Lisette Ruisseau

the Case of the Kidnapped Heiress

by

Brian Sands

Die Cleveren, "La Reine," HtF Vidcaps

Chapter Three

Face to Face

Paradoxically, the gag helped because Lisette could only take in small sips of air with each laboured breath. At the same time, she tried to relax her body. There was no point in struggling, a futile effort, she was so tightly bound and locked away. Is this how those girls die that are buried alive? She tried to dismiss such thoughts, for that way lead to panic and deadly hyperventilation. Shift my attention elsewhere. She felt the trunk being moved, tilted onto its end so that she half-sat, half-lay in a foetal position, mercifully with her head right way up. Lisette concentrated on the feeling of motion. A faint judder communicated itself through the trunk to the base of her spine. One of the wheels of the trolley must be faulty, not revolving properly on its bearings. That and the sensation of movement kept her in touch with the world outside her confining box and helped her hold on to sanity. There was more tilting. The trunk changed position and she was lying now on her back. It tilted again and she was now on her side, as she had been at the beginning. Are we there yet? God, I hope so! She prayed fervently. I can't bear another minute in here!

The trunk's lid opened and Lisette stared through eyes that began tearing at the subdued light reflected off the metal ceiling of the kidnap van. She had never felt so grateful as Big Bear lifted her out of the box and laid her on a thin rubberised mattress. The cloth that covered her nose was untied and left beside her head. She turned and looked about her. Big Bear was clambering out of the narrow gap in the doorway they had allowed at the side of the van. Stringy hunkered down beside her. In a tender gesture, the man brushed a strand of damp hair out of Lisette's eyes.

"Sorry about this," he said. "It was necessary, and we did it quickly. On a long haul you would have been sedated … No," he added in response to Lisette's head movement, indicating that she wanted the gag taken out of her mouth, "You will not be ungagged. You have to be kept now as quiet as possible. Just lie still and watch our operation." He closed on an ironic note before turning away. "It may happen to you one day."

Happen … one day? thought Lisette. Oh very funny! It's already happened. I'm well and truly kidnapped … But he promised to set me free later.

The side door of the van closed after Stringy, leaving Lisette alone, still bound and gagged but a lot better off now that she was no longer locked in the dark of the travelling trunk.

As the vehicle's motor started up, she took note of her surroundings. There was not much to see inside the van, but what was there sent a shiver of horror through her body. The interior was obviously designed for abduction. There was the trunk of course. It looked even more dark and sinister now that Lisette had experienced its interior at first hand. Was the poor girl, destined to be their target, going to be transported in that awful thing too?

Aside from the thin mattress on which she lay, the only other item of furniture was a narrow cot, a fold-up camp bed with wooden frames and canvas covers stretched between. What made Lisette's flesh creep was the sight of broad leather straps fastened at intervals to the framework. She visualised the kidnapped girl, or herself, strapped into it. It was efficient, vaguely clinical, and very frightening. As though that was not enough, one side of the van's interior was covered with a tightly stretched mesh of flat webbing from which depended at several places leather straps with buckles and two pairs of glistening metal hand and ankle cuffs.

Lisette fought back an involuntary cry of despair. The gang's preparedness, the means of securing their intended victim in a variety of ways, depending on what the situation might call for, was evidence of very thorough planning. Those things on the van's wall were not fixtures, Lisette noticed. Impedimenta like that did not come as part of the hire package. They were leaving nothing to chance. Look at how I've been bound and kept out of circulation, said Lisette to herself, all day since mid-morning! Also, if they do let me free, how on earth will I be able to trace them, and the girl if they succeed in taking her?

The van was drawing to a stop. If Stringy is right in what he told me, thought Lisette, we must be close to the girl's apartment, waiting for her to arrive home. She thought of the number of time she herself had been kidnapped. Subtracting those occasions on which she walked consciously into the trap, Lisette knew how easy it was to catch someone unawares. She remembered the dangerous games she played with the Vellum gang and how she was often caught with her eyes wide open to the potential danger. The poor girl who was the kidnapper's present target - the daughter of, who was it? Oh yes, Lord MacCronigal. What was the daughter's name? Lisette remembered reading about it in the London Times. Cosette, was it? Cosette MacCronigal? French and Scottish names coming together. It made sense considering the related history of the two countries.

