My Love Betrayed (19 page)

Sick. I was going to be sick if someone didn’t
stop shaking the rough bed! Bed. I wasn’t in any
bed, I realized. I was in a car. And a very small one,
at that, on the floor! Sit up, woman, I ordered
myself No way. My arms refused to budge. Open
your eyes, I tried insisting. But they were open, and
I still couldn’t see!

That was the moment I remembered. Kidnapped. I’d been kidnapped and I was in a car
going… somewhere. Voices. Count the voices you
hear, I told myself sternly. Three. Speaking
Spanish softly. Two I recognized from when I had
been grabbed. Maybe the third man had been
waiting in the car. I tried to listen. No one seemed aware I was awake. Well, I thought grimly, let’s
keep it that way.

As carefully as I could, I tried to flex my arms.
They were still tied behind me. Through my mind
flashed all the ingenious ways I’d seen in movies,
or read in books, to free my hands. I bitterly
decided that Providence was always remarkably
friendly in those cases. Hmmm, I wasn’t sure I was
on good enough terms with her, at the moment, to
count on help. I felt a wild desire to laugh, and I
knew I had been pushed so far into fear that I’d
gone past fear-to the edge of hysteria. Breathing
deeply, I tried to force myself to relax. Hysteria
would only make matters worse.

Eventually, the jolting stopped. As the engine
died away, I heard chickens cackling nearby. Then
a car door groaning open. Someone yanked my
ankle and I yelped. Laughter. Rough voices,
speaking Spanish. Somewhat more gently, hands
gripped my shoulder from the other side of the car
and eased me into a sitting position. After a
moment, the same hands helped me out of the car
and onto my feet. The hands didn’t let go but
pulled me forward a few yards. My shoulder
brushed a doorway, and I realized we were in some
sort of building. Then I was shoved into a rickety,
hard-backed chair. I ached all over, felt sick, and
wanted to cry. Instead, I tried bravura. “What the
devil do you want with me?” I demanded loudly.

Someone laughed, but there was no answer. I
heard the sound of footsteps retreating, then a
door being shut (and barred), then silence.

I suppose it was only minutes, but it felt like
hours, before I stopped panicking and began to think. Noises. Sort them out. Chickens. Voices
relaxed, chattering, female voices. I hesitated. If I
shouted for help, would those women help me?
Better not chance it. I hadn’t heard the car leave,
and anyway it was unlikely the women didn’t
know I was here.

Okay, that’s out. Listen again. Any sounds
nearby? No, not even the sound of someone else
breathing. Flex your arms. This time, the ropes
gave a little. A few more minutes, and I knew that
was all they would give: a little. I stopped,
frustrated. Okay, try the hood. I bent my head
forward until it was lower than my shoulders, and
tried to shake the thing off my head. The hood
slipped a little, then held. I stopped, waited a few
seconds, and tried again. Same thing. I don’t know
how long it went like that, but eventually the hood
was off and in my lap.

I blinked, then swore. Wherever I was, there
were no windows. The only light came in through
cracks in the walls and roof, and from the space
where the door didn’t quite meet the floor. Still,
my eyes had had a lot of time to adjust to darkness
and, even in the dimness, I could see that I was in a
one-room shed used to house grain, tools, and
occasional prisoners. Dimly, I could make out a
table, several other chairs, and lots of things
stacked against the walls. Under my feet, I could
feel hard-packed dirt.

Look at the tools. Who knows, maybe Providence is feeling kindly, after all, I told myself. On
second thought, get up and take a closer look.

I made it to my feet on the fourth try. Then it was easy. Over to the tools; bend down to see if any
of them have a sharp enough edge to cut the rope. I
was still bending over, trying to see, when the door
opened behind me. And Pepe swaggered in.

For a moment, we both froze. Then Pepe
laughed. It was almost a shout and lasted only an
instant. Then he grabbed my arm and shoved me
back to the chair. He looked around, found the
hood, and dropped it over my head, saying, “You
are very foolish, senorita. The hood, it is a
protection, for you.”

