Three Ladies Kidnapped · Part 2 (2/2)
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lves could hear it raining softly outside.
"Well ladies," the trench coated one said, smiling cheerfully, her hands deep in its pockets, "You'll be pleased to know that negotiations are going along very well. So well, that it looks as if you'll all be out of here and back where you came from in a little over twenty four hours." It was assumed that this meant dealings with Marjorie's family. "I thought that might cheer you up." It did.
"And," she continued, "My other news is that I want to have a short private talk with you, Irene. Which we'll have to have outside, raining though it is. There being no privacy in here." She reached up, lifted Irene's black raincoat off its peg and tossed it onto the bed alongside where its owner was sitting. "It's raining steadily so I suggest you wear this. And your rain hat and rain boots." She laughed, "It's fortunate you were so suitably dressed when we removed you."
Irene stared blankly at the woman and then at the waterproof it had been intimated she should wear. "Of course you can come as you are,"
her captor went on, "But I can assure you, you'll be soaked through in the ten minutes or so we'll be out there. The rain here is very persistent and penetrating."
Irene decided she had better dress for the weather outside. She buttoned up her raincoat to the neck, stepped into her rain boots which had been neatly aligned beside the bed and pulled the rain hat over her head. The woman watched her. "Very good," she said when this was done, "And now, turn around please." The wet weather geared captive looked at her suspiciously but turned her back. The trench coated woman crossed her wrists behind her and after pulling a webbing tape from her pocket, bound them firmly. "Just to keep you secure while we're out of the house, dear," she explained.
"And now," she went on, "One final further precaution." The big silent woman pulled a length of chain about eight feet long out of one of her raincoat pockets. One end she looped firmly around Irene's waist and secured it with a solid looking padlock. The other end went around her companion's midriff above the belt of her trench coat and was locked the same way. The two were now joined together with about a yard and a half of stout chain between them. The woman laughed. "Just so we don't get separated in the dark while we're outside. And so you don't get any ideas of running off either. In any case, there's a lot of bush around here and you'd only come to grief, lost in that." She continued, "My colleague will hold the keys to both locks. She'll release us when we get back inside."
"Let's go," she said, grabbing the chain in one hand and pulling Irene through the door with her. The quiet woman closed it after them and remained inside with the two other captives.
Outside, it was raining steadily. It made a soft pattering sound on the proofed fabric of their raincoats. Irene was glad hers was designed for this sort of weather.
The woman steered them firmly away from the house. As she had said it was pitch dark. Irene could feel short grass under her feet and then, what appeared to be packed gravel. The ground was clear of obstacles which was just as well as they could see nothing in the wet darkness.
After walking about thirty yards in the rain the woman stopped.
Turning round, Irene could see some lighted windows of the country homestead behind them. The long horizontal barred opening of the room they had just left was easy to identify. "I think this will do," she said. The two faced each other in the dark.
"As I said before," the trench coated woman said, "You were in the wrong place at the wrong time. We had no alternative but to take you along with the other two. As you may have gathered by now our real interest is in Marjorie." She went on, "Her full name's Marjorie Bertrand. You know? Bertrand Pharmaceuticals. Very wealthy people.
They'll do anything to get their daughter back safe and sound. Which, you'll be pleased to hear, is just what they're doing."
Irene wondered why she was being told this. But the woman sounded reasonable, someone you could talk to, given the right circumstances.
She decided to answer forthrightly.
"And, I suppose," she replied, "If the Bertrand family hadn't been so co-operative you'd have murdered all three of us."
The woman laughed, "What an imagination. You don't know how difficult that would be in reality, do you? Not to mention the problems it'd cause." She added soberly, "Or how wasteful and unbusinesslike it would be."
"Wasteful? Unbusinesslike?" Irene's perplexity grew. Clearly she was out of her depth here.
"You don't really understand, do you? Our organization is just like any other business. We like to make the best profit we can." The woman seemed to feel she should explain. "Just bringing you three here has cost us a great deal. Now, let's assume that the Bertrands had refused to pay up. We've got to get a return on our outlay. In certain parts of the Middle East, the Far East, even Latin America, there's a great demand for attractive young lady computer specialists, such as your two companions. They'd be bound and gagged, perhaps drugged, put on an long range aircraft and whisked out of the country. And by a circuitous route, but they'd end up overseas. Oh, they wouldn't like it at first but they'd be working with state of the art equipment.
They'd also be the personal property of some magnate, but they'd get used to that too. They're all filthy rich, but well educated. They can afford to be with the billions they've got. They just like their own personal household playthings. Mixing business with pleasure you might say. And," she added, "We make many thousands supplying them in the first place. That's how we make our money, or some of it anyway."
