by Mel Comley
Headquarters assured him they would keep an eye on Baldwin’s progress, and that he should get the situation he was now caught up in sorted out ASAP.
Tony stepped out of the car and into a crowd of fuming locals, who had clearly taken the elderly Frenchman’s side, despite the old man ramming him in the side. The far-off sirens made him wonder if the police were coming to attend to the dead Lieutenant, or the fracas now surrounding him. Either way, he got more pissed off by the minute and promised himself he’d never step foot in Bourges again.
The situation was turning out to be so farcical, the thought crossed Tony’s mind that Baldwin had set up the accident.
As the police car came to a standstill alongside his, the other driver’s frustration and exuberance at being the centre of attention heightened. By this time Tony’s own frustration bordered on red alert. Because of the language barrier, if his other disastrous encounters were anything to go by, things could get worse as he predicted the trouble he would have explaining his side of the story to the cops.
Two slightly built officers approached him, their guns on view, tucked into their belts and their sleeves pushed up past the elbows. One of them had his notebook out and ready, and the older of the two men demanded to know, in French of course, what had happened. If they did speak any English, Tony got the impression they had no intention of using it. He leaned against his hired car and watched nonplussed, the exchange taking place between the coppers and the careless driver.
Out of the blue, a smartly dressed, well-coiffed woman in her early-thirties said in a raised voice, ‘Non …’ The area fell silent, and everyone turned to face the woman, who was wearing a "don’t mess with me" kind of look on her heavily made up face.
‘Madame?’ asked the younger officer.
The woman stepped into the road and approached them, then she turned to the careless driver and wagged her finger in his face. Every now and then she looked or pointed in Tony’s direction. After she’d finished her rant, the woman turned to Tony and explained in perfect English what she’d said. ‘I told the officers that the old man came out of the turning without stopping. That he did not check to see if the road was clear. I saw the incident from the hairdresser’s opposite. You were not at fault, monsieur. This man is an idiot and I told ‘im so. I do not like to see the English taken advantage of. My husband is English and we see it a lot around here.’
‘I’m very grateful. Would you mind translating for me? I’d like to know if I’m going to be charged with an offence, or if I am free to continue my urgent journey.’
‘Of course, a moment please.’ Her face softened slightly to match her tone and she explained Tony’s position to the officers. The old man had the decency to look ashamed, the officers nodded a lot and then the woman addressed him once more. ‘Okay, they say you are free to go, but first you must show them your driver’s licence and rental agreement for the car. They will be charging the old man for careless or reckless driving. I’m sorry, monsieur for any inconvenience caused, you should be on your way soon.’
‘I’m most grateful, madame. You have restored my faith in the French people.’
The woman blushed and went on her way. Half an hour later Tony was free to go too. The first thing he did was contact Headquarters to see how far ahead Baldwin’s car was. They told him the Lexus had been travelling at the speed limit and didn’t appear to be in any kind of rush, which was good news for him; they also told him they had an inclination that Baldwin was heading for St Etienne. It was the nearest big town. That would break Baldwin’s journey on his way down to Monaco.
Tony glanced at his watch, 4:30 pm which meant he only had another hour’s worth of daylight left, putting his foot down he resumed the chase.
* * *
An uncomfortable silence filled the plush car. Lorne had her head leaning against the window pretending to be asleep. She’d maintained that same position for the past couple of hours. Her nose remained sore, but at least it had stopped bleeding.
During the drive Baldwin had continually run his hand up and down her slender thigh and even searched out her groin on several occasions, but somehow she’d managed to prevent herself from flinching. She’d tried to use the time well, thinking up several ways to get herself out of her dire situation. Unfortunately, most of the scenarios she’d come up with involved some form of weapon to aid her, which she clearly didn’t have.
Her thoughts had been interspersed with prayers, too. She had prayed that Tony would track her down with reinforcements and she also prayed her father would carry out his threat and call for backup if she forgot to ring him on time. After experiencing Baldwin’s brutality first hand, thoughts of Charlie popped up, causing her further pain and anguish. She had no trouble imagining the terror and fear her darling teenage daughter must have gone through the previous year and again marvelled at how well she had shrugged off her ordeal since.