Then his voice snapped out something loudly in
Spanish, and I heard footsteps coming closer. At
least two more persons entered the little shack.
Next, I heard the door being shut. Pepe said
something in angry Spanish. There was a reply.
Then he spoke again, to me. “My apologies,
senorita, for the inconvenience. But you will
understand, it is for your protection. Our mutual
friend, Senor Kemmler-”

“Rick?”

“Senor Kemmler,” Pepe continued, smoothly,
“tells us you have the shipment.”

“You’re crazy!” I burst out. “I don’t even know
what you’re talking about!”

He sighed. “Senorita, I assure you, we are
friends of Senor Kemmler. He said that, if you do
not believe this, to tell you he said, `February 3.”’

I felt as if I had been slapped. That was the day I
had first agreed to date Rick. He always laughed
and teased me about that day, and said he would
never forget to celebrate it. But 1 had never heard
him mention the day to anyone else.

Aloud, I said, “So you speak for Rick. I believe
you, but I still don’t know what you’re talking
about.”

“Are you really so stupid? Listen well, senorita.
The shipment is important! Very important. We
must have it. Senor Kemmler assures us you have
the goods. You assure us you do not. Senor
Kemmler would not be so foolish as to lie to us.
You are very foolish. Or very wise. So we will play
a little game. We will pretend you are an innocent
and know nothing. Senor Kemmler comes to you
and gives you a little package and asks you to take
care of it, or perhaps mail it. You do not look
inside, but you know where it is, and now you will
remember for us. Or, perhaps, Senor Kemmler is
more careful and merely gives you a key. You will
then tell us where to find the key. There are many
possibilities, senorita, and I am sure you will think
of one of them.”

One, or a dozen. I could think of lots of ways
Rick could have planted the stuff on me. Trouble
was, he hadn’t. Not directly, anyway, and the
police had searched my room and luggage, so that
was out. Unless… unless he’d planted a key on my
key ring, or something.

I said, “I - I don’t know. Maybe there’s an extra
key on my key ring. It would be in my purse.”

There was a rapid exchange of Spanish, then
Pepe answered me. “We have the purse, senorita. I
will search it for you. I am sure you don’t mind.”

From the sound of objects being slapped onto
the table, I knew he was doing a very thorough job.
Finally, Pepe said, “So. The keys. And how many
keys does the senorita have?”

I counted aloud. “Two for the apartment. Two
for the office. One for the mailbox. Two for my
car. That’s seven. No eight. I still have a key to
the house where I’m staying.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then, angrily,
Pepe hissed, “I tell you one more time, senorita!
We are not fools. Si! You have eight keys. So
Senor Kemmler did not give you a key. What did
the senor give you?”

“I don’t know!” I snapped back. “Maybe you
are the fools. For believing Rick. It wouldn’t be the
first time he’s told a lie! So I only have my own
keys? It was only a guess. And now I’m all out of
guesses, so you can all go to blazes!”

A hand grabbed my chin, fingers digging into
my skin, in spite of the hood. My head was forced
back. The voice was unmistakable in its menace.
“For your sake, senorita, I hope you are wrong.
We can’t afford a mistake; we must have the
shipment! So. We will ask Senor Kemmler again
our questions. But we must also assume you know
the answers. We do not have much time, senorita.
We cannot afford to be gentle. So, for your sake, I
hope your memory improves. You have an hour,
senorita, to try.”

The hand was gone, leaving my neck and face
aching. There were angry voices speaking in
Spanish, and the sound of footsteps as the door
was opened and then slammed shut. And I was
alone again.

Immediately, I tried to shake off the hood. But
Pepe must have done something when he replaced
it, because this time it wouldn’t budge. Angrily, I
swore and found it helped. A little. I tried to move my arms. The rope was as tight as ever. Defeated, I
sat still, considering. Had my outburst been a
mistake? No, I was pretty sure that that was what
had bought me an hour’s time. But the trick
wouldn’t work again. I believed Pepe when he said
they couldn’t afford to believe I was innocent.

