Stephanie's Trial (14 page)

'Well, that
was a very pleasant interlude,' Stephanie said, contemplating her
five days in London. Kanjii and Vivienne, not to mention Venetia
and Devlin's recording equipment, had made it a fascinating
experience. Kanjii in particular had given her food for thought.
What the geishas had done had not only thrilled her but provided
her with a fund of ideas for ways of entertaining the guests - and
herself - at the castle. She looked forward to enacting the ritual
she had been taught, especially as Kanjii had promised he would
send her one of the aroma boxes he had used on her first visit.

The Cadillac
glided effortlessly through the traffic and Stephanie relaxed.
Though she had enjoyed her time in London, it would be good to get
back to the castle and particularly good to see Devlin again. She
realised she had missed him. He'd called her once from Moscow but
the line was so bad she had had little opportunity to say much to
him other than to confirm their plans. He had decided it would be
easier to charter a plane from Moscow rather than get the Learjet
to pick him up. It would be quicker, he'd told her, and he was
anxious to get back to the castle as soon as possible.

Venetia said
nothing, sitting quietly, her long legs crossed.

'I think I'd
like a drink,' Stephanie said.

'Champagne?'
There was a bottle of champagne in the silver wine-cooler recessed
in the walnut cabinet, as ever.

'Why not? I
didn't indulge last night, after all.' The excitements of the
geishas had left Stephanie drained. She had spent yesterday quietly
recovering. After a visit to a health club where she had done an
hour's aerobics and had a long swim, she had gone out to dinner
with Venetia but had drunk only mineral water. She had slept alone,
her sexual appetite for once satiated.

Venetia opened
the bottle and expertly poured the fizzing wine into a flute.

'Aren't you
going to join me?' Stephanie prompted.

Venetia poured
herself a glass too.

'Here's to our
return. It's been nice to see London again but the cold's beginning
to get to me.'

They clinked
their glasses together and sipped the wine. It was then, as she had
turned to face Venetia, that Stephanie noticed the car through the
back window. It was a dirty brown Ford Sierra. For some reason she
had seen it before. The odd sensation she had had in Sloane Street
returned: she had the feeling she was being followed.

'What's the
matter?' Venetia asked, seeing the colour drain from her face.

'That car...
have you seen it before?'

Venetia looked
out of the window. 'No, I don't think so. It might have been parked
outside the house. No. No, I think it was another one...'

'Are you
sure?'

'Not
positive.'

'I've had this
funny feeling I've been followed.'

'Really?'

'It's just
paranoia, I suppose.'

As she said
it, the brown Sierra took an opportunity of a gap in the traffic
and surged passed the Cadillac, instantly calming Stephanie's
fears.

They were on a
dual carriageway to the west of London now, and the morning traffic
was light. The Sierra had gone completely and by the time they
pulled through the gates of the private airfield, the sudden fear
that had gripped her had evaporated, helped no doubt by another
glass of champagne. The chauffeur drew the Cadillac up right
outside the landing ramp of the Learjet, which stood ready on a
taxiway, and ran round to open the passenger door. As Stephanie and
Venetia mounted the steps of the plane he began unloading the
luggage.

Susie stood at
the top of the ramp, her Kheong-Sam reminding Stephanie of recent
pleasures.

'Morning,
madam,' she said with her usual lack of enthusiasm.

'Good morning
Susie,' Stephanie said, sitting in one of the large leather
armchairs in the main cabin, while Venetia sat opposite her. From
the window she saw the chauffeur taking her cases to the rear of
the plane and the ramp that led directly to the cargo hold.

'Would you
like anything to drink?' Susie asked.

'No thank you,
we had champagne in the car. Later perhaps.'

'Yes, madam.
Don't forget to fasten your seatbelt. We'll be taking off in five
minutes. We have radar clearance from air traffic control.'

'That was
quick.'

'Yes,
sometimes we are lucky.'

Susie walked
back to the forward cabin, the split in the Kheong-Sam revealing
her shapely thigh. She closed the door in the bulkhead behind
her.

'I thought
we'd have a longer wait,' Stephanie said.

