“Do you think I’m simple, Cotton? Don’t you know I can read every twitch of your face, every movement of every muscle? Are you so stupid that you don’t realise that everything registers in your eyes and hands? Your body language has been screaming your intentions at me. I almost let you have a go since I should have enjoyed retaliating. But instead, I thought I’d give you a demonstration, a taste of things to come, particularly if you try to resist me, a tiny example of the pain you are going to be suffering in the very near future.”
She brought her hand round in front of her and to Jennifer’s horror, she saw it was holding a taser.
“Freneton! No! There’s no need to—”
The protest stopped abruptly as Olivia squeezed the button to fire the taser. Two electrodes shot across the room hitting Jennifer’s chest, delivering over a thousand volts to her body. Her voluntary muscle control incapacitated, she collapsed onto the bed, stunned.
Before Jennifer had a chance to recover, Freneton clipped the taser gun back onto her belt, turned on her heel and left the room. The door slammed shut and the bolt was thrown.
As Jennifer slowly lifted herself back into a sitting position, still reeling from the shock, the room was plunged into blackness as somewhere outside Freneton threw the light switch.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
As she drove from her farmhouse to Connie’s villa restoration project, Olivia Freneton felt invigorated, her senses finely tuned and ready for action. Finally after months of waiting while she put up with the damn woman’s gushing nonsense, she could launch her plan.
She had never had a fixed timetable for what would happen when; it all depended on how things fell into place with the paintings Connie stored in the safe at the rented villa. As they were intended to augment the large sums Olivia was about to extort from Connie, there needed to be enough of them to make stealing them worthwhile.
And now there were more than enough, too many in fact. With Connie’s various purchases over the past months and the delivery of a further sixteen paintings from the Cambroni gallery, there was a haul worth close to ten million dollars. But she couldn’t take them all, much as she would like to. They were masterpieces, they had to be treated with care. She wasn’t an opportunist art thief willing to cut a priceless painting from its frame, roll it up and run. On the contrary, she had no desire to damage what she intended to steal, which meant that each of her chosen portraits would have to remain on its stretcher and be carefully packed. That in itself limited the number she could handle. She would choose the twenty most valuable; a number she could store in large suitcases in her car. Once on her way, her revised plan was to sell them one by one, negotiate the best deals, and not necessarily through the creep in Amsterdam; she could do better than that. She would have time — there would be no urgent need for the money from the paintings; it was icing on the cake.
The visit to the Cambroni gallery had certainly proved to be a profitable day out. As well as the paintings, Jennifer Cotton had unexpectedly surfaced, prompting Olivia to implement her plan while completing the disposal she had dreamt of ever since escaping from Harlow Wood.
Jennifer Cotton. She still couldn’t believe her luck. The girl was now locked away in the cantina of her farmhouse, the room she had prepared as a precaution, another of her brilliant contingency plans. It had the basic necessities of food, water, sanitation and somewhere to sleep. She could watch any captive’s every move remotely and punish them where necessary by depriving them of light. It was escape proof and essentially soundproof.
However, for Cotton, the long-term was irrelevant; she would only be in the cantina for another twenty-four hours before Olivia moved her to her final resting place, and during that time, the girl could enjoy the disorientation of total darkness along with the terrifying knowledge that her death was imminent. When Olivia picked her up the next day, her defences would be compromised.
In the meantime, she had work to do. The Villa Brillante was still a busy building site with a squad of ten workmen, a geometra in daily attendance and security guards. To implement her plan, they all had to go.
The guard on the gate had little enough to do given the remoteness of the villa’s location, however, having been subjected to Olivia’s wrath on two occasions for trivial lapses, he knew better than to shirk his duty. By now he knew the sound of her car as it approached on the winding track and as always was standing to attention as he waved her in. She ignored him and drove over to the caravan that served as the site office for Carlo Menci, Connie’s surly geometra. Olivia disliked the man intensely; if she had been calling the shots she would have sacked him months ago. But Connie liked him, and Connie paid the bills.
As she pulled open the caravan door and walked in, she sniffed the air.
“You’ve been smoking in here again, Menci,” she said by way of greeting. “How many times do you have to be told?”
Menci shrugged. “This is a stressful job, signora, every day there are so many decisions to make. And the labourers, they are lazy. And the suppliers … What can I do?”
“You can go outside if you have to smoke, that’s what you can do!” barked Olivia. “Now, I want to know if there are any crucial operations planned for the next three days that can’t be put on hold.”
Menci stared at her in incomprehension. “Er, no, I don’t think so,” he said cautiously. “The parquet flooring has been delivered, and the fittings for the main bathroom. The kitchen tiling is complete and the artigiano in Monte San Savino says the kitchen will be ready for installation in ten days’ time. The drainage system was completed yesterday and most of the bathrooms are now working.”
He lifted his shoulders to indicate his total puzzlement. “Signora, why should you want to interrupt things at this stage when for so long you have been pushing me to work faster?”
