‘How long did you say she’d been writing?’ Payne asked, quietly.
‘Uh, a couple of hours,’ she said, staring at the towel.
Walking across to her, Payne smiled and took the towel from her shaking hands. Her whole body was beginning to quiver and Payne’s eyes fixed greedily onto her exposed flesh, her fear beginning to excite him even further. Resisting the urge to place his fingers onto one of her breasts and twist at her nipple until she screamed, Payne stroked her arm.
‘Tell me!’
‘I …I needed a shower,’ Suzie said. ‘Sarah told me to use her lovely bathroom and she would use mine from now on. She said she had too much work to do to enjoy it.’
‘When was that?’ Payne asked, continuing to stroke her arm and watching the flesh rising in response under his fingertips. Fear, loathing, or desire? he wondered.
‘About six hours ago,’ Suzie said, shivering. ‘We changed our towels over and I went for a bath.’
‘How lovely. For how long?’ Payne asked.
‘I’m sorry, I went to sleep in there,’ Suzie whispered. ‘It must have been at least an hour.’
‘And the salads, when were they delivered?’
Suzie looked down. Tears were splashing onto the floor alongside her orange tinted toenails.
‘While I was in the bath. She called through the door to tell me she’d put the delivery into the fridge.’
‘After you gave her the code to open the door?’ Payne said, nodding his head.
But it wasn’t a problem, she was still here when I came out,’ Suzie sniffled. ‘I swear it.’
‘Of course she was, and when did you next leave the main living area?’
‘I didn’t, well only once to go to the bathroom about an hour ago.’
‘And Sarah was …?’
‘In her room writing,’ Suzie sobbed. ‘I didn’t check when I came back because …’
‘You only went for a quick piddle.’
‘Yes, I’m so sorry. What can I do?’
As Suzie wrung her hands, Payne thought for a moment, enjoying the smell of her fear. It was a pity that the beautiful primal stench of a women’s fear was all that turned him on these days. A woman fearing her own agonizing death was the best, and it made gratification such a beautifully messy business. Perhaps, he wondered, there would be a little time to play with Suzie after all.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ he told her, watching her eyes widen in surprise. ‘It’s no big deal. Her leaving like that is a bit inconvenient that’s all.’
‘But what about her writing?’ Suzie asked. ‘Wasn’t that important?’
‘Not at all, my dear,’ Payne said, shifting his arm onto her shoulders. ‘Sarah Marsden has been number one in everyone’s sights, keeping the focus well away from Corsfield and me. That was exactly what I’d planned. You see, this President of mine has a knack of interfering and isn’t afraid to get down and dirty himself.’
Feeling good, Payne sighed.
‘What I needed was a really complex diversion to have them chasing a thousand imaginary shadows, giving me plenty of time to prep my good friend Zachary. With the right sort of motivation, I knew he’d write eventually, and he did himself proud right until the very end.’
Suzie shook her head. He’d lost her.
‘What do you mean?’ she asked, suddenly conscious of Payne’s wrist lying heavily on her neck. All of a sudden he was being so creepy and attentive. And then it occurred to her that if Sarah wasn’t so important, then neither was she. And what did he mean, ‘until the very end’?’
Suzie heard Payne’s breath as it was drawn in and held. All her long hours of training had taught her that this was the microsecond before an opponent struck. She responded instinctively, twisting into his torso and ducking down at the same time. She saw the glint of a hypodermic needle in the air where her neck had been a moment before.
‘Bitch,’ he shouted.
Lips drawn back into an angry snarl, Suzie sprang towards him. He was totally unprepared for the attack, watching mesmerized as her hand, stiffened into a killing blade of toughened flesh, drew back. In that moment, as he realized that his overwhelming lust had resulted in a serious error of judgment and he was about to pay for it with his life, there was a bright flash and an ear-ringing explosion. He and Suzie were smashed to the floor.
30.
If the cap fits
Panting wildly, Sarah realized that she wasn’t dreaming. As the adrenalin forced her mind back to full awareness, dissipating the effect of the drug, she began to remember what had happened.
