Authors: Jayne Castle
The scream never escaped her throat. Some sort of cloth was wedged into her mouth the moment she opened it as gloved hands grabbed hold of her madly struggling body. The window was so close! Kirsten thought in despair, bending her whole will toward escape. She kicked out with little regard to possible damage to her bare toes. There was some gratification in feeling her foot connect with some portion of one of the attackers' anatomy. The angry, muffled complaint it elicited told her she had done some damage and she tried again. This time their patience apparently gave out altogether. One stepped behind her, held her arms very tightly, and the other stepped forward and lifted a clenched fist. An instant before the blow landed Kirsten finally got a look at Phil Hagood's angry features.
Then everything went painfully dark until unconsciousness took over completely.
Simon was right, Kirsten told herself miserably when she began to edge back into awareness. As usual. She wondered if he would ever let her forget it. The rueful thought helped restore her painful perspective and she allowed her eyelashes to nutter open. Automatically she tried to raise one hand to an aching jaw and realized with a shock that she was bound. Unable to touch the injured area, Kirsten immediately focused her whole attention on it. Had they broken bones? Had she lost any teeth? For a frightening moment she worried about the extent of the damage and then relaxed as her tongue detected no blood inside her mouth. Hagood or his partner had thoughfully removed the gag. It was probably the fact that the thick material had been stuffed between her teeth earlier that had saved them, she reflected, realizing she could move her jaw in a reasonably normal fashion. Funny, people got clipped in the way Hagood had struck her frequently in films and on television. Strange that the heroes never made a big deal out of it. You're overreacting, my girl, Kirsten scolded herself. Quit worrying about details and try to get a handle on the situation.
The most noticeable fact was that it was dark. Kirsten had no way of knowing how long people stayed unconscious after being struck as she had been, but her internal body clock seemed of the opinion that not a great deal of time had passed. Sometime between midnight and dawn. Useful fact number one. It could be hours before anyone, namely Simon, noticed she was gone, Kirsten thought grimly. Well, stop thinking about the ramifications of the facts, she instructed herself. Gather the information first. Wasn't that the proper way to approach a research project? And she was nothing if not a good librarian, she reminded herself.
So on to fact number two. She was bound, hand and foot. Her arms were wrenched rather painfully behind her, but she still had feeling in her fingers, which meant things could have been much worse. She was lying on her side on rough, textured carpeting. It felt like the stuff used in indoor-outdoor floor coverings, she decided. Kirsten was congratulating herself on her powers of deduction when the biggest fact of all finally registered. The floor was shifting gently beneath her! It took several seconds for the full meaning to get through her somewhat clouded senses but she finally acknowledged that she was lying in a boat. And since she couldn't see the night sky overhead, presumably a boat large enough to have a cabin. The Columbia River was the only body of water around wide enough to float something of this size, Kirsten thought. Hagood and company had hidden her somewhere on the river. And they had removed the gag, implying she wasn't lodged within screaming distance of other boats or a populated shore. That left, she thought, a lot of river.
The knowledge that she was on the water seemed to heighten the chill that had begun to annoy her. Very carefully, Kirsten shifted herself gently. If she was in the cabin, she might be near a bunk or locker that would contain blankets.
She had explored one wall, or was it called a hull? bulkhead? to no avail, having only uncovered some lockers, when a sudden rustle of footsteps sounded overhead. A moment later a hatch was thrown open and Kirsten was suddenly blinking in the harsh light of a flashlight.
"Well, well. Sleeping Beauty has awakened. And without even waiting for the kiss of the handsome prince," Phil Hagood observed from somewhere behind the glare of the light he was holding. When Kirsten averted her eyes from the strong light he swung its beam to follow, pinning her beneath it. "Don't worry, Princess, there may be time for us later, when this is all over."
Kirsten said nothing. There was no sense provoking him with defiance at this point. Give the situation time to develop, she told herself, knowing that what she really meant was, give Simon time to find out what had happened and come to her rescue!
