He scrunched up his eyes, then spoke in a quieter, but harsher tone, “The local police aren’t involved in this Vicky. Those fellas won’t be coming back. At least you haven’t got to worry about them.” Then he gave a throaty chuckle and threw his cig on the floor. It bounced off the rug and skidded to a stop in a little flurry of sparks.
“I don’t understand what this is about? I’m just here on holiday – how do you even know my name? Are you from the embassy?” This time, I attempted to sound as naive as possible.
He laughed again. A quick, sharp, nasty little laugh.
“Okay Vicky, look,” he said, and sat down on the sofa very close beside me. He was so near that I could smell the sour, peaty aroma of his tobacco off his clothes. The smell repulsed me, but also made me crave a cigarette. There was something else to the rottenness. He was wearing some outdated brand of aftershave that he must have taken a bath in. He was quite an ugly man, but the charisma he obviously contained, took the sides off it. He seemed to know it too. As my Auntie would say – ‘If he was made of chocolate, he’d have eaten himself’.
“We both know why you’re here,” he continued frostily, “Those police there were just working for me, so forget about them. They’re gone love. They’re no help to you darlin’.”
“What? What are talking about?” I asked tersely, unable to grasp what he was saying. A layer of anger simmered above my feelings of panic.
“Right, we’ll play it your way. Okay.”
His face reddened and he poked in his pocket for another cigarette. His eyes remained on me and he looked to be trying to control his temper. That made me nervous.
“Right, introductions then. We’ll have it your way. For now, I’m Sammy Jamison – I’m a businessman. You’re Vicky Stark and you’re just here on holiday, fine. All you need to do, is to explain to me why you stole that holdall bag over there.”
He pointed across to the red bag, his arm moving in front of my face. I took in the strength in his arms. Strength that I could do nothing about, if he used it against me. As he pointed, he continued to look at me, his eyes bearing into me. My gaze followed to where he had pointed and I stared at the bag as if I had never set eyes on it before. I continued to look at it, my mind racing. The bag seemed to me to stare right back at me, me in some centre frame. I turned back to him.
“It’s my bag, I didn’t take it.” I said confidently, giving him a defiant stare. He shook his head, chuckling and smoking noisily on his funny cigarette. Then he shot up and began pacing again,
“That was a mistake,” he said, tutting, “That’s not your bag.”
I tried not to show it, but my mind was brimming with questions.
What the fuck is going on?
I had no idea how to play this. If I sidestepped this way or that I could be beat. I couldn’t work out what these guys were about. What wasn’t I getting?
“I won’t stay patient for ever Vicky,” he snarled, his voice raised – waving his cigarette at me.
How much would I have to endure this week?
What the actual fuck?
I just wanted to hit pause, or put my fingers together to stop time like that girl in the nineties T.V show could.
Alright, I’d say – you’ve got me life. I’ll do whatever you like.
I just wanted it to end. I’d never rip anyone off again in any way. I’d be a better person. I wouldn’t even bitch or complain about anything. Hell – I’d even sing Kylie and bloody Country Roads at gigs with an extra bloody, big smile on my face. I just needed it all over with.
Sammy kept on working across the room and stopped around the doorway into the kitchen. The bigger of the other two rotated round, watching me. The three of them stood, speaking quietly in Spanish.
Fuck.
I didn’t know what to do. I was beyond fear, giddy with nerves. These guys could do me harm. Serious harm. But why? They almost certainly wanted to do me harm. But what the hell was I to them? And what did they want with Richard’s bag? Why did they think I had stolen it?
“So what’s it going to be?” commanded Sammy, swaggering back into the room. His face was set and so was his voice. The other two followed behind him with two basins and some towels.
The atmosphere had shifted and I shivered.
“I assume you’ve heard of water boarding?” he continued.
“What the fuck?” I said, leaping up.
The taller of the other two hurried over to me and grabbed my shoulders, then forced me back down on the sofa. He held me there as the other one knelt down and began to make preparations behind the sofa. I couldn’t see what he was doing. I was petrified. Sammy glanced over at him, nodded, then he fixed me with a dark look.
“Up to you love,” he said coldly.
“Fucksake! I don’t know what you’re going on about!” I gasped, struggling to get up again, being manhandled more vigorously down by the other man, his expression blank.
“Keep her still Carlos,” spat Sammy towards the man, “What about you Danny?” he asked, turning his scowl to the smaller man on the ground.
“See boss, just a moment,” he replied, busying himself with the necessary items for my torture.
“Seriously, Sammy or whoever the fuck you are – I don’t know anything,” I pleaded, unable to conceal my desperation. On the surface, I couldn’t believe this was actually going
