MIA CHANTAL IN JEOPARDY by Brian Sands
Part Four: If You Go Down to the Woods Today ...
Mia was so exhausted from her day-long ordeal bound to the chair and
wearing the cruel gag she had foolishly chosen for herself, and which
Snedley tightened beyond bearing, that she fell asleep and almost missed
her opportunity. She was awakened suddenly by the new gag she now wore, for
it began to smother her, light though it was. She sat up and looked about
feverishly. Her room was still bathed in soft light, the outer room in a
harsh glare. She rediscovered that her wrists were bound behind her and her
ankles were tied neatly together. But she remembered the ties were not as
tight as Snedley usually made them.
Had she left it too late to attempt an escape? What time must it be now?
She swung her legs out from under the bedclothes and placed her feet on the
carpet, then very carefully lowered herself to the floor so that she was
sitting sideways with her back against the bed.
The cords seemed harder to budge and Mia realised with a twinge of panic
that her wrists had swollen in the warmth of the bed. Biting her lip
through the gag, she worked carefully with her fingers, alternately
relaxing and tensing her wrists and hands, and gradually - oh so gradually
- she felt the ties begin to loosen. She could now twist her wrists around
in the loops of cord. But after half an hour she was hot and sweating and
her wrists still seemed not to have cooled sufficiently for her to slip
them free. She continued doggedly to work on the bonds until she got wise
and sat back and rested.
Mia knew that overheating her body would not help. Instead, she filled in
time by working on the gag, tucking in her chin and moving her head from
side to side and up and down until the silk began gradually to slip.
Getting up onto her knees, she managed to hook a large hank of her hair on
one of the bed posts, and the gag loosened when her hair pulled free of the
silk tied over it. With a sense of victory, she pushed the wad out of her
mouth from behind the knot of the silk bandage, and then it was a
relatively easy matter to slip the whole thing over her chin so that it
fell around her neck.
Seeing herself in a large wardrobe mirror opposite the bed - tousled dark
hair, flowing silk of the nightgown, knotted scarf loose at her throat -
Mia thought almost irrelevantly about the women's fashion of wearing loose
scarves about their necks with a knot tied in front. Was it symbolic of
something? she wondered lazily. The feminist woman no longer wearing a gag?
Anyway, it was a relief to have her mouth free after bearing a gag of some
sort for hours, silencing her and restricting her breathing.
She was so tired that she was becoming light-headed, but she must renew her
efforts to free her wrists. Careful, judicious twisting and sliding of one
hand while the other remained still seemed to be having some effect. Slowly
and painfully, Mia worked her hand under the ties. It was touch and go for
a while when her thumb almost became trapped in a loop, but suddenly her
hand was free, slipping out of the bands of cord, scraping off a small
patch of skin on the way. Mia could not believe that she was free. With
shaking hands she worked at the ties on her legs and in another minute was
standing in the centre of the small bedroom, swaying with fatigue, cradling
one wrist in her hand.
But Mia knew she would have to lick her wounds later. There was no time to
lose. It was more important to explore her prison before Snedley
reappeared. She did not relish having to tie herself up again to make it
appear that she had spent all night in the bed without trying to get free,
so she hoped to goodness there was a way out. But first she had to get into
clothes that were more practical. Running through the woods in a silk
nightgown was only the stuff of gothic novels.
Quickly Mia walked into the brightly lit main room and rummaged through her
suitcase. In a short time she had dressed in black silk panties and lacy
bra, blue silk blouse and a pair of light blue jeans. Snedley had packed
very few shoes, and what was there betrayed the fellow's fetish for dark
high-heels. No sneakers, which would have been more useful under the
circumstances. But Mia found a pair of comfortable flat-heeled shoes and
decided she would have to make-do with them. How cold would it be outside,
that is, if she made it that far? The nights lately were balmy, sometimes
chilly in the early mornings. Mia shrugged into a satin vest and knotted a
large colourful scarf of heavy silk around her throat. As she turned
towards the door, she saw her shoulder bag on the table, half hidden
between the suitcase and the wall, and she snatched it up in passing.
