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Header: Mia Chantal is rescued from the clutches of the robbers by Melody Hazard and Miles deVille. Detail from Thrilling Detective, compiler Carl McGuire in Bondage Photo Treasures #15, Oct. 1986, p. 24.

Footer: Mia’s black cloth gag. From film ‘Perfect Lady,’ Panty DiDcap.

‘That’s not a bad job you’ve done there, Hudson,’ exclaimed Johnny Montague spontaneously on seeing Melody lying bound, gagged and helpless on the bed. ‘Tried to get away did she?’

‘Uh huh,’ Hudson grunted noncommitally.

‘Wha d’you think Karl, tight enough?’

Karl bent over Melody and inspected her wrist and ankle bonds critically. Melody kept her eyes closed and pretended that she was still unconscious. ‘Yeah,’ said Karl, reluctantly Melody thought, ‘There’s hope for you yet.’ He turned Melody onto her back and inspected her gag. ‘Whee hoo, you sure tied one on there!’ Karl whistled appreciatively. ‘Can’t hardly get my finger between this and her cheek.’

Melody decided it was about time she showed signs of recovery. She fluttered her eyelids, flared her nostrils, and groaned softly into her gag. Her body ached so much, and she was so exhausted from the continuing ordeal, that it was not difficult to look totally vulnerable. She was helpless. I’m taking a desperate gambit, she thought dully. I do hope that Hudson will help us both get away when the chance comes. I don’t think I can stand much more of this. She rolled her head limply to one side.

Johnny Montague clapped his hand a single time in triumph. The sharp report made Melody cringe against the blanket on which she lay. ‘It’s all clear what we can do now,’ Montague crowed to his two henchmen. ‘Hey Hudson, how’d you like to drive for us again?’

‘Yeah, sure,’ Hudson responded eagerly, ‘I’d like that, boss. I’se good at drivin I am. Ain’t I, Karl?’

‘The best,’ answered Karl patronisingly.

What are they planning for Hudson? Thought Melody with sudden misgivings. They’re being too nice to him, playing him along. It must be some sort of trap. She wondered whether the big man understood this possibility. If Karl and Montague went out of the room awhile, and if Hudson thought to take off her gag, she could try to warn him, at least bring it to the slow-witted man’s attention.

But plans were afoot. Johnny Montague began talking rapidly to Karl and Hudson. ‘Okay, get everything we need packed in the van. Big thing now is to go fetch that diamond. It’ll be too bad if there’re any tenants in that apartment. Have your sandbag ready Karl. The woman can stay here. She’s not going anywhere tied like that. She can join her two friends when the job’s done. And we’ll decide then what to do with all three of them. Okay, get a move on Hudson.’

Montague turned and walked to the door with Hudson in his wake Then he stopped and looked back at Karl who had not moved. ‘What’s the matter now?’ he asked inexasperation. ‘It’ll be dark soon, and we’ve got to get rid of that van and pick up a quieter getaway auto.’

‘Jus’ gonna make sure our pretty guest doesn’t get any smart ideas when we’re gone,’ said Karl darkly. He walked to the corner of the room and picked up the pile of rope that lay there.

Melody’s heart sank and she felt sick with fear and hopelessness. Not only would it be impossible for Hudson to be alone with her so that she would have a chance of talking to him, it looked as though she was going to be tied more securely. She had begun to form a plan to somehow hop or roll out of the house through one of the poorly boarded-up windows, in the hope that someone passing by in the street would see her and come to her aid. But that plan depended on her remaining only bound hand and foot. If she was tied down to something, to the bed on which she lay or to a chair again, or in a hogtie, there would be no hope.

Karl took Melody roughly by the shoulders and sat her up on the bed. Something snapped in her, and Melody began to struggle hysterically against his hands. But she was tied too well, and her struggles served only to amuse Karl, and then make him angry.

‘I think you need a little more quietening down,’ Karl gritted through his teeth. A long piece of torn bed sheet was untangled from the bundle of rope. Karl shook it out, then folded it into a three-inch wide bandage This was now tied across Melody’s mouth, mercifully just below her nose so she could still manage to breathe, and knotted very tightly. The extra thickness of the cloth and its constriction over her mouth and jaw reduced Melody’s cries to a faint mewing. Somehow this worked on her and Melody’s hysteria ended as abruptly as it had begun.

