Mrs Schlüssel bent and inspected Lisette's gag, running a stubby finger over the grooved canvas. A crooked smile split her chubby face. "The girl hasn't moved, Marm." The woman spoke over her shoulder to someone shielded from Lisette's sight by her substantial body.
Lisette heard the sound of the other person approaching along the tunnel. She wondered how many others were involved in the drug running, unnoticed in the background like the caretaker. It was a factor she had not taken into account. Lisette had seen the caretaker only once, at the dinner party on the night of the murder, and had only a vague impression of a bustling but self-effacing functionary.
"It was not intended that she should move," said the other who came into sight and stood beside Mrs Schlüssel.
With mixed feelings, Lisette saw that it was Regina Ecuestre. So Regina's cover was not blown, and for that Lisette felt relief. On the other hand, she wondered what assistance the woman could give without jeopardising her own position in the gang. Regina Ecuestre resolved the issue. "I'll take over from here," she said, bending and testing Lisette's wrist bonds.
"As you say, Marm," replied Schlüssel, backing away a step.
"She's loosened her bonds. Didn't you notice?" asked Regina accusingly.
"N- No, Marm. I only just got here …" The woman's voice trailed off in embarrassment.
"Never mind. I'll set the matter right. Start inventorying and preparing the rest of the crates while I deal with the girl."
"Yes, Marm." Mrs Schlüssel left hurriedly, disappearing immediately from sight into the deeper gloom of the tunnel and no doubt glad to be away from Regina's censorious eyes.
Regina Ecuestre knelt behind Lisette and began to work on the knots that held her wrists. When they came free the woman crossed Lisette's hands again and retied them. Lisette fully expected the cord to be bound tightly, to prevent further attempts at escape. Instead she discovered with an upsurge of hope that Regina was tying her hands more loosely than before.
"That will hold you, Sweetie," said Regina in a loud voice that was no doubt designed for the Schlüssel woman, who could be heard blundering among the packing cases deeper in the tunnel. Chuckling softly into Lisette's ear in a whisper, Regina continued: "Really Miss Rivers, you do get yourself into trouble. You look delicious all tied up, but not in these circumstances."
"Mph?"
"I can't give you anything to drink, and there's not much time before the others come, but I can do one thing." Regina produced a pocket knife from a sheath fixed to the belt of her jodhpurs and held it up. It glinted with blue flame in the torchlight. Lisette saw that it was a sort of Swiss Army affair with multiple attachments. "Pretty nifty eh?" said the woman proudly. "See, there's even a blade for getting stones out of horse's hooves, indispensable for my hobby. But this is what I need right now." She opened a pair of stubby scissors. "Safety scissors," she went on. "That piece of canvas is too tight over your face to pull down easily, and the knot looks welded into the back of your neck. A good thing your hair's cushioning it."
Without further words, Regina inserted one of the blades into the narrow gap between the canvas gag where it passed across Lisette's jaw line and delicately snipped through the tough material. When the gag fell away, she untied the blue silk scarf from Lisette's neck and stuffed it into the young woman's mouth before she had a chance to speak. She then took a neatly folded white silk scarf from a pocket, shook it out, folded it again but this time into a broad band, and bound it firmly across Lisette's mouth.
"Listen carefully," said Regina. "The tunnel continues to the cliff. They'll be busy packing the last shipment and they won't take much notice of you as long as you keep still. Don't try to get the gag off - it will look tight enough unless they inspect closely - and even pretend to be semi-conscious. When everyone's busy, take your chance to slip away, otherwise you'll be going out with the shipment."
Lisette nodded.
"There are steps cut into the cliff wall that will lead you to the top. Once you're out, go at once to your cottage and stay put - no more exploring! I'll try to get word to you when the gang's on the move. Then you warn the police."
Regina Ecuestre untied the cords that bound Lisette's ankles together and pulled her to her feet. Gripping her prisoner firmly by an upper arm, she guided her further into the back of the tunnel. After walking about forty paces - which made the distance covered something like thirty metres - they came to a point where the man-made cave widened out into a small room. Wooden boxes stood ranked against one wall. Mrs Schlüssel, clipboard in hand and now wearing a dustcoat with her hair tied back, appeared to be making an inventory. The factotum scarcely glanced towards them as Regina led Lisette to a stone archway through which the tunnel continued.
