* * *
Her mobile was ringing again. Cora bit her lower lip and tried to resist the temptation to move. The men’s voices had faded away and the noise caused by them rummaging around the loft she shared with Ollie had died down too. Nancy was calling her. She was sure of it. The very person she so needed to talk to was only a few yards away, but she couldn’t be certain the men had left. Or, perhaps, they were laying a trap, waiting for her to appear in search of her phone. It was almost miraculous they hadn’t found her yet. But there she was, hiding amongst the beams that supported the roof of her artist’s studio. It would have taken an acrobat as agile as she was to reach her. She was a performance artist, grateful that her art and skills – of walking across almost any surface and at any height – had saved her life.
She pushed back her small frame into the corner formed by the industrial size beams that would have supported, in the past, heavy industrial machinery. The small factory had been converted into two lofts. The vast open space was ideal to accommodate her studio and house the various props she designed and used in her shows. The large lights she had installed, three massive LED theatre spotlights, also shielded her from view.
Her muscles were well trained when it came to holding a difficult position for a long period of time. Emulating Marina AbramoviĆ’s capacity for endurance had given her an unexpected advantage, even though that choice had raised eyebrows amongst friends and family.
The ringtone was now telling her that the person who had tried to reach her had left a message. She had lost sense of time as to when she had taken refuge in the roofspace of her apartment. Each second lasted an eternity, certain the men who had invaded her home were going to discover her at any moment … She couldn’t escape. But they seemed a lot more interested in Ollie. The expressions on his face as he told her to hide had said so.
Fear and urgency … He had to save her. From what, she had no idea.
He had grabbed her arm, squeezed it so hard it hurt. “Hide … don’t ask why, please, please … just hide.”
How had he known the men were coming for him?
Cora turned her head around carefully to avoid upsetting her precarious balance. She tried to gauge the time. She had been due to meet Nancy at 8.30pm. The men had arrived as she was ready to leave and they had taken their time to search the flat.
It was violent and methodical.
Ollie had been taken away almost immediately, after refusing to answer their questions.
“Where is she?”
“She’s gone … She forgot her mobile.”
It hadn’t convinced them, of course. But they hadn’t found her and they had done a good job … a professional job at trying.
Cora attempted to relax the muscles in her back. Her body had started to complain. She brought her mind into focus and ignored the pain.
The men had taken Ollie away. He had hardly struggled. She wanted to scream, fight, escape … but the crashing of furniture being turned over and bookshelves emptied had created a thunderous, terrifying noise. As books fell to the ground and crockery was broken, she remained silent.
The ringtone of her phone was summoning her out of safety. Nancy was calling to check what had happened. Or perhaps the thugs who had taken her boyfriend were calling her to demand what they were looking for, to bargain for his release.
The thought punched her in the stomach. She shuddered and the urgency to reach her phone sent an electrical current through her stiff limbs. She stood up slowly on the top beam that crossed the entire structure of the roof, a massive steel joist. Her head swam a little. She grabbed the frame of the floodlight close to her. She could not rush her descent from this 20ft height. She sat down again, swung her legs astride the beam and stretched her back. She stood up again and started the perilous journey down. Her bare feet clung to the cold metal surface. Her arms were stretched out on each side of her body for balance. She moved at a measured pace, apprehensive to start with, confidence returning as her legs responded to her command. She reached the centre of the joist, then heaved herself down on to the central pillar that supported it. Her feet found small apertures in the upstanding column, enabling her to shin down like a monkey.
The loft resembled a warzone. She took a small intake of breath and steadied herself. She started looking for her phone, hoping the recall ringtone would guide her. The men had not bothered to turn the lights off, but she failed to see the small piece of crockery that lodged itself into her foot and almost made her scream in pain.
“Shit,” she grimaced between clenched teeth. Sitting down on the floor among the debris she slowly dislodged the shard from the sole of her foot. She hobbled towards the overturned sofa, leaving a trail of blood on the concrete floor.
Her trainers were scattered amongst the cushions and randomly opened magazines. She quickly pushed her feet into them, wincing. She stood up in front of the wide lounge windows, which had glass panes that almost touched the floor, and looked outside. A large man crossed the road,