Karl started to pay out a seemingly never-ending piece of rope. He folded it to half its length and turned once again to Melody who by now was sitting quietly on the bed, cowed, and watching him with large frightened eyes. But Karl did not put her into a simple hogtie as Melody expected. It was far worse.

Melody’s knees were bent towards her chest and the long piece of rope looped behind them and around her back. It was passed around her body in this way three times before being tightened, the knot secured between her shoulder blades The tightening had the effect of forcing her knees hard against her chest, putting her into a restricted folded position with her face hard up against her knees.

Karl then rolled Melody onto her side and tied a shorter length of rope to her ankles, cinching it between where they were already bound. It was then passed behind her and looped between the cinch made by the cords that tied her wrists. When this piece was tightened, cinching the cinch that was already in place, the rope cut painfully between the cheeks of her buttocks.

Melody cried into her gag, mewing at the very personal indignity while Karl chuckled gleefully. Tears stung Melody’s eyes. She was trussed immoveably in a combination of the folded position and a hogtie.

Johnny Montague appeared at the doorway. ‘Hurry up Karl. Stop playing with the woman and come. The bloody diamond’s more important than your sadistic pleasures.’

‘Jus’ a mo,’ Karl grunted. With several shorter pieces of cord, Karl cinched the ropes around Melody’s body so that they could not be slipped. One length went around the back of the young woman’s neck and anchored her face against her knees even more tightly. Melody was then rocked playfully backwards and forwards several times before being rolled onto her side, where she remained, completely unable to move. ‘They calls this a ball-tie, hee hee,’ Karl giggled.

Karl’s footsteps receded into the hallway and in a moment the sick motor of the van roared into life. Melody listened as it’s sound slowly faded across the ruined suburban blocks. She was alone, and in a far worse predicament that when wired to the rickety chair. The rope burned against the tender and most private parts of her. The thin silk of her panties did little to cushion the chafing every time she moved. Not that she could move much. Trussed into a tight ball, gagged so thoroughly that only the merest mewing escaped, she was as helpless as she had been when wrapped in a blanket and wearing Karl’s discipline helmet. But at least then she had been lying prone, not folded into a constricted bundle of pain.

Hudson was with the gang as their driver and there was no way he could come to her aid. Any assistance from him would have to wait till the gang returned. There was no helping it. With a sob of mingled frustration and misery, Melody settled down as well as she could to wait out the agonising hours before the gang’s return. And they would be empty handed, without the diamond, and with punishment on their minds.

*

When Mia recovered from the unconsciousness brought about by the combination of lack of air and her cramped position in the packing case, she found with welcome relief that she was now lying stretched out on some sort of bed. But a thin cotton sheet was all that lay between her and a dank mattress, and the air down there smelled foul. A heavy grey military blanket had been thrown over her, and the red satin dress she was wearing provided additional protection from the cold.

When she was conscious enough to take stock of her situation, Mia realised that she was now in some sort of warehouse. A skylight high above let in sufficient light to reveal the large, cold room where she lay.

She moved carefully, experimentally, rolling onto her side so that she could lift her face from the foetid mattress. Her recent experience of hypothermia in the old house made her think twice about struggling out of the blanket. And anyway, her arms were still bound behind her at wrists and elbows and her legs remained linked together at ankles and knees, as they had been when Karl prepared her for the transition from one hiding place to another. The bonds were tight then, and they remained so now. Her arms and hands felt numb, though when she rubbed her fingers against the palms of her hands the prickling in them showed that circulation was not entirely cut off. Mia was thankful for that.

Her gag was still in place, but it had been altered while she was unconscious so that it was now more effective than ever. A knot had been tied in the centre of the large white handkerchief and wedged deeply into her mouth between her teeth. Mia bit down on the gag. She could scarcely close her mouth properly and all the sound she could make was a faint croaking.

There’s nothing I can do about getting loose, Mia thought despairingly. Snedley’s bound me simply but effectively, curse him.

With a sob, Mia tried to reconcile herself to the unending discomfort that lay ahead. The cotton, damp from her own saliva, cut into the corners of her mouth. It itched and chafed, driving her to distraction as the hours crawled by.

