Jonathan Everest - The tortured tourists

"We spent almost two hours there, hoping that the Consulate General would get back from Paris, and be able to trigger more action. Finally, we started walking back to the hotel. I was too nervous to ride in one of those taxis."

"Several blocks from the hotel, a car pulled up, and Gerault got out and walked up to me. He said that he had been asked to take us to pick you up. We all crowded around the cab, and he grabbed your mother and pulled her inside, where he held a gun on her to force Tommy and me to cooperate. He kept the gun on Ann until we pulled up in an alley, where he and Le Boeuf blindfolded us. All the time, he kept insisting that he was bringing us to meet you, but couldn't let us know where the meeting place was."

"We thought it was perhaps some more pressure; that they would let us see you in some sort of miserable condition, thinking that I would give in and pay them. But their note obviously meant what it said – they'd already given me the last chance to pay." Fleming's voice almost broke as he implied his failure to handle the situation properly. "Like you said, Daddy – they seem to intend for us to leave here alive. Whatever else happens, we'll just have to bear up under it."

Fleming had no chance to reply to this. The door at the top of the stairs opened, and all three of their captors descended, carrying trays of food. Yvette was her same, seemingly unemotional self, and Le Boeuf appeared only to be concerned with his duties as waiter. But Gerault was smiling evilly, and Darla knew he was anticipating the "entertainment" he'd mentioned. She shuddered as she tried to eat the first bites of the dish before her.

Trays balanced on their knees as they squatted, all four of the captives started their meal slowly, but hunger hastened their moves. The pieces of lamb and vegetables were actually quite palatable, although at this point, none of them really enjoyed it.

When the trays were gathered up, Gerault withdrew with his companions, but as he reached the middle of the stairway, he turned his head and addressed the miserable family over his shoulder.

"The fun starts in two hours. I'll leave you to think about it as your meal settles. A bientot!"

It seemed much less than two hours between Gerault's mocking departure and his return. But Fleming knew that the Frenchman's timing was precise; because their captors had permitted the family to keep their timepieces, Fleming had been able to check the big pocket watch he always carried – partly as an affectation, and partly because it was an heirloom.

During that compressed two-hour interlude, considerable conversation had accomplished only one thing for the prisoners. Discussing their predicament had lessened its effects. The feeling of togetherness, the sharing of the burden, made it easier. Darla felt this more strongly, since she had suffered the only solitary confinement. Now, there was hope that, combining their capabilities, they might be able to figure ways to escape.

But before any specific ideas came to light, they were interrupted by Gerault's appearance. Le Boeuf was with him. The pair descended the stairs and approached the wall occupied by Fleming and Darla.

"We shall establish some basic facts before we go any further," Gerault told them. He was gazing into Fleming's eyes, but both he and his audience of four knew it concerned them all.

"Any and all attempts to escape will result in punishment. You have my guarantee that no matter what you imagine, your punishment will more than compensate me for any trouble you cause. You will be wise to believe this and guide your behavior accordingly."

"Non-cooperation also will be punished. Certain things will be asked – no, demanded – of each of you. You will comply with every request; obey every command; accomplish everything you are told to do. Each and every failure will result in punishment. Hesitation, if it is enough to provoke me, will merit the same punishment as a refusal. Now, are there any doubts that I mean what I say?" He looked at each of the captives in turn, and as their eyes met the sadistic evil which glinted in his dark orbs, they accepted his statements without question. "Take Mr. Fleming upstairs, Le Boeuf." Gerault's words were barely uttered when the Moroccan inserted a key in Fleming's ankle cuffs. When these shackles were released, he unlocked the cuffs on the prisoner's wrists. Then he walked to the stairs and began to ascend. Le Boeuf followed him at a safe distance. When he reached the top of the steps, he found himself in a large old kitchen. Yvette was standing by the opposite wall, and the efficient-looking pistol she held was aimed at his stomach. It was equipped with a silencer, he noted. That, in itself, told him two things: only a professional, with good underworld connections, could acquire a silencer. And its use implied a continued desire for silence and secrecy. Obviously, their captors did not want anyone dropping in to investigate the sound of a gunshot.

He was herded through the kitchen and a connecting room, which probably was a dining room, but which was unfurnished, now. Then he was guided through a hall and into a large, ground-floor bedroom. It was furnished only with a large double bed and two chairs.

"Remove all your clothes," said Yvette, who had followed him as far as the doorway, and continued to level the gun in his direction. He looked at her sharply, but decided against argument. He undressed down to his undershirt and shorts.

"I said 'all your clothes' and that means everything!" Her tone advised him against hesitation. He finished, and stood there naked, glumly eying the neat pile of clothes he'd made on one of the two occasional chairs. His shoes and socks were on the floor beside the chair. A casual observer arriving now would give him credit for his neatness. Yvette grinned at this orderly display. Such arrangements were not part of her habitual characteristics.

"Inside!" Gerault's voice came from the hall. Fleming turned to see his daughter being shoved into the bedroom. She had seen her father's nudity, and was keeping her eyes averted. He grabbed his shorts from the chair and held them in front of his groin.

"Forget the modesty, Mr. Fleming. In a few minutes, you will be more familiar with your daughter than you have been since she was an infant – and she with you. Off with your clothes, Darla!"

The girl heaved a sigh of resignation, then slowly began to remove her blouse. In a few minutes, she had used the other chair to arrange a pile of clothing as neat as her father's.

"Bien! Now, on the bed – both of you!" Gerault's voice was like a whip. Fleming looked at him unbelievingly, and couldn't contain his anger and shock.

"You must be mad! What in the none of God are you thinking of?"

"You do not believe that, Mr. Fleming. Surely you are intelligent enough to know that you must humor a madman in his every whim. But I am a fanatic about being obeyed. You will cause no further delay, or you will see your daughter suffer for your folly! Now, get in bed with her. Immediately!"

Fleming sat on the bed, noting that Darla already had complied.

"Lie down, and embrace each other as lovers. Quickly!"

Fleming's shocked mind couldn't convince him that this was actually happening. Certainly Gerault was bluffing. No one could expect him to comply with such a monstrous command! He looked up at the Frenchman in disbelief, and the expression on Gerault's face told him what he dared not accept.

"Mr. Fleming, perhaps we can speed things up if I explain one more thing to you. I intend to turn you loose to permit you to gather up the ransom money, which now, by the way, has doubled, because of the additional trouble you've caused us."

"Naturally, I will expect you not to return here with the authorities. First, you do not know where we are; you will be released at a safe place in Marseilles, and you will return there with the money. Second, I am going to have some photographs of your entire family-photographs which I am sure you will not want to see fall into the wrong hands; in fact, you will very much want to destroy these pictures."