'I told the
car to be there at twelve, just in case,' Venetia said.

'Good. We'll
lunch on the terrace.'

'They said the
sun was out.'

'That's
definitely what I need.'

The twin jets
set either side of the tail began to whine and the plane nosed
forward down the taxiway. Stephanie noticed, rather strangely she
thought, that the Cadillac had not driven away. The driver was
sitting at the wheel. It looked as if he had fallen asleep. Must
have had a late night, Stephanie thought to herself, smiling.

The plane
turned onto the runway.

'Good morning
ladies.' It was the captain's voice over the tannoy. 'We have
permission to take off in one minute. Estimated time of arrival at
the lake will be twelve-ten. We'll be cruising at 29,000 feet at a
speed of 590 mph. I hope you have a pleasant flight.'

Almost
immediately the engine noise rose to a crescendo and the plane shot
forward. In seconds they were airborne. As Stephanie gazed out of
the window at the ground below she saw a sight that filled her with
horror. Parked well out of sight behind one of the Portakabins was
a brown Sierra.

Just as
Stephanie was about to tell Venetia to look down, the rear cabin
door was flung open. Three men and a woman burst into the main
cabin. Two of the men carried knives, big wicked-looking hunting
knives, their edges serrated, their blades glinting. Before either
Stephanie or Venetia had time to react, before they could even
flick the clips of the seatbelts, and with the plane still climbing
steeply, the men had jumped astride their bodies and held the
knives to their throats.

'Don't make a
sound,' the man on Stephanie hissed, his face covered, like all
four of them, by a woolly ski-mask that had been sewn up to leave
just the opening for the eyes.

The third man
and the woman had positioned themselves beside the door to the
forward cabin.

'Does this
call the stewardess?' he asked, indicating the call button located
on the side of the bulkhead by the window. Stephanie nodded. There
was something familiar about his voice but she could not place
it.

The man
pressed the call button. They waited. After a minute Susie swung
through the cabin door.

'Yes, mad...?'
Before she could finish the question the man behind the door
clamped his big hand over the Malaysian woman's mouth as his arm
held her firmly around the waist. She struggled but made no
impression on his hard muscular body.' The woman closed the door
and locked it.

'Well, that's
better,' the man kneeling on Stephanie said.

'What the hell
do you want?' Stephanie said, fearing she knew the answer.

'I think it's
time for introductions.' Without taking the knife from her throat
the man used his free hand to reach to the top of the ski-mask and
pull it off his head. Stephanie recognised him immediately. During
her time at the castle one or two of the slaves had been
uncooperative and difficult. Despite the continual threat of being
returned to England to face prosecution for their crimes they
continually railed against the life at the castle and were
constantly having to be punished for insolence and misbehaviour.
The face that grinned into hers now was one of the worst offenders.
'So now the boot's on the other foot, eh mistress?' he sneered.

'Andrew,'
Stephanie said quietly.

He took the
knife from her throat. 'And I'm sure you haven't forgotten my
friend.'

The woman
pulled her mask off. Again Stephanie recognised her immediately.
Amanda had been one of the most difficult of all the slaves: like
Andrew she had been punished countless times.

'Oh, I'm sure
she remembers me,' Amanda said. 'I certainly remember her.'

'What do you
want?' Stephanie repeated.

Amanda went
back into the rear cabin and came back with a nylon holdall which
she unzipped.

'Well now,'
Andrew said, 'that's a good question, isn't it Amanda?'

'Certainly
is,' she replied.

Stephanie
looked into Andrew's face. He had short, very curly blond hair with
a sallow complexion and light blue eyes. He was not tall and, she
remembered, his body was far from athletic, but he was slim and
could definitely be described as attractive. Amanda on the other
hand was a brunette, her hair cut short, her eyes an unusual light
brown colour. She was not tall either and her body gave the
impression of being plump, though Stephanie knew this was
misleading. Under the dark slacks and shirt she wore - in common
with the other three - her body was hard with muscle, her breasts
full and firm, her buttocks long and meaty, her waist particularly
narrow.