"Kind of nippy out here on the water tonight," Hagood went on conversationally. "Be sure and holler if you get cold," he instructed with a chuckle. "That little thin nightgown you've got on won't be much protection."
The wave of anger that washed through Kirsten's system at the callousness of Hagood's remark did much to temporarily warm her. So much so that she decided not to beg for a blanket or anything else from the man. Contenting herself with a gray-eyed glare, she stared past the torch in the direction of his voice. She could see his shadowy form, hear his soft laugh as an instant later he slammed the hatch shut again and left her in darkness.
Darkness but not silence. Kirsten could hear the voice of the second man now as Hagood and his partner carried on a low conversation. She spent a few minutes trying to discern the words, got nowhere, and resumed her search for a blanket.
It was a painful progress, but Kirsten consoled herself with the thought that the effort at least kept her mind focused on immediate problems and not long-range ones, such as whether or not she would get out of this mess alive. That sort of thing didn't bear speculation. She had to put her faith in Simon as far as the future went and concentrate on the problem of keeping warm.
It seemed hours before Kirsten discovered the storage locker that contained the blanket she had been praying for. It had taken several minutes to open the little door and keep it open long enough to grope around inside, but she had been patient. It was the fourth locker she had opened from the awkward position and her reward made the task worthwhile. Inch by inch she managed to unfold the old wool fabric and then she began to concentrate on how best to get it around her shivering body. The easiest solution seemed to be to lie on top and, catching an edge of the blanket between her fingers, roll herself in it until she was comfortably cocooned.
Feeling as if she had just won a great victory, Kirsten settled down to wait.
She didn't have long. A few minutes later the hatch overhead was again flung back and the flashlight projected downward.
"Got clever, did you? Jim was right when he said you might be a little too smart," Hagood remarked, taking in the blanket. "Always did think he could handle anything, though, even a too-bright wife. Well, you can come out for a bit, Princess. We've got a small task for you."
Hagood dropped easily over the edge of the opening and clattered down the small wooden steps leading into Kirsten's prison. She watched him warily, frightened more about the possibility of losing her newly won blanket than anything else at the moment. Which only went to show that short-range problems had a way of looming larger than did more serious long-range problems, she thought, as Hagood yanked the blanket away from her feet, pulled out a knife, and slashed through the knots holding her ankles together.
"On your feet, my dear. Your lover will be glad to hear your voice, I'm sure!"
"Simon?" Kirsten breathed, speaking for the first time and regretting it instantly as she sensed Phil Hagood's satisfaction.
"None other," he told her cheerfully. "Don't get too excited, though. All we want to do is reassure the poor fellow you're still alive and kicking. You're going to get to chat with him over a telephone. Which reminds me," he added, fishing into his pocket and pulling out a length of fabric, "we don't want you giving out too thorough a description of your quarters to Kendrick over the phone, now, do we?" He proceeded to tie the blindfold around Kirsten's head, giving a small, sensual tug on the long hair as he finished. The small action made her shiver with disgust and she knew he was aware of it.
"It wouldn't be so bad, Princess," he murmured as he pushed her toward the ladderlike steps. "At least I have both hands!"
"You'd better keep both of them off of me or Simon will kill you," she shot back, goaded once again out of her silence.
"He'll never have the chance. Even if he did, he's been out of action a long time. Sitting behind a desk for a living doesn't do much for a man's muscle tone, you know. Now me, I've kept in shape." She could almost feel the man's mocking glance as she scrambled blindly up the steps. The only thing that kept her from falling backward was Hagood's hand in the small of her back. She wondered desperately how she could manage the final step out onto the deck of the boat when the question was abruptly answered. Another pair of hands reached down from above. She felt them close roughly under her arms and she was hauled out unceremoniously.
Steadying herself against the sway of the boat, Kirsten listened to Hagood and the other man discuss the next move.
"You'll do as I say and stay with the boat. I'll be back in half an hour," Phil instructed, obviously the senior partner in the venture. "I'll give Kendrick the orders, let him satisfy himself that his ladylove is all right, and then I'll be back. Satisfied?"
