The Secret Life of Kitty Granger

by G. D. Falksen

  Kitty clenched her hands shut. Get yourself together. Put the film back!

  She was too caught up in her thoughts to pay attention when one of the cars behind her pulled out from its parking space. Kitty only heard the roar of the engine when it sped up to reach her, and then the squeal of tires as it lurched to a stop in front of her. She stared, dumbfounded, as the side door opened and a grizzled man in a leather jacket got out.

  Run! Kitty screamed to herself.

  This time she did listen. Her instinct was to freeze in shock, and that was what her conscious mind did, but the impulsive part of her subconscious wasn’t having any of it. The same part of her brain that had driven her to follow the man, to wipe away the chalk, to remove the brick, and to take the film assumed control again. Kitty dashed for the intersection.

  As she rounded the back of the car, a second man with an unpleasant-looking mustache grabbed her from the side and slammed her against the wall. Kitty started to scream, but the man with the mustache covered her mouth with his hand. His companion reached them and pulled out a knife.

  “Don’t you dare make a sound, girl,” he growled, waving the knife in front of her eye. “One peep and I’ll slit your throat.”

  Kitty froze in terror, unable even to whimper. She was going to die.

  “Christ!” the mustached man said. “She’s just a kid.”

  “I don’t care if she’s your bloody gran,” snarled his companion. He grabbed Kitty’s handbag and pulled out the film canister. “The boss was right: they’re onto Higgins. Girl must’ve followed him when he left to make the drop.”

  “We can’t stay here,” Mustache said, glancing down the street. “They wouldn’t send a girl to follow him on her own. There’s probably someone else a few minutes behind.”

  The other man nodded and grabbed Kitty by the scruff of the neck. He dragged her away from the wall and toward the back of the car.

  “We take her to the boss,” he replied. “Open the trunk.”

  “No! No, please!” Kitty cried.

  She tried to explain that she didn’t know anything about Higgins or the film or anything at all really, but each time she tried it just came out as a confused jumble of words that didn’t make sense even to her. She kept trying to explain as the men dragged her to the car and shoved her into the trunk. Kitty was sobbing and shaking, overwhelmed as much by the looping thoughts inside her head as by abject terror. Never in her life had she imagined something like this might happen to her, and she still didn’t fully understand what was going on.

  Have to get out. You’re going to die. It’s all a mistake.

  Have to get out. You’re going to die. It’s all a mistake.

  Have to get out. You’re going to die. It’s all a mistake.

  The trunk slammed shut, sealing her in darkness, leaving her alone in the embrace of fear.

  Chapter 3

  Kitty huddled in a ball on the floor of the trunk, arms wrapped around her knees to make herself as compact as possible. She felt herself shuddering, but it was a strange, disassociated experience. Her mind turned in circles as it tried to make sense of what had happened, and she found it impossible to do anything but stare ahead into the darkness.

  The kidnappers drove slowly, probably to avoid attention from the police. That was good: it meant Kitty wasn’t sent sliding around the trunk, banging into everything. Not that it helped her situation at all. She tried to count the number of turns, how many minutes had passed, anything to give some sense of where they were going. It didn’t work, but at least the counting became a half-hearted distraction.

  Eventually the car turned another corner and slowed to a stop. Kitty had fallen into a kind of motionless trance, which sometimes happened when she started to panic. She shook herself and shivered. The air smelled like petrol, and it was disgusting.

  She heard the kidnappers get out of the car and start speaking to someone. A few moments later the trunk door opened, showering Kitty with bright light. She had been in the dark long enough that it hurt her eyes, and she squinted to keep from being blinded. Hands reached for her and she started thrashing around, feebly trying to fight back.

  Her resistance was met with the back of someone’s hand across her face. She didn’t give up struggling, but the sudden pain startled her long enough for the men to drag her out. The man with the mustache held her arms with a painful grip and forced her to stand up.

  Breathe. Breathe. Breathe, Kitty told herself. Stay calm. Stay in charge.