Lisette was deposited on the floor and propped against one base of the arch that was half in shadows. Regina squatted before her, her back to the Schlüssel woman screening Lisette from sight, and wound the piece of cord loosely around Lisette's ankles without tying a knot. She ruffled Lisette's hair affectionately before getting to her feet and joining the other woman.
Lisette waited less than half a minute before she made her escape. Carefully, so as not to strike a stone and betray her movements, she edged deeper into the shadows. A few kicks with her feet ensured that the cord fell from her ankles. She leaned forward and eased one hand out of the cord that loosely bound her wrists. With her hands and feet now free, she rolled into a crouch and rose to her feet, one hand supporting her against the wall. Treading carefully in the dark, she began to negotiate the tunnel. The light of the storage area gradually receded behind her.
When she had taken half a dozen paces, Lisette raised a hand to her face and pulled Regina's silk scarf from her mouth, letting it fall about her neck. She extracted the other scarf and slipped the sodden silk into a pocket of her jacket. She was finicky about scarves used to gag her and usually threw them away upon getting free. But this was her own, a favourite blue scarf, and dry cleaning would be enough to get out the wrinkles and her own saliva.
After the next few paces, the tunnel took a left-hand curve and Lisette could see a gash of mid-afternoon light at the far end. As she approached, the man-made tunnel narrowed and gave way to a natural fissure in the rock. She had to get down on hands and knees to cover the last two metres. She could now hear the sound of the wind whistling and buffeting about the cliff, and the crash of the waves at its base became more pronounced. Soon she was crouching at the cave mouth, her hair whipped about her face by the salt-laden wind.
Lisette looked down into the maelstrom far below and shivered. Closer at hand her eyes picked out a line of narrow steps cut into the rock about a metre below her. They appeared to run diagonally across the cliff face towards the edge somewhere high above and away to her right. Where the steps began could not be determined. Somewhere near the foot of the cliff, she supposed, but they disappeared around a prominence to her lower left.
Lisette swung her legs over the lip of the cave and lowered herself carefully towards the steps, turning her body to face the cliff face as she did so. Her feet made firm contact with a step and she braced her arms, gripping the edge of the cave floor, now at midriff height. Moving crabwise, she took the next step, which brought her to the side of the cave. For an anxious moment she thought that she was going to face a smooth wall when she found that a narrow metal railing was bolted into the cliff. It was no more than a thin tube but it was something to hold on to at waist height and felt secure enough. Remembering the old advice not to look down when negotiating heights, she found that she could walk step by step, steadying herself as she went by holding on to the thin railing.
The wind grew stronger as she moved, a late afternoon squall approaching from far out in the Channel. The gusts clutched at Lisette and buffeted her by turns, threatening to overbalance her with every move. The salt spray made the steps slippery. Some steps were missing and Lisette had to spreadeagle her legs to reach the next one. At one spot where two steps had been eroded away by the force of the elements she lost her footing. All that saved her from falling to the roiling waves below was the railing, which she gripped determinedly. But she managed to pull herself along and reach the next step, and so succeeded moment by moment in crossing the cliff wall until tree roots brushing against her face told her that she was close to the top.
The steps ended a metre below the cliff top. Lisette had to hoist herself up in a reverse movement to that taken from the cave. She rolled onto course grass and moss and lay exhausted beneath a stunted bush. The wind was howling now and the sky becoming darker with every minute. Heavy drops of rain began to splatter upon the thin soil where she lay. By the looks of it the coast was in for a gale force storm.