The car slowed down and took the next exit off the motorway. Lorne pretended to stir and yawned.
Baldwin leaned towards her, pressing his athletic body up against hers and whispered, ‘Nice sleep?’
Lorne’s hand balled into a fist and she swallowed back more bile. She wanted to ask where they were heading, but the thought of receiving another punch to her already broken nose stopped her. Instead, she did as she was told and responded to his question. ‘Yes.’
His hand once again reached between her thighs, and rubbed back and forth, sending her body rigid with fear. Her eyes automatically closed, but she could have kicked herself when her actions gave Baldwin the wrong impression.
‘Enjoying that are you?’ he asked in a hushed voice.
She tried to lift her leg, but his thumb dug into her thigh, forcing it to drop back down, his hand intensified its intrusion and she was powerless to stop it.
‘That’s right, Lorne, resist the urge to strike out, I’ll take what I want with or without your permission.’
Her nails dug into the palms of both her hands and a shiver, she could no longer hold back swept through her body. Oh God, please somebody rescue me soon.
Baldwin removed his hand as the car came to a standstill outside another plush hotel at their destination, the Inter-Hotel Actuel. Lorne noticed an airport sign further up the road and wondered if that had any connection with Baldwin’s choice of that particular hotel in St Etienne. Within seconds of them stopping, Lorne was yanked across the back seat and out onto the bustling pavement. They stepped into the boutique hotel, Baldwin’s arm wrapped around her shoulder. ‘Any crap and you’ll end up like Rene. Smile and at least look as if you’re enjoying yourself.’ He dug his fingers into her shoulder and guided her through the marbled floor reception area and over to the front desk.
‘Bonjour, monsieur et madame, avez-vous une reservation?’
‘No. My wife and I would like a room for one night only.’
‘Ah, you are English. Of course, a suite or a double room?’
Baldwin turned and smiled. ‘I think a suite, don’t you, darling?’
A forced smile lit up her face and Lorne nodded eagerly at her fake husband.
Baldwin turned back to the receptionist and said, ‘My wife is kind of shy, it’s our honeymoon, you see.’
Lorne’s stomach dropped when the pretty brunette tapped the side of her nose and winked at Lorne. ‘I understand completely, I am a newlywed myself too. I will give you this room it is empty either side, so you will not be disturbed.’ She chuckled, turned her back, and plucked a key attached to a gold key-ring from the board behind and placed it on the counter in front of them.
Dumb bitch, can’t you see there is something wrong with my nose? Lorne peered over his shoulder to see what Baldwin was writing on the reservation form and felt sick. Mr and Mrs Smith.
With the false smile still stretching across her face Lorne followed the bellboy into the lift, Baldwin one step behind her, watching her every move. When the young man opened the door to the suite and stepped back allowing them to e
nter, Lorne couldn’t help being amazed at the size of it. Its grandeur was something she’d never experienced before, anywhere.
Baldwin tipped and dismissed the bellboy and Lorne’s fear rose again. The thought of being alone with him made her skin crawl. She wiped away a bead of sweat running down her cheek. Her abductor laughed, enjoying her obvious signs of discomfort.
‘Why don’t we make ourselves comfortable? Would you like a drink?’
Lorne shuddered, she didn’t know what side of him she liked the least. At least when he was being nasty and punching her, she knew where she stood. The more pleasant, caring side he was portraying left her feeling as though she had a block of ice taped to her back. She shook her head, determined to leave her mind clear, alert and ready to pounce on any chance of escape that may arise.
Baldwin’s eyes screwed up and he studied her before opening up the mini- bar. Taking out a couple of miniature bottles of vodka he tipped them into two glasses, walked over and stood in front of her. ‘Drink it.’