  She wanted to scream and panic. She wanted to lash out at the men and run for her life. Right now that wasn’t going to work.

  Kitty looked around to get her bearings. She was in a large garage, which was filled with so much assorted junk that it somehow managed to feel claustrophobic despite its size. Three cars stood in a row near the doors, waiting to be serviced, underneath the watchful eye of an upstairs manager’s office with wide glass windows. Barrels and crates lined the walls, and Kitty’s gaze was drawn toward a towering pile of boxes that looked like it might topple over in a strong breeze. It was so precarious, it made Kitty uncomfortable just to see it. The whole garage screamed danger!

  Near the office stairs was a table occupied by four men in work coveralls who were playing cards. Well, had been playing cards. As Kitty was hauled out of the trunk, they got up and approached the two kidnappers. A seventh man in an everyday suit came down from the office to join them. This man was older than the rest, probably about fifty. He looked angry, and Kitty wasn’t sure if it was because of her or someone else.

  “What the hell is going on?” the older man demanded, pointing at Kitty. “Who is that and why is she here?”

  “Sorry, boss,” said the man in the leather coat. “Higgins is compromised.”

  “What?” The boss practically spat with anger. “Are you sure?”

  Mustache answered. “This girl was following him. After he made the drop, she snatched up the film. Good thing you had us watching the site, or we’d never have known.”

  “Dammit,” the boss said. The men in coveralls exchanged looks, and one of them muttered something that Kitty didn’t understand. The boss snapped his head around and shouted at his underling, “You know the rules! No Russian!”

  “Yessir,” the underling replied.

  The boss turned his attention to Kitty. He approached her, studying her with an intense stare that made Kitty shiver. She didn’t like being looked at directly, and she turned her face away. The boss grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him.

  “Well now, young miss,” the boss said, “who are you?”

  “I’m—I’m nobody,” Kitty whispered, still trying to turn away. Her eyes darted around, trying to look anywhere but at the man and his angry expression.

  The boss answered her in a cruel, half-singsong voice. “That’s not true, missy. Everybody’s somebody. Now, you should answer my questions when I ask them. This will go better for you.”

  A lump formed in Kitty’s throat and she swallowed.

  “I’m, um,” she stammered, “I’m Kitty.”

  “Kitty, eh?” the boss asked. He chuckled. “Well, Kitty, you’re in a lot of trouble.” He snapped his fingers and addressed his men. “Chair. Now.”

  Before Kitty could ask what was going on, the man with the mustache dragged her over to a chair and shoved her into it. Kitty gripped the armrests, shaking with fear. She looked around for an exit. There were two big garage doors for the cars, but they were both closed. A side door stood on the other end of the room, just past the boxes, but she couldn’t tell if it was locked.

  The boss pulled up another chair and sat across from Kitty. “Now then, Kitty,” he said to her, “I want you to tell me who you work for.”

  Kitty shook her head. “I don’t work for nobody. Honest, sir.”

  “Then why were you following Mr. Higgins?”

  The boss spoke in a soft, patronizing tone, like he was trying to be kind and considerate when both of them knew he wasn�
��t.

  “I—I just were curious, sir,” Kitty answered.

  “Curious?”

  “I were seated beside ’im on the bus,” Kitty explained. “An’ ’e were just so fidgety, I wanted to follow an’ see why. I didn’t mean no harm, honest.” She gave a nervous smile and hoped it was disarming. “Just curious, like I said.”

  The boss chuckled and patted her knee, which made Kitty shudder and pull away.

  “Well, Kitty, you know what they say about curiosity and the cat, don’t you?”

  “Please, I dunno nothin’!” Kitty cried.

  The boss glanced at the two kidnappers and asked, “Did Higgins deliver the film?”

  “Yes, boss,” said the man in the leather coat, as he handed over the film canister. “Girl had picked it up when we found her. Put the thing in her bag, was gonna run off with it.”

  “Now why would an innocent girl do a thing like that?” the boss asked Kitty. He waved the film canister in front of her nose. “Were you ‘curious’ about that too?”

