Even Stranger

by Marilyn Messik

  “All right,” I said, “You don’t leave me much choice. He nodded, he knew it could only have gone one way.

  “And, no police.” He said, turning and swinging Kitty in front of him, to face Brenda, “Do you understand? If you so much as think of calling the police, after we’ve gone, and they come after me, old skinny-ribs here, gets it in the neck, no hanging around, no second chances. Do I make myself clear?” Brenda glanced at me, her normally ruddy complexion a sick shade of greeny-yellow. She was a tough cookie too, but was now as scared as she’d ever been. And I was about to make it worse.

  I’d never actually done this before – deliberately planted a thought, but now seemed as good a time as any to start, even if it was unpleasantly reminiscent of Martha Vee. As Brenda looked directly at me, I shot something loudly into her head.

  “Phone Boris.” I told her. She jerked in shock, her eyes widening. I hadn’t thought she could turn much paler, but she did. I hoped she wasn’t going to do anything silly, like passing out, we wanted no sudden moves that might startle him. “No police.” I told her silently. “Just Boris. Understand?” She didn’t waste time trying to work out the how or why, of what had just happened. She fractionally inclined her head and I could see, she knew precisely where she’d filed the card Boris had handed her the first time he’d graced us with his presence. I was infinitely grateful, there’s nothing like a sensible woman in a crisis, and this was one extremely sensible woman. I turned to pick up my briefcase that doubled as handbag, from the floor but he shook his head,

  “You won’t need that.” He said, I wasn’t going to argue. I moved slowly out from behind the desk, sticking with the no sudden moves rule. As I did, Kat, who’d been quietly curled in her corner, knowing full well that what was going on, didn’t constitute a normal working day, moved too. She unfolded herself to her full impressive height and moved up next to me.

  “What’s that?” he said, taking a smart step back, dragging Kitty with him.

  “Kat.” I said shortly. I was wondering whether there was anything else vital, I should leave with Brenda.

  “Don’t get clever with me?” He snapped.

  “For goodness sake,” I said, “That’s her name.”

  “Well she’s not coming.” He said. I nodded and tried to push her over towards Brenda, so she could grab her collar. Kat, unfortunately wasn’t having any of that, and trying to shift a Borzoi that doesn’t want to be shifted, is no easy task. She was now standing completely in front of me, leaning back against my legs, so I couldn’t move any further forward. I don’t think it was affection, as I’ve said, I hadn’t done anything to make her think especially fondly of me, but for some reason, in her head, I’d become her certainty in an increasingly unpredictable and worrying world.

  “Come on. Stop pissing about.” He snapped. I could see his good humour dispersing, he was as aware as I was, someone could come in at any moment and change the whole dynamic. I beckoned Brenda over and, with a cautious glance at Jamie, she moved to take hold of the dog, and then Kat did something she’d never done before. She raised her shapely, aristocratic head skywards and she began to howl. For a moment, we were all stunned into silence and, as if encouraged by the reaction, she intensified the sound. It was atavistic, acutely alarming and very loud indeed.

  “Shut her up, shut the bloody animal up, now.” Jamie was shouting, trying to make himself heard above the high pitched ululation. It was hard to believe just one animal could make so much racket, she never even normally barked. Jamie was shaking Kitty from side to side, in his agitation. “D’you hear me, shut her up, or I bloody will.” And he would, he was quite ready and willing to lash out with that knife. I bent swiftly and held Kat’s muzzle firmly with my two hands. She shook her head a little, to dislodge me, but I didn’t let go, as I soothed her. I had no real idea what was going on in her head and didn’t have the time to find out, I took a rough guess.

  “She won’t leave me.” I said. “You’ll have to take her too, otherwise she’ll just make more and more noise and people will be in any minute, to see what’s going on.”

  “Shit. Come on then, quickly.” He turned on his heel, lifting Kitty bodily off the floor as he did, to move her along with him. I held my breath, hoping she wouldn’t do anything stupid, but I couldn’t see she had anything in mind. “You, get in front,” he instructed me. “So I can see what you’re doing, and no funny business, mind. And you,” he turned briefly back to Brenda, “Remember what I said. One whisper to the police and you won’t see this one again.” He’d regained his equilibrium and was back to his soft-spoken self. I don’t know what I found more alarming, the lightening swift mood switch to threatening, or the threats, issued so politely.

