‘You look surprised to see me, darling,’ he said. Then, lifting Ena’s hair away from her neck, he put his mouth to her ear. ‘Do you think you can make a fool of me, play me as if I were an imbecile? Where is my sister?’
‘Walter?’ Ena stared at Freda King’s brother in in disbelief. Make a fool of him? Play him like an imbecile? It was him and Freda who had made a fool of her, setting her up to think she had killed someone. Ena clenched her fists. She was angrier than she had ever been, but she knew she had to stay calm. ‘Let go of my arm or I will scream the place down.’
‘Somehow I don’t think you will,’ he said, pulling a knife from his pocket and jerking it in Ben’s direction. ‘Because if you do, you won’t have a heart to give your Yank lover.’
Ena shot Ben a look. He was miles away gazing out of the window. She glanced at the man sitting next to him, who she thought was military intelligence, he was still reading his newspaper, and the woman next to him had her head down looking for something in her handbag. Not one of them had noticed the man sitting next to her had a knife pressed against her ribs.
‘Get up,’ he whispered.
‘What?’ The muscles in Ena’s body had seized. ‘I can’t…’ Her voice was hardly audible. Then she saw the MI5 man lower his newspaper slightly and nod, once. She was to do as Walter King said.
‘I said get up!’ he hissed. ‘If you do not do as I say, I shall stick this knife into your heart.’ Then in a normal voice, ‘You will not feel so sick if you walk around a little.’
Ena glanced down at the knife. He jabbed it towards her and her stomach churned. Pulling her roughly to her feet, Walter King pushed her towards the door and she stumbled. He put his hand on her shoulder, as if to steady her, and squeezed. The pain was excruciating. Without taking his eyes off her he said, ‘Pick up your bag.’
Ena did as she was told and took another step. Her mind was racing, thinking of ways to escape. When they were sitting down, the knife was in Walter King’s left hand, visible to Ena, but not to anyone else in the carriage. Now they were standing, surely the people opposite could see it. She looked down at King’s left hand. It was in his coat pocket.
Smirking, he pushed her with his right hand. She didn’t move. He pushed her again and, taking a couple of steps, Ena’s foot caught the toe of the woman’s shoe. She began to apologise, but the woman glanced up at her, smiled, and waved her hand as if to say it didn’t matter.
Ena heard Walter King sigh loudly. He squeezed her shoulder again, this time even harder. ‘Open the door.’ Ena hesitated and King reached round her. While he was bending forwards, and, Ena hoped, off balance, she spun round and, garnering all her strength, kneed him as hard as she could in the groin.
His face turned scarlet. His eyes, blazing with anger, bulged in their sockets. Cursing and holding his crotch, Walter King took a step back, but didn’t fall down. Ben, the MI5 man, and the woman began to get up, but King recovered quickly and in an instant had the knife out of his pocket and at Ena’s throat.
‘Open it!’ he shouted to the intelligence woman, who jumped up and did as she was told. ‘Now sit down,’ he ordered, and she returned to her seat. Pushing Ena out into the corridor, King closed the door.
With one arm around her neck, and the knife at her throat, he forced Ena along the corridor to the exit. ‘I can’t breathe,’ she choked. ‘Please, I think I’m going to faint…’
Ena’s legs turned to jelly and as she slid to the floor, the world turned black. King put the knife in his pocket. ‘Get up, you stupid bitch!’ he shouted, slapping Ena’s face to bring her round. He opened the window, hauled Ena to her feet, and propped her against the door.
Ena caught her breath and coughed. For a moment she didn’t know where she was. Then she saw the Welcome to Rugby sign. The train had hardly stopped when King opened the door. ‘We are going to leave the train and walk along the platform to the exit smiling as if we are sweethearts, understood?’ Ena nodded. ‘I shall put the knife in my pocket but if you so much as look at anyone it will be at your throat in a second. Got it?’ Ena felt disorientated and her head ached. ‘I said, got it?’
‘Yes. I’ve got it,’ Ena said, shaking.
‘I don’t want to kill you.’ Ena hoped that was true. ‘I take little pleasure in it, but if you do not do as I say, I will kill you in an instant.’
Ena nodded. ‘I will do as you say.’
He slipped the knife into his pocket. ‘When we are out of the station, and I am sure we have not been followed, I will let you go.’ King nudged Ena down the train’s steps and, gripping her arm, manoeuvred her along the platform. They walked quickly, overtaking passengers who had just left the train, until they were surrounded by people. Ena felt sick. In a few minutes they would be through the tunnel and out of the station, and then what? Would he let her go as he said? The alternative didn’t bear thinking about.
Without warning, King pulled her to one side to allow a family – mum, dad, and two children, to go past. Then, with one hand clamped on Ena’s arm and the other
