The Maltese Duck: A Lisette Rivers Case
by
Brian Sands
EpicentreTraci Lords, Girls With Guns
______________________
Chapter Four: Lisette Gets the Bird
Lisette had almost reached the door when a figure stepped from the front room behind her and pressed the muzzle of a large automatic pistol against her neck. “Where do you think you’re going, Miss Rivers?”
It was Howard Goon. He must have been sitting in the front room on guard, thought Lisette.
“Hey there,” called Goon over his shoulder, “our pretty detective tried to do a runner.”
Looking back, Lisette saw the silhouette of Flax Pierpont framed against the open kitchen door. “Bring her down,” called Pierpont.
Lisette was conducted at gunpoint to the kitchen. The gang members had indeed been eating a meal, traces of which were evident on the three plates set around a bulky wooden table. It came as a surprise to see Lady Stella Sampling seated there, a half finished bowl of tomato soup before her. Howard Goon pushed her down into a chair by the wall. Surrounded by enemies, one of them with a gun, meant that Lisette gave up any idea of trying to make a break for it, for the time being.
Goon sat at what had been his place at the table, put the automatic next to the cutlery, took up a large serving spoon and began to slurp his soup. Lisette watched in a sort of trance as the gang members finished their soup and moved on to demolish large helpings of steak and kidney pudding. They appeared to ignore Lisette’s presence, although she saw that from time to time Goon nudged the automatic as though he was about to use it as another eating implement.
As Pierpont cleared the dishes and dumped them into the kitchen sink, the gunman settled back in his chair and looked enquiringly across to Lady Sampling. “What d’you want t’do with her?” He cocked his head in Lisette’s direction. “Take her back to the room and tie her up again?”
Lady Stella Sampling shook her head. “No. If we’re going to do this properly we’ll do it my way.”
She turned to Lisette. “Lisa Rivers,” she continued, “I’ve made a deal with these two gentlemen. They will let both of us go free if we hand over the Maltese Duck and take no further action. I can of course answer for myself. I shan’t take action. But I don’t think the same can be said for you. You are after all a private investigator with close ties to Scotland Yard and other law enforcement agencies. You know where the Maltese Duck is because it was given over into your hands.”
Lisette nodded warily.
“If you give us the Duck you will not be harmed. Flax and his associate Mister Goon will leave the country for places where they can disappear. You will be held here, or somewhere else, for a couple of days until they are safely away. As for me, you have no direct evidence to convict me with once these men are gone. It would be your word against mine, and I can claim that you have stolen the bird. I suggest you go along with this plan, otherwise your professional future will be at stake. Do I make myself clear?”
“That’s blackmail,” exclaimed Lisette.
Stella Sampling looked towards Howard Goon and nodded almost imperceptibly. The man rose and quietly left the room.
“In a manner of speaking,” the woman continued. “ But consider that there are no witnesses other than ourselves, unless you have told your associates of course. Have you?”
Lisette shook her head no.
“Then consider that it is your safety at stake.”
“What do you have to gain from this?”
“Miss Rivers, I have been in the art world for many years. It is always good practice to have as many business contacts as possible. Mister Pierpont will put me in touch with people overseas who may be of assistance in my business.”
“Art thieves and fences, you mean!”
“That’s as may be. I should not enquire too deeply into their backgrounds, so long as they can be of practical assistance.”
Howard Goon re-entered the kitchen. In his hands he carried several white cotton pillowcases lightly starched. One had been picked open at the seams and torn into two strips that hung over his shoulder. He was doing the same with the other pillowcase.
Lisette stirred uncomfortably: “What are you going to do with those?”
“Howard is going to tie you again. Being helpless will prompt you to cooperate. Also we will be moving in and out and we want you to stay put. Rather than give you unnecessary pain by tying you with those thin cords we’ll use cloth instead. By the way, Howard, did you find how Miss Rivers got free?”
“One of the pieces of rope was cut,” the man answered.
“Cut? Where did she get a knife?”
“I think she used broken pieces from the pot plant.”
“I see … When she is bound you should search her, make sure she has no other tricks.”
As her arms were pulled behind her around the frame of the chair Lisette’s heart sank. Escape would be impossible if she was kept tied and under her captors’ watchful eyes.