  We trooped down the stairs, in a formation I felt should have shrieked, ‘Help, two women and a dog being taken against their will!’ but apparently didn’t. He’d taken his arm from around Kitty’s waist and the knife from her neck, but had her elbow in an iron grip and the blade in her back. To the outside eye, it appeared, there was nothing to cause comment, which was confirmed by both Martin and Hilary looking up briefly, smiling and carrying on with what they were doing, as we went past.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  He had his work van, parked on the street outside. It had a cheery, bold-painted logotype and message on the side – Jamie Richman, Artist, Bringing the Outside Inside. Call Me! I could only see the near-side of the van, but that in itself was quite something. Below the text and phone number, the panel had been cunningly painted to offer the illusion of a side door rolled back, allowing you to see the inside of the vehicle, which was packed to bursting, with colourfully blooming flowering plants and greenery. It was a glorious and clever creation and I imagined, brought him in a lot of business, it couldn’t fail. It was certainly attracting attention, laughter and admiration even now, and he was smiling and modestly accepting compliments and interest from passers-by, as he shepherded Kitty, Kat and I towards the van’s rear door.

  Kitty glanced at me, she was thinking this might be our last chance, should she scream? I shook my head swiftly. If she did, it might indeed turn out to be the last chance – he was utterly swept away and swollen up with his own derring-do, and reality for him, at the moment, was about as illusory as the side of the van. The blade in the small of her back and the sense of power he was experiencing, felt great, better than great. At this point, he still had his feet planted firmly enough on the ground, to know what was sensible and what would hurtle him into something completely different – but it was a tenuous planting. I didn’t think she should give him any excuse to give in to temptation and learn how it would feel, to plunge that knife in.

  When he opened the rear door of the van and moved aside for us to get in, it was, naturally, a disappointment. No luscious collection of flowers and plants, just a bench seat, along one side and the rest of the space taken up with tools of the trade. He indicated, with a jerk of the head that we should climb in.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” I said, “You can’t expect us to travel in there. Wherever we’re going, you won’t get us there in one piece. Look at her,” I gestured at Kitty, who swiftly adopted a little-old-lady-on-her-last-legs look, I don’t think she had to try that hard. “There’s plenty of room in the front.” I said, “We’ll go in there, or we won’t go at all.” At the same time, I flashed the thought that it made more sense for him to keep us close, so he could keep an eye on us. He took that on board, I don’t think he even realised it came from me.

  “The dog goes in the back though.” He said. Kat looked up at him, slowly planted her rear end on the road surface, and raised her long neck. She couldn’t have made it any clearer, this was one bitch that wasn’t going in the back of any van. She opened her mouth to howl and he could obviously see potential, passer-by attention being attracted, that wasn’t the sort of attention he was looking for at all. With an effort, he restrained hi
mself from giving her the kick he wanted to,

  “OK. Her too.” he snarled. As we moved to the front of the vehicle, I glanced up. Brenda was watching anxiously from the office window. I inclined my head briefly towards the van and she nodded. Wherever he planned to take us, our transport was hard to miss and Brenda would give a good description.

  The front seat was also a bench arrangement, so there was plenty of room for Kitty and me alongside Jamie. He wanted her next to him, and before we set off, he showed us both the knife again, as if it might, in the interval, have slipped our minds. I understood from him that she was dispensable, I wasn’t, he had a whole load of questions for me. Kat followed me up nimbly into the van and lay down across my feet, heavy and warm. Before she put her head down on her paws, she bestowed on me, what can only be described as a resigned, what’ve-you-got-us-into-now look.

  As we drove, mercifully, the tension ratcheted down a degree or two, as he gradually regained the feeling of being in charge. Kitty was quiet, which wasn’t something I was used to, but then we’d never been in quite this sort of situation before. I found her hand, next to me on the seat and gave it a little squeeze, she squeezed back, lifting one eyebrow slightly. It was a look, as eloquent in its way as Kat’s and, I was afraid, expressing very much the same thing.