When Sunny Virtue opened the door of Swallowtail Cottage to repeated knocking, a drenched and bedraggled Lisette Rivers fell into her arms. Lisette's friend had made the front room more comfortable as the storm increased its fury by lighting the ready-made fire, and it was here that she set Lisette down in an armchair with a large mug of hot chocolate when she had changed out of her drenched clothes. Lisette now wore dark slacks, light flat soled shoes, and a loose fitting white cotton blouse. The room was already too warm to make the wearing of a pullover necessary, and Sunny wore an equally comfortable ensemble of black velvet skirt with a blue silk blouse open at the throat.
"Oh my, you look like something the cat dragged in," Sunny exclaimed as she sat on the edge of the armchair opposite Lisette, who was settling onto the floor so as to be closer to the fire.
"Fraff?" Rasputin Thermodux the First regarded Sunny disapprovingly from his corner cushion by the fireplace.
Lisette smiled wanly. "I've had another brush with that gang. They held me in an old smuggler's cave. It's off the lane just before you reach the lighthouse. They were doing an inventory of crates, some sort of contraband. That woman Regina Ecuestre helped me escape. I climbed out on steps in the cliff."
"I know those steps," said Sunny in alarm. "The rock climbing club from the village use them. They're very dangerous for someone inexperienced. Not without a harness anyway … You made it, obviously!"
Lisette gave a self-deprecatory moue. "I'm not very experienced so I was lucky." She took another sip of her cocoa and asked: "Did Detective Sergeant Chipps visit?"
"Oh yes!" cried Sunny eagerly. "She walked along the wall to the door. There was no satchel of course, but she did find an old piece of leather. She took it away for forensic tests."
"Good. The other gang member who was there when I was a prisoner was the caretaker, Mrs Schlüssel. But there must be others, and if more of them are caught their DNA might be found on that scrap of leather ... Sunny, I think the gang's far bigger than we thought, and some of them are only a few kilometres away down that lane. I don't think we're very safe in this little cottage."
"Well," said Sunny with a businesslike air, rising and darting to the phone, "we'd better get away from here and find police protection in the village."
"I think that's a very good idea," said Lisette as she drank down the rest of her chocolate.
It was one of the old-fashioned telephones, with a circular dial instead of buttons. As Sunny dialled, Lisette scrambled to her feet against the background whirring, startling Rasputin who promptly disappeared, as cats do. "I'll get my coat and put a few things together."
Lisette had almost reached the doorway into the hall when she was stopped by a sudden cry from Sunny. "Lisa, the phone's gone dead! For a moment the Corby's End exchange answered, then everything went silent."
"Probably the storm," said Lisette reassuringly. "It's blowing a real gale outside now, hear it? We'll just have to drive through it in my car and hope for the best … What is it?"
Sunny Virtue was standing rock still, the phone's receiver useless in her fingers, one hand to her mouth in alarm. She was looking wide-eyed beyond Lisette to the doorway. Lisette turned and found herself face to face with a grinning Brick Simenov. His trench coat was wet, his hair matted and streaked, but this did not in any way diminish the triumph in his expression. Behind him and slightly to one side stood his boss, the Big Man, similarly attired, an equally satisfied smirk on his face, and a strange looking pistol in his hand that was trained on a point midway between Lisette and Sunny. Lisette backed slowly into the room as the two men advanced.
"I hope that neither of you girls will get any silly ideas about resisting us," said Simenov dangerously.
Lisette shook her head, her mouth suddenly dry.
"No indeed," added the Big Man, hefting the odd-looking pistol. "This little baby fires a hypodermic dart, the sort they use for big game hunting, but manufactured on a smaller scale for human prey. It will knock you out within seconds, but the after-effect of the sting will remain with you for a long time when you have regained consciousness."
From a pocket of his trench coat Simenov withdrew a large roll of very wide black electrical masking tape. He approached Lisette.
There was nothing either Lisette or Sunny could do. Within the space of a minute their wrists were taped together behind their backs under at least twelve layers of the sticky material. Simenov moved to face Lisette, who looked back at her captor defiantly. "I see your head wound is healing nicely …" Lisette observed ironically, and became immediately silent as her mouth was sealed by another sticky piece.
