Deception (17 page)

Ari spoke. “I’ve got to leave you for a couple of minutes. Someone’s got to have a duplicate key to the room. Be brave. I’ll have you out in no time.”

Kristie spoke up then. She sounded quite unconcerned, and even friendly towards him.

“Yeah. You do that, Mr Taxi Man. You go look for the key and leave Bailey to me.”

My throat still hurt from the sand, and from shouting.

“Ari, for God’s sake, you can’t go! You mustn’t leave me alone with her!”

“Bailey, it would take a machine gun to get through this locked door. I have to find an alternative way in. But I won’t be gone long. I promise.”

I was yelling, and sweating, and desperate.

“I’ll be dead before you get back! I don’t think I can hold her off for much longer!”

“Trust me, Bailey.”

I was crying, the tears running down my sandy cheeks and dripping onto the carpet. I was so scared. And so exhausted. And utterly terrified.And he expected me to trust him. A man I hardly knew.

“Ari, you still there?”

There was no reply from the other side of the door.

I yelled even louder. “Ari?”

Still no reply. Kristie smiled. A slow, complacent smile.

Standing stock still, she said, “Your would-be saviour’s fled, Bailey. He’ll never find the master key, because I stole it when I stole the knife. It’s just you and me now, baby. Say goodbye.”

From somewhere I found the strength to rise to the challenge. I risked a quick look behind me. The balcony was now directly behind my back. No way out there, of course, nowhere to go but down. But what alternative did I have?

I’d already seen she was wearing a long Indian type of cheesecloth skirt that was really way too long for her, and I noticed it had been bunched up around her waist to help shorten it. It was one of those
elasticated waistbands that are often quite loose. One size skirts, they were called. To make herself look dumpy on the top too, in an effort to help disguise her figure even further, she was still wearing the same thickly padded jacket I’d seen her wearing before. The whole outfit must have been quite constricting, I thought.

All the while, I’d been holding her off me by pushing her back, grimly trying to keep her from stabbing any exposed part of my body she could reach. And she’d simply clung onto the bottom rung of the chair and pushed back. Both of us were now grunting and red faced with the exertion. Neither yielding to the other. Both strong in our own way. Now I did the unexpected. I reversed tactics and suddenly stepped back and yanked the chair sharply towards me.

Completely taken by surprise, Kristie lurched forward, tripped over the hem of her long skirt and fell heavily to her knees, dropping the knife in the process. Unfortunately, though the knife dropped from her hand, I saw to my dismay it only fell onto the carpet directly in front of her. No way could I reach it before she did, she’d carve me up before I got within an inch.

But she’d let go of the chair, and what my action had done was give me time to leap backwards onto the balcony, swing the doors shut, and tip the chair under the handles, wedging the French doors shut so they couldn’t be pushed open from the inside.

I leaned back against the iron railings, breathing heavily, trying to get my breath back. That must surely slow her down somewhat, I thought. Though for how long was anyone’s guess.And then what? Hand to hand combat? My blood froze in my veins at the thought.

I could see her through the glass panes of the doors, slowly getting to her feet and staring out at me. She took her time. She was in no hurry. She was enjoying herself. Her mocking expression turned my legs to jelly. She even had the temerity to wiggle a finger at me.

Then she bent and picked up the knife.

“Bailey! Over here!”

My head whipped sideways. Ari was standing on the balcony next to mine. My relief at seeing him again was overwhelming, and I felt a rush of joy surge through my veins.

I said weakly, “I thought you’d left me.”

“I wanted her to think that. People often start to make mistakes when they think they’ve nothing to fear. I needed to find her room. I guessed, I hoped, she wouldn’t have locked her door when she came to find you, as she’d want to make her escape again after…”

“…After she’d finished with me,” I finished for him. I stared across at him hopefully, then forlornly. “If only we had a rope.”

“We haven’t, so move aside, Bailey. I’m going to jump across.” He started to climb up onto the railing.

I watched him, my heart pumping wildly in my throat.

“Don’t be a fool, Ari, it’s too far, you’ll be killed.”

He cocked his head to one side. “It’s only about six or seven foot.”

Just then I heard the glass behind me shatter, and felt a sliver of glass slice through my cheek. Blood dripped down onto my hand and almost in a daze I watched as her hand came through the broken pane of glass and she began to push the chair aside. It scraped on the concrete, but it began to wobble.

“There’s no time left,” I screamed.

He jumped back down onto his balcony, leaned forward and held out his arms.

“Then you must jump over to me. Don’t worry, I’ll catch you.”