Finding the sore spot in the middle of her back when she’d got changed into her comfortable writing clothes had puzzled her. Zits weren’t her thing. Much to the chagrin of her friends, she could eat whatever she wanted—junk food, chocolate, Thai, Indian, Mexican—it didn’t matter. Her skin always remained silky smooth. And anyway, since spending time with Ethan, she’d picked up her act diet-wise and was eating better and healthier food than ever before.
Sarah felt wonderful, but it did slightly annoy her that she couldn’t remember much about arriving. It must have been part of the tiredness and stress thing Mark Payne had told her about. She would have to ask Suzie when they had dinner together later what exactly had happened. And she wanted to know more about Mark. His kindness in providing a place of exceptional beauty was extraordinary and she couldn’t have asked for anything better.
Settling at her Dickens’ desk, she began to study the notes that had been left for her on the flex-pad. Scanning them quickly, she realized that she had a nonsensical mess on her hands. The pages were a jumble of inane ravings, often repeated as if the writer was bashing away at his pad without thinking. Reading quickly over the next hour, she flipped through the main file until she reached the end, only there finding something that seemed to start making sense. Something in the writer had finally clicked. The problem was that there wasn’t enough of the good stuff. If that was all that she had to work with, she wasn’t going to get very far. She needed to have a word with Mark.
Sarah padded across the deeply polished floor and peeped into the lounge room. Suzie was there alone having a chat with someone on her smartcom. Sarah was about to duck back into her study and leave her to it when she caught some of her conversation.
‘Dumb bitch’s like all lovey dovey now—drugged to the eyeballs,’ Suzie said, laughing. ‘That’s good stuff she’s getting. I might have to use it on a few of my opponents.’
Sarah stopped and crouched down out of sight.
‘Yup, you can tell him that she’s at work and not causing any bother now.’
Sarah crept back into the study and shut the door, conscious now of how slow her movements were. She’d been drugged, that’s why she couldn’t remember properly. But how? ‘Getting,’ Suzie had said on her com. That meant it was being given to her rather than had been given. Sarah remembered something and reached behind her back. Just under her bra strap she felt that little sore spot again. Could it be the drug—slow release maybe? It was a tiny bump, perhaps the size of half a grain of rice. There would be only one way to find out.
Suzie looked up from her flexi-pad as Sarah opened the study door with as much noise as she could.
‘Just after some coffee, would you like some?’
Suzie shook her head.
‘No, but I’ve done a barista course so I’ll make you a cup,’ she said, getting up smoothly. Sarah watched her bounce across the floor to the kitchen. She looked fit and had probably been put there because she was very capable. For once Sarah wasn’t proud of her lack of interest in exercise of any sort. She’d have to make up for it in cunning.
‘Sugar?’ Suzie said, turning from the espresso machine and putting a cappuccino down on the bench.
‘No, I’m going to start cutting down,’ Sarah declared. ‘You look so fabulously fit compared to me. Do you run?’
‘Hey thanks,’ Suzie said with a pleased grin, ‘you’re pretty svelte yourself, t
ell you the truth. I hate running, I just keep fit with my martial arts.’
While Sarah had watched Suzie grind the beans and prepare her coffee, observing her carefully to see that nothing untoward had been added, she’d taken advantage of her host’s focus on the hissing espresso machine to slip an item from the kitchen bench into the small of her back.
Sarah picked up her coffee and turned back to her study, stopping abruptly as if something had just occurred to her.
‘Hey, have you ever had a try of my bathroom—that fabulous tub?’ she asked.
‘Shit no,’ Suzie said. ‘I wouldn’t dare—guests only and all that. It looks phenomenal though.’
Sarah took a sip of coffee, sighed appreciatively and then put her cup back onto the bench.
‘Right, how about a deal?’ she said, walking towards her bathroom. ‘You keep making those brilliant cappuccinos to order and we swap bathrooms.’
Sarah could see Suzie hesitating as she thought about it.