*

Meanwhile, Melody was discovering how uncomfortable it was to lie trussed with her nose against her thighs. She could not believe how impossible it was to move. The closest she could manage was to start a scarcely perceptible rocking motion whenever she strained at her bonds. It ended promptly whenever she ceased her struggles.

The gag wadded in her mouth against her tongue felt heavy and stale, and the scarf that bound it in place between her jaws was already wet with drool at the corners of her mouth. There was now occasional movement in the street outside, the sound of a car door, scattered shards of conversation as people passed by. Melody tried to call for help but the gag choked back the sound. Nobody could hear her beyond the four walls of the small room, though it was a room whose window faced onto the street.

Tears pooled in Melody’s eyes, not for the first time, and overflowed to her cheeks just above the scarf bound around her face. Every muscle in her body seemed to be on fire with the constriction of her folded position. Her fingers fluttered and sought fruitlessly for a knot to loosen. In obeying her about the tie-up, Hudson had done his job too well. She could not even twist her wrists within the tight loops of cord. And Karl had completed the work with consummate skill.

A sob caught in Melody's throat and there came a paroxysm of struggling. It had no effect whatsoever. She rolled her head from side to side and tried without success to rub the gag loose against her knees. She was really beginning to panic now and a low wailing sound started in her throat. It seemed to be coming from another person. One part of Melody's mind observed her predicament with detachment. But another part was losing control and entering into a desperate hysteria.

Then what she feared most happened. There were footfalls on the outside porch and the lock at the front door rattled. In her imagination, Montague, Karl and Hudson were back, empty-handed and raging. There was a crash, Karl venting his anger on the door, and footsteps echoed on the bare wooden floorboards of the hallway. They were coming to the room where she lay. Melody shrank down into the bed and stared terrified, wide-eyed at the door. Her body shivered against the ropes. The handle turned abruptly and the door flew open ... Brentford and Orly stood silhouetted in the doorway, breathing hard, their faces suffused with concern.

Melody fainted.

*

Melody must have been unconscious for less than half a minute because when she came to she was still bound at the arms and legs. But the hogtie had been unfastened. When she lifted her head, she saw the two men crouched intently over her. Brentford was sawing on the bonds at her elbows with a small pocket-knife. Orly was at work on the cords that held her ankles. His strong, slender fingers were teasing the knots apart with astonishing ease.

‘Keep still, dear lady,’ said Brentford.

‘Yes. We'll soon have you out of these ropes,’ Orly added reassuringly. ‘Here, I’ll take care of her gag,’ he continued. ‘You finish freeing her wrists and legs, Brenty old chum.’

‘The bounders have tied these ropes very tight,’ muttered Brentford as he brought the knife blade to bear on the cords at Melody’s knees.

Melody closed her eyes and bent her head forward so that Orly could reach the knots in the cloth at the back of her neck. There was something gentle and reassuring in his touch, and in a short time the agonising pressure was relieved and the sodden cloth was gently extracted from her mouth. At the same time as the gag came away, Melody felt the cords fall from her wrists. She was free. But all the muscles in her body, especially those in her arms, legs and back, felt clenched in agony as circulation was restored to her limbs and her body was relieved from the cramped position in which she had been lying.

Melody began to shiver uncontrollably from pain and delayed shock and was scarcely aware of Orly’s hands firmly massaging her limbs to wakefulness. A glass of water was held to her lips. It was Brentford.

‘So very sorry, my dear, that we’re late,’ said Brentford apologetically.

‘All sorts of things cropping up at the last moment,’ said Orly.

‘Actually, a little misunderstanding with the hotel detective,’ Brentford continued.

‘Something about unpaid bills,’ said Orly.

‘The constabulary were not amused.’

‘Quite embarrassing.’

‘And we lost valuable time,’ explained Brentford. ‘Take care of her, Rupert dear fellow. I’ll, as they say, case the joint.’ And Brentford disappeared through the door.

‘How are you feeling now?’ asked Orly solicitously.

‘A 1-lot better, thank you,’ Melody replied. I don’t know what I would have done if you two hadn’t come on the scene. I was frantic with panic.’

‘The way they had you trussed like a chicken, I don’t think you would have been doing much,’ said Orly grimly. ‘We’ll get you away from here as soon as possible. Any luck?’ he asked as Brentford returned.