'First,'
Andrew said, 'I think we want revenge for the way we were treated
at your hands. After that, well I think we'll have to decide that
when the time comes, won't we?' He turned his attention to Susie.
'Can you speak to the cockpit from in here?'

'Yes sir,' she
replied.

'Tell them the
mistress here doesn't want to be disturbed. And don't be tempted to
say anything else.'

Susie picked
up an intercom phone mounted on the dividing wall and relayed the
message. She knew the captain would not be surprised. Since he had
been flying the Learjet for Devlin nothing surprised him,
especially when Stephanie was aboard.

'Well now, I
don't want to be rude. I'd better introduce my two friends, hadn't
I mistress?' He said the word "mistress" with special emphasis. The
man who had held Susie removed the ski-mask. He was balding, with
irregular teeth and a crooked nose that made him look as if he had
once been a boxer. His shirt bulged with a considerable paunch.
'This is Mick.'

The man
kneeling over Venetia pulled his mask off too. His face was tanned,
his hair a curly ginger and his appearance swarthy. His chin was
shaded with what was obviously a rough beard. His eyes were a dark
green. Stephanie recognised him too: it was the man in the suede
blouson who she had seen in Knightsbridge.

'And this is
Paul.'

'She's seen me
before.' Paul could see the recognition in Stephanie's eyes.

Stephanie
gazed up at Andrew with contempt. His blond hair made him look
younger than he was. His mouth, still spread in a grin, showed his
regular capped teeth.

'How did you
find us?' Stephanie asked. The precautions Devlin took against just
this eventuality Stephanie had always regarded as paranoia, but
they were extremely thorough. The slaves were never even allowed to
see the interior of the plane, let alone the direction they were
travelling. From the temperature they might have guessed the castle
was in the Mediterranean but there was nothing to suggest it was in
Italy, let alone where in Italy. But somehow Andrew had beaten the
system.

He was too
proud of his own cleverness not to want to tell her the details. 'I
have a mate in air traffic control. There aren't many of these
babies in the air, darling.' He pronounced the word 'darling' in
his distinct Cockney accent. 'It wasn't difficult to find one with
regular flights south. It had to be south didn't it? France, Spain,
Italy. So it turns out there's a lot of flights to Lake Trasimeno.
I bought a guidebook. There's a medieval castle in the middle of
the lake. Bingo. That's where we're going. My mate tipped me off
when he got the flight plan for the next arrival and we've been
following you ever since. Couldn't have been simpler, darling.
Course I needed a bit of extra help. But my friends here were only
too glad to come along when I told them about all the facilities at
the castle, all the extras they could enjoy...' He laughed. 'All
the team sports.'

Amanda had
taken two sets of handcuffs from the holdall. Andrew climbed off
Stephanie and got to his feet.

'Get up.
Slowly. Put your hands behind your back. And don't try anything.'
He emphasised the point by holding the knife up again.

Stephanie
flicked open the seatbelt and did as she was told. She saw
absolutely no alternative. She felt the cold steel cuffs snapped
over her wrists by Amanda.

'Now you,'
Paul said, getting up off Venetia and keeping his knife in evidence
as she obeyed. Quickly Amanda applied the cuffs to Venetia's wrists
as the two men returned the big hunting knives to leather sheaths
strapped to their waists.

'What about
her?' Mick said, indicating Susie who had stood stock-still as
though hoping they wouldn't notice her. 'She's just my type.'

'No,' Andrew
said sharply. 'She's just an employee. Aren't you?'

'Yes, sir. I
just work for the company.'

'And you're
going to be good, aren't you darling?' Andrew said, coming over to
stare into Susie's eyes menacingly.

'Yes sir. I
don't want to have any trouble.'

'See. Good as
gold. She probably hates this bitch as much as I do. Why don't you
get us all a drink? Vodka, lots of ice. You've got ice, haven't
you?'

'Yes sir.'

The bar was
towards the rear of the plane. Susie pushed past the two captive
women to get the drinks.

'Come here,'
Andrew said, looking at Stephanie.

'What for?'
she replied defiantly.

'Oh dear,
that's not the right attitude at all is it? Don't you remember your
little rules: obey everything you are told without question?'