“It’s not me,” snapped Olivia, her voice all disapproval. “It’s Signora Fairbright. She called me this morning to say she needs to spend time here alone. She feels the development of the house is at a critical stage, and now so much of the main structure is in place, she wants to move around it unhindered by any construction noise or worker’s chatter. She says she must have the silence these woods will bestow on the site once everything is finished. Only then can she envision the villa in its final form and complete her plans for the interior decoration. You must understand, Menci, that she is an extremely sensitive person.”
Menci pulled a face. These foreigners were crazy. “As long as la Signora understands it will cause delays—”
“Of course she understands,” interrupted Olivia. “And she accepts it. It’s only three days and if there’s a problem, you and the men can work overtime.”
“And the watchmen, signora? I assume they must stay.”
“No, I said the signora wants total privacy. That means no one is to be here, not even on the outside of the fence. I want you to issue immediate instructions to everyone to finish what they are doing and then leave. That includes the watchmen. I’ll return here later this afternoon to check that everything is ready for Signora Fairbright’s visit, which will start tomorrow. Then you can give me all the keys and leave yourself. I’ll call you to say when the work can recommence. Until then, I don’t want you or any of the workmen, guards or anyone else anywhere near the place.”
By six thirty that evening Olivia had completed her task list. Everything was now ready for Jennifer’s installation the next morning followed by implementation of her plan the day after.
She had returned to the site two hours earlier, satisfied herself that the only person remaining was Menci, taken all his keys and sent him on his way. In case he decided to return in spite of instructions, she not only secured the metal gate to the site with the existing padlock but also added her own extra padlock to it, one for which only she had a key.
To complete her check, she paced the perimeter of the entire temporary fence that had been erected inside the main wall surrounding the twenty hectares of land
comprising the estate. The fence had been installed to add security while the house was under renovation; once the main wall had been upgraded and fitted with state-of-the-art security devices, the temporary fence would be removed. But for now, it was important that it was as strong as the day she had overseen its installation.
She next checked the landline in the caravan to make sure the Internet was working. It was essential to her plans for relieving Connie of some of her fortune.
Her final task for the afternoon was to prepare the room in which Jennifer was going to be held until her death in two days’ time. She had chosen one of the large first floor bedrooms — presently just four walls, two radiators and some construction mess. What it lacked, for Olivia’s purposes, was sufficient flammable material.
After fetching a metal-framed office chair from the caravan and chaining its frame to one of the radiator pipes in the room she had chosen for Jennifer, she spent thirty minutes locating and moving piles of discarded wood and card from packing materials stacked and awaiting collection near the gate. As well as arranging it around the room where it would burn readily once ignited, she placed some near the chair. She wanted to be sure that Jennifer didn’t pass out from smoke inhalation prior to burning to death; she wanted her to feel the flames, like a witch or heretic at the stake in the middle ages.
She stood back to admire her handiwork. It looked good, and with the aid of some accelerant and a timing device to set it remotely, all it now lacked was the star of the show. That omission would be rectified the following morning.
On returning to the rented villa near Monte San Savino, Olivia called Connie to make sure she hadn’t extended her stay in Naples. She had already called after breakfast, but with Connie, things could change on a whim and Connie’s presence was essential to Olivia’s plan.
“No, Diana, nothing’s changed,” said Connie when she answered the phone. “The jet is still booked for four thirty tomorrow afternoon, so I should be back with you by seven at the latest. We’re landing in Rome on the way to drop off Cesare, but that will only add a small amount of time to the journey.”
“Excellent,” replied Olivia, pleased to hear that Contorni wasn’t going to be a factor she had to allow for. “I just wanted to be sure so I can arrange dinner. How did it go today? Any new acquisitions?”
She heard a giggle from Connie, the type of giggle Connie gave after spending a lot of money.
“I can’t wait to show you, Diana,” she enthused. “I’ve picked up five of the most amazing paintings, all portraits of little aristocratic Neapolitan girls from the sixteenth century. They are absolutely divine. Even Cesare was getting excited when he saw them and you know how dour he can be in the face of highly priced paintings.”
“You’re bringing them home?”
“Of course! I couldn’t possibly have left them behind. Apart from anything else they are paid for; the transfer went through immediately while I was in the gallery. These places might look as if they’re still somewhere in the nineteenth century, but when it comes to technology for payment, they’re entirely up to speed. Better than the dealers in Tuscany even.”
“Quite a payload in your jet, then,” said Olivia, trying to sound jokey but wanting to know values.
“Oh yes. A little over two million. That’s why I use private transportation to go everywhere: no undesirables on board. Listen, Diana, I’ve got to rush. I’m getting ready to take Cesare out to dinner. He’s been told of a wonderful place on Capri; we’ve got a rather smart boat taking us over there. I told you you should have come.”
“Oh, I’ve been having some fun of my own up at the villa. I think you’ll approve,” replied Olivia.
“Ooh, tell me more.”
“You’ll have to wait, Connie. It’ll be too late tomorrow evening so we’ll head over there the next day after breakfast.”
“It sounds very mysterious,” said Connie, “I’m intrigued. I’d come back earlier if I could, but I’ve got to sort out today’s purchases and there are two more galleries Cesare wants me to see. So my haul could be even larger.”