‘No argument,’ Sarah continued. ‘I value my coffee like nothing else when I’m working and, like it or not, I’m not going to have time for any luxurious bathing. I’m going to grab my towels and throw them into your bathroom, OK?’
‘You’re on,’ Suzie laughed, ‘and if you’re that busy scribing, I’m going to hop in there and have a soak right now.’
Sarah waited until she could hear Suzie’s splashing and contented humming before she closed the bathroom door and rapidly stripped off her blouse. The long, sharp chef’s fish filleting knife she’d shoved quickly into her jeans top had left a number of nicks in her back. Well, she knew it was sharp, she thought.
Picking up the knife by its handle, she turned and looked at her reflection in the mirror. She could see the spot just to the left of her spine. Crooking her arm backwards and up, she placed the knife blade against her skin, shivering as she felt the coldness of the sharpened steel.
Slowly she maneuvered the wickedly pointed tip towards the spot on her back, took a deep breath, and dug it into her skin. Blood welled immediately, making it difficult to see, but she persevered, keeping her eyes firmly on the place where the spot had been. Her legs felt rubbery and she was sweating madly as her fingers levered the knife tip up and out of the small crater she’d made in her flesh. ‘There,’ she whispered with a sob of triumph. Stuck to the knife tip by a blob of deep red blood, was a tiny capsule.
Sarah had just enough time to clean herself up and flush the capsule before the video entry monitor buzzed. She’d stopped most of the bleeding by liberally applying stinging tea tree oil and then hauled on a chocolate colored sweater to soak up any seepage.
Afraid it was Mark Payne returning, she was hesitant.
‘Hello?’
‘Hi,’ the disembodied voice of a young male crackled back at her, ‘It’s Hunter here, and I’ve got your order from Ambrosia.’
Relieved, Sarah remembered Suzie telling her that she’d order a pile of salads for them to pick at through the day.
‘Hold on a sec,’ Sarah replied, a germ of an idea forming in her mind.
Sarah’s first knock on the bathroom door was met with silence. She knocked a little harder—just a little.
‘Umm, yeah?’ Suzie said in a muffled voice.
Sarah smiled to herself. Obviously her guard had been asleep.
‘Suzie, the guy’s here with our salads. Can I grab them? Save you having to jump out of your bath.’
Sarah’s heart pounded in the silence that followed. She decided to take a risk.
‘It sounds like he’s in a hurry. Shall I ask him to come back later?’
‘No, that’ll be a hassle,’ Suzie replied, ‘and the stuff won’t be fresh. Umm …’
‘OK what’s the code and how much do I tip him?’ Sarah shot back.
A few moments later Sarah took the delivery from Hunter in the lobby.
‘I love your hat,’ she drawled, overemphasizing her American accent as she handed him a twenty dollar tip. ‘It makes you look so cool. Hey, my son in New York collects groovy caps—any chance I can buy yours?’
‘Nah,’ the boy replied, blushing, ‘I’ll get into trouble.’
His eyes widened when Sarah held out a hundred dollar note.
‘Bet you can buy a few more with this.’
Sarah called through the bathroom door again, letting Suzie know that she’d put the salads in the fridge. The relief in Suzie’s voice when she thanked her was all too obvious and she seemed particularly pleased to see Sarah tapping away industriously when she popped her head briefly into Sarah’s study a little later.
‘You look all shiny and relaxed,’ Sarah smiled at her.
‘Oh yeah, that tub worked wonders,’ she responded. ‘Just …if you don’t mind …not mentioning the delivery thing to anyone might be good.’
‘No probs, girlfriend,’ Sarah said, turning back to her flexi-pad, wondering if Suzie would think to change the access code on the door, ‘we ladies have to stick together you know.’
*
Sarah flung the delivery boy’s cap and the tray the salads had been delivered on into a wheelie bin, allowing her hair to tumble free.
Earlier, as she munched chocolate and coffee beans waiting patiently for Suzie to go to the bathroom before she could slip through the door and down into the lobby, she had tried to formulate a plan for once she got out. Three or four times Suzie would fidget and stretch before going back to her reading, leaving Sarah peeping around her study doorway with her heart in her mouth.