His tone warned of what would happen should she refuse the drink. Her hand shook as she took the glass, despite her best efforts not to show how scared she was being in the same room with him, alone. Baldwin’s eyes sparkled with amusement. He downed his drink in one and glared at her expecting her to do the same. She knocked her drink back suppressing the burning sensation as it hit the back of her throat.
Baldwin laughed. ‘Granted, not the best Vodka I’ve tasted, but it’ll do.’ The smile disappeared from his handsome face and fear shot through Lorne again when he said, ‘Now, get undressed.’
Chapter Thirty-Seven
As he drove towards St Etienne, Tony debated whether or not he should ring Sam Collins. He had already told Headquarters he needed reinforcements, and they’d agreed to send two more agents to help. Wow, two more!
As he approached a green sign telling him his destination was only 9 kilometres ahead, Tony decided Lorne’s father had a right to know she was missing. He reached into her handbag that was lying in the passenger footwell, grabbed her phone and searched through the numbers, stopping when ‘dad’ showed on the display and placed the call.
‘Lorne!Everything all right?’
Tony cleared his throat, ‘Er … Mr Collins …’
‘Who is this? Why are you using my daughter’s phone? Warner, is that you?’
‘It is, Sam …’
‘Well? For Christ’s sake, man, tell me what’s happened?’
He could hear the fear in Sam’s voice and Tony briefly contemplated how he should proceed. He was aware how close Lorne was to her father. ‘First of all I want to assure you that everything is in hand. I’ve called for back-up— ’
‘Warner, just tell me … I want to know everything?’
So he told him, everything. He didn’t feel the need to disguise how dire the situation was or to hold back anything. Sam Collins was an ex-copper after all.
He heard the man expel the breath he’d been holding in, then grunt a little, as if he’d sunk into a chair. ‘Sam? You all right?’ he queried, concerned for the older man’s health.
‘I’m catching the first flight out. I know you want to stay on their tail so don’t bother telling me you’ll meet me. You say you think they’re heading for Monaco?’
Tony thumped the steering wheel this was the last thing he wanted. If Sam came out, he’d feel duty bound to look after him and that would mean he wouldn’t be able to put as much effort into finding, or rescuing Lorne. He tried his best to dissuade him, but Sam had other ideas, and it was obvious to Tony who Lorne had inherited her stubborn streak from.
‘Okay, Sam, you win. I reckon they’ll reach the coast in a couple of days, probably on Thursday. I could arrange for a car to meet you at the airport in Nice, it’s not far from there. I’ll get the driver to bring you to the hotel where I’ll be staying. How does that sound?’
‘I appreciate it, Tony. You understand my need to be there, don’t you?’
‘Completely. Make the arrangements and then get back to me. And, Sam?’
‘Yes?’
‘Try not to worry about, Lorne. You know what a tough girl she is. I’m sure he won’t hurt her.’
There was a pause before Sam spoke again. ‘We’ll see, Tony. I hope you’re right though. Speak soon.’
They both hung up and as Tony concentrated on driving through his ever darkening surroundings, he wondered about the accuracy of his words. Would Lorne be all right? Did she have enough balls and willpower to overcome anything The Unicorn was about to throw at her.
* * *
Lorne was stark naked and standing before Baldwin. Her hands dropped down in front of her trying to shield her pubic area from his searching, amused eyes.
‘Funny that … your daughter didn’t hide her modesty when she was standing naked in front of me.’ He laughed, carefully watching her reaction. ‘Mind you she didn’t really get the chance to, what with my men holding her down whi— ’
‘You disgusting pig,’ she shrieked and ran at him, quickly shortening the space between them, she pounded her fists on his puffed out chest.
Baldwin held firm and allowed her a couple of thumps, before he grabbed both her wrists and squashed them in one of his giant hands. Lorne stopped struggling, finding the pain unbearable, it was so bad she thought one of her bones would snap any second. His other hand stroked its way up and down her nakedness, pausing now and then as he watched her expressions alternate between fear, pain and hatred.
‘Shall I show you how disgusting I can be, Lorne?’ he asked, his words full of undisguised meaning.
