I was
right and there was a movie being filmed here, what was it I was
expecting to hear? If it was a porn movie, surely there would be
music? I had never seen a porn movie so I was just guessing. But
there had to be some sort of noise surely, even if it was the moans
and groans of the actors. Would music be added later over the top?
That was more likely, I had to concede.

Since there was no
one around, I crept up to each door in the hall and pressed my ear
against it, sure that if there was a movie being made, I would hear
some evidence of it. But level two was eerily quiet. The last door
at the end of the hall was the fire stairs. So I went down to level
one and, again finding no one to be seen, repeated my listening
technique along the row of doors. Again, not even the sound of a
voice could be heard. Did this hotel have any guests?

The fire stairs gave
me easy access to all levels, so I went from floor to floor,
checking every hallway. The top floor, Level six, had only half as
many doors, so I guessed these suites were bigger than the ones
lower down. Maybe they were even apartments instead of just rooms.
I crept along the soft carpet, the lump in my throat reminding me
to stay alert and focussed. But again there was no noise at any
door. At the end of the corridor, there was a full length glass
window that revealed an incredible view out over the harbour. I
stood and stared. The water glistened in the sun, and I could
almost feel the breeze on my face in the silent corridor. It seemed
so peaceful, I wondered if I was completely off course, and had
come all this way for nothing. I felt glued to the spot, happy to
gaze out at the sailing boats for the rest of the
afternoon.

After a few minutes,
the silence of the hotel and the scene of the harbour made me feel
much more at ease. There was obviously nothing going on here. And,
as much as I hated dead ends, I was relieved by the thought of
going back to the apartment and feeling safe again, ready to keep
investigating. It had been pretty stupid to come here alone after
all, hoping to confront these people. What would I say to them? Why
would they listen to me? I walked back to the lift, tired of using
the stairs, and pressed the Ground button. I wouldn't need a swipe
card to get to the reception area would I?

The quiet in the
hallway was suddenly interrupted by the sound of a door opening a
little way down the corridor from where I stood, and a man stepped
out of the room. He looked like he was in his mid thirties, his
clothes were casual but expensive looking, his hair cut short and
neat. I stood as still as I could, willing him not to notice me, no
matter who he was. My heart was beating in my mouth as I willed the
lift to arrive. There was no one around in this hotel. How could a
lift take so long? Out of the corner of my eye, I could see he was
striding towards the lift, his head down, reading something on his
phone. And just as his eyes looked up impatiently towards the lift,
a light came on, signalling that it was about to arrive. The
movement of his head looking up must have opened his peripheral
vision, because his eyes suddenly fastened on mine. And his sudden
question made my legs almost collapse underneath me.

‘
Molly? Are you
finally ready to do your last scene?’

Before I had time to
respond, he was striding towards me, covering the space between us
like a wave breaking on the sand. I turned, looking for somewhere
to run, but I was caged in by the end of the corridor, the window
imprisoning me where I stood. My face must have portrayed total
fear, instead of the look I was trying for - the blank stare of
confusion at the question. He was almost in front of me when he
opened his mouth and yelled.

‘
Keith! Get out
here!’

The door opened again
and suddenly another man, this one fatter and much shorter, was
bolting in our direction.

‘
Go away!’ I managed,
before my throat seemed to close over, and no more words could get
out. I’d had nightmares like this, where you try to scream but
there is no sound. And every time I had woken up relieved I never
had to feel what that was like in real life. Until now.

The first man bundled
me into his arms, the weight of his body pushing me against the
wall. He hoisted me over his shoulder, my legs flailing uselessly
against his stocky frame. He was holding my arms against my sides
so tight that air was pushed out of my lungs, and no sound came
when I tried to scream. The second man grabbed onto my ankles and
they both lurched back towards the closed door, kicking it open and
throwing me on the floor of the apartment. Pain shot through my
shoulder as my body smacked into the tiled floor. I took a quick
breath and tried to scramble up, looking for somewhere to run. But
the men stood over me, hands on hips, ready to attack if I tried to
go anywhere. They spoke to each other as if I wasn’t
there.

‘
I can’t believe it.
She was just standing there in the hallway!’

‘
Are you sure it’s
her?’

‘
Look at her! It’s
definitely her! A bit rough around the edges, but I’d know that
face anywhere. No where to run this time.’

He had said ‘Molly’.
They thought I was Sophie. My voice croaked as it finally
returned.

‘
I’m not Molly. Who
are you people? Let me go!’ The bigger man stepped aggressively
towards me.

