Chapter five
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D
r. Romelia Parsons paced the floor of her small cottage. Mia was long overdue - far too long overdue. And if anything happened to her, she would spill the beans, even if it meant going to prison. Mia had come to her for help: for a place to stay. And Rommy had betrayed her. She wondered how on earth, she had let Paul Lesalle persuade her to do it in the first place. Still, she had done as he had asked. She had copied the contents of Mia's disk, deleted the Jupiter file from it and then sent the file by e-mail to Paul Laselle. Paul had assured her that as soon as Mia handed over the doctored disk to the FBI everything would go back to normal. But Mia hadn't returned. She was probably in trouble.The telephone sat on a small chest in front of a large bookcase. Decisively, Romelia walked over to it and keyed in a long number, one that she had somehow committed to memory. As soon as the recorded message told her that Mia Lampton's cellphone was still switched off, she thumped the receiver back down on its cradle and rummaged furiously in her pocket for a piece of paper. Squinting at the number on that where it had become partially unreadable, she nevertheless managed to make it out and seconds later had keyed that one in.
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P
aul Lesalle was mildly irritated when his cellphone rang. He was bored with Henry Baxter's urbane chatter. And he very much wanted to be alone with Isla Lewis. He had also become rather annoyed at the way the old man continually manoeuvred himself to see down the front of Ilsa's dress.'What the hell do you want?' he blurted into the small receiver.
If he had intentionally tried to pour oil on troubled waters, he could not have done better. 'Mia's missing. Meet me in ten minutes in the hotel bar. Or, I'll go to the police,' Rommy Parsons barked at him.
'But...' he started. However, the line had gone dead.
Paul turned back to the assembled group and tried to smile. 'Something's come up,' he started. 'I'm afraid I've got to go.'
Baxter looked more than a little put out by the news. After all, he had invested all this time in the pathetic bore and so far there had been no pay back. But, he more than brightened when he heard Paul's next request.
'I should be more than an hour,' the younger man said, managing at last to smile. 'Do you think you could look after Miss Lewis for me until I return?'
'Isla had already jumped up, imagining that the phone call had been a put-up job so they could get away from these dreadful Baxter people. Now she discovered that not only did it offer no release but she was to be left alone with them.
'Paul,' she crowed in her best seductive voice, 'don't you think...'
'It's urgent business,' Paul snapped. 'You'll be better off here.'
'Come, come, my dear,' Baxter interjected in an attempt to ingratiate. Ilsa's seductive purr, may have had no effect on Lesalle. But it had worked on him rather more effectively that a double dose of viagra. 'Why don't you have another drink.'
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A
manda Thornton was sure she knew the van's destination. There were only three houses in the direction in which it had set off, and only one of those had signs of life. The trouble is it was set so far back off the road and was surrounded by such a high wall that a scouting operation was next to impossible. There was no time to get a search warrant. Any judge was bound to insist a formal approach to Henry Baxter before issuing one. And that would tip him off. Amanda would either have to go in through the front door officially, or get in illegally around the back. And the official approach looked to be out of the question. When Sheriff Wiseman had heard whom Amanda suspected, he positively freaked. Anyone of that wealth and stature was apparently untouchable as far as Wiseman was concerned. Not only had he forbidden any of his force to help Amanda in those circumstances but she suspected that he would have her arrested if she tried it alone. And this was one instance when the State's attorney would be unlikely to help her out.So as Amanda circled her way around the wall, she reflected that she had told no-one where she was headed. That would find out in due course of course, one way or another. But as for now she was on her own. When she came to the fallen tree up against the wall at the far rear of the house, she knew she had a way in.
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'N
ot too cold, I hope, Dr Lampton?' Alyssa Baxter asked her captive as she tugged on the last knot fixing Rebecca Carpenter to the small bed.Becky lay on the thin bare mattress looking up at the greying and cracked ceiling. The room was all but bare: nothing but a small round window, plastered walls, a couple of cold battered chairs and two beds side by side. It was on one of these that Becky lay, her wrists were above her head, tied tightly together and then lashed to the centre of the bed head. Her legs were stretched in the other direction, tied together at the knee and ankle with her feet crossed. She was fastened with thin, harsh cord, and each bond had been placed on particularly tightly and the binding cinched with cross-strands. Becky still wore the same gag.
'Dispose of these. She won't be needing them,' Alyssa said, handing Becky's clothes to Morgan. The younger woman had taken great delight in stripping Becky, allowing her to keep only her bra and panties. In the circumstances, Becky was amazed that she had been allowed to keep those. But that was little consolation. The demi-cup uplift bra held her breasts upwards even when she lay flat, and her string-sided panties were too small to offer other than minimal cover.
'Now, Dr Lampton,' the woman said. 'I'm going to have to leave you now. So make yourself comfortable and consider your circumstances. It should take about two hours for Daddy to work his charm on our guests. Then, I'll be back to give you some serious attention.'
Becky watched as both her captors left the room. Immediately, she struggled with the ropes attaching her to the bed. But to no effect. She lay back and waited.
