turned away, silently relishing the shocked look on Laird’s face. ‘Ah, the evening paper has arrived. Thank you, my dear.’
Capritzo sighed as he scanned the front page. ‘Really, I wonder sometimes why I bother; so much violence, so much death. Take this article for example.’
He handed the paper to Laird then pointed to a small paragraph near the bottom.
TEENS IDENTIFIED
Two university students who died in a horrific freak accident on Highway 5 on New Year’s Eve have been tentatively identified as Sarah Winthrope Churchill and David Michael Kendall, both second-year pre-med students. The cause of the tragedy is unspecified but it is believed that defective brakes were a contributing factor. The ensuing blaze took firemen some time to quell. Police have expressed concern in the past that this section of Highway 5 is…
‘My God!’ Laird choked.
‘Tell me, how long have you been in Mr. Develin’s employ, Doctor Smith?’
‘Ah … three months sir,’ Laird stammered.
‘Indeed. I, on the other hand, have known your employer for many years.’ Capritzo eased closer. ‘I am curious. During the course of our association, he has never once expressed a desire for a girl such as this one.’ He smiled almost shyly. ‘Mr. Develin prefers mature women who are, how shall I phrase it - sexually enlightened? I speak of courtesans, Doctor Smith - well trained and discreet. It is rumored that he is not well so perhaps she is destined for another - a gift perhaps?’
‘I’m sorry but I’m not at liberty to discuss Mr. Develin’s personal life sir. I, ah … you will excuse me please, I’ve got things to do and Miss Churchill …’
‘… represents a considerable challenge even for a man as young and vigorous as yourself, Doctor Smith. Such a radical departure from the norm begs the question why, especially since I have reason to believe that Mr. Develin is quite unwell.’
‘To the best of my knowledge, Mr. Capritzo, Mr. Develin is in excellent health.’ Laird began to back away, suddenly fearful.
‘Excellent news! I can assume then that this girl is for his pleasure only, nothing more. Yet again, I must wonder. Tell me, Doctor Smith, what is your area of expertise?’
‘I’m sorry, but I can’t answer that question.’
‘Yes, of course. But please, one thing more before you go. I am sure you will agree that Miss Churchill is a remarkable young woman - extraordinary perhaps. Should it happen that she does not meet with Mr. Develin’s approval, I would be most interested in having her returned to me, provided, of course, that she is in, shall we say, reasonable condition. I might add, and this is strictly confidential, there is a possibility of an opening either here or in the U.K. for a bright young doctor of ambition who knows an opportunity when it presents itself. Think on it, my young friend and have a good flight.’
4
Sarah woke to a world of discomfort. She felt sick to her stomach, disoriented and weak. The persistent droning sound in the background only succeeded in aggravating the headache that pounded just behind her eyes. When she tried to move she realized that her left wrist was handcuffed to something solid while across her thighs and chest were wide unyielding bands that kept her held fast to whatever it was she was lying on. As her vision cleared she found herself staring straight up at the ceiling of an airplane. Jet engines, working in unison, throbbed rhythmically just beyond the window to her right.
‘Good, you’re awake.’ Doctor Laird smiled pleasantly down at her. ‘No doubt you are thirsty. I’ll get you a drink of water.’
Sarah’s green eyes regarded him with pure, unadulterated hated. ‘Who are you?’ she demanded in a voice sharp with fear.
‘My name is Peter Laird - Doctor Peter Laird. In a sense, I’m your personal physician.’
‘Personal physician!’ Sarah huffed. ‘In that case, consider yourself fired - in a sense.’
‘Very droll, Miss Churchill. Come, I’ll adjust the seat so that you may sit up in comfort just as soon as I remove these restraints. I would recommend that you stay safely buckled in however, in case of turbulence. There, that’s better.’ He smiled thinly while avoiding her steady gaze. ‘If I’m not mistaken you are marginally dehydrated so may I recommend two or perhaps three glasses of water or, if you prefer, I believe there’s lemonade or ginger ale?’
‘Do you do this often?’ Sarah asked, her jaw clenched tight with rage.
‘Do what?’ Laird seemed perplexed by the question.
‘Play steward to your abductees.’
‘Abductee? I’m sorry, I ...’ He swallowed hard then cleared his throat. ‘My employer has merely asked me to ensure your good health, provide you with company if you so desire and see you safely into his charge. I fully appreciate your feelings in this difficult …’
‘Do you?’ she screamed. ‘I doubt that very much, Doctor Laird. Look you bastard, I’ve been abducted - kidnapped, goddamn it. I’ve been drugged, forcibly confined, manhandled by a great brute of a SOB and you stand there and politely speak to me of how you appreciate my situation? Are you completely nuts?’
‘Please, drink this.’
‘I’ll take nothing from you. Get away from me!’
‘Miss Churchill, we have several more hours of flying time, so I…’
‘Where are you taking me?’
‘I can’t tell you that, but I can tell you that your determination to resist, although commendable, is both foolhardy and perhaps dangerous. My employer is not the type of man to…’
‘Your employer, has he a name Laird?’
‘Richard Mayfair Develin.’
‘And it was he who orchestrated all of this?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘Mr. Develin was quite taken by you, apparently, during a visit to your city. The encounter was brief, you would not remember, but ever since you have been much on his mind. He merely wishes to meet with you formally and if by chance …’
‘Just a minute; if this bastard wanted to meet me, why didn’t he just give me a call? Oh no, Laird, we’re not talking about a casual date here and you’d be smoking funny cigarettes if you damn well believe that. No one dishes out this kind of money to spend a few hours chatting with a girl unless …’ Sarah’s eyes grew wide with fear. ‘What did you mean when you said that he was not the type of man? Just exactly what are we dealing with here?’
‘It’s not my place to say. Mr. Develin is, ah … well, you’ll have an opportunity to meet him soon enough.’
‘I see,’ she choked, holding back the tears. ‘I … I think I’d like that glass of water now.’
‘Yes, of course.’
*****
Sarah leaned her head against the side of the aircraft then pulled her legs up under her, trying to find a comfortable position while a million and one thoughts raced through her mind, each combining into the other, building into a crescendo of apprehension. Not the type of man … Not the type of man …
Several times Laird tried to engage her in conversation but she refused, turning inward, encapsulating herself against the worst possible nightmare. She remembered back to just after her capture; her heart constricting as the memory descended, unbidden and unwanted but pushing