Bullet Proof Doubleday (1960) by Amber Dean, Crime Club Selection
When Goon had done, her wrists were neatly bound together. She could move her hands about either crossed or parallel, but could not slip them through the material, which was cinched in between her wrists to make serviceable cloth handcuffs. The same was done for her ankles, tied together and cinched to allow very little movement. The crisp cotton clung to her skin. It was relatively comfortable but she was quite helpless.
“Now,” said Stella Sampling, “Let’s get down to business. Where is the bird?”
Lisette took a breath: ” How do I know you’ll keep your part of the bargain if I tell you?”
The woman shrugged: “You don’t know. But if I were you I’d take the risk.”
Lisette’s mind was racing. She decided to take the risk. The situation could not be much worse.
“You’ll have to let me make a phone call,” said Lisette.
Stella Sampling considered a moment then spoke to Howard Goon: “Find the girl’s mobile phone. We’ll do it her way, but only so far I warn you,” she added, turning to Lisette.
Howard Goon left and returned moments later with Lisette’s shoulder bag in his hands. Stella Sampling flicked open the phone, found the Search function and stopped.
“Find the number for Sophie,” said Lisette.
Sampling scrolled through the list, her eyebrows rising with interest from time to time as she saw some of the names. She paused: “Found it.”
“Hullo Sweetheart,” said Lisette as the mobile phone was held to her ear. “Listen, I want you to do something for me. Go to the office and check our mail. You might find an envelope addressed to me in my own handwriting. Take what you find there and go to the place on the label. When you’ve picked up the package bring it to …”
Lisette looked up enquiringly at Stella Sampling who said, sotto voce: “Tell her to phone you back.”
“Phone me as soon as you have it … Yes, I’m all right.”
Stella Sampling closed the connection. “I’m glad you said you’ll be all right,” the woman remarked.
“How can she deliver it to you?” asked Lisette.
Their office sometimes received late mail because it was on priority post and she hoped that the mail had been delivered. Otherwise, it being Friday, they would have to wait through the weekend. She did not like the idea of being a captive for such a long time.
Stella Sampling answered her spoken question and in a sense ameliorated Lisette’s unspoken thoughts.
“This terrace house is close to the city centre. Your administrative assistant should have no difficulty finding the place. In the meantime I have to decide whether to give her this address for the delivery or to fix on a different location.”
“I think it would be better to use this house,” suggested Lisette. “The quicker we get this over with the better don’t you think? I don’t want to be tied up for longer than necessary. It’s uncomfortable as well as humiliating. You’ll get your bird.”
“I’m sure I shall,” replied Stella Sampling.
The woman raised her head and addressed Howard Goon who had resumed his seat by the table and was listening to the conversation between Lisette and his new accomplice with interest. “We have things to discuss that are best done in another room, but we can’t leave our pretty detective quite as free as she is now. Find some rope. Use it to make her more secure.”
Goon left and returned after a short time with several coils of thick rope. As Stella Sampling watched with approval – she was slipping into the role of a kidnapper with surprising ease, thought Lisette - he bound Lisette securely to the chair frame with three turns of rope about her body below her breasts and three more turns above. Additional rope held Lisette fast to the seat of the chair, a long end used as well to lash her ankles against one of the chair’s legs.
“You may be surprised to learn, Lisa Rivers, that this house is close enough to the neighbours for them to hear if you were foolish enough to call loudly for help. So we will take the necessary steps … Howard, gag Miss Rivers with that leftover piece.”
She was referring to a jumble of cotton on the kitchen table.
Tex comic detail, courtesy c3c Yahoo Group
Howard Goon took the cloth and twisted it twice between Lisette’s jaws before tying it off. The gag was firm but not too uncomfortable. It filled the front of her mouth and impeded speech sufficiently to prevent any attempt to scream or call for help that might be heard outside the room or through the wall shared by the neighbours. Goon and Sampling exited to join Pierpont. Lisette could hear fragments of their voices drifting through from the front room. For the interim she was forgotten. She settled back to await developments.
______________________
Developments were not long in coming. Lisette had always counted on Sophie’s efficiency and this was no exception. After less than half an hour the mobile phone began buzzing urgently, vibrating on the tabletop where it had been left. Stella Sampling entered the kitchen at a run and flicked it open. Howard Goon followed and stood beside Lisette, a warning hand covering her mouth unnecessarily. Flax Pierpont came in the rear and lounged by the doorway.