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D
ebra Sinclair gritted her teeth as the rear of the swimsuit sank between her buttocks. For a minute, she had been tempted to go naked... or to wear her every-day panties. But, she finally decided to wear the suit bottom. The large picture window along the side of the pool was so exposed to anyone making their way across the hills outside, that she wondered if Paul Lesalle were a voyeur. However, as she made her way from the changing room to the poolside, Debbie caught a glance of herself in a large mirror and knew that she looked good. The high cut of her thong bottom emphasised her long legs and the narrowness of her waist; and the top made her breasts look better than ever. She made her way to the pool edge when she heard the female voice.At first she thought that it was Rebecca or Amy. It had the same educated timbre that both had. She was soon to be disabused.
'So you're his fucking bimbo,' it said.
Debbie turned around to see a well-dressed woman of about thirty. Her black hair was cut in a stylish bob, and her nylon-clad legs were shod in expensive heels. In between she wore a tailored suit.'
'What?' Debbie asked.
'Look at you,' the woman continued, rushing towards Debbie, 'all tits and arse. Oh, yes, I bet he just loves you in that ridiculous costume, your arse hanging out and your fucking tits thrust into people's faces. Don't think I don't know, you bitch. I know that he brings you here whenever he thinks I'm not watching. Well, if you want to show your fucking tits to everybody, you might as well do it properly.'
As she reached Debbie her hand went out and grabbed the front of her suit top. Debbie shuddered as the hand came into contact with her breasts and turned sideways, twisting, and using the woman's own momentum to pull her towards the pool. As both women hit the water, one fully dressed, and one about to lose her bikini top, Debbie screamed. 'I'm not who you think,' she yelled into the woman's ear.
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A
manda Thornton made her way carefully up to the rear of the large house. A flight of four concrete steps led up to a door painted military green. It opened easily and Amanda found herself in a utility room. A number of shelves held everything from jars and bottles, plant pots and gardening equipment, duct tape and rolls of twine, sizzle and rope. A second wooden door, this one in varnished pine, led to a small passage way which appeared to lead into the main part of the house. As Amanda took in the ground-floor geometry, a door on the right opened.______________________________________________________________________
D
r. Romelia Parsons wore characteristic garb. Her feet were shod in brown leather ankle boots. Her legs were encased in dark-coloured sheer nylon. And her woollen dress clung to her curves before stopping high enough on her thighs to show off excellent legs. She stood in the hotel bar with her hands in the pockets of her leather jacket.'What the hell do you want?' Lesalle asked coming towards her.
'Buy me a drink first.'
Lesalle sneered but did as he was asked. They took their drinks towards a small round table in front of an imitation real fire. Paul noted the additional expanse of thigh as she sat with approval.
'Where's Mia Lampton?' Rommy snarled.
Paul seemed genuinely taken aback.
'How the hell should I know,' he snapped. 'You brought me away from an important meeting for this?'
'You said that if I got you the codes, you'd keep Mia out of this,' she said, a tear curling up in the corner of one eye.'
'But I have.'
'Bullshit.'
Paul Lesalle stared at her, confusion in his face.
'But you haven't got me the codes yet,' he said.
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T
here was something troubling Gina Scott. She sat at her desk typing details of a random purse snatching into her computer terminal, when it hit her. She had seen Mia Lampton before - a month ago, perhaps - but where?Her mind drifted away from the case in hand to Romelia Parsons. A year or so ago, Rommy had inherited a small cottage in the town from an aunt. She had known Rommy slightly when they were at university together and although they were never friends, they got on well together. Rommy, she knew worked for a small software firm called Hamish Riley Associates. Then she remembered. She had met Mia Lampton when she had come to stay with Rommy during the summer.
Hurriedly, she turned back to the computer console and closed down the current file. Then she opened a new programme and began to input data. Minutes later she had the information she needed. Hamish Riley associates had twelve senior employees. Five of them were involved with marketing, managing and finance; five of them were software analysts; and two of them were scientists. Gina looked the last two names - Dr. Mia Lampton and Dr. Rommelia Scott. Gina tapped in another key. A second group of names came up: the firm's financial backers. Gina was stunned. There were three names on the list: Maxwell Patton, Henry Baxter and Paul Lesalle.
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T
he coldness of the water in the small pool sent shivers up Debbie's body. For a second, the two women rolled about in the water like a crocodile and a hunter in a Tarzan film. As Debbie struggled to the surface, she felt the top of her bikini come away and her breasts pop free. She thrashed on the surface with the woman for a few more seconds before pushing her away and making for the edge of the pool. As she did so, she looked back and saw the woman grope her way towards the side, weighed down by the water trapped in her clothes. Debbie had just got a hand on the rail at the side of the pool, when she felt the woman grab her ankle and pull her back. She twisted round, noted that her bikini top was floating towards the centre of the pull, and then kicked the woman free. She climbed out and then turning round, knelt down and with breasts dangling over the side of the pool held out a hand and helped the woman climb out. As she did so, she heard a noise behind her. She turned to see a tall woman wearing a black leather body suit. The woman held a large silenced automatic in her right hand.'Well, well, well. What have we here?' she asked. 'Topless synchronised swimming practice?'
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