by Rosie Clarke
She couldn’t fight the powerful drug that he’d injected into her. If Pierre really hated her she would have little chance of escaping him… and yet she would rather he beat her to death than give into his threats and bullying.
Tears stung her eyes. If only she’d told someone about her fear of Pierre and what he’d tried to make her do perhaps someone would’ve looked out for her – prevented him grabbing her. She wished now she’d spoken to Frank or Matt, told them about the threatening phone call… A feeling of despair crept over her as she realised that she was trapped and there was very little she could do about it…
*
‘Jack, thank you for coming,’ Sebastian said, drawing him into his study. ‘My daughter Betty is missing – and this time I don’t think she went willingly…’
‘I’m sure she didn’t,’ Jack said and gripped his shoulder. ‘Believe me, I don’t like this one bit… but the man we spoke of – Pierre Saint-Jacquez… I’ve done a bit more checking, going through our files and he’s definitely in with a bad lot. From what I’ve learned he got into debt when he was in London, gambling out of his depth, and we believe that is when he got mixed up in all this, though he may have known Marcus Samoza previously. Samoza is believed to be of Turkish origin and wanted there for various crimes, but he’s the man suspected of being behind the abduction of several young woman. He’s part of a gang operating internationally and once they get the girls they disappear for good… one was found with her wrists cut in a quiet English country hotel, but we think she probably did that to herself rather than give in to them…’
Sebastian blenched. ‘You don’t hold out much hope then…’
‘Normally, I would say expect the worst, but one of our agents reported seeing Pierre Saint-Jacquez in London a few days ago… if he has taken Betty he will have spirited her out of the city.’
‘Have you any idea where?’
Jack shook his head. ‘I wish to God I did – our only hope is that one of my agents has spotted him leaving London and followed, which I have to admit is unlikely.’
‘Then what can I do?’
‘Really, there’s nothing you can do except pray,’ Jack said. ‘Even if I knew their location… well, it’s going to take a special team to get her back, Seb. They are evil devils and they will have her drugged… it may even be too late in terms of what they’ve done to her…’
‘It will kill Lizzie if anything like that happens to Betty.’
‘You don’t look so good yourself, my friend. Believe me when I say I am more sorry than I can tell you… we should have rooted these men out long ago, but they’re like a rotten canker that spreads insidiously through the blood, their influence penetrating even into high places…’ He gripped Sebastian’s shoulder. ‘I swear to you that I’ll do everything within my power to find her…’
‘If I ever find him I’ll kill him…’
‘Just let me know and I’ll do it for you,’ Jack smiled grimly. ‘If I had proof I would take an extermination squad in and shoot the lot of them…’
‘I just wish I knew where she was…’
*
Betty froze as she heard the sound of a key in the lock. Someone was coming at last and this was her chance. Her fingers tightened around the heavy glass vase that stood on the dressing table. As the door opened slowly, she tensed, ready to spring, and when Pierre walked in she flung herself on him, hitting him with her weapon and cutting his right temple so that the blood trickled down his face. However, her blow merely wounded him, making him react like an injured animal. He grabbed her by the throat, his fingers tightening so that she could scarcely breathe as he lifted her from the ground with his brute strength and what she saw in his eyes filled her with terror. He hated her and there was such viciousness, such evil there that she finally understood that she’d never known this man at all. It dawned on her then that every move he’d made had been calculated to make her fall for him so that when the time came she would do exactly as he chose – only she’d defied him and that had made him angry.
She was gasping for breath as he slammed her back against the wall, his face close to hers as he spat at her. ‘You little she-cat,’ he hissed. ‘If you’d shown as much spirit when we lay together I would have kept you. I’d punish you for that – but you’re too valuable to me.’ His lips drew back in a sneer. ‘He’s mad to have you and he’ll pay what I want, my little spitfire…’
‘Who is – what are you talking about?’