Obviously, they had a deadline to meet. So they
were getting desperate. I know that should have
scared me even more. But, in a funny way, it didn’t.
Now I knew the rules, and the next few hours
would hold few surprises. No matter how terrible,
the known is easier to face than the unknown.

So I spent much of that precious hour trying to
find a way to stall for more time. Edna must have
gone to the police by now, and they would be
looking for me. I could only hope someone had
spotted the car.

I stood with my back to the table, my bound
hands trying to sort through the objects on the
table. How stupid of me to forget that my purse
was there! Now if only they had left the nail
scissors then, with time and luck, I could cut the
rope around my wrists. But I didn’t think I had
much time, so I fumbled at the table, trying to
ignore my rising panic. There it was! In its own
little case. Now it was out, and I fumbled to get the
cutting edge against my bonds. Just use it, I
warned myself. Don’t think about the time!

But I couldn’t ignore the panic. Rivulets of
sweat ran down my face, and down the small of my
back. I’m no coward, but I knew I had a low threshold for pain. If I didn’t escape now, I would
soon be too helpless to try. Saw the scissors against
the rope, I told myself. Over and over. Ignore the
ache in your fingers and the trembling in your legs.
Just cut the blasted rope!

Footsteps. Voices in Spanish. They were
unmistakably coming closer. Test the rope. Not
quite weak enough to break. The chair. Get back
into the chair!

But I couldn’t make it in time. I was still trying
to find the chair when I heard the door open.
“Thank heaven!” a voice shouted.

Above it, rose another. “Ellen! Darling!”

I fainted.

I came to, with someone’s arms around me.
Charles. But that wasn’t possible. He was in
Chicago. Close your eyes; try again. He was still
there. Stupidly, I said, “But you can’t be here.
You’re in Chicago.”

His grip tightened for a moment, and his voice
caught as he answered, “No, I’m right here, Ellen.
With Carlos and”

“Carlos is here?” I demanded, trying to get up.
“Where is he?”

Charles helped me to my feet, frowning, as
Carlos called from the doorway, “Here, Ellen.
Also, Jaime, Eduardo, and Luiz. And the policia,
of course.”

Blinking, I tried to make my brain work. It
refused. Ramirez stepped out of the corner
shadows then, and said, “Buenos dial, Senorita
Steffee. I share the joy that you are safe, of course, but there are certain formalities. If you will please
come outside?”

He let me go first. Charles was at my shoulder,
and my recent co-workers were right outside the
door. Beyond them was a group of people, herded
together by the police.

“Can you identify any of these men?” Ramirez
asked me.

“Only Pepe,” I said, pointing him out. “The
others, I would only know their voices.”

Ramirez snapped out orders in Spanish. Policemen had the men in the group line up in a row.
Then Ramirez asked each man several questions
while I listened to the voices that answered him.
When he was through, I had identified the men I
had overheard. “Not that the others are innocent,”
Ramirez commented, “but it is as well to have
some of them absolutely identified.” He turned to
Charles, and they consulted, in Spanish, before he
told me, “Your friends will drive you back to the
city, senorita. In a day or so, I will wish to see you.
Then you will be free to return to the United
States.”

“What about Mrs. Iveson?” I blurted out. “Does
she know I’ve been found?”

There was a silence, and the two men exchanged
looks. Ramirez said carefully, “Senor Whitford
will explain to you about the senora.”

Puzzled, I turned to Charles. Carlos and the
others crowded around. “This is going to come as a
shock, Ellen,” Charles began, “but the Ivesons
were involved. Especially Edna.”

I stared at him. “That’s impossible!”

Carlos broke in angrily, “If this is true, Senor
Whitford, why did you let Ellen stay with the
Ivesons? And why did you leave her to go to
Chicago?”