I gasped in terror, and hung back. I was so aware of the waves pounding against the rocks far below me, like a huge monster waiting for its feed. I was sobbing in fear.

“I can’t! I’ll fall. Ari, I don’t want to die!”

“You won’t fall! Trust me!” You’ve got to jump! And you’ve got to do it
now
! Bailey, move! She’s coming out! I’ll catch you, I promise. Have faith in yourself, Bailey! There’s no more time….”

Looking into his eyes, seeing the alarm in his face, I manoeuvred myself into a sitting position on top of the railing, and then slowly and cautiously slithered down on the other side, my feet finding purchase on a tiny jutting ledge of concrete that ran all the way around the edge of the balcony. I didn’t look down, and I daren’t look behind me. I could hear her footsteps as she trod over the broken glass. I knew my hands must be slick with perspiration, but I grabbed the top of the railing with a hand on either side of me.

“
Now
, Bailey, for God’s sake, jump now! She’s right behind you! Hurry!”

I launched myself into the space between our two balconies, and at the same time I felt a piercing pain stab me in the calf of my right leg. Simultaneously I heard a shrill and ear-splitting scream that seemed to go on and on. It confused me, as first it was behind me, and then it came from just beneath me, then from far below, before finally fading away into silence.

All I could hear then was just the wild sea crashing against the bottom of the cliffs.

I had no more time to think. I flew through the air like one of those damn birds that made their nests in the cliffs, and then I slammed into the side railings of Ari’s balcony and scrabbled wildly for something and somewhere to grab onto. I thought I must fall, and that I’d be dashed to pieces on the rocks below, but then strong arms grabbed me tight under my arms and began hauling me up and over the balcony railings.

I clung onto him, sobbing with relief, barely even conscious of the pain in my leg and the fact that I was bleeding all over his shoes. He made me raise my leg, and fussed over me a bit. I let him, not minding at all. It was great to feel protected again.

I looked up at his face, so stern, and yet so tender. Seeing me looking at him, he raised a hand and wiped the sweat off my brow, then crushed me to his chest so that I could barely breathe. I didn’t mind. It was a lovely feeling. Safe, and warm, and wonderful. He bent his head and kissed my lips, and that felt pretty good too. We just stood there for a moment, he holding me tight in his arms while my heart stopped racing and slowly subsided to a more normal pace.

Finally I risked a question, and asked, “Kristie?”

His expression sombre, he said, “Just as you jumped, she leaned over the railing and stabbed downwards. She was aiming for your back but she only nicked your leg, but she’d leaned over too far and the speed and momentum caused her to overbalance.” He jerked his head, and I shuddered. “She’s down there somewhere, if she hasn’t already been washed out to sea.”

I found I was trembling all over. Seeing it, he gave me a quick hug.

Nestling against him I said, “What now?”

“Well, Miss, now we have to get your leg seen to. Thank God it doesn’t seem too deep a cut. You might get away with just a couple of Steristrips. That’s butterfly stiches, which are narrow adhesive strips that help to close the edges of small wounds and encourage the skin to heal. And I think a call to the police would be in order, too.”

“And then?”

“And then it’s up to you, Bailey. You always had a choice with what you wanted to do and where you wanted to go.”

For a moment I didn’t respond.

He said to lighten the moment, “I actually drove here in the cab.”

I laughed. “You brought a London taxi cab all this way?”

“Can you think of a better way to travel? It’s parked in one of the hotel bays. Primed and ready to go whenever you’re ready. To take you wherever you wish to go.”

I looked up at him admiringly. “I do believe you’re a very intelligent and resourceful man, Ari Ferrari.”

He lightly stroked my cheek with his knuckle. “You didn’t do too badly there either, Miss Cathcart. You kept your cool and didn’t panic in the face of danger.”

As we went through Kristie’s room and then back towards my bedroom to collect my bags, with me hopping beside him as he held me around the waist, I said, coaxingly, “Tell me what you do as a volunteer with the IDF. I think it must be something rather special.”

He smiled mysteriously as he took my cases from me. “I’ll tell you when I’ve got to know you better.”

Now there’s something to look forward to, I thought happily.

If you en
joyed ‘Deception’ then you may be interested in ‘My Mother’s Wedding’ by Frankie McGowan, also published by Endeavour Press.

Extract from ‘My Mother’s Wedding’ by Frankie McGowan

'The
minute
you
get
back,'
Alice
said.
She
knew
her
voice
was
shaking.
'I'll
keep
my
phone
on.
Call.
Just
call.'