Everything was silent. Lisette felt the van shift slightly as the two men, she supposed, alighted from it, but neither of them looked in to check on her. There was no need to, she realised bitterly, for she was securely bound. No, they were intent on their prey, most likely hiding themselves somewhere in the street or perhaps in the apartment block itself. Lisette strained against her bonds with no more effect than before.

Time passed slowly but now Lisette counted it in minutes for something to happen, minutes that felt like hours. Then she was startled by a thud against the van's door, followed seconds later by the release of its lock and the sound as it opened on its runners. The two men staggered inside. Between them they carried a blanket-wrapped bundle that squirmed and kicked mightily. Big Bear reached out a ham-like hand and pulled the door shut, then placed both his arms around the legs of the person in the blanket. Stringy and Big Bear appeared to be struggling with a large fish that wanted to get away from their net. Faint mewing sounds came from somewhere within the blanket, suggesting that the victim was gagged almost as securely as Lisette, who witnessed the scene with wide astonished eyes.

The bundle was set down on its feet and held by Big Bear, who waited patiently while Stringy sorted out the leather straps attached to the camp stretcher. Then Stringy turned and peeled away the folds of blanket to reveal the face of a young woman, her hair and eyes wild, her mouth pulled partly open by the cloth tied tightly between her jaws. Was this Cosette? Lisette tried to remember a photograph she had seen in a newspaper. It is difficult to recognise someone when half the face is covered. The girl continued mewing through what Lisette guessed was a cloth, a handkerchief or a scarf, wadded in her mouth. Cosette had no time to survey the scene or to register Lisette's presence as a fellow-captive before she was pushed down onto the stretcher. While Big Bear held her in place, Stringy methodically fastened one strap after another over her body at various points until she lay immobile on her back. She ceased struggling, lay staring up at the ceiling. From time to time a despairing sob escaped through her gag. Lisette's heart went out to the girl strapped in the cot. She must be no more than eighteen or nineteen years old, she guessed. It must be really frightening for her!

The two men straightened up and took a collective deep breath. They were both sweating profusely. As Big Bear stepped out of the van, Stringy gave Lisette a quick check-up. He nodded grimly in response to Lisette's look - tired but defiant - before following his companion. This part of their programme is completed, thought Lisette, now it's time to deal with me. The van jerked and began to move. Lisette looked back at the girl and found that she had turned her head and was staring intently at her, her eyes wide and dilated with fear. Lisette grunted faintly through her gag and managed to shrug hopelessly against the restriction of her bonds. The two women lay still, their eyes locked upon each other, as the van sped into the night.

How encouraging can I be, Lisette wondered, over this huge gag and considering that I'm trussed up just as tightly? Maybe if we were alone, and there was time, I could sit up and manage to undo those straps on her. But that was not an option. She knew that Stringy could observe them through a rear vision mirror from where he was sitting in the van's cabin.

They must have driven only for a couple of blocks when the van turned a corner and drew to a halt, its motor idling. The door slid partially open and Stringy squeezed through, closing it immediately. Lisette could hear the distant murmur of city traffic. Were they in a side lane?

Stringy came to her and hauled Lisette to her knees. "Thought of something," he muttered. "Left like this, you might try to free the girl."

Lisette wondered whether he had read her thoughts as she was half carried, half dragged to the side from which the webbing hung. In a short time she was sitting on the floor of the van with her back to the wall, her body secured to the webbing by leather straps. The man squatted back and wiped the sweat from his face. He looked around and saw the girl on the stretcher watching him with terrified eyes. He turned and pulled a handful of black silk from his pocket, a hood that he quickly pulled over the girl's head and face, tying the drawstrings loosely around her throat. Cosette bucked and whined plaintively, then lay still, breathing heavily. Stringy turned back and drew a black silk scarf from another pocket. He bound it tightly over Lisette's eyes. Both kidnap victims were now deprived of their sense of sight, hence disoriented and more compliant.

Lisette heard Stringy scramble out of the van. The door slammed shut, and the vehicle continued on its way. She shook hr head from side to side but could not dislodge the blindfold. She tried rubbing her face against part of the webbing at the back of her head, however, and succeeded in shifting the silk bandage fractionally so that by tilting her head back she could see the hooded girl supine on the camp stretcher. Cosette was breathing deeply, her body shuddering from breath to breath, but she appeared to be safe for the moment from suffocation or choking and may be accepting her fate. Lisette heaved a sigh of relief. Already she felt a responsibility towards the younger woman and resolved that when … if she were set free she would do all in her power to find and rescue the girl.