‘A man I know,’ Pierre leered at her, running a finger down between her breasts. ‘He’ll pay me for you – something that I want more than you can possibly imagine…’
‘My father would pay you to let me go,’ Betty said. ‘Why don’t you sell me to him rather than that pig – whoever he is?’
‘He might pay my gambling debts perhaps, but do you imagine your father could give me a contract that will make me famous and earn me a fortune? My friend is going to build a large complex of luxury apartments in Paris and, if I give him you I get the contract as the architect. After that I’ll have them queuing at my door… all those businessmen who laughed in my face and wouldn’t even grant me an interview… they’ll be begging me to work for them after I get this contract.’ Pierre laughed as he let go of her and watched her slump to her knees. ‘If I give him you and any other girl he wants in the future he will look after me, if not…’ He made a slashing sign across his throat. ‘He’s ruthless. He would kill me if I crossed him and I owe him money. He owns me just as he’ll own you. You’ll wish you were dead long before he’s finished with you, believe me.’
‘Let me go, Pierre, I beg you…’
‘He’d kill me then. If he were in England, you would already be with him on the way to his home in… well, best not to say. Your new owner is away on business so I have to keep you here until he gets back…’
Betty lifted her head defiantly. ‘I won’t let him touch me. I’ll fight until the death…’
‘If he weren’t so influential I’d oblige you,’ Pierre said. ‘I wouldn’t mind making your wait more pleasurable if you wanted to oblige me…’
‘Go to Hell!’ she said, her temper flashing. ‘You’re evil and you deserve to burn forever…’
He laughed in amusement. ‘Such a pity you didn’t show me this side of you before it was too late, darling. You were so easy, falling into my arms like a ripe peach from the tree.’
‘I hate you…’
‘You will hate me more before he lets you die,’ Pierre said, turned and walked to the door before looking back at her. ‘Be careful, Betty. I could give you food and drink… or I could just let you suffer from thirst. It will be a few days before he gets here. It’s up to you how you spend them…’
Betty bent her head as the door was locked after him. Tears slipped down her cheeks, because she didn’t know what to do. Defiance only made Pierre angry and she didn’t have the strength to fight him for long, because he could easily overpower her – and there was always the needle.
Her only escape from an unbearable fate was death.
*
The man watched the house. He’d waited in the shadows of the dilapidated outbuildings as they day progressed, fretting as he tried to work out his best chance of getting her out of there. Three men had been there earlier. One had opened the door to Pierre and another had come out to put the car away. Two of them had recently left in the car – which by his reckoning meant that only Pierre was still in there.
They were miles away from London. He’d followed them for hours as they drove relentlessly through the night and the early morning. He wasn’t sure where they were but he’d seen a sign for Herefordshire and knew they couldn’t be too far away. He had family on the borders and it was in his mind that if he could get Betty free from her captors she would be safe there.
It had to be his best chance. He wished for a weapon but had found none lying around. If he’d dared to leave his position he would have telephoned for help, but he knew that
to do so might result in the girl being spirited away elsewhere and then they would never find her.
During the early hours he’d scouted round the place, looking for his best chance of entering and getting to the room in which he believed she was being held. And if his reckoning was right the other rogues were entering and leaving without locking the back door of the house – so confident that they’d got away with it that they’d become careless.
He moved silently for a large man, holding his breath as he tried the door and found it opened easily to his touch. So far so good… but he needed a weapon because Pierre wasn’t going to let him just walk in and take her.
Taking a chance, he snapped on the light and found himself in the kitchen, as he’d expected. He glanced round hoping for a poker or something metal and heavy, but the only thing he could see was a carving knife. It was better than nothing, though he hadn’t wanted to kill – but he would rather do that than leave this house without her.
He seized the knife just as the kitchen door opened and the man he sought walked in.