“You are incorrigible, Connie Fairbright!” admonished Olivia, forcing a congenial laugh. “And anyway, there’s no point in coming earlier. What I’ve got planned won’t be completely ready until the day after tomorrow, so enjoy your last day in Naples.”
And your last complete day on earth, she thought, as she ended the call.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Olivia Freneton’s attempts at disorienting Jennifer were less successful than intended. Jennifer was little bothered by darkness and her exploration of the room earlier when it was lit had given her all the confidence she needed to move about it freely. Of more concern to her was the taser: having been subjected to its debilitating effect once, she had no desire to repeat the experience. As is often the case with physical violence, the threat of it was as terrifying as the implementation.
Still unnerved by the weapon, she wound herself up in the duvet and lay on the thin mattress. Although she doubted Freneton would be back for a while, she was determined to stay awake and listen for her return, to be ready to give the appearance of being more confused than she was. Anything that might potentially blur Freneton’s focus.
Her wait was a long one, and she eventually submitted to more sleep. But finally, in the total silence of the house, she heard the faint crunch of gravel outside as Freneton’s car drew up. She waited, breathing gently, slowly, trying hard to ignore the cacophony of her beating heart.
Descending the stairs to the room next to where she was holding Jennifer, Olivia focussed her attention on the computer monitor where the CCTV feed from the cell was displayed. She wanted to watch her captive’s reaction as she switched on the lights. What she saw was Jennifer shielding her eyes with both hands before clasping her head tightly and shaking it.
“It’s too bright!” she yelled. “Please, I can’t stand it.”
Olivia opened the metal door and stood in the doorway, saying nothing as she waited for Jennifer’s eyes to adjust to the light.
“May I sit up?” whispered Jennifer as she looked up, her eyelids scrunched together.
“No, you can kneel and sit back on your heels,”
Jennifer did as she was told and only then looked more carefully at Freneton.
“Oh God!” she exclaimed when she saw the taser in Olivia’s hand. “No more, please.”
“It’s entirely up to you, Cotton. Do what I say and I won’t zap you. Piss me off and I’ll whack you with the full charge, not the low one I gave you yesterday.”
She pulled a pair of metal handcuffs from her jacket pocket and tossed them onto the floor in front of Jennifer.
“Here, clip one half of those onto your right wrist then hold your arms out wide and turn round so you’re facing away from me.”
Jennifer complied but before she had finished turning, Olivia had grabbed her right hand, twisted her arm up her back and forced her to lie face down. Reaching for her other hand, she handcuffed her prisoner’s wrists together in one smooth movement.
Grabbing the handcuff links, Olivia roughly pulled Jennifer to a standing position and moved back two paces, out of reach.
“We’re going for a drive, Cotton. Get moving.”
“Where are we going?” replied Jennifer, allowing her voice to sound strained, nervous.
“To your friend Connie Fairbright’s magnificent villa. Now, move it!”
Jennifer shuffled slowly forward, labouring her movements. As she passed through the doorway, she was sizing up the open metal door, wondering if she could dive at it and kick it shut in Freneton’s face.
However, the ever-watchful Olivia didn’t miss the slight movement of Jennifer’s head. “Don’t even think about it Cotton. I’ve got the taser aimed right at you. If I have to use it, I’ll drag you up the stairs by your feet, making sure you’re bouncing on your face. That won’t do your pretty looks much good, or your teeth.”
When they got to the car, O
livia popped the tailgate and told Jennifer to lean into the car. Grabbing the shackles on Jennifers’ ankles, Olivia then hauled her in.
“I’m not going to inject you this time,” she said, “but in case you’re thinking of kicking and screaming, the roads we’re driving along are very quiet, just the odd tractor. So save your energy.”
After throwing a blanket over Jennifer, she slammed the tail gate shut, locked up the house and drove off.
Olivia pulled up in front of the temporary gates at the Villa Brillante and got out. She looked through the mesh to the site to check if any of the workers had turned up despite her instructions. There was no one: the locks on the gates were exactly as she had left them the previous evening and there had been no cars parked anywhere along the two miles of gravelled track leading to the villa.
She unlocked the gates and drove through, stopping again to lock them behind her.
The villa was set on a natural plateau on a moderately steep west-facing hillside, with wild oak woods above, below and on both sides. The only way it could be overlooked from the front would be to use a high-powered telescope from a hill across the wide valley below. As for the other three sides, the trees here were particularly dense, so anyone wanting to spy would need to be close. Nevertheless, Olivia waited, watched and listened for any unnatural noises, any sudden squawks and concerned calls from the many magpies and hoopoes patrolling the woods. There was nothing.
As she dragged the dishevelled Jennifer from the car, Olivia slipped on some mud, giving her captive the slimmest of chances to attack her. Ready for any opportunity, Jennifer took it, but Olivia was too fast and too nimble. Back on her feet, she slapped Jennifer hard around the face, once to stop her in her tracks, and twice more to hurt her.
Jennifer sank to her knees, dizzy from the blows, blood dripping from her nose.
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