‘
Nice try, love.
We’ve been looking for you for weeks. No way you are getting away
from us again.’

He bent down and
lifted me off the ground, as if I weighed nothing to him. There
were two doors off the main area of the apartment, one was shut,
the closest one open enough to show it was a bedroom. He dropped me
onto the bed, and I started to kick my feet wildly, hoping to make
contact with his chin or even better, his groin. He swiftly grabbed
one of my feet in one hand, twisting until my ankle hurt, and with
the other hand he pulled a plastic strip out of his back pocket and
grabbed my other foot with this hand. He was too strong for me to
wriggle from his grip.

‘
Help me out will
you!’ he yelled to the man with the phone. He ran in and took the
plastic strip from his partner, wrapping it around my ankles and
clicking it together. There was no way to break the bind; it was
some sort of industrial tie that had to be cut to come apart. Then
they grabbed my shoulders, pulling me to the top of the bed and
tied another strip around my wrists, looping it around the bed
frame so I was stuck still on the bed. The plastic strips cut into
my wrists and ankles, making red marks that looked like they would
break open if I struggled too hard. What were they going to do with
me?

‘
You fucking psychos!
I’m not who you think I am! Check my wallet! I’m not
Molly!’

I screamed as loudly
as I could, desperately hoping the silent corridors outside might
eventually have other guests in them. Why had I come here? How was
I stupid enough to think I could investigate these people without
them attacking me too? How had I been so naive to think this
compared to playing at a piano concert?

‘
If you don’t shut
up, we’ll kill you now. Then you’ll have to perform
dead.’

The fatter man lifted
his shirt up, showing a knife tucked into his jeans. My mind
couldn’t comprehend what he had just said. Perform dead? Perform
what?

Lying still on the
bed, I heard everything the men were saying to each other. I knew I
needed to act, but I felt completely trapped, unable to move even
an inch without feeling like I was cutting my wrists. They spoke
excitedly to each other, with a conspiratorial pride that made me
feel sick.

‘
Whatever you do,
don’t tell him we just came across her. I have no idea what she’s
doing here, but it doesn’t matter now. Tell him we found her in the
city, and we’re ready to start filming.’

‘
What about the other
one?’

‘
We’ll see how we go
with time. We might just have to get rid of her. She’s still a bit
out of it anyway. Molly is our priority now.’

‘
Should I call him,
and tell him we’ve found her?’

‘
Yeah, you’d better.
He might have some final instructions for the format.’

I heard the taller
man, the one that spotted me in the hallway, clicking buttons on
his phone.

‘
Jared, good news,
we’ve got Molly... in the city... yep she’s here... she’ll need to
be tidied up a bit but we can do her today...are there any other
details for the shots?...yeah we can see the bridge from the
window…it’s right in the centre of the background... perfect
weather...Keith knows how to use the cameras...she’s in the other
room....ok call you when we’re done...looking forward to a bonus
for this one...see you then.’

The conversation
terrified me, because of what I could hear, and what I couldn’t.
What were they planning to film? How could they think I was Sophie?
Is that why they were watching the house in Newtown? They didn’t
think I was Sophie’s sister, they thought I was Sophie! And what
did they have planned for her? I didn’t want to be filmed doing
anything. And who was in the other room? Another girl? Panic was
ricocheting around my chest. Cutting my wrists on the plastic
suddenly didn’t seem like such a bad idea, if it got me off this
bed.

As the terror in my
mind started to overwhelm me, I desperately searched for some way
to get control of my emotions. I shut my eyes tight and pictured
the familiar black and white keys of a piano, shiny and still under
my hands. I ignored the pain in my wrists, as I imagined my hands
slowly starting to touch the keys, pressing and sliding over the
first few bars of the Pathetique, my favourite Beethoven sonata.
The music sounded in my head, as my fingers perfectly found the
notes, with just the right dynamic and a faultless tempo. It was
beautiful. I didn’t feel hysterical anymore, and a new found
determination to survive gripped me.

Then my daydream was
interrupted. Silent tears were running down my face. My mind
stopped hearing Beethoven; instead, my ears heard harsh reality.
The fatter man approached the bed.

‘
You’ve not been
looking after yourself in Australia, have you?’ he said. ‘What
happened to the glamorous Molly? Though I guess you’ve had a kid to
look after... where is the little man by the way? We were hoping to
deal with him as well. No matter, it’s time to get you ready for
your starring role.’