‘That you, Rich…’ Pierre started to say and then swore furiously as he saw and recognised him. ‘Damn it! ’Ow the ’ell did you get here?’ His eyes narrowed. ‘I know you – you attacked me in Paris…’
‘I should’ve killed you then…’
‘Why you no do it?’ Pierre taunted, seeming unsure whether to attack or run.
‘Because I wasn’t sure then – but now I am. I saw you drag Betty into the car and what you did to her, but before I could get near enough to try to help her, you drove off with her.’ His eyes glittered with cold anger. ‘So I followed you here and I waited. I know you’re alone and I intend to take her from you…’
Pierre laughed, genuinely amused. ‘What can you do? You had your chance with her at the start but she wanted me – and now she’s going to pay for defying me.’
‘You’ve got her upstairs, locked in no doubt. Where is the key? I’m asking you nicely – give it to me or I’ll take it and you’ll be sorry…’
‘Come and get it…’ Pierre laughed as he patted his waistcoat. ‘Do you really think you can frighten me?’
The man lifted the knife and moved towards him, intent in his every move. He saw doubt in Pierre’s eyes for the first time and smiled.
‘Wishing you’d got some of that drug you gave Betty to hand?’ he mocked, taunting him as he’d sometimes taunted the men he’d fought on the rugby field at college. ‘Come on then… or aren’t you as brave when you’re dealing with a man rather than a vulnerable girl?’
Pierre lunged and they wrestled for the knife, which clattered to the floor. Pierre hit out wildly, but he was no match for the strength of the man that faced him and he didn’t see the move that had him on his back on the floor, but his hand touched the knife and he scrambled for it desperately, as the man threw himself on top of him and they tumbled over and over, fighting for possession of the weapon. For some seconds the fight was desperate and furious with neither man gaining the advantage, but then Pierre had the knife in his hand and he struck out, but a strong hand gripped his wrist twisting it back until the blade was pointing towards his body rather than his opponent’s. Suddenly, the knife touched flesh and one last effort pushed it in… deliberately, intentionally, deep into Pierre’s side, making him go limp and shudder as he fell back, blood pouring as he slipped into a semi-conscious state.
The man, who had beaten him, searched frantically for the key and found it. One glance at Pierre’s body twitching told him that he was probably dying; the blood seeping in a flood from the deep wound to his side. A feeling of horror and shock went through him as he realised he’d killed a man, but then he lifted his head, a look of satisfaction entered his eyes as he left the kitchen, walking through to the hall. Saint-Jacques deserved to die for what he’d done. He could see the stairs and took them two at a time, his athletic prowess making him swift, uncaring of the cuts to his hand where the knife had scored him during his battle to possess it.
He inserted the key and unlocked the door – and then he saw the girl huddled on the bed; she had curled up like a foetus in the womb, looking vulnerable and wretched, and in that moment he hoped with all his heart that the man he’d left bleeding on the floor died of his wounds for what he’d done.
‘Betty,’ he said softly. ‘It’s all right, love – you’ll be safe now…’
She turned and stared at him incredulously, a cry of relief escaping her. ‘Oh thank God! Thank God… Frank – is that really you? How did you get here? How did you find me?’
‘Never mind about that,’ he said and smiled at her grimly. ‘I’ve dealt with that devil Saint-Jacquez, but there are two others and they could be back at any moment. We have to get away from here now…’
‘Yes, he’ll kill me if he comes back,’ Betty said and rolled over, scrambling off the bed and stumbling towards him. He moved to catch her, holding her steady as she fell into in his arms. Tears were pouring down her face and she was shaking from head to foot. ‘Oh, Frank, Frank… I’ll never be able to thank you enough for this…’
He took a firm hold of her arm, supporting her down the stairs, because she was almost in a state of collapse, but taking her straight out of the front door, which he had to unbolt but preferring the short delay to exposing her to the sight of Pierre lying in a pool of his own blood in the kitchen.
There was no sign of Pierre’s accomplices returning as Frank hurried her from the grounds and down a narrow country lane to the field gate where he’d parked his car. He opened the door, helped Betty inside and told her to crouch down.