  “I just—I noticed the brick were in the wrong place an’ I thought I’d take a look.” Kitty tried to sound calm and sensible, but everything was coming out frantic and muddled. “I would’ve put it back where I found it, honest!”

  The boss gave her a dramatic sigh. “Listen here, girl: we both know you’re lying. Now, if you tell me the truth, you won’t get hurt. But if you keep lying . . . well, it won’t go very nicely for you. Understand?”

  Kitty nodded quickly.

  “Good.” The boss handed the film canister to one of his men and murmured, “Put this in the safe until we can get it to Dmitri.”

  “What about Higgins?”

  “Find him and dispose of him. Our friend at the Ministry of Defense has outlived his usefulness.”

  The underling nodded and went into the upstairs office with the film. The boss turned back to Kitty, still pretending that there was a way for her to save herself if she cooperated.

  “Now then, girl,” he said, “tell me who sent you to follow Higgins.”

  Kitty shook her head. “No one, sir, I swear—”

  “Ah!” the boss held up his hand. “One more lie and I will lose my patience. Who sent you? Was it Gascoigne? Jones?” His expression twisted into a hideous snarl of impatience. “Give me a name!”

  Kitty pressed herself deeper into the chair and held up her hands as a shield. She had to delay long enough to think of some way out. But what could she say that would convince them to keep her alive?

  “There . . . there were a lady on the bus!” she exclaimed.

  “A lady?”

  Kitty nodded. “An Indian lady. Very posh. She—um—she paid me to follow that man Higgins an’—an’ she said if ’e dropped anythin’ along the way, I were to take it an’ bring it back to ’er.”

  She tensed, afraid that the lie wouldn’t be believed. To her surprise, the boss smiled.

  “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he asked, patting her cheek. Kitty pulled away. The touch made Kitty want to scrub her face until it was raw. Chuckling, the boss got up and approached his men. “A posh Indian lady?” he asked.

  “Sounds like one of Pryce’s lot,” said the man with the mustache.

  The man in the leather jacket frowned. “Odd. I saw a posh Indian lady while I was watching the docks last night. She had on this fancy fur coat. I assumed she’d been at a club. Came up to me drunk, asking for directions.” The man laughed at the memory. “Before I can say ‘clear off,’ she trips over herself, falls flat on the pavement, then gets up and wobbles away.”

  His laughter died away as the other men stared at him.

  “You don’t think it was the same person, do you?”

  “You’re an idiot, Mark,” the boss snapped. “Ten to one Pryce knows who you are now.”

  “She didn’t take photographs or anything, I’m certain of it,” Mark insisted. “And she just came straight to the side of the car. Never saw the license plates.”

  “Someone change them anyway,” the boss said. “I’ll deal with you later,” he added to Mark. Then he called to Kitty, “How were you supposed to meet this woman, to give her the film?”

  Kitty searched around for an answer. “Um . . . we were to meet at the British Museum at three, an’ I’d give ’er whatever I took from Mr. Higgins.”

  “Good.” The boss rubbed his hands together, looking pleased. “Boys, I think we’re due a trip to the British Museum. I daresay our mystery woman can tell us how much Pryce knows about our little operation here.”

  Mark looked at Kitty and asked, “What about the girl?”

  “Put her upstairs. You’ll have to stay behind anyway. Work the girl over a bit, see if she knows anything else.” The boss cast a glance at Kitty. “I think she’s hiding something.”

  Kitty shrank back more, until it seemed she couldn’t get any smaller in the chair.

  The boss rubbed his chin with his thumb and asked, “Mark, which car were you driving last night?”

  “Same one as today,” Mark began. His voice faded away and he turned pale. “You don’t think—?”

  The boss turned bright red with anger and shouted, “Tripped over herself, did she? Fell onto the pavement? You mean this mystery woman was lying down next to your car and you never thought to check what she was doing?” He snapped his fingers and pointed at the car. “Search it! Search it now!”