“Yes?” There was a pause as someone spoke at the other end. “No, I’m not Lisa Rivers,” stated Sampling succinctly, “but rest assured that your associate is unharmed though a little uncomfortable.” Another pause followed. ”Oh all right, I know you have to be sure of such things.”
The woman turned to Lisette. “Your friend wants to speak to you so she’ll know you’re all right. Howard, remove her gag.”
The knot in the stiff cotton was untied and the gag unwound and gently pulled from her mouth. Lisette’s mouth was dry and she coughed a moment before she could reply to the concerned voice from the mobile phone held to her ear.
“Yes Sophie, I’m okay. The gag made my mouth dry … You have it? Good. Bring it to the address they give you. Don’t worry about me. They’ll let me go once they have the statuette.”
Stella Sampling dictated an address, waited a moment for Sophie’s acknowledgement, and rang off. She tossed the mobile phone into Lisette’s bag and gave orders.
“Flax, if you don’t mind will you get the car ready? Howard, take the Rivers woman to the room where we held her before. Make sure she remains well tied and give special attention to her gag. She must be unable to make any appreciable sound when her friend arrives.”
Flax Pierpont left to attend to the car. Howard Goon began to untie Lisette from the chair.
“What do you plan to do?” asked Lisette apprehensively.
<p.
“I’ll keep my part of the bargain,” said Stella Sampling, “but you have to be made a little more uncomfortable, and a lot more quiet so you can’t warn your secretary. The address I gave was to this place. When she delivers the bird we can’t let her leave. She’ll be tied up the same as you. You will both spend two or three uncomfortable days until we’ve all gone to ground. I promise I’ll let the police know where you are so you’ll be rescued.”
Howard Goon lifted Lisette from the chair and walked her through to the “sun room.” Lisette was quickly placed upon the couch and her legs tied once again. Goon then gagged Lisette very thoroughly, first by packing a wad of cotton into her mouth, tying it in place with her own silk neck square, and following that up with another strip of cotton bound over it all.
In untangling the flimsy silk from Lisette’s pearl necklace the man almost broke it. Lisette wondered whether the tracking device was damaged, but the necklace remained in place and so she decided it was still signalling.
It doesn’t matter really because they’ve given Sophie the address. The poor girl’s walking into the trap with me as bait, but she’s walking into it with her eyes open anyway.
There was a knock on the door. Howard Goon stood beside Lisette, a hand on her shoulder in warning, but she did not try to call out. It was too late for that. The gag had settled firmly in place, and when she pushed with her tongue and moved her jaw she could not move it.
Wing Comics “Jane Martin,” 1946, p. 4, courtesy c3c Yahoo Group, colours changed by Brian Sands
Lisette heard voices in the hallway. As footsteps approached, she looked helplessly at the straight-backed chair Pierpont had placed in the room near the wall, ready to accommodate Sophie. Irrationally, Lisette tried to scream a warning but the gag was very tight and all that came out was a faint cough. Goon’s hand tightened on her shoulder.
The door opened and Stella Sampling entered, leading the way for Sophie and with Flax Pierpont in the rear. Sophie was carrying the thick newspaper-wrapped parcel in her arms. She uttered a stifled exclamation at seeing Lisette bound and gagged.
“You don’t have to worry your head about your boss,” said Sampling dryly. “It’s just a few ropes and a gag. She’s not very comfortable but she’s unharmed. Now, I’ll take that off your hands,” she continued, suiting the actions to the word and lifting the Maltese Duck from Sophie’s unresisting arms.
Sampling walked to the coffee table that Lisette had overturned and which was now righted, the mess of broken pottery and spilled soil cleared away. She placed the package on the table. Flax Pierpont crowded close beside her. They looked to Lisette more like a pair of crooks in collusion now than as two adversaries.
“Howard, see to the young lady please … Now Flax my new found associate, the unwrapping.”
As Stella Sampling and Flax Pierpont together tore at the string and the layers of newspaper that concealed the Maltese Duck, Howard Goon pushed Sophie down into the chair and began tying her arms behind her back. Sophie did not try to resist. She watched on with wide eyes, taking in the tableau of Lisette bound and gagged and the two art thieves feverishly clawing at their prize. To Lisette the two activities were like split frames in a film: the parcel being hastily and clumsily unwrapped and Sophie being bound hand and foot into the chair. At last the Maltese Duck stood unwrapped and resplendent in its dull sheen and Sophie was roped firmly into her chair.