‘No, confound it. The place is empty. Not a sign of Jasmine. Just some rope and pieces of cloth in the cellar. And this. Is it yours my dear?’ Brentford held up Melody’s bag. Melody nodded. ‘I’ll hold on to it for now,’ Brentford said reassuringly. ‘Can you walk?’

‘Y-yes.’

‘I’ll look after the dear gel,’ volunteered Orly. ‘Best see that the coast is clear, if they’re coming back.’

‘Jasmine and another woman were taken to some other place,’ Melody said quickly. ‘The gang were planning to come back and take me there too. I’ve no idea where it is. But I don’t think they’ll be getting back right now. They’d only just left when you both appeared in the nick of time.’

‘Right you are.’ And Brentford left the room.

He returned several seconds later and between them the two men supported Melody out of the house. In a minute she was sitting on the back seat of a hire car that was putting distance between them and the place where she had been held a prisoner for so long. In Brentford’s skilful hands, the car made good progress into the city.

*

‘There, now you’re looking a little more human!’

Melody gently stroked Oscar Holmes’s head as she pressed a strip of flesh coloured tape in place over his left temple. The wound was not severe but had bled dramatically as most head wounds do. As it was, Oscar’s visage now that it had been bathed and wiped clean was a sorry sight. One lip was swollen and an area close to his left eye was already beginning to turn an interesting shade of purple.

A lot had happened in the two hours following Brentford and Orly’s rescue of Melody and her delivery, battered and bruised, to Tilly’s house in the suburbs. Melody was Iying in a luxurious bubble bath, soaking the worst of the ordeal out of her body when the bath-side phone rang urgently. It was Brod, worried to distraction about Melody’s disappearance, making another of his periodic calls in the hope that she would somehow reappear, though he had been fearing the worst. Melody had been too exhausted to phone him immediately and sh ewas instantly apologetic.

At first, ‘The hell you say!’ was all he could utter when Melody summarised the last twenty-four hours of kidnap and torture that she, Mia and Jasmine had undergone. Then, ‘Stay where you are,’ Brod said tersely. ‘We’ve been having a few fun and games over here as well. You any good at first aid?’ Melody had responded cautiously, along the lines of having completed a Saint Johns ambulance course a year ago, but that was all Brod needed. ‘We’re coming over. Don’t, I repeat don’t, do any more nocturnal flitting.’ Melody acquiesced meekly, but not from obedience to her master. She was too exhausted to do anything else but stay put. She did not realise until much later that it was Brod’s way of helping her put the ordeal behind her by involving her in someone else’s.

Melody took over the task of rehabilitating Oscar the moment the detectives arrived at her door. Oscar was now sitting in one of the armchairs under her capable hands while Brod heated a bowl of soup.

‘So this is fieldwork!’ said Oscar with a somewhat crooked grin.

‘At least you can joke about it,’ answered Brod over his shoulder. Melody heard the smile in his voice, but when Brod turned back to them with a steaming mug of soup for Oscar she saw the concern on his face conflicting with relief that Oscar, as well as Melody, was not badly hurt. ‘Here, wrap yourself around this, mate,’ he said, handing the mug to Oscar. ‘Tell us about it in your own time.’

Oscar took the mug gratefully and held it gingerly to his lips. His hands were still shaking from the cold and shock and Melody carefully took the cup from his fingers and began feeding him the soup using a tablespoon. For a full ten minutes they said nothing while Oscar slowly drank the rich liquid. It was more like a stew than soup and within a short time Melody saw some of the colour return to Oscar’s cheeks. When the meal was finished he sank back into the chair and looked at his two friends gratefully.

‘Thank you, Melody. You’re good to have around,’ he said feebly.

‘How do you feel?’ asked Brod.

‘Pretty lousy. One hell of a headache.’ He raised a hand gingerly to his temple.

‘We’d better watch that headache,’ said Melody. ‘You might have a concussion.’

‘I’ll be all right, thank you dear lady,’ muttered Oscar taking her hand. ‘It’s nothing a good sleep won’t cure. I’ve had similar experiences from time to time in my murky past.’

‘Do you feel well enough to tell us what happened?’ asked Brod.

‘Of course.’

Oscar sat up straighter in the chair. Melody knelt on the floor in front of him, his hand clasped in both of hers.