The van travelled for what felt like another fifteen minutes or longer when it came to a halt once more, its motor still running. Again Lisette heard the door slide open and felt the van tilt slightly as someone entered. It was Stringy. She recognised the touch of his hands as he unstrapped her from the webbing and lifted her as one would a child. She was carried out. A cool breeze blew across her bound face. Stringy walked for some distance before lowering Lisette to the ground. The young woman felt a cushion of soft thick grass beneath her. It smelled new-mown. Was she in one of the city's many parks? Stringy ruffled her hair. Lisette pulled away angrily.

"You're a very lucky young woman," the man remarked. "Take this little experience as a warning. Don't mess with us. We shan't be so gentle with you next time if you cross our path."

Then he was gone. Lisette listened and thought she heard the distant sound of the van departing, but she could not be sure. She rolled onto her side and raised her head, attempting to see from under the blindfold, but without result. The section of the park where she lay must be in darkness. Well here I am, alone, bound, trussed up, gagged and blindfolded in a London park, she thought grimly.

It was not an enjoyable prospect. If no one found her, she could lie there until morning. Rolling about was problematic. She had no idea which direction to take and rolling into a duck pond while tied up so securely would be suicidal. Then what would happen if she were found? Who would find her, someone given to frequenting dark corners of a park at night? There were a lot of men (women as well, she supposed) who would be more than tempted to take advantage of a woman as helpless as she was in her predicament.

As if in answer to the last thought, Lisette heard the scuffing sound of feet walking across the lawn towards her. There was a pause, followed by an angry voice.

"Oo the 'ell's kippin in my spot, eh? Gerrup y' lazy sod or I'll do yer!"

"Charming," thought Lisette, "I hope his manners improve when he finds that he's talking to a woman!"

… a bound and gagged woman, helpless, unable to call for help or to defend herself.

The night denizen of the park approached closer. Lisette heard the scuffing of his feet become louder as he evidently quickened his pace, then she felt the thick lawn move slightly where she lay as he knelt close beside her.

"Jeez, what's this … a woman … tied up?"

Lisette felt two fingers - index and second? - resting lightly against her throat upon the carotid artery.

"Hmm. Are you all right?"

"Mf?" Lisette managed faintly.

"I mean, you're feeling still alive I trust? Can't see much of your face!"

"Mmf hmmm!" Lisette nodded her head weakly.

"Good … silly question. You're not all right … Someone's bound and gagged you severely. Hold on and I'll free you."

The blindfold came away first and Lisette found herself looking up into the kindly pale blue eyes of a grey haired man of indeterminate age. He could be in his mid-fifties, or older. He was thin, light of build in appearance but not yet frail. She became aware at the same time of illumination cast from a nearby street lamp, but that it was blocked by the branches of a tree nearby where she was lying in a patch of deep shadow. The man cradled her in his arms and began to work with deft fingers at the knot of her gag.

"First step," he muttered encouragingly, "clear the breathing passages if blocked. In cases of misadventure that can mean dirty water, leaves, mud, foreign objects - though we'll rule out French countryside truffles, marginally - but a gag also comes under that classification - not truffles, of course, but obstructions to breathing, and definitely not misadventure … "

A faint chuckle fought it way through Lisette's gag.

"Good girl! … There! … What a beautiful young woman is revealed!"

Lisette caught the gleam of a relieved smile. She realised that the man was no longer speaking in rough, unlettered tones and, intrigued, she looked more closely at him. Her vision was impeded by the heavy shadow that blanketed them, but she could make out that he wore a tattered overcoat against the night wind and, beneath, he was clad in a dark jacket, a shirt and a bow tie. It was impossible to guess their colours.

"Th- th - …" Lisette's face was too stiff and numb for her to speak her thanks.

"Take it easy while I get these ropes off you, my dear. There's a drinking fountain not far, but this has to come first."

Lisette gave herself up willingly to her rescuer's ministrations. One by one, the knots were found and pulled apart until the ropes that trussed her arms and body fell in loose coils around her waist. Her wrists were freed of the cord that bound them together. Lisette hugged her arms around her body and attempted to rub circulation back into her hands while the man concentrated on freeing her legs and ankles. When that was done, she was helped up, the ropes dropping to the ground around her feet, and led out into a patch of light. They sat on the grass again and Lisette allowed her arms to be inspected and massaged gently back to life. She found that she was shivering. Without a word, the man removed his overcoat and placed it around her shoulders.

