Times of Trouble (35 page)

His voice was deep
and husky, and he was panting as he spoke, as if so unfit he was
exhausted from the effort of hauling me around. I spoke quietly, so
not to give him any reason to pull out his knife.

‘
If you even lay a
finger on me, I’ll fucking kill you. You don’t know who you’re
dealing with.’ I tried my best to sound menacing and cold, as if I
wasn’t scared. But my voice shook, and the man just
laughed.

He pulled up his
shirt again, and the knife was the only thing I could see. My head
pounded with fear, I didn’t know whether to scream or plead. In one
motion, he pulled the knife from his waistband and sliced between
my hands, cutting the plastic strap. Holding my hands together in
his hand, he sliced through the strap holding my ankles. Blood
rushed back into them, pins and needles followed, and I felt as
disabled as I had when tied up.

‘
If you so much as
whimper, I’ll cut your throat.’

To accentuate the
threat, he held the knife to my throat, letting the cold metal
touch my neck just under my jaw. I tried to plead with my eyes, but
his face was impervious to emotion. He pulled me off the bed, my
legs just able to hold me up. Then he prodded me towards the
ensuite bathroom, holding the knife in front of him as a sign to
obey. The taller man followed, and tossed a red lacy bra and
matching undies into the empty wash basin.

‘
Check if she’s got a
mobile phone,’ he directed the fatter man.

Before he could touch
me, I reached into my back pocket and handed him my phone. I
couldn’t bear his hands anywhere near me. The tall man spoke again,
this time directly to me.

‘
There’s makeup, and
a hairbrush in the cabinet. Make yourself look nice, like you used
to. And put the underwear on.’ Why were they making me do
this?

The man with the
knife was still standing over me. They weren’t going to give me
privacy to do what they asked. But I was terrified the large man
would use the knife if I didn’t try to make myself look better. So
I slowly opened the cabinet, and took out the hairbrush, trying to
make them see I was willing to cooperate. My hair was a mess of
tangles and I did my best to make it seem shiny and straight. But
it was no use. There was a large black eyeliner pencil on the
shelf, but my hand shook, as looking in the mirror, I tried to
touch the tip onto my eyelid and draw a line around my eye. Not
surprisingly, the line didn’t meet the edge of my eye properly; it
sat too high on my eyelid, making me look like a child who’d found
her mum’s makeup for the first time. I smudged the line downwards,
hoping to make it less sharp and crooked. Then I picked up the
mascara and rubbed it across my wet eyelashes as tears kept seeping
down my cheeks. It smudged immediately under my eyes.

The large man
grunted, as if showing his disgust at my efforts. He turned his
back for an instant, yelling to the taller man: ‘She’s making a
right mess of herself. Maybe we should just get started
anyway.’

In the second he had
his back turned, I reached into the bottom pocket of my cargo
pants, and pulled out the spare piano wire I had stolen from
Picasso. I had just enough time to stuff it into my mouth as he
turned back around. I pretended to be struggling with my shoe
laces, trying to get my shoe off to show I was undressing as I had
been told.

The taller man yelled
back, again either forgetting or not caring I could hear him. ‘She
needs to look beautiful as she dies. That was the whole point. Make
sure she isn’t messing herself up on purpose.’

Look beautiful as she
dies? What are these people planning to do to me? Were they going
to film me as they killed me? My body went rigid, and started to
shake as I registered what he had said. They were going to kill
me.

‘
Get a move on. Your
makeup looks fucking awful. You’re going to have to start again,’
he barked.

I pulled off my other
sneaker, and took a tissue out of the box on the basin, dabbing at
the mascara smudged under my eye. The wire in my mouth was coiled
tight, but I still had to keep my mouth completely closed to stop
it from slipping out. I concentrated on that while I thought about
my next move.

The taller man yelled
from the living area. ‘The camera is set up ready. Great shot of
the harbour. I’m ready to start filming when you are.’ He sounded
cheerful, excited even. And scarily well rehearsed. How many other
times had they done this?