‘This wasn’t a stray attack,’ he began. ‘It’s connected with this case. I was attacked by those two fellows Johnny Montague and Karl in the park outside the apartment where Melody was staying before we had to move her, for your protection dear lady. God knows how they recognised me.’

‘If you were watching the apartment, they may have guessed you were a policeman and attacked you for that reason,’ said Melody.

‘A bunch like that with their predilection for armed robbery might easily do a little snooping on the side,’ said Brod.

‘I know why they were there,’ said Melody, looking at Oscar apologetically. ‘I sent them on a wild duck chase. They were slapping me about, and I had already spent a long night blindfolded, bound and gagged and completely unable to move, and in desperation I had to think of something to distract them. I thought that if they want that confounded Duck’s Egg diamond so badly it would buy a little time to send them looking for it. So I made up a story about hiding it in the apartment.’

‘That was a very desperate gambit,’ muttered Brod, ‘Many other women would have been too terrified to think of a ploy like that.’

‘Thanks,’ said Melody with a grimace, ‘but I didn’t think far enough ahead to guess what they might do to me when they came back with nothing. I was very lucky. That man Hudson secretly has a heart of gold. He would have helped me more, but they took him with them as their driver. Then Brentford and Orly turned up. They were looking for Jasmine Morris, and they got me out of that jam. I have a lot to thank them for.’

‘Jasmine Morris seems to be in pretty thick with them,’ Oscar observed. ‘I managed to listen in to parts of their conversation at the hotel. Can’t tell you how that was done, Melody, for security reasons. Jasmine was definitely not a prisoner. There was a good deal of billing and cooing between her and that fish Brentford.’

‘I’m not surprised those two have something in common,’ said Melody with a small laugh. ‘Flashy, facile, Iying. On the surface anyway. But kind of harmless too. Maybe that’s not the best word to describe them. Irresponsible, maybe.’

‘Well there’s not much we can do tonight,’ exclaimed Brod, ‘without calling for reinforcements.’ He rose and stretched then turned to Oscar. ‘Let’s get you into bed old man. We’ll sort out some kind of strategy while you’re resting up. As for you, young lady,’ he continued turning on Melody in mock reproval, ‘You’re definitely not going out of my sight!’

‘There you are Oscar,’ laughed Melody, ‘I’m a prisoner here. You and Brod have kidnapped me!’

‘Not me, dear lady,’ said Oscar, standing with difficulty. ‘No energy available for such a delightful purpose. Anyway it wouldn’t be right for me to interfere.’

‘He’ll sleep well I think,’ said Brod as he gave Melody a gentle hug from behind.

Melody tucked Oscar into the bed covers and slipped quietly out the door. Oscar gave a feeble wave and appeared to fall asleep immediately. When Melody walked into the living room she found Brod talking softly and rapidly into his mobile phone.

‘You mentioned reinforcements a while ago,’ Melody observed. ‘That call you’ve just made isn’t connected with that is it?’

‘Too right,’ said Brod. ‘We need more brains in this outfit, especially now that Oscar’s out of commission. You haven’t been debriefed properly, and I’ve called in someone who will be very interested in what you have to say. That is, if you’re feeling up to it. I know it’s asking a lot after what you’ve already been through. ‘

‘Nonsense, Brod. There were two other women being held prisoner along with me, and we have to do something to help them.’

‘I hoped you would see it that way. Have a drink in the meantime while our new partner’s on his way,’

Melody accepted a glass of red wine and she and Brod sat companionably with her on the sofa. No words were spoken. Half an hour later they heard a powerful car pull up in the street outside, and a few seconds later the door chimes sounded.

*

Mia was roused from a half-sleep by the sounds of several footfalls in the warehouse. For a wild moment she thought it was the police come to her rescue. But how would they know where she was? It had to be her captors. It was.

Karl burst into ths room and stormed over to where Mia lay. ln a moment, he had the young woman on her knees, holding her by the hair with one hand, the other hand raised to strike.

‘What the hell do you think you're’re doing?’ roared Johnny Montague, seizing Karl hy his upraised arm. ‘You can’t take it out on her. She’s had nothing tc do with this cock.-up. She’s been lying here bound and gagged all night!’

Karl lowered his arm and released his grip on Mia’s hair. Mia crumpled, shaking, to the floor, tears of pain in her eyes.