Irene was flabbergasted. The woman went on. "Where we're standing now is a very good private airstrip. If the Bertrand clan had refused to co-operate, a well equipped private jet would have arrived one evening, taken them on board and they'd be on their way to a new life in distant places. And you'd have been going with them."
Her captive found her voice again. "And what about me?" Irene protested, "I'm not a computer professional. I'm just a librarian. I don't even have a university degree." She went on, obviously very aggrieved, "Where would I have ended up? Scrubbing floors somewhere?
Or in a brothel?"
This was also considered amusing. "Your imagination again, Irene dear.
And you have a deplorable tendency to think the worst of things. The reality is that you'd be the easiest and probably the most profitable of the three of you to handle." She explained. "There's a lot of stored paper – documents, charts, books – in these overseas complexes and trained librarians to look after it are very much in demand. And then many of these moguls have extensive private libraries, of which they're very proud. I told you they're well educated. And if they can get a professional who understands their collections and with whom they can indulge themselves when they feel like it, they're prepared to pay handsomely for them."
She went on, "By the time they've got a worthwhile collection, they're of mid years and want a librarian with experience. Someone their own age group. And they prefer Western women as most of the paperwork is in English. And so," she concluded, "Dear Irene, we'd do very well out of yourself, if we ever had to dispose of you."
Irene was speechless. The trench coated woman ended their discourse with a final statement. "But none of this will come to pass as the Bertrand family is paying up as required. However," she made a final warning, "If any one of you ever breathes a word of this, makes any official report, even talks about it, then…" She spoke very sternly, "All three of you will disappear forever. The Bertrands have been told this as well. I hope I make myself clear."
Her listener nodded. "Very well then," the woman was amiable once more. "This had to be explained. You can tell the others. Let's go back to the house."
The two rain coated, chained women walked back through the softly falling rain to the house. Once again the three spent the night comfortably, if somewhat uneasily.
The next day was spent waiting. Irene told the other two just what the woman had said. Tamsin was indignant but mindful of the threat of vanishing forever. Marjorie said little. It seemed the prospect of abduction and being held for ransom had been with her for many years.
All three wanted the business over as quickly as possible.
At one stage they pushed the chairs together under the long window, stood on them and looked out. Outside they saw a flat, level grassy strip which appeared to be over a mile long. It looked as if it had been prepared for the coming and going of aircraft. Beyond this was a range of low, heavily timbered hills. The prisoners got the impression of complete isolation.
Darkness fell at the end of the second day. After evening meal all three captors, the man and the two women came into the captives' room.
They were informed they were all going home. Irene and Tamsin were made to put on the raincoat and overcoat they had worn on their capture. Marjorie still managed to look neat in her blue business suit, despite two days of captivity. Once again their wrists were tied behind their backs and their arms lashed to their sides. The gags were produced and despite their protests, were forced into the mouths of all three.
The van had been parked outside their place of captivity. The trio were led out and forced to get into it. Once inside they were seated again and their legs and ankles bound. As with their arrival, the trench coated woman rode in the back with the captives. Still smiling, she indulged in a little cheerful banter, telling her fellow travellers of the career opportunities they had missed, not going to the Far East or South America. The ladies were not amused.
Once again they travelled for several hours, only this time they were driven to the home of Marjorie's parents, not to the mountain suburb from which the three had been abducted. Quietly stopping in the driveway of an opulent residence in a very affluent residential area, the trio were removed from the van and hustled inside. Here they found the house under the control of two of their abductors' group. Mr and Mrs Bertrand were there, seated on their comfortable and expensive lounge. They were not saying anything. Both had been heavily sedated.
The three captives were made sit down in armchairs arranged in a semi circle facing the drugged parents. Once again, their ankles and thighs were securely tied. They learned that Marjorie's parents would wake up in about an hour and release them and there would be a joyful reunion.
The woman in the raincoat told them this. She stood there, firmly belted and fully buttoned, her hands deep in its pockets. She seemed to live in this coat. She also told them in no uncertain terms what would happen to them if they so much as breathed a word of the events of the last two days. Then she turned and walked out of the house.
They heard the van quietly driven off.
About a week later things were, more or less, back to normal. All three of the abducted trio were back in their mountain suburb. They were even back at their jobs. Their kidnapping had taken place over a weekend and no one in the entire neighbourhood, had even noticed they were gone.
Irene was back in her library. None of her colleagues had the slightest idea where she had been just over a week ago. Nor did she enlighten them, though she thought about it frequently.
Early, mid afternoon was a slack time for book borrowing and Irene often had little to do. During such periods there was plenty of time to think. Since her temporary deprivation of liberty she sometimes reflected on what being a librarian under duress overseas would really have been like? She wondered.
More interesting than making lists of overdue books she was sure.
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Three Ladies Kidnapped · Part 2 (2/2)
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