I had never taken my
clothes off in front of a man before, and this was the last man in
the world I wanted to do it in front of. He was starting to get
impatient, so I pulled down my pants and underwear quickly,
shielding myself in the corner between the basin and wall, so all
he could see was my bare behind. Stepping into the red undies, I
felt like I was going to be sick. They were too small for me, and
not suited to someone who didn’t prune their bikini line. I pulled
my jumper and tee-shirt off just as quickly, and keeping my back to
the man, clipped the bra on. It fitted slightly better than the
undies. He spun me round roughly by the arm, and looked me up and
down, obviously disappointed with what he saw.

‘
You sure have let
yourself go, Molly. You used to be a stunner. But the boss wants
you in the movie, so you’ll have to do.’

As he pushed me
forward towards the bedroom, I caught the edge of the open bathroom
door with my hand, and swung it closed in front of me. I could
sense the knife just behind my back as I spun round to face the
man. He was slow to react, and my forearm hit his wrist hard enough
for him to drop the knife. Then I kicked him hard in the direction
of his groin, just missing, and landing my foot into the top of his
thigh. He called out, and lunged to pick up the knife. While his
head was down, I spat the piano wire into my hand, grabbing the end
of it with one hand, uncoiling it with the other. To my relief, it
didn’t tangle, and as his fingers found the knife’s handle, I
stepped on the blade and slid it away from him, so he almost
toppled forward trying to reach it. Before he could look up, I
looped the wire over his head, and swapping the ends from hand to
hand, pulled it tight around his neck.

The wire was thin and
sharp, and as soon as I tightened it, his hands instinctively went
to his throat, trying to pull it away so he could breathe. I had to
get close to him to hold the wire taut. As I pulled harder, it
disappeared in the flesh rolls on his neck. It was starting to cut
the skin, burning it enough that it started to bleed. It was too
tight for him to make any other sound except a gurgling noise in
his throat. I twisted the wire round my hands, still pulling it as
hard as I could, moving my hands closer together to get a better
grip. My hands felt big and strong with the wire wound around them,
the muscles in my fingers and palms strengthened by thousands of
hours of piano practice. I felt suddenly powerful. All the anger
and the fear inside me was making me stronger.

I thought of the
plans this men had for Sophie, and what they were going to do to me
if I didn’t fight back. I thought of Katie in the train station,
and the fear she must have felt when she was chased under a train.
My wrists and fingers felt like steel as his arms flapped around
trying to grab me but not getting any purchase. He was starting to
panic, and as he dropped to his knees, I got an even better grip,
and pulled tighter. When I felt all the air had gone out of his
lungs, I pulled down with all my might, smashing the side of his
head against the edge of the bath. Then I let go of the wire and
jumped over his body, grabbing the knife that had come to a rest
against the wall.

Opening the door, I
focused on the front entrance of the apartment, working out how
quickly I could cover that distance and get out the door. I
sprinted forward, hoping to make it before the other man saw me.
But just as my hand grabbed the door handle, he got hold of my left
arm, trying to tugg me back into the room. With a fierce stab of my
hand, I punctured the knife into his arm. That snapped his fingers
open, letting me go. It gave me the second I needed to get the door
open. I ran faster than I ever had before, throwing myself towards
the stairs and careering down, three steps at a time. I felt like
my feet hardly touched the ground as I spiralled down down down
towards the ground floor. I heard the man shout. The one I had
stabbed was running after me. But I had got enough of a lead that
he wasn’t close enough to grab me. Finally, a door said G. G for
Ground. I slammed it open and slid barefoot across the plush foyer.
There was no one there except the man behind the desk, who looked
shocked to see me stumble towards him.

‘
Please help me!’ I
shrieked. ‘They’re trying to kill me.’