Mia tried the handle softly, holding her breath for any sound the lock
might make. The door was secure, she knew that. She remembered seeing a
television drama about a kidnapped woman who managed to open the door of
her prison by unscrewing the hinges, but the hinges of this door looked
immoveable. Mia stooped and peered through the keyhole and her heart missed
a beat. The key was still in the lock! The young woman thought immediately
of the old ploy of pushing a sheet of newspaper under the door, poking out
the key and drawing it back in. Could she do it in this case? The gap at
the foot of the door looked wide enough. All she needed was newspaper. And
that was when she could - almost - have blessed Snedley with his fixation
on her clothes, because several sheets of newspaper lined the large
suitcase he had brought them in. Mia could not believe her good fortune.
Now she had a real chance of getting away from this odious place.
With great care, Mia pushed two overlapping pages of newsprint under the
door. Then she worked on the key with a nail file taken from her handbag.
The key was heavy and stiff, and when it slipped out of the lock and fell
to the floor Mia prayed that it had not bounced off the newspaper. Holding
her breath, she slowly drew the sheets of paper back into the room. The key
came with them. It had fallen neatly into the center of the newspeper.
Within moments Mia had the door unlocked. But she did not rush out
precipitately. With great care she looked into the passage and steps
beyond, before slipping through the narrow gap she allowed, and closing the
door behind her. She did not want any light from the room to be seen from
upstairs, so she edged her way upwards in darkness. There was another door
at the top of the stairs. Was that locked too? It was, but its key had also
been left in the lock. Mia had to retreat down the stairway to fetch the
sheets of newspaper, but within a short time, and acting with the same
caution she had exercised before, she had the second door open.
The ancient floorboards creaked alarmingly. Mia felt she was walking on
egg-shells and took each step with her heart in her mouth. She was unable
to remember the twists and turns Snedley had made while carrying her over
his shoulder, but the front door proved easy to find, and within another
minute she found herself walking rapidly along the stony dirt track that
led from the house. She could not run in the semi-darkness, but a full moon
made it easier to keep to the path.
It felt glorious to be free, in the open, scented air of the woods, no
longer bound and gagged in a stuffy room. Already what she had been through
during the last twenty-four hours was beginning to take on a sense of
unreality. She would find the main road and hail down a passing motorist.
She felt sure that, although she was dishevelled, a woman dressed in smart
jeans and blouse would not be seen as a danger and that she would have no
difficulty in hitchhiking out of the area. The main road must not be far,
though she remembered with a sinking feeling that the limousine had
travelled for more than an hour on rough tracks. Perhaps Snedley had chosen
purposely to use country back-roads. She hoped so.
It is known that at night sounds travel far. So Mia heard the distant purr
of the limousine's motor a long while before its lights came into view up
the track. This gave her plenty of time to hide in the deep brushwood. Mia
lay flat on the ground beneath a low bush at the base of a large protecting
tree. As the vehicle approached, at Snedley's usual maniac pace, she held
her breath. And although she could not be seen in the deep shadows, she
shrank herself into as small a ball as possible, closing her eyes. The
car's passage some fifty yards away was accompanied by a Doppler effect in
its approach and passing, together with a shower of stones that pattered
across the branches and leaves of the roadside trees. Then the car was
gone, its humming motor fading into the dark towards the house.
Mia leapt to her feet in a near panic which she did her best to quell. It
would only be a matter of minutes before Snedley found that she had
escaped, and then he would be driving back, trying to out-think her just as
much as she now had to predict what he would do. One course would be to
leave the track and try to make it through the woods, but she knew that
would slow her down and expose her to other dangers such as running into
tree branches or falling into holes. The quickest way to travel was to
regain the track and follow it, and to risk being overtaken by Snedley.