"Look, I just don't want to get left holding the bag on this thing, understand?" Kirsten listened to the other voice curiously. But other than the fact that it was male, sounded a bit desperate and nervous, she could tell nothing.
"Have I ever left you when your back was against the wall? Who was it who went back into the bush and dragged you out from under the noses of those guerrillas? Now will you just relax, for God's sake, and let me handle things?"
"All right, Phil," the other sighed unhappily. "Just don't be long, okay?"
"No longer than I have to. Come on, Princess, watch your step." Hagood grabbed her arm and moved her roughly to a gangplank. For the first time, Kirsten realized she still wasn't completely outdoors yet. Her bare feet moved cautiously onto a bobbing dock, feeling the wooden slats, and then Hagood reached around her and opened a door. A metal door, she thought. The boat was a shelter of some kind. There were no sounds outside to indicate that it was part of one of the large marinas along the river, which meant it must be a private boathouse. Which, in turn, meant it could be almost anywhere along the river.
Hobbling painfully over the rocky ground, Kirsten was forced along a drive and then into the front seat of a car.
Hagood climbed in beside her, started the engine, and maneuvered the car onto the smoothness of a paved road. Without a word, he drove for what seemed several miles and then brought the car to a halt.
"Listen close, Princess, because I'm only going to say it once. After I talk to Kendrick I'll put you on for a couple of minutes. Just long enough to let him know you're okay. Don't try to get anything more across to him than an indication of your undying love and the idea that your health is entirely in his hands. Clear?"
Without a word, Kirsten nodded her understanding. A moment later, she was pulled from the car, walked a few feet, and realized she was in the small shelter of a phone booth. With one hand holding her arm, Hagood dialed a number and waited.
The wait for Simon to answer his phone seemed as long to Kirsten as it must have to her captor. When it did happen, all she could hear was a faint click. Even standing as close as she was, Kirsten was unable to make out Simon's greeting.
"Kendrick?" Hagood began aggressively. "Don't say anything, just shut up and listen. You've got something I want and I've got the girl." Although he had just ordered Simon not to say anything, Hagood obviously expected some response to his remark, as did Kirsten. Both were disappointed. As far as Kirsten could tell, Simon didn't say a word. Hagood went on, a harder note creeping into his voice. "You know what I'm talking about, Kendrick?" Kirsten felt his grip tighten as he communicated his tension to her. "No, God damn it! I don't want the Heart! I want the lighter. The right lighter! It's got Talbot's initials on the bottom. You switched it, didn't you, you bastard? Well, I want it. Tonight! Tonight, or the woman is not going to see another night in your bed. Understand? Good. Here's what you're to do. Bring that Zippo to the entrance of Gravin Road. You know where I mean? Well, you damn well better find it then, hadn't you? I'll be there."
Hagood apparently thought it better to give directions than risk Simon asking for them at the local police station, because he then proceeded to give a brief description of how to find Gravin Road. The description gave Kirsten some idea of where she had been kept. It was a point along the river, several miles from town.
"Yes, you can talk to her. But only for a moment, Kendrick. I don't want to waste any more time!"
Abruptly the receiver was held against Kirsten's ear.
"Simon?" she said softly, not certain what to say, longing to hear the reassuring sound of his voice.
"Are you all right?" Simon's voice came low, hard, and sounded amazingly in command. It did not invite petty complaints, however, Kirsten decided with a glimmer of an inner smile, so she decided not to mention the clip on the jaw Hagood had given her.
"Yes," she replied simply, striving to sound equally crisp and calm.
"Is Hagood alone and how is he holding you? Be careful what you say," he instructed. "Try not to tip him off."
"Simon," she said quietly, "you won't forget to feed my two guppies, will you? And make sure the aerator is still working. It was giving me trouble earlier this evening." The aerator was housed in the little shipwrecked boat at the bottom of the tank. Would Simon get the picture? Beside her she heard Hagood's exclamation of disgust at the trite, womanlike remark, but he didn't yank back the phone.
"Don't worry, honey, the fish will be taken care of. I'm going to fry those two guppies for breakfast. Trust me?"