  Her thinking was surprisingly serene, she seemed to have cleared her mind of all the sorts of things I’d thought would be haring round in there, not least, were we going to get out of this in one piece. Instead, she was mentally browsing, what she called her ‘bargains’ cupboard. She was an inveterate shopper and, for reasons unknown, her vice was linen – bed or table, she was a sucker for either. In the hall cupboard, at the Georgian Court flat, always ready to do a cellophaned slither onto the heads of the unwary, was a formidable and pristine stock, accumulated over the years. The family always joked, she could open and run a substantial group of hotels, for several years, without needing to make a single fresh purchase.

  “It’s daft, I don’t even know your name.” I’d been deep in thought – mine and Kitty’s, so when he spoke, I jumped a little.

  “Stella.” I said.

  “Right, and I’m…”

  “Jamie. I know.” I could feel his intense, aching curiosity, he had more questions than he knew what to do with, but all he was getting from me was a smooth, featureless, nothing. I could understand his frustration, I’d been there with Rachael and the others, when they didn’t choose to let me in.

  There was, in his head, quite a lot I didn’t understand and I got the feeling, he understood it as little as I did. I could feel the rapid changes in his mood, the swift swings. It was to do with control, being in charge, on top, the one calling the shots and he hated it when he wasn’t. I needed to be aware of that and manage it better. The key to keeping him sweet, was to not score in any way. His unquestionable artistic talent had never been valued by the people he valued – family. From childhood, he’d been made to feel lacking, a bit of a disappointment, odd, so by the time the talent was praised, it was by the wrong people, those whose opinion he didn’t value at all. But there were other things in his mind, a very much darker side, he both revelled in and shied away from. And deeper still, was something else, something obstinately hidden from me. I wanted to probe further but was cautious, I didn’t think it sensible for him to suspect how much I could find out.

  “Where are we going?” I asked. He chuckled,

  “Don’t you know?” I did know, but only in a limited way and it wasn’t making much sense. I could see a log-cabin, two storey, chalet-style building, with overhanging roof and shallow steps to a wrap-around veranda. It was almost completely surrounded by trees, but there was no indication of location, he wasn’t thinking of that – he knew the route so well, he didn’t have to.

  “No,” I said, “No idea.”

  “Well, it’ll be a nice surprise for you when we get there, won’t it?” His feelings towards me were ambivalent, he wasn’t quite sure what he was dealing with, nor the extent of what I could or couldn’t do, but he desperately wanted to find out more, because of all the implications it had for him.

  For my part, I’d been intent on ensuring he kept his cool and didn’t hurt Kitty, which was why I’d wanted to get us out of the office, away from the possibility of intervention, precipitating violence. But perhaps I hadn’t thought things through enough – that wouldn’t be a first for me. What indeed did he want with us, and hadn’t he put himself in a similar situation to my erstwhile pals, the Lowbells? Once you’ve kidnapped someone or in this case, two someone’s, it’s not easy to pass it off as an unfortunate oversight. How could this whole situation come to any kind of a comfortable conclusion? I shifted in my seat. Maybe I should act now. He’d put the knife on the dashboard in front of him, within his easy reach. I knew I could easily knock him out, but probably not a sensible move, while we were still driving. Additionally, I couldn’t be sure he’d go under as swiftly as a normal person, he might have time to grab the knife and do damage, before he did.

  Alternatively, I could, I supposed, jam the accelerator down, forcing him to brake hard and stop, but then what? I surreptitiously felt with my left hand, for the door handle. It was within easy reach and I could feel it wasn’t locked. But even if I was able to get Kitty and Kat out quickly enough, what chance would we stand in a chase? After all the trouble he’d gone to, to get us, I couldn’t see him just waving us off, as we belted away into the distance, that’s always supposing Kitty was up to any belting. I could always start a fire in the engine, but the same issues applied, once I’d done that, what would be my next step?