While these thoughts were flashing through her mind, Mia returned to the
track. She began running, but she attempted to pace herself. It was no good
succumbing to panic and using up all her energy in a mad sprint towards an
as yet unknown main road. She was grateful that she had gone on a fitness
regime earlier that year. But she did wish she was wearing her sneakers.
The flat-soled shoes she had on did not give as much grip in the rough dirt
as she would have liked. The soles themselves were smooth and tended to
slip, especially when she was negotiating grassy patches. And there were
plenty of them. She realised this particular section of track had not been
used much by vehicles. It was quite overgrown in places.
As she ran, Mia listened intently for the sound of the limousine coming up
behind her. But there was nothing. Had Snedley found her missing and given
up the idea of pursuit? There would be no real certainty as to when she had
got away. On the other hand, this was a lonely isolated spot and Snedley
might know the country well.
Mia ran on, but the combination of physical exertion after her hours of
captivity began to tell on her and she had to slow her pace to a rapid
walk. She was reassured by the relative silence behind her. There was
nothing to be heard aside from the wind whistling in the pines above and
the occasional wail of a bird. But the track seemed to go on forever and
Mia's hopes that she would soon come to a main road began to sink. There
was nothing for it but to push on. She told herself she had to keep moving,
though her breath was growing more laboured and her legs felt like lead.
She could not afford to stop and rest.
Then something inexplicable happened. On the track up ahead Mia heard
someone chuckle. Then a black figure materialised out of the darkness and
came towards her. Mia stood rooted to the spot. For a fleeting moment she
thought it was a hunter or someone like that, setting traps in the
moonlight. But the chuckle was all too recognisable. It was Snedley. How on
earth had he got in front of her?
Uttering a panicky squeal, Mia swung about and ran blindly back up the
track. With her last sensible thought, she dashed across into what appeared
to be an open area between the trees. Then something struck her heavily
from behind and she was thrown face down onto a bed of pine needles. They
broke the violence of her fall, but the breath was driven out of her body.
She could not struggle or cry out. There followed the too familiar
experience of her arms being wrenched behind her and cord twisted tightly
about her wrists. The ties cut into the patch of chafed skin and sent a
tremor of pain through her body. However he had done it, Snedley had
overtaken her and recaptured her. I'm in for it now, she thought
hopelessly. She knew this vicious man would take enjoyment in punishing her
for an escape that had very nearly succeeded. By now her arms were bound at
the elbows and Snedley was securing her ankles together. Mia lay still. She
was not only exhausted, and with her hopes dashed. She knew also that her
bonds would be unforgivingly tight and there was no point in struggling any
more.
Mia was roughly turned onto her back. Snedley's face was hidden in shadow
but his eyes glinted whenever the moonlight caught them. The young woman's
heavy silk scarf was plucked from around her neck, bunched up, and crammed
firmly and completely into her mouth. She accepted the gag with a faint
mew. Would she ever get used to it? Snedley took from his pocket what Mia
found later was the heavy black silk scarf that Miles had originally used
on her in their gentle capture game, so different from what was going on
now. Snedley evidently liked using this scarf on her. The black silk was
bandaged around Mia's face and tied viciously tight at the back of her head
under her hair. Mia knew there would be no getting out of it in a hurry.
'Hoo hoo,' exclaimed Snedley, sitting back on his haunches and looking down
at his prisoner. 'Nearly made it, kiddo. Didn't suss that this track takes
lots of turns, did you? At this place it loops back close to the house!'
Mia closed her eyes in complete surrender to her fate. So that was how
Snedley had got to her so quickly. He had not used the car but instead had
cut through the woods to intercept her. It was probably a piece of
guess-work for him, but it paid off. For her it was bad news. Snedley was
still talking, ' ... not wise at all. I warned you, Mia Chantal. Now it's
no more Mr Nice Guy!' This man's got to be kidding! thought Mia hopelessly.