He stepped out from
behind the reception desk, just as the man chasing me came through
the door. As he saw me diving behind the desk, he kept running,
straight through the glass sliding doors, out towards the harbour,
aware that unarmed, he would have no choice but to leave me be. I
collapsed under the desk, hiding myself away, letting the darkness
surround me. The receptionist was staring at me.

‘
Call the police,’ I
begged. ‘There’s another girl up there.’ I stayed crouched under
the counter, trying to cover up my body. ‘And can someone please
get me a bathrobe?’

I didn’t know if the
other man was dead or not. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t be far behind
the one that had bolted.

I heard the
receptionist pick up the phone and dial, asking the operator to get
the police here quickly, as a woman had been attacked. He then
called someone in the hotel, and asked them to bring a bath robe to
reception, aware I was in no state to be left alone.

I sat in stunned
silence, realising what I had just done. It had been so easy to
hurt both the men. I hadn’t realised how much strength I would have
when cornered. What if I had killed that man? The image of the cuts
on the side of his neck, and the crunching sound of his head
hitting the side of the bath, made me feel like I might vomit. I
had stuck a knife into a man’s arm! He deserved it, but I couldn’t
believe how easily I had done it. I had never thought I was capable
of violence like that. Was it just the pressure of the situation,
my survival instinct outweighing everything else? I found I was
still clutching the knife, and there was blood on me
too.

The bathrobe arrived
at the same time as two policemen ran into the foyer. And I exhaled
for what felt like the first time in an hour.

Chapter 30

Vince was waiting for
Jared to arrive at the beach house, when his phone rang. He saw it
was Jared. What did he want that couldn't wait until he arrived?
The movie wouldn't be done yet, and he wasn't meant to be hearing
anything else until the filming was finished. Once Molly’s last
performance was over, there was no one left to reveal what they
knew about the business, and he was looking forward to opening a
Shiraz with Jared to celebrate. Maybe Jared hit traffic, and was
calling ahead to say he was late. But Vince immediately knew by
Jared's tone that this was not a courtesy call. Shit.

‘
What is it?’ he
asked abruptly, stealing himself for another fuck up.

Jared was, as ever,
straightforward and concise in reporting the news. ‘She got away.
She stabbed Jim in the arm, and ran. She somehow got away from
Keith too’

Vince couldn’t
believe his ears. ‘Which one?’

‘
Molly’

‘
And where’s the
other one?’

‘
They left her in the
room. She was out of it…they were waiting for her to wake up a bit
when they found Molly.’

‘
So they managed to
find her, and let her go again? How the hell did that
happen?’

‘
I don’t know, she
got Keith’s knife and stabbed Jim with it, the little bitch. Jim
chased her but couldn't catch her. She must have called the police.
God knows what she did to Keith.’

Vince felt like his
head might explode with anger. Who were these incompetent gits that
Jared had hired? No doubt they had had a bit themselves. How else
could they both let Molly go?

‘
Christ, where are
Keith and Jim now?’ he asked, scared he already knew the
answer.

‘
They took Keith away
in an ambulance with the other girl. Molly went with the
police.’

This was getting
worse and worse. Vince usually appreciated Jared's calm demeanour,
but at this moment he hated it. He wanted someone to scream and
rant with him.

‘
And Jim?’

‘
He called me on the
way to the airport. He obviously didn't tell me where he was
headed. He knows how heavy this is for us’.

Us? What was this
‘us’ business? Vince paid Jared well to keep him out of everything.
But Vince hated to admit, even to himself, that Molly going to the
police was heavy for both of them.

‘
How much stuff was
in the apartment?’ Vince knew he had to ask, and probably wouldn’t
like the answer.

‘
Everything we filmed
last month. Everything we did with the other girl this morning.
Lots of shit.’

‘
Jesus Christ!’
Vince's usually deep voice rose two octaves.

‘
I know this is bad,
they've really fucked it up. I'll be at the house in half an hour.’
The phone went dead, and Vince didn't even have time to acknowledge
that Jared hadn't asked permission to hang up.