‘Hokay, what’ll we do now?’ said Karl, regaining some composure.

‘First thing is to let the women have a bathroom. break. Separately like before. Give them something to eat and drink. Then tie them again till we figure out what to do with them.’

‘Yo. They’re still useful hostages.’

‘All the more reason not to rough them up.’

Over the next half hour, Mia was given a glass of water and hand-fed by Montague from a can of meat and vegetables, her arms still bound behind her. The food was cold and colourless but edible. Mia did not complain. She was then allowed to use the bathroom and adjoining toilet, and to clean herself at a wash basin filthy with ingrained grease and a thick layer of dirt.

Hardly an improvement on the cockroach-filled bathroom at the other place, she thought wryly. She guessed (wrongly) that Melody was receiving the same treatment as her in another part of the building.

Johnny Montague was waiting, a piece of cord in his hands, as Mia stepped from the bathroom. He nodded. In silence, Mia turned and offered her arms behind her back. She was growing accustomed to the routine, but still experienced a flash of panic at the feeling of renewed helplessness.

Her wrists were crossed and bound together by several loops of cord that were then cinched between and tied off. Simple and effective, she thought. This man is not as flashy as Snedley but he does tie a mean knot.

Mia was led back to the same room where she was held earlier. But this time a wooden chair was set up in the middle of the floor almost directly under the skylight.

‘Sit.’ Reluctantly, Mia obeyed.

Johnny Montague set to work, tying Mia very tightly and expertly into the chair. Her ankles were bound with liberal tums of cord and lashed to the centre rung connecting the chair legs. Rope was passed about her body, across her lap, around her waist, and snugged tight below and above her breasts. Her arms, with her crossed wrists, had been pulled around the chair’s back, and now they were tied individually to the frame just above her elbows. A final length of rope was passed in a crisscross over her shoulders, anchoring her fimmly into the chair. It was much less comfortable than if she was Iying on the mattress.

A glass of water was held to her lips and she drank gratefully, guessing that it would be her last refreshment for a long time.

Her captor walked to the mattress and returned holding a creased handkerchief with a knot tied in the middle. Mia protested faintly, and uselessly, as the gag she had worn earlier was replaced in her mouth and made tight. A heavy piece of black silk, folded into a bandage about three inches wide, was then bound very tightly over her mouth. It covered her face and cheeks to her chin, but ended just below her nose so that she could breathe adequately.

Montague looked down at her in satisfaction. ‘Listen up, Mia Chantal or whatever your name is. I’ve tied you this way for a reason, to prevent Karl from getting his hands on you. He’s trussing up the other woman, but I’ll check on her later and make sure it’s not too rough on her, know what I mean?’ Mia nodded wearily. Montague continued. ‘I know you’re not comfortable tied like this. When night comes, we’ll let you lie on the floor. But I’ve got to please Karl too.’ Mia nodded again. ‘One more thing. You won’t be able to get the gag out that’s tied between your jaws. But it’s possible you might slip the silk tied over your face. Don’t try it. Believe me, Karl would like nothing better than to put you into one of those leather head and mouth restraints again. Be a good gir1. Don’t make it harder on yourself.’

Mia nodded vigorously in genuine assent.

*

When Brod ushered in their guest, Melody, who had leapt to her feet, found herself introduced to a slender but well built man aged in his mid- to late thirties, perhaps even early forties if the distinguished streak of grey hair at his temples reflected his age truthfully.

He was tall, almost six foot at least, she guessed, and carried himself with an easy gait. When he crossed the room to stand before her, his pace was lithe and relaxed like that of a big cat. The mental image of a panther sprang to Melody’s mind. He wore a small moustache and looked uncannily like a principal character from an early swashbuckler movie, the sort they do not make any more. An Errol Flynn type, thought Melody with amusement.

But there was also an indefinable quality of menace about him. This is a dangerous man, Melody said to herself, correcting her initial impression of a playboy. She had almost guessed who it might be when Brod introduced them.

‘Melody, this is Miles deVille. Miles, may I present Melody Hazard.’

‘I’m charmed,’ the newcomer said with just the trace of a European accent. He took Melody’s proffered hand in his and brushed her fingertips lightly with his lips. Melody experienced something like a small electric shock that communicated itself from her fingers to her spine.