Without another word, Snedley hauled Mia to her bound feet, loaded her onto
his shoulder, and struck out through the woods towards the house. Mia
closed her eyes and tried not to think what he might do to her once they
were back in the cellar.
It was as bad as she expected. Once they were in the first room of Mia's
prison suite, Snedley bound more rope around her body just below her
breasts, making additional loops around her upper arms, so that they were
fixed against her back, and propped her up on the mattress against the
cellar wall. Mia sat still submissively, head bowed and eyes closed, while
Snedley did something with a big length of rope. When the girl raised her
head, curious to see what he was up to, she saw that the rope now hung in
two equal strands from the iron ring in the ceiling. Snedley stood a moment
looking down at her with a nasty glint in his eye. Then he crossed to the
table and picked up the leather gag which had so tortured Mia before. He
returned and squatted beside the young woman.
Taking Mia roughly by the chin and forcing her to look up into his eyes,
Snedley grinned evilly. 'Let's see you get out of this one, my pretty
little bird. And this is just to quieten you some more.' With that, Snedley
forced the leather gag into Mia's mouth over the silk bandage without
removing either the scarf that wrapped her face or the wadded scarf in her
mouth. As the straps were buckled tightly at the back of her neck, the gag
compacted her cheeks around the wadding and forced it deeper into her
mouth. Mia began to make choking sounds. Snedley only laughed.
Next the girl was pulled roughly to her feet and lifted to the center of
the room below the rope, where Snedley made her kneel. He stepped behind
her and fastened one end of the rope to the ties around Mia's body. Then he
took the other end in his hands and walked to the wall near the door where
Mia saw that another iron ring had been inserted. The rope was threaded
through the ring and Snedley pulled up the slack until Mia was barely able
to support herself on her knees while fighting for balance.
Not content with what he had done, Snedley next bound Mia's ankles to her
wrists, putting her in a hogtie. He than hauled some more on the rope until
the girl hung face-down a few inches off the floor. Her body was in agony.
She screamed through the gag which was slowly choking and smothering her,
but all that came out was a thin throaty wail. Snedley pushed her with his
foot and giggled as Mia swung helplessly backwards and forewards. The
circulation in her arms was cut off, every muscle of her body twitched and
screamed in sympathy with the continual whimpering sounds that escaped the
gag. Already breathing was becoming difficult with the weight of her body
pulling the ropes tighter around her chest. Mia closed her eyes. This is
it, she thought. I won't survive if he leaves me like this all night. Mia
choked back a sob. It's not fair. She prayed that something would happen
soon, that Snedley would have a change of heart. But the man sat on a chair
giggling, showing no intention of taking Mia down.
'What's the meaning of this? My god,' a large male voice boomed, echoing in
the small room.
Snedley leapt to his feet. Mia jerked her head up to see where the voice
was coming from, a movement that set her body swinging again on the end of
the rope. Standing in the open doorway was a large rather portly man,
dapper in evening clothes. Goggling behind him over his shoulder was a
woman dressed in the dull grey uniform of a house-maid.
Snedley shuffled towards the center of the room closer to Mia and came to a
semblance of attention. 'S ... S ... Sir Murgatroyd ...' he stammered.
Mia's first thought was that she had been rescued. But the woman's face was
familiar. Surely it was the maid who served dinner to her and Miles, and
Mia remembered Snedley's incautious remark that he was not alone in the
plot to kidnap her. It was perfectly logical from Mia's reading of gothic
thrillers that maids, butlers and chauffeurs were all suspect. Why could it
not also apply in real life?
But who was this other person? The owner of the house who, Snedley had
revealed, was loaded? Mia had read a newspeper report earlier that week
about a financier named Sir Murgatroyd. Was this the same man? She tried to
remember what the press report had said about him. But her thoughts became
confused as she began to pass out from a combination of pain and shock.
To be continued ...