She observed now that he wore a dark suit of Continental cut that may have seen better days but was still presentable. The frayed cuffs were close to her face as he kneaded her wrists and hands, and the elbows were patched with soft suede. The shirt he wore may once have been white. However, even in the dull light of the park it looked grubby.

She managed to speak at last. "I- I don't know how to thank you."

"You can start by telling me what this is all about," he responded grimly. "I've witnessed a few unpleasant goings-on in this park, even a cadaver once, but a pretty woman bound, gagged and blindfolded hasn't been one of those sights … until now! Was it a joke, the aftermath of a party? If so, they went too far! But I suspect not. You were trussed up much too expertly. That cinching arrangement, for example … far too complicated for an office boy or a business rival."

"You- You're right. It's not an ordinary prank. I was kidnapped today."

Lisette wondered in the back of her mind how he appeared to know so much about using rope.

"What moved them to release you so soon? Did the ransom go through?"

"No … No, I was kidnapped in order to prevent me from stopping a kidnapping, and when they'd done their job they had no further use for me and let me go by dumping me here … Where are we by the way?"

"In a little-frequented corner of Hyde Park, my dear … But this is a most unusual case, if you don't mind me saying."

"I know."

Lisette scrambled unsteadily to her feet, placing a hand on the man's shoulder for support. Once she was upright, she retained her grip. He felt comfortable to be near, did not smell at all like a tramp, no body odour, no alcohol. She was led to a drinking fountain. The man produced a small enamel mug from his overcoat, filled it from the spigot and offered it to her. Lisette drank appreciatively. She stood back and appraised her benefactor. He returned the gaze with interest. They were both standing under a lamp that marked a junction of paths, and could now see each other clearly.

Now that his body was no longer masked by the overcoat, which was already doing good service in warming Lisette, the young woman saw a man about five foot seven inches in height, a little taller than her. His faded blue eyes were grave and a little staring. A shock of while hair on his head was brushed straight back and standing up in tufts due to the wind. His lips were thin, but the first impression of coldness was negated by a brilliant smile, when he chose to do so. His fingers were long and finely boned. Artistic was the word that came to Lisette's mind. His wrists also were slender, accentuating the gentleness of the hands. His face was almost expressionless when he was not speaking or smiling, set in a gentle repose that suggested a sensitive, perhaps vulnerable, character.

"I know you," the man said with warmth. "You're Lisette Ruisseau, who sometimes calls herself Lisa Rivers. You are a very accomplished private detective … except that you slipped up on your present case, judging by the condition I've just found you in."

"You have an advantage over me," replied Lisette, "I don't know you."

"I keep a low profile. My name is Bryce la Plage. I write crime novels, the sort people used to call pulp."

"I've read one of your books! Bought it at a railway station once. It was really very good … a little racy for my taste, but you developed a good plot."

"Thank you. It's a living."

"What are you doing here? … No, let me guess … collecting atmosphere for your next novel?"

"Precisely … an insight that does you credit, my dear … But … how long were you held tied up that way?"

"Since mid-morning …"

"Ah … Therefore I suggest that we get you home and out of this wind. You're beginning to look more confident, but I think that in a short time you will begin to feel tired, and perhaps go into mild shock."

"I think you're right," Lisette conceded. Her legs felt weak and she wondered whether the suggestion itself was having an immediate effect.

"I would be honoured to accompany you."

Lisette allowed herself to be led out onto the street where her new protector succeeded in hailing a cab. The driver appeared to accept his unkempt fares as a normal part of the night's rich pageant. Soon they stopped outside Lisette's apartment block and, once inside her flat, Lisette moved from room to room turning on all the lights before preparing coffee for her new friend and cocoa for herself.

Bryce la Plage was not eager to stay and, when he had finished his drink, he handed her a plain business card - they exchanged cards - urged her to get plenty of rest, and left with a promise to enquire after her later that day. It was now early morning. Lisette's eyes were heavy, but before tumbling into bed she gave herself a hot shower and rubbed liniment into her chafed limbs and the corners of her mouth that were raw from the gag.

She was unable to raise either Donald Caisson or Roger Iggotson on their mobile phones and supposed that they were engaged in business where the interruption of a ringing mobile was inappropriate. But she felt a little miffed all the same. As her head hit the pillow, she recalled that the kidnappers had confiscated her handbag. She made a mental note to phone the police about it.

Next …