The sound I made was wordless, more like a bird’s squawk than anything human, but John must have recognized my voice. His head lifted alertly and his face was set in a scowl.
‘You again,’ he said, without enthusiasm.
‘What . . .’ His face was unmarked except for a swollen lip. I cleared my throat and tried again. ‘What did they . . .’
‘It’s called “The Death of a Thousand Cuts,” or something equally picturesque. Lower percentages are employed for purposes of discipline or persuasion.’ The scowl became even more pronounced. ‘The primary subject of the interrogation was your present whereabouts. I ought to have told them not to bother, because you’d be sure to turn up before long. Christ Almighty, Vicky, wasn’t one encounter with that ghastly woman enough? I have been trying for two days to get you out of here, and you keep coming back like a – a bloody boomerang!’
‘You’re the nastiest, most ungrateful bastard I have ever – ’ I began.
‘If you’re going to shout, at least close the door!’
‘Oh.’ I closed the door.
‘Dare I flatter myself that you came after me this time?’ John inquired in his most poisonously polite voice. ‘Very good of you, I’m sure. All right, let’s try the escape bit again. If we keep practising we may get it right one day. I trust it occurred to you to bring along a weapon? Possibly even a knife? If you didn’t, there’s one on the table.’
I had already seen it and was trying hard not to look at it. The blade was dark and clotted. Hoisting my skirts, I whipped out my own knife. I had wrapped a cloth around it as a makeshift scabbard.
A look of apprehension replaced John’s scowl as I wobbled towards him. ‘Do please watch what you’re doing. There are several essential arteries running down the extremities and your knowledge of anatomy – ’
‘I don’t suppose it’s as expert as hers.’ I had no doubt who had used that knife. His shirt was open and I could see some of the cuts, arranged in patterns as neat as cross-stitch.
I managed to free his ankles without slashing an artery and then crawled around behind the chair. When the knife touched his bare arm he made a profane remark and I snapped, ‘I’m trying to slide it down between your wrists. The rope is pretty tight.’
‘Oh, is it really?’
‘If you don’t stop twitching and complaining it will be your own damned fault if you end up with a spouting artery.’
After the last of the ropes had fallen away John rose briskly to his feet and immediately dropped to his knees. Instinctively I reached for him. He flinched away from my touch.
‘No. Just . . . give me a minute.’
I stood looking helplessly down at him as he fought to control his ragged breathing. Sweat had darkened his hair and his wrists were ringed with ridged flesh.
‘John,’ I whispered. ‘I, uh . . . I . . .’
‘Well?’ He didn’t look up, but his shoulders straightened as if in expectation.
‘I . . . I’m sorry.’
‘You’re sorry,’ John repeated.
‘Well, uh . . . It was very nice of you to lock me up in the wardrobe and . . . and all the rest. Of course if you had taken the trouble to mention at an earlier point in time that Mary was one of the gang and a closet sadist, none of this would have happened.’
‘Oh, well done,’ John said. ‘For a moment there, I feared that the Vicky I know and love had gone soft.’ He fumbled in his pant pocket. His hands were still numb; he managed to extract a small tin, but it slipped through his fingers when he tried to open it.
‘Let me.’ I picked it up. ‘Though I think you need something a little stronger than aspirin.’
‘That
I didn’t like the look of those pills. If they weren’t illegal they were dangerous. Maybe both. This didn’t seem an appropriate time for a lecture on drugs, however. ‘Can you swallow them without water?’
‘I’ll have to, won’t I?’
After he had forced them down I said, ‘Maybe we’d better get moving.’
‘I couldn’t agree more. Perhaps we ought first to discuss the method of escape you have in mind. I trust you do have a method in mind?’
‘I hadn’t gotten that far,’ I admitted.
‘Hadn’t you?’
We were both kneeling. When he turned his head his eyes were on a level with mine.
Neither of us spoke for a moment. Then he said, ‘Unless you were planning to tuck me under one arm and make a break for it, you’ll have to contain yourself for . . . say, ten minutes. It will take that long for those pills to kick in. Until they do I might manage a slow crawl.’
‘Did they say when they’d be back?’
‘No, they were not so considerate as that. Have you been here all this time? Not in the wardrobe, surely.’
‘No, I left. Thanks to Max. He knew I was in the wardrobe.’
That shocked him into relative alertness. ‘What? How do you know?’
‘We had a long talk. He sent Hans and Rudi out of the room before he spoke to me, and he obviously meant to let me get away, but he refused to tell me where they were taking you even after I . . . I . . . uh.’
‘You seem to be suffering from a speech disability,’ John remarked. ‘You, uh, what?’
‘Are you ready to – ’
‘No. What did you do or say to poor old Maxie? Burst into tears? Tell him you . . . Oh, Christ,’ John said, reading my face as only he could. ‘You didn’t! You didn’t really give Max – Max, of all people! – the old Romeo and Juliet routine? Did you threaten to perch on my tombstone and drink poison? Did you promise you’d follow him to the ends of the earth and stab him before throwing yourself off the battlements, a la Tosca? I’m immensely touched that you should perjure yourself for me, darling, but my opinion of your intelligence has been sadly shaken. You’d have stood a better chance of softening a rattlesnake than that cold-blooded, cynical – ’
The door opened just far enough to admit a man, and then closed as quietly. The man was Max.
‘Ah,’ he said softly; ‘I thought I’d find you here.’
My skirts were bunched up under me. I had to stand before I could get at my gun. Max watched interestedly while I fumbled in my pockets. John didn’t move a muscle. His mouth was still open and his eyes were glazed. Finally I got the gun out and pointed it at Max.
‘Don’t call for help,’ I said.
‘My dear Dr Bliss, I had time to recite an entire sonnet while you were trying to locate that weapon,’ Max said. ‘Something by Shakespeare or Mrs Browning, perhaps? I am not as familiar with your English poets as I would like to be.’
John closed his mouth and cleared his throat, but he was not yet capable of speech. I said, ‘Turn around, Max.’
‘So you can strike me unconscious with the butt of the gun? I think not, Dr Bliss. It would be painful for me and counterproductive for you.’
John got unsteadily to his feet and took the gun from me. He squinted at it, and then slipped it into his belt. ‘Would you care to elaborate on that, Max?’
‘My meaning should be clear,’ Max said. ‘I am going to help you escape.’
IT WAS FORTUNATE John was too petrified to argue or make long-winded, sarcastic speeches. Time was running out on us. The meeting had broken up; people were dispersing, to dress for dinner – and for other purposes.
Max was waiting for Mary. He had told us what we were to do, but he wouldn’t answer my questions. There
