Хилари Боннер - Deadly Dance

When Saslow came round, she had no idea where she was. For just a split second, she could not even remember what had happened to her. Then she saw Willis and she remembered it all. That’s when the pain hit her, surging though her body. The second blow had been much harder than the first. She realised she’d been concussed, more than that, she had been rendered unconscious.

He was standing at a table and seemed to be sorting through the contents of a box. He had his back to her. She tried to speak. Her head hurt, a lot. Her right cheek hurt worst of all. Without thinking, she tried to raise a hand to touch it. She was still handcuffed behind her back. Her ankles were handcuffed too. She realised she was half-sitting, half-lying on a concrete floor, with her upper back against a wall. She wriggled, involuntarily struggling to move, but she was chained to the wall. Willis had looped one of the cuffs on her wrist through a thick, metal chain.

She looked around her. She was in some sort of dimly lit room without windows. This was her prison now. The air was dank and heavy. She wondered if it was underground.

She wondered if she would die there.

She was finding it difficult to breathe. It felt as if her nose and throat were blocked. She tried to speak again, but was aware only of a gurgling sound. Willis turned around then. Only, she could barely recognise him as Willis. The man she’d thought of, not really as a friend like some of those she worked with, but certainly as a close colleague, perhaps her closest colleague. Someone trustworthy upon whom she could rely. This was not Willis. This was some madman, with eyes cold as ice.

He moved towards her. Willis was tall, a good six feet, and the celling in the room was low. He couldn’t quite stand up fully. So he walked with his head slightly bowed and when he stood above her, his bent upper body loomed over her. He reached out with one hand. Saslow was absolutely terrified. Was this it? Was he going to kill her? She cowered away from him, as best she could given her handcuffed hands and feet.

‘Don’t worry, you snivelling bitch, I can hardly bare to touch you,’ he hissed at her. Then she saw he was carrying a plastic bottle of water. He placed the neck of it between her lips and tipped. She gulped down as much as she could, desperate for it. Her throat seemed to clear. Then water began to dribble down her chin. She couldn’t take any more. Mercifully, he removed the bottle before she choked. She gasped for air. Her breathing seemed a little easier, but she could barely speak. Her voice was little more than a whisper.

‘What are you going to do with me?’ she asked.

‘That depends on your friends, your police friends,’ he said. ‘If they follow my orders, I will tell them where you are. Then they will come for you, I suppose. If they disobey me, well, you will die, eventually.’

She heard herself begin to sob.

‘What did you expect?’ he asked coolly. ‘You aren’t a total fool, are you?’

Saslow was suddenly aware that she was losing control of her bladder. She knew that fear did that. She had seen it happen, but never thought it would happen to her.

‘I need to go to the toilet,’ she said. ‘Quickly.’

He shrugged.

‘There is no toilet here,’ he said.

She heard herself pleading with him.

‘Please, I need to go. I can’t hold it much longer…’

He shrugged and turned away.

She couldn’t help it. She began to urinate. The liquid poured from her, seeping through her clothes and leaking on to the floor. He turned back to face her.

‘You filthy, filthy bitch,’ he growled.

Then he stepped towards her and slapped her twice across her already battered face. She screamed with pain. He stepped back and just stared at her.

‘I couldn’t help it,’ Saslow stammered, aware that anything she did which offended him, would only make him more dangerous. ‘I told you I needed to go. I couldn’t stop it.’

He stepped towards her again and began to unlock the handcuffs on her wrists.

‘If you try to struggle I shall hit you again,’ he said. ‘And this time I shall not be so gentle. If you want a chance of living, do not resist me. Never resist me.’

He removed the handcuff on her right wrist. The one on her left was still fastened to the chain, which attached to the wall.

‘You are alive only because you are useful to me,’ he said. ‘I am not a common criminal. I do not kill or cause pain unless I have to. I am Aeolus, I am the ruler of the winds. I am honourable. I now seek only safe passage. If I am given it, I shall tell them where you are. If not, I shall never reveal your whereabouts and you will not be found, Dawn Saslow. I am telling you this because I want you to know that, if that is what happens, it will not be my fault. It is not part of my plan that you should die.’

He then fetched a bucket from the far side of the room, which he placed beside her.

‘Your toilet, madam,’ he said. ‘Although it seems you know how to do without one.’ His lips curled with distaste.

He went back to the table and brought to her the box he had been sorting through. In it were some basic supplies: packets of biscuits, tins of meat, baked beans and two more bottles of water.

‘You have provisions here to keep you alive, until they get to you. There’s probably enough for a week or so. I would expect them to get to you before that, long before that. Indeed, if they don’t, I suggest you conserve your rations, because that means they have double-crossed me. If they double-cross me, I shall tell them nothing and your life will end here.’

He leered at her. She made herself try to think. What could she say, what could she ask for that might help her?

‘Why don’t you unchain me and free my legs?’ she asked. ‘The handcuffs are too small for my ankles. My feet have gone numb. After all, you said you didn’t want to cause me unnecessary pain. You said you were honourable. And what am I going to do? I accept what you say. I will never be able to get out of here, once you have gone, unless they come to get me.’

‘I do not take unnecessary risks,’ he said. ‘You will remain cuffed and chained. You will just have to hope that Vogel does not try to be clever, that he does my bidding. Then you will be freed. Then and if.’

She made one last attempt to talk to him. He was Willis after all. The man she had worked alongside for almost six months — or at least that was one part of him. Perhaps, if she appealed to that part of him, she might get through.

‘John,’ she said. ‘C’mon. You and I have always been chums. I would never do anything to harm you. Set me free and I’ll try to help you.’

‘Who is this John?’ he asked. ‘I know no John.’

As he spoke, she realised it was hopeless. He turned and walked to the far side of her prison. She watched him pick up a suitcase, clearly pre-packed. Ready for this eventuality, presumably. She realised he was now going to leave her. He took a small torch from his pocket and turned it on. Then he flicked a switch on the wall. The terrible, little room was plunged into darkness, apart from the narrow beam from his torch.

She lost control again then. She’d done her best to engage him and failed. It was over now, probably for good. She began to scream. She could no longer see his face, but she could hear his voice all right. That awful, hissing apology for a voice, half-pompous and half-threatening, the voice that was not Willis any more. The voice that was Aeolus.

‘Make all the noise you like,’ he said. ‘Scream and scream with all your might. You will not be heard. Nobody will hear you.’

She was lying in her own urine and she could feel her bowels beginning to move. She had no control at all over her body any more. She was aware of him leaving though, and the sound of some sort of very heavy object sliding across the floor. Then he’d gone and there was only darkness.