‘I-I’m pleased to meet you,’ she responded, wondering whether she really was pleased. ‘Your partner Mia Chantal mentioned you, on the only opportunity we had to talk and get to know each other, and then it was one-sided. She did all the talking. Has Brod told you what happened?’

‘He has indeed,’ replied Miles softly, sitting in one of the sofa chairs as he spoke. Melody and Brod resumed their seats. ‘Yes, Brod has filled me in comprehensively. It seems that you have shared the misfortune with darling Mia of falling into the hands of that psychopath Snedley.’

‘He calls himself Karl now.’

‘I know, but a rat is a rat is a rat. You do know,’ deVille added, turning to Brod to include him in the conversation, ‘that not a moment is to be lost. We have to get Mia away from that man. And I believe there’s another woman involved, an innocent bystander.’

‘I wouldn’t call her entirely innocent,’ answered Melody spiritedly. ‘That little minx knows something about the diamond, I’m sure. But the gang don’t take her seriously. They think I know where the damned thing is, and they tortured me for it.’

‘We have scores to settle with that gang,’ grated Brod. ‘Miles, it might be possible to trace them. After the fracas at Melody’s old apartment, when Oscar ran afoul of them, one of our policewomen was able to follow the gang quite a way on her motorcycle. They were driving an old van, a lemon is ever there was one, and Sarah could hear their progress blocks away. We have a rough fix on a cluster of warehouses on the other side of the river. Sarah’s on stake-out nearby, waiting for backup.’

‘Couldn’t be better,’ said Miles, rising to his feet. ‘Sarah and I have worked together before. I take it you haven’t been able to act on this yet because it’s not a matter for the usual police?’

‘Quite right.’ Brod turned to Melody. ‘There’s something we, ahh, haven’t told you Melody. This isn’t a normal police case.’

‘I’ve understood that for a long time, Brod,’ Melody replied. ‘Some sort of Special Branch?’

‘Yeah, you can say that, with an international flavour. That’s how come you have an Australian official on U.S. soil.’

‘So that means it’s up to our small team,’ stated deVille. ‘Who do we have?’

‘In the field? Only Sarah and me, and yourself. Unfortunately Oscar’s out of commission for the time being.’

‘Aren’t you forgetting me?’ asked Melody with asperity. ‘I’m not going to abandon Mia at this stage. I owe her. It’s a woman thing. We were in captivity together, bound, gagged and blindfolded most of the time. And it was Mia who kept my spirits up, otherwise I might have cracked and be a basket case! Don’t you dare leave me out of this, Broderick Clifford!’

Brod shrugged and looked at Miles deVille quizzically. ‘What d’you say, Miles?’

‘I think this plucky woman’s seen so much danger already she’ll be the perfect back-up.’

‘Side-kick you Americans call it,’ added Melody.

‘Okay. Here’s the test. You ever used one of these?’ From under his jacket Miles produced a decidedly deadly looking automatic pistol and held it up for Melody’s appraisal.

‘No, I can’t say I have,’ the young woman replied, ‘And I don’t want to use it either. I have practiced with a firearm though.’

Miles nodded. He was observing Melody’s reaction closely, in silent approval. This woman’s not fazed by the sight of a pistol. And she survived an ordeal that would have left many lesser men gibbering wrecks. He looked at Brod and nodded. Brod lifted his arms helplessly.

‘Time?’

‘Yeah. Let’s go!’

Within a minute, Miles, Brod and Melody were in an unmarked police vehicle purring its way across the harbour bridge and slipping with dimmed lights into the dockside area. The night was dark and warm, the atmosphere heavy with signs of an approaching electrical storm.

Melody wore a light red cotton dress with a skirt that allowed her legs free movement. She had put up her hair, not to achieve a sophisticated look, although that was an unintended result, so much as to keep her hair from getting in the way if she had to move quickly. Brod wore dark trousers and jacket. He also carried a police service revolver in a holster under his left arm. Miles deVille was clad in dark jeans and a short leather jacket with a high collar. Like a young Brando, thought Melody. No wonder Mia’s rapt in him.

Nothing was said. Melody felt at home in the company of these two professional hunters of criminals. That thought would have surprised her, but at the moment she was worried sick about what could be happening to Mia. The hissing of the car’s tyres on the road seemed to be saying, ‘Mia Chantal, Mia Chantal. Save Mia Chantal.’