‘Just until we get clear of this place,’ he said. ‘I don’t want them following us if they come back.’
Betty ducked her head as they saw a car approaching. The tears had stopped now, as if the seriousness of their situation had just hit her. Frank turned off into a farmyard entrance and stopped, waiting until the other car had disappeared before pulling back into the lane and putting his foot down hard on the accelerator.
‘That was them; I think they’re probably Turkish, or some kind of Middle-Eastern descent anyway,’ he told Betty. ‘It won’t be long before they discover what’s happened and they will have seen the car. I’m going to have to drive fast for a while. You might as well sit up now – and hold on, because it won’t be comfortable…’
Betty held her breath as Frank’s car bumped along the rough country road. The motion made her feel sick and her heart was banging against her ribs in fright, though she tried not to cry out or give way to tears. If they came after her and… But she couldn’t think about that, because she knew they would kill Frank and her. They had to get away! Oh please God, don’t let those men catch up with them! Her heart was racing wildly and she could scarcely breathe in her terror, yet she resisted the urge to look over her shoulder and was relieved when at last they reached a main road. When they came to a crossroads, Frank paused for an instant, but then took the opposite road to the one marked London.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked him, still a little in awe of the man who had rescued her, because she’d worked out what he’d done. ‘You saw Pierre grab me and followed him all the way here, didn’t you?’
‘Yes,’ Frank shot a brief smile at her. ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t quicker coming in for you, Betty, but I wasn’t sure I could handle three of them, because I knew they would be armed – and I was afraid to leave in case they took you somewhere else. I didn’t have time to stop and let anyone know what was happening. If I’d lost him God knows if we would ever have found you.’
‘You wouldn’t…’ Betty swallowed hard to stop the tears. She hadn’t cried when Pierre hit her, but now she was feeling ridiculously vulnerable and weak. ‘He was selling me to someone… I would have been taken off to some far-flung place and…’ She shook her head. ‘No, I’m not going to think about it – it didn’t happen, because of you, Frank, and I’ll never be able to repay you.’
‘Why should you? I feel partly re
sponsible for what happened to you, Betty. I’d heard that Saint-Jacquez was mixed up with some pretty nasty people, but I didn’t believe it. I tried to keep you away from him, but I should’ve told you all I knew at the beginning…’
‘Would I have listened?’ Betty asked with a wry smile. ‘I wanted excitement and adventure – well, I got more than I bargained for, but I’ve learned my lesson.’
His gaze was loving and generous and Betty’s throat closed with emotion. She didn’t know what she felt just now other than relief and gratitude.
‘Why had you come round to Aunt Miriam’s last night?’ she asked. ‘It was a chance in a million that you should be there to see what happened….’
‘Our dance had been cancelled,’ Frank said. ‘One of the directors was rushed into hospital and unfortunately died on the operating table. His death was such a shock that it was decided to postpone the evening for a few months. No one wanted to celebrate. I didn’t want to just phone about something like that so I came round…’
Betty looked at him soberly. Had a man not died in such tragic circumstances Frank would not have been there when Pierre had taken her and she would still be a prisoner in that house. She could only be thankful that her friend had come to tell her the sad news, but she couldn’t rejoice because it was too distressing.
‘Mind you,’ he said, sensing her mood. ‘I might have come anyway, because I like seeing you, and your aunt made me so welcome…’
‘I can only say I am sorry that a man died, but I’m so glad you were there, Frank – but what made you follow me? Why didn’t you just go to the police?’
Frank glanced at her, unsmiling. ‘Do you think I would leave your safety to chance, Betty? I wasn’t sure if I could get you away from him, but I thought my best opportunity would be to watch and wait… I knew I had to get him alone. Perhaps I should’ve tried to drive him off the road, but you might have been killed in the accident – and if I’d come off worst he would still have you…’