And then, once free, she found running quite a problem, her drugged legs dramatically failing to respond. Twice she crashed to the pavement in an ungainly heap before her body, finally deciding to fully wake up, propelled her in the direction of the CBD to be. Beyond there she would find her hotel and maybe someone to help her.
Sarah was worried. Who could she trust now? Ethan’s boss, Mark Payne, had proved himself as treacherous as a cobra. And Ethan, where did his loyalty lie? Certainly not with her, otherwise she wouldn’t have been handed over to Payne like a piece of meat. Bastard, she thought, feeling hot tears streaming down her cheeks. She’d trusted him, loved him, and even allowed him to get close to her boys. Since he’d slipped out of her apartment in the early hours of that final morning, leaving her bed warm from his body, she’d had him buzzing around her mind. Now he could go fuck himself.
Panting heavily, Sarah slowed to a walk to get her bearings. She’d been trotting and walking fast for over an hour, an all-time record for her, and pouring sweat was stinging her eyes. She looked down the long street in front of her and noticed people hurrying in her direction.
‘Wouldn’t go down there if I were you, darlin’,’ a heavily overweight man puffed at her as he labored past.
Sarah wished she had her smartcom, but it was still sitting on her bedside table back in Paddington where she’d tried to get a signal before giving up. Collecting it from her bedroom might have spooked Suzie, so she decided to grab only her purse and take a chance at leaving the phone behind. Puzzled, she stared ahead.
Helicopters buzzed in and out of thick smoke spreading across the darkening skyline. She could also hear low rumblings that rose and fell like waves, interspersed with the anxious, penetrating wail of emergency sirens. As she continued, gruff echoes of individuals shouting became clearer. Just around the next corner she found people in large, teeming groups. Anger was in the air, along with the sharp almost musical tinkle of shattering glass.
More people darted past Sarah, some with blood streaming from face and head injuries. She came across a woman with a stroller, its wheels jammed between two parked cars. She was very young, probably Indian, and staring around in wide-eyed panic as a crowd of young, shaven haired men appeared, marching towards them. An Asian grocer standing nearby, arms folded defiantly in front of his small fruit store, was attacked by six of the mob and beaten to the ground. He was kicked over and over while others rushed inside his shop to help themselves. An old woman waving
a walking stick and screaming at them to stop was punched in the face and she collapsed onto the sidewalk.
Sarah, a veteran of anti-war demonstrations in her early days, watched in sick disbelief. She’d never seen such brutal unruliness. Bending, she twisted the stroller back and forth but it was stuck fast.
‘Better grab your kiddie,’ she shouted.
Some of the men were looking their way. One in particular, his head and face covered in lurid tattoos, was calling out.
‘Hey, boong girl, black arse, you want some white cock?’
The girl was frightened, frozen into a rabbit-like stillness.
‘Hey,’ the youth said, beginning to swagger towards them. ‘If you want to take our country, you gotta take what’s comin’ to ya.’
Sarah reached into the stroller and scrabbled among the blankets until she could pull the child out. She nudged the girl’s leg with her foot.
‘Quick, follow me,’ Sarah shouted, hugging the child to her body.
As the two women ran, a howl of anger erupted behind them. Sarah glanced back and saw three of the youths spreading out across the road in pursuit. The Indian girl, looking terrified, was at her elbow, arms pumping in a furious parody of running. Dismally, Sarah realized that neither of them had any athletic skills at all.
Risking another look, she saw that two of the youths had dropped behind and only the tattooed brute was gaining ground, his boots thudding on the sidewalk in an easy lope. The baby began to wail, adding a frighteningly normal sound to the confused madness all around them. Sarah, feeling a stitch pierce her side, knew she was done. Her earlier run had been as good as a marathon and she had nothing left in her legs. Turning she thrust the child into its mother’s arms.
‘Keep going,’ she gasped, ‘just keep going and don’t look back.’
Moments later, bending over in pain, she felt a meaty fist smack into the side of her head.
The Last Book. A Thriller Page 24