Sarah was waiting in the shadows at a street corner where a line of warehouses began. She was a tall, statuesque woman but that was all Melody could see in the light. She wore motor cycle leathers and her dark hair was caught up severely at the back of her head.

There were hurried introductions. Sarah pointed to a warehouse halfway up the block. ‘There’s been movement around there,’ she whispered. ‘I crept halfway down and could identify the tail end of an old van. It could be the gang’s getaway vehicle. And, I’m not sure about this because it might only be the reflection of those distant street lamps, but I thought I could see a faint glow from one of the skylights in that building.’

‘Is there a fire escape?’ asked deVille.

‘Yes Sir. All those old warehouses have iron fire ladders. They were compulsory by city ordinance when this area was built.’

‘Good. Brod, you and Sarah deploy at the entrance near the van. Melody and I will take the fire escape and try to enter the place from the roof. Don’t worry, Brod, I think Melody is well able to take care of herself.’

Melody hefted the coils of a rope ladder over her shoulders and followed hard on Miles’s heels as he ran towards the end of the warehouse where the iron stairway began. At the foot of the stairs, Miles turned and appeared agreeably surprised to find Melody right beside him. Without a word, the man swarmed up the stairs. Melody was still with him by the time they reached the roof, though she was panting with the exertion. Again Miles looked at her and this time, still without a word, he clapped her reassuringly on the shoulder in a gesture of male approval and bravado.

Cautiously they approached the skylight, now better illuminated than it had appeared from ground level. The sight that met their eyes when they looked into the area below made Melody catch her breath. Amidst the detritus of broken furniture and piles of rubbish sat Mia. She was roped into a chair from ankles to shoulders, her arms bound cruelly together behind the back of the chair. Melody saw how her hands hung limply in the tight wrist bonds.

Mia’s head was bowed, but at that moment she looked up with a kind of sixth sense and stared at her rescuers framed in the skylight. A wide black cloth covered the lower part of her tear-streaked face. It was drawn so tight that even from that distance and at such an angle Miles and Melody could see how her cheeks bulged above the gag.

For a long moment Mia regarded them with wide eyes suddenly filled with hope. Then she reacted to a sound that Melody and Miles did not hear, gave them a warning look, and quickly lowered her head. ‘Good thinking,’ Melody heard Miles say under his breath.

They backed away from the edge of the skylight but remained where they could see into the building. Two figures were coming into view from a doorway somewhere at the end of the room. They coalesced into the forms of Johnny Montague and Karl. Melody heard Miles hiss an expletive and within nanoseconds violence erupted.

Miles deVille strode to the edge of the skylight. With his automatic pistol he smashed the glass and fired. One of the men below returned fire virtually at the same time. Both shots went wide. Melody heard the return shot ping against a piece of metal somewhere behind where she and Miles were standing.

Johnny Montague turned and ran for the door. He carried a large revolver in his right hand but had not fired. He seemed more eager to get out of the place. Karl, or Snedley as Mia called him, had already fired once and was taking aim for a second round when his automatic jammed. Melody was almost certain that she heard one of them shout the time honoured cliche, ‘Cheez it, the cops!’ but she was too busy attaching the end of the rope ladder to a firm metal bolt at the side of the skylight to recognise who it was.

As soon as the rope ladder dropped into place, Miles descended, hand over hand and dropped the remaining six feet to the floor in his haste to reach Mia. Melody followed a fraction more slowly, using the rungs of the ladder but taking several at a time and almost burning the palms of her hands. By the time Melody’s feet hit the floor, Miles was removing Mia’s gag. Melody’s legs almost gave way from the adrenaline rush.

Montague and Karl had gone, their passage through the warehouse punctuated by scattered shouts as Brod and Sarah closed in from their end. But there were no more shots. There was instead the sound of the clapped-out van starting up. Somehow the gang members had reached it in time. Melody thought of slow reliable Hudson. The sound of the van receded into the distance. It took a long time. Sarah and Brod appeared in the doorway, Mia’s safety uppermost in their minds.

The young woman in question looked up at Melody as Miles cut through the ropes binding her arms. ‘It- It’s wonderful to have that gag out of my mouth and be freed. But what a bonus! To have it done by my lover and m-my best friend.’

Chapter Eleven

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