She gulped noisily and pleaded with her eyes. But as he reached into the pocket of his black suit trousers and pulled out a small tin the size of a Golden Virginia Tobacco tin her grandfather used to carry, she knew no matter what sort of fight she put up against this man there would only ever be one outcome. He had a strength she had never come across before, you idiot, of course he has, he was SAS wasn’t he?
‘Please, no drugs … I won’t cause you any more trouble … Please.’
He smirked, and flicked off the lid to the tin with his thumb revealing a syringe and a small vial of clear liquid. Her heart sank and her stomach knotted. But then she realised it wouldn’t be possible for him to inject her given their positions. Baldwin seemed to have the same idea, because before she knew what was happening he’d thrown her face down on the bed. Quickly she scampered up to the headboard and covered herself with one of the pillows. Baldwin’s face registered annoyance as he filled the syringe, whilst keeping half an eye on Lorne.
‘No. Please … I’m begging you!’ Lorne decided to play the role of a damsel in distress, while her mind actively searched for a way out of her difficult situation.
‘As they say in all the best Carry On films, Lorne, you’ll only feel a little prick.’ His satanic laughter filled the room. As he walked towards the bed, her face showed signs of fear, but inside her determination was growing all the time. Closer and closer he came with a knowing smirk twisting his mouth.
Wait, not yet. Be patient. With one hand clutching at the pillow shielding her body she reached behind her and felt for the lamp. Baldwin’s eyes were fixed on hers as the brass base of the lamp felt cold to her touch. He climbed onto the bed and kept coming towards her. Lorne dropped the pillow to hold his attention, his lecherous eyes dropped to Lorne’s breasts. Her plan had worked. She took the opportunity and grabbed the lamp, thump! Baldwin slumped onto her legs as the heavy base connected with his skull.
Shit, that wasn’t supposed to happen. Thankfully, Baldwin was out cold, how long that would last was anybody’s guess. Lorne pushed at the heavy man at the same time she tried to free her legs from under him. Panting from her exertions, she finally broke free, ran over to her clothes and quickly threw them on keeping her eye on Baldwin lying face down on the bed, blood seeping from the side of his head.
Finding it hard to believe she’d succeeded in escaping his clutches, Lorne eased
open the door, exhaling with relief when she saw the corridor was empty, she’d expected at least one of Baldwin’s men to be standing on guard outside. After pulling the door closed behind her she walked swiftly down the hallway and jumped into the lift. Hope his goons aren’t hanging around downstairs.
The doors slid back to reveal an almost empty reception area. Rather than ask for help from the receptionist Lorne ran out of the hotel and into the chilly evening, the street was aglow from the nearby street-lights. Panic gnawed her insides, she ducked down a narrow side road and followed, an old man in a beret accompanied by an old lady pulling a shopping trolley behind her, up a slight hill.
‘Excusez-moi,’ Lorne mumbled, as she squeezed past the pair of them. The man touched his hat and said something in French that she didn’t understand. She smiled and continued down the narrow street, past the backyards, some of which had barking dogs running around warding off would be intruders, until she came to the opening that lead to a busy main road.
Looking first one way then the other, she decided going to the right would be her best option. There was much more traffic travelling in that direction, which was always a good indication, something her father had taught her years ago when she’d first passed her driving test in case she ever got lost.
Lorne cautiously walked down the heaving pavement, dipping into the odd shop doorway pretending to admire their wares, before glancing back in the direction she’d come from keeping an eye open for Baldwin or his men. With the coast clear she set off again in search of a public telephone.
Ten minutes later she located a telephone outside a local Tabac. The next dilemma she needed to overcome was how she would pay for the call, her bag and purse were back in the car with Tony. Frantically she hunted through every pocket but to no avail.
‘Madame?’ A voice startled her, slowly she turned to face a middle-aged man giving her a puzzled look.
Wracking her brain she attempted to recall the few phrases of French she knew, ‘Parlez-vous Anglaise?’