She
leaned
against
the
window
frame,
one
arm
wrapped
tightly
around
her
stomach,
the
other
holding
the
phone
so
rigidly
against
her
ear,
it
had
begun
to
hurt.
She
felt
breathless.
He
was
going
to
tell
his
wife.
'Oh
God,’
she
said
into
the
phone.
'I
can't
think
straight.'

She
heard
him
laugh.
A
nervous
laugh.
'Will
you
be
alright?'
she
asked.

From
where
she
was
standing
in
the
bay
window
of
her
ground
floor
flat
she
was
vaguely
aware
of
the
family
who
lived
directly
across
the
narrow
street
in
Fulham,
piling
their
three
children
into
a
shiny
new
people
carrier,
the
father
trying
to
cajole
a
large,
unruly
Labrador
into
the
gated
bit
at
the
back.
It
was
a
family
with
whom
she
was
only
on
nodding
terms.
But
for
reasons
she
did
not
have
to
dig
too
deeply
to
understand,
a
family
she
found
attractive,
enviable.

'I
have
no
idea,'
Claude
said
from
his
apartment
on
the
Rue
de
Vaugirard.
'But
this
is
stupid.
You
there,
me
here,
spending
a
fortune
to
be
with
each
other.
She
has
to
know
sometime,
doesn't
she?
And
I
have
a
life
too,
don't
I?
So,
I
will
tell
her,
divorce
or
no
divorce,
you
will
be
with
me.'

Alice
struggled
to
summon
up
a
vision
of
Claude
being
as
firm
as
he
sounded,
with
a
wife
whose
steel-like
grip
on
the
finer
points
of
French
divorce
law
had
made
a
nonsense
of
retaining
the
services
of
her
very
expensive
lawyer.
Only
the
day
before,
when
clearly
any
further
legitimate
grounds
for
preventing
a
divorce
seemed
to
have
temporarily
failed
her,
she
had,
Claude
said,
fielded
a
new
concern
regarding
their
three
small
boys
who
lived
with
her.
Divorce,
she
had
announced
down
the
phone,
was
impossible
until
the
boys
were
much,
much
older.
The
trauma
of
their
father
not
living
in
the
same
house
anymore
was
bad
enough
but
her
counsellor
had
now
said,
after
observing
the
children
at
play
that
it
was
bordering
on
mental
abuse.
Irreparable
damage
was
mentioned.

His
children.
His
passion.
His
conscience.
Until
this
morning,
Alice
had
accepted
he
was
no
proof
against
such
anguish.
Nor,
it
had
to
be
said,
was
she.
But
she
had
several
reservations
about
this
therapist
dispensing
such
dubious
advice,
doubts
which
she
wisely
kept
to
herself.
Alice
had
never,
of
course,
met
Sylvie
in
person,
but
she'd
seen
her
photograph
in
Claude's
apartment,
draped
around
her
three
boys.
The
spitting
image
of
Claude.
But
even
on
such
slight
evidence,
Alice
didn't
find
it
at
all
hard
to
equate
the
dark-eyed,
black-haired,
pixie
faced
woman
who
stared
confidently
back
at
her
with
someone
who
expected
-
and
got
-
her
own
way.
But
she
hadn't
kept
a
grip
on
Claude.

Alice
wasn't
at
all
sure
clinging
on
to
such
a
dead
marriage
had
anything
to
do
with
Sylvie's
feelings
for
Claude;
just
wanting
to
make
sure
the
future
was
laid
out
to
her
requirements,

‘Alice?’
Claude
repeated
into
the
brief
silence.
'Are
you
alright?'

'Of
course.
Fine.
Just
terrified.'

'I
know,
but
I
said,
will
you
mind?'
Claude
asked.
'Giving
everything
up?
The
gallery?
Your
house?
I
know
how
hard-'

'Claude,'
she
interrupted
gently.
'Not
being
with
you
is
far
harder.
Listen,
truly.
I'm
not
exactly
raking
it
in,
am
I?
So,
no
big
deal.
Now,
just
call,
the
minute
you've
got
some
news.'

'As
soon
as
I
turn
the
corner
of
the
road,
'
he
promised.
'Where
will
you
be?'

'Where?'
Alice
repeated,
dragging
her
eyes
from
the
window.
The
car
carrying
the
squabbling
children
and
boisterous
dog
had
pulled
away
and
was
out
of
view.
She
glanced
at
her
watch.
They'd
been
talking
for
almost
an
hour.
'Oh
my
God,'
she
groaned.
'I'm
late
for
Dad's
garden
party.
'

'Garden
party?
Can't
it
wait?'