  Three of the men rushed to obey him. They began crawling around the car, looking at every nook and cranny.

  Kitty’s eyes sifted back and forth as she watched the men. They weren’t paying any attention to her now. Kitty glanced at the side door. No one was near it. It might be unlocked. That was better than nothing.

  Moving cautiously, she got up and tiptoed toward the door, casting glances back at her kidnappers as she went. Once they saw her, she would have to run. But if she ran now, she’d make too much noise and they’d immediately notice she was trying to escape.

  One of the men pulled a small metal box out from under the car. He held it up for the boss’s inspection, and the boss started shouting.

  “A radio beacon. You bloody idiot, Mark! They know where we are now! They could’ve been following you all day!”

  Mark backed away and raised his hands. “Easy, boss. I messed up, I know, but we can fix this. Those radio devices, they can’t work miracles, can they? If someone’s followed us here, they’ll have to search the buildings one at a time to find us.” Mark looked around at the other men to back him up. “Let’s wait in ambush, and if someone shows, we’ll kill ’em.”

  The boss slowly nodded. He reached inside his coat and pulled out a short revolver. “That’s good. That might work. Someone get upstairs and watch the road. I want to know when they arrive.” He turned and pointed toward the empty chair. “And tie up the g—bloody hell!”

  His eyes locked on Kitty, who was only a few paces from the door now. Kitty ran.

  The door was unlocked. She shoved it open and bolted outside. She was in an alleyway that ran alongside the garage, leading toward a long courtyard shared by several different buildings. She couldn’t tell if any of them were occupied.

  Kitty screamed for help. She kept running, of course, but a person could scream and run at the same time. Kitty had always been rather good at it.

  She made it around to the front of the building before the man called Mark caught up with her. He grabbed her from behind and clapped a hand over her mouth, stifling Kitty’s cries. Kitty struggled with all her might, but there was no contest.

  Kitty had made her grand escape and it had failed. She was done for, and she knew it.

  Chapter 4

  Kitty didn’t stop fighting even as Mark dragged her back inside the garage. She kicked and squirmed and thrashed violently, almost knocking her attacker off his feet twice. He practically threw her back into the wooden chair. Kitty flinched from the impact but she was on her feet again in an instant. That impulsive part of her brain that refused to sit s
till had taken over. All she could think about was the one-track idea of escape. There was the door: she had to get to the door.

  Two of the other men grabbed her shoulders and slammed her back into the chair, hard. That was almost painful enough to break Kitty out of her fixation. She shook her head a few times, trying to make sense of the fact that she was sitting rather than running. Finally, conscious thought took over again and her eyes focused on the face of the boss gazing down at her.

  The impulse to flee finally died away, and Kitty shrank back in fear.

  “That was a very foolish thing to do, girl,” the boss snarled. “You are going to regret that.”

  He was lying and Kitty knew it. That made her angry.

  “What can you do that you weren’t plannin’ on a’ready?” she retorted, though the words came out in a half-stutter. “Gonna kill me twice? That it?”

  “I . . .” The boss wagged his finger at her, but having reality presented to him, he had no rebuttal. “Well, you’re going to regret it anyway. Simon, get the blowtorch!”

  Kitty shuddered, inwardly casting about for some way to avert her fate. She couldn’t run. She couldn’t fight. They were all too big and too fast.

  Beg, Kitty told herself. Beg for mercy.

  Except that Kitty couldn’t form the words. Panic overwhelmed her. She tried to pull away from the men holding her down, but they tightened their grip and forced her against the chair. She was trapped.

  Kitty started thrashing violently. It was practically automatic, something she did when her mind just couldn’t cope anymore. It had been the worst when she was a small child. Since then, she had taught herself how to keep most of it suppressed, but now the fear and the noise and the boss’s shouting were too much for her to handle.

  She swung her head back and forth, trying to sense something—anything!—through the haze of fear and noise. She felt her head connect with someone’s face and one of the kidnappers started screaming in pain. That only made things worse.