  No, choices were definitely coming in on the limited side. I’d just have to try some mental yelling and hope one of the others would pick up. I recalled Rachael’s sarcastic comment, when I’d asked how they’d tracked me down at the Lowbells, something about not popping up with an address and postcode, but I also knew that like it or not, the links were strong between us – Ruth, Rachael, Glory and Ed – and Sam, I mustn’t forget Sam, possibly the most powerful of all of us. I had to give it a go, but needed to be careful how I opened up, I couldn’t risk giving Jamie any access to my mind, nor any indication of what I was doing. What I sent out had to be something no-one else would recognise or understand. I knew immediately what I could use and why – Sam’s strap. If anything had resonance, that did.

  I brought it into my mind, wrapped in its yellowed tissue paper, slowly unwrapping it, bringing back the feelings it evoked. After a moment, it lay there, complete in my mind, dark brown leather, still fastened at the buckle, with the jagged tear, further along, where Ruth had ripped it in anger, taking care not to further injure the thin wrist within. When it was solid in my mind, I threw both the image and the emotion that went with it, out there, as hard and loudly as I could.

  Jamie heard, I couldn’t avoid that, I saw him start convulsively, and stare over at me. I didn’t stop doing what I was doing for a full minute, and only then did I appear to become aware of his gaze.

  “Sorry,” I said, “You picked that up?” he nodded. It was all still so new to him. Not the picking up, he’d been doing that all his life, but the revelation it wasn’t him, all the hazy, crazy, constant stuff it wasn’t him, it was coming from outside.

  “I saw a strap.” He said, “A broken strap. That right? That’s what I saw?” I nodded slowly and laughed sheepishly,

  “I didn’t realise. I must have been dozing off.” I said, “It’s something I sometimes see when I’m falling asleep. It was an illustration, from a children’s book, years ago. I don’t know why it’s stuck, It gave me nightmares at the time and it’s been giving me nightmares ever since.” I shrugged. “Didn’t mean to impose it on you. Sorry.” Kitty was watching me, she wasn’t unduly suspicious, just a bit puzzled, there was a section of conversation she thought she’d missed, but her hearing wasn’t what it was and, as she was reasoning
to herself, not much about today had made much bloody sense so far, no reason why it’d suddenly start doing so now.

  “Not much longer,” he said. I’d no idea where we were and because I’d been so preoccupied, wasn’t even sure how long we’d been driving. I did know I was hungry and thirsty, could do with a loo and all in all was pretty fed up. I was also worried sick about Kitty. She was no spring chicken and however I was feeling, she must be feeling worse. I must have been more tired than I thought, because for a moment my guard dropped and he picked up on what I was thinking, I’d have to be more careful in future. He answered me aloud,

  “We’ll be there soon and then you can relax.” Which as it turned out, wasn’t strictly true. In fact, it was going to be a while before relaxing came back into the picture. Probably the first intimation of that, was the screaming coming from the chalet in the woods, when we drew up outside.

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  We’d turned off the main road, a while back and headed down country lane after country lane, shadowed with overgrowing trees and with greedy hedges grabbing and scratching the van on either side. We seemed to be entirely alone on these roads, probably a good thing, goodness only knows what would have happened had someone been coming the other way. After about ten minutes, we took what looked, and certainly felt, like an unpaved farm track, which several times lifted us off our seats and jerked Kat right off the floor. She hated physical knocks, Borzois are especially sensitive to physical pain and Kat proved the rule, crying softly each time, until Jamie snapped,

  “Can’t you shut her up?” I could see, Kat and he hadn’t instantly struck up any kind of a rapport, luckily, before she could alienate him further, we turned through a couple of opened low wooden gates. They were set in a white picket fence, which looked decidedly out of place, here in the middle of nowhere and which stretched as far as I could see in either direction, before being swallowed up by the trees. There were a couple of notices on the gates one, coyly curlicued and enthusiastic, welcomed guests to ‘The Chalets in the Woods’, hoped they’d love, love, love their stay and return soon, soon, soon! The other, pinned directly below it, wasn’t half so friendly, being in shouty capitals, firmly stating ‘Private Property’ and warning ‘Trespassers Will Always Be Prosecuted!’ Talk about mixed messages.