“So that’s the Maltese Duck!” exclaimed Sophie.
Lady Sampling looked over her shoulder at Howard Goon and Sophie. “Gag the woman then come over and join the fun. Flax, do you have a knife?”
As Pierpont took a small clasp knife from his fob pocket, Goon quickly gagged Sophie.
The Unit “Off the Meter”
Stella Sampling looked across at Lisette, triumph in her eyes.
“You think this is an ordinary work of art, don’t you, valuable for the material from which it’s made, and for the craftsmanship? But that’s not the whole story. When I showed it to you and hired you I did not tell the whole truth. I intended to keep the statuette for myself but that’s of little consequence. There will be plenty for us to share. You see the lacquer that covers the Maltese Duck was put there for a reason. It was painted on thickly in order to cover the layers of precious metals and gemstones set into it: silver, gold, platinum, diamonds. Why go to that trouble, you want to ask, though with a gag in your mouth I see that’s not possible. The gemstones came from various heists from around the country, the gold and silver too, melted down to form cement for the gems. The Maltese Duck is a cheap wooden carving on which all those precious things have been overlaid.”
Stella Sampling took the knife from Pierpoint and held it up so that the small blade glittered in the light from the window. “I’ll show you,” she exclaimed delightedly. She began to shave the black coating from the statuette.
“This will be the last you will see for some time,” said the woman, panting over her exertions as she spoke. “Before we leave, you and your employee will be trussed up so that you are unable to move a finger, and you will be blindfolded to discourage communicating with each other or looking for a means of escape. There will be no escape until you are rescued … Why’s it taking so long?”
The cause of Lady Sampling’s last words was the Maltese Duck. The coffee table was covered with shavings and the statuette now stood a great deal thinner on its stand. Sampling cut deep and sliced off another thick shaving.
“There’s nothing underneath!“ she exclaimed, “Nothing!”
Angrily she picked up the offending statuette and cast it down with a crash onto the table. The Maltese Duck broke into pieces and lay there, its expression appropriately pained. All that could be seen was a wooden skeleton with a thick lacquer overlay that in profile looked like two tree rings. There were no gems, gold or platinum.
“This- this isn’t the right bird!” grunted Pierpont.
Stella Sampling began to laugh hysterically. She was still laughing, unable to stop, when the room filled suddenly with grim faced DORFIS operatives clad in regulation blue jeans, black roll neck sweaters, leather jackets and small-brimmed leather caps. To Lisette’s bewildered eyes they looked more like the denizens of a bizarre gay bar than law enforcement men and women from Scotland Yard’s clandestine Department of Reconnaisance, Field Intelligence & Surveillance.
Then she recognised Bryce la Plage coming to her. He looked faintly ridiculous in black leather jeans, biker jacket and cap. Quickly he untied the knotted cotton bandage from her face, pulled the silk scarf down from between her teeth and with a deliciously gentle touch eased the thick gag from her mouth.
Lisette almost fainted with pleasure. But she maintained her calm and said huskily: “I don’t think I’ve been happier to see anyone more than you Darling. Please get me out of these ropes.”
As Stella Sampling, Howard Goon and Flax Pierpont were led from the room cuffed and each between two burly officers, the ropes and cotton strips fell away.
“How did you get here so fast?” asked Lisette. “Sophie, was it you alerted DORFIS?”
Sophie, relieved of her gag and bonds, was massaging her wrists ruefully. “We’ve had you on our radar as it were,” she explained. “First there was the GPS signal. It came through loud and clear. And then we realised you’d planted a bug somewhere. We homed in on its signal too, and of course found that both signals matched. The DORFIS people came just now, in the nick of time, to use a cliché, as soon as they heard my voice. We’ve had the place surrounded for an hour. The signal to strike was when I identified the Maltese Duck.”
“But it’s not the Duck,” said Lisette, picking up the head of the statuette that had been decapitated by Stella Sampling’s fury. “Alas poor Duck. I knew him,” she intoned under her breath.
“We prepared a cheap souvenir copy,” said Bryce la Plage, ignoring Lisette’s lapse into Shakespearean parody. “The real Maltese Duck has been returned safely to the museum curators.”
END
© Brian Sands 2009.
The Bondage Fiction of Brian Sands