Fifteen minutes later, Lisette and Sunny lay side by side upon a thick patterned rug, sealed within the small cylinder behind a truck's cabin that under normal circumstances was used as a sleeping bunk by the driver. They were locked inside as effectively as if they were in the boot of a car. Their legs were taped at ankles and knees, and tape wound about their torsos trussed their arms tightly to their bodies. They were bound at these points under a dozen layers, just as their hands were.
Additional tape had been wound about their heads and over their mouths to make certain that they could not shift the gags. Sunny whimpered softly in the darkness. It was the only sound that she or Lisette were able to make from under the tape that pursed their lips tightly shut. Their bodies rocked helplessly with the movement of the vehicle. Lisette fought uselessly against her bonds, straining without achieving any measure of slack.
They caught us so easily. This time it's not only myself; they have Sunny too. We can't move. We can scarcely make a sound. No one will be out in this storm to notice one lone truck on the road … We know too much. They can't risk letting us go free this time. They'll take us somewhere far away and probably hold us for a time before they kill us.
Lisette had survived many similar adventures, but this time she was beginning to think that luck had run out. There was no hidden blade she could draw upon to cut their bonds. That was in the seam of a belt in her bedroom at Swallowtail Cottage. What was needed desperately, and soon please, was the miracle of rescue. As the truck rumbled into the late afternoon gloom, its windscreen wipers dashing the heavy rain from side to side, a miracle of sorts unfolded.
The miracle was not God-given although assisted by Nature, but man-made, and it came from an unexpected source. As the truck emerged onto an open road it slowed and dropped into low gear to negotiate a long hill. Before it had reached the crest, three trench-coated figures stepped onto the roadway and hailed it down. Criminals in trucks faced by pedestrians may be tempted to gather speed and run the cordon. What made this decision problematic was: (a) the truck moving slowly against the gravity of the hill, and (b) the three interlocutors were armed. One carried a large automatic pistol. The other held a machine-gun. The driver attempted nevertheless to force his way through.
Lisette and Sunny flinched in their metal enclosure as bullets pinged and ricocheted about the truck's front cabin. The individual cough of the automatic pistol came to them muted by distance and the thick upholstery of the seat, and by the iron tube in which they lay, but it was disconcerting enough, especially when augmented by the stutter of a machine-gun. There were distant shouts and angry voices. Someone screamed.
A second miracle took place. The wail of a police siren started up in the distance and, as it approached, it added to the cacophony around the truck. Although Lisette and Sunny did not know it at that moment, the driver lost control of his vehicle due to a bullet wound in his arm. The truck swayed to one side, slid, and in slow motion lumbered into a ditch where it tilted forward before settling upon its nose, one wheel spinning in the air. Lisette and Sunny bounced on the thick rug and tumbled to one end of their coffin, a commixture of young womanhood.
The several minutes that followed were filled with confusion. Lisette and Sunny were lifted semi-conscious from their narrow prison. Both were dimly aware of the tape being cut from their bodies and snipped carefully from their faces, peeled off delicately so as not to tear the soft skin of their lips. They were wrapped in space blankets and lifted into an ambulance. Oxygen masks were strapped over their faces and they drifted in and out of consciousness as the vehicle sped along the main road to the village of Corby's End.
An hour later, Lisette and Sunny were discharged from the hospital into the custody of DI Hereward Fysshe and DS Poppy Chipps. Sunny had a small bruise on her forehead where she had struck the side of the capsule. Lisette had abrasions on one arm from the same cause. Apart from those slight injuries, their bodies and spirits had been restored with blankets and warm liquids, countering the after-effects of shock, a recovery facilitated by the fitness of youth.
Now they were in the interview room of the Corby's End Central Police facing a tape recorder and a disgruntled Detective Inspector Fysshe across the narrow table, the Detective Sergeant beside him, notebook at the ready.
DI Fysshe sighed, leaned forward and depressed the Record button: "Interview of Miss Lisette Rivers, also called Ruisseau, and Miss Sunny Virtue, commencing eleven twenty-five pm on Friday …" He gave the month and date and sat back. He wondered whether this was going to be another one of those days. He cleared his throat: "Miss Rivers, you have some explaining to do."
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