Retribution

RETRIBUTION

(PART TWO)

BY

WALLACE

Lady Heather looked down at the girl crying in her arms. Fully aware that there were two people carrying some kind of weapon at each door of the car, she whispered in her ear

" Honey, if they wanted to kill us we would be dead already, understand?" Ally moved her head against her shoulder, "Good girl, now turn around, look at the one your side and do whatever she says, okay?" Ally sniffled and nodded again, "And Ally?" Allison looked up at her, her eyes wide and full of tears. "Any more crying and I'm gonna spank your butt! Got it?" Ally looked up at her and did her best to smile. Heather patted her on the shoulder and then they both turned to face their captors.

*

"Interview with William Rodgers. Commencing O nine hundred hours, present are DI Emma Bannion and DS James Clarke. For the record, Mr. Rodgers has declined legal representation but understands that he may end this interview at any time and contact a solicitor if he so wishes. Would you please confirm that Mister Rodgers."

It would be difficult to describe Emma's demeanour. One moment her eyes seemed to be full of almost religious fervour, the next there would be something suggesting betrayal, then there was the smugness of earlier on and then, something else. Was it hurt? Was it just that she knew something that I didn't?

Perhaps paranoia is another thing I'm getting prone to as I get older as well.

Not taking my eyes off her I nodded.

Detective Sergeant Clarke, who had been sitting with his arms folded, his legs extended and crossed at the ankles and had allowed his eyes to hood over, roused from his seemingly somnolent posture.

"For the benefit of the tape, Mr. Rodgers is nodding his head." I'd only known Jimmy Clarke for about twenty minutes but I'd warmed to him straight away. He was tall, balding and what you would call wiry I guess and he struck me as, well, almost human for a policeman. It had been Jimmy who had asked me if I wanted a coffee as soon as I had arrived, explaining that it came out of a machine and was therefore shit but was also hot and wet. And it was Jimmy who, realising I was still handcuffed had retrieved a key and unlocked them saying, not unkindly and with a broad grin, as I rubbed my sore wrists,

"Bet you're not used to being on the receiving end of them are ya mate?"

And he was right, I definitely wasn't and even on the short drive to a place I passed nearly every day and had never even realised that there was a police presence inside, I had wondered just how Sheila could stand being cuffed for, in one case, days at a time.

"Mr.Rodgers, " I was back in that small well-lit and windowless room again. It reminded me of some kind of bunker somehow. The walls were unplastered, unpainted and lined with grey breezeblocks and there was that smell, that indefinable smell that seems to be present in new buildings. One of the fluorescents in its modern silver unit was flickering occasionally which was annoying me, "do you know Sarah Catherine Beaumont?" I nodded,

"Yes I do,"

"And what relationship is she to you?"

"A friend. Well, she was, I haven't seen her for nearly six months." Emma looked at me intensely.

"Would you still describe her as a friend Mr. Rodgers?" I looked at her equally intensely.

"Not really." Emma was moving in for the kill.

"Why is that?" she asked sweetly. I sighed

"Because I consider her to be partly responsible for the abduction, beating and sexual violation of two of my best friends." metaphorically she could taste blood but having tasted it she wanted more.

"Mr Rodgers, can you account for your movements over the last four days? We know you've been in New York for just over a week but whilst the Federal Bureau of Investigation were able to track you up to and including Wednesday evening you then seem to have vanished off the face of the earth! Would you explain that?" So sweet, so innocent and she had me over a barrel. Yes, I could explain and it was going to embarrass me and probably kill off what was left of the relationship between us. I nodded slowly. If she had tasted blood before, now she could see it in the water.

There was a slight squeak. Emma swivelled in her chair to watch the door opening and then turned back to the tape recorder at the side of the table around which we were sitting.

"Detective Chief Inspector Martin has entered the room." He had presence. A tall man with salt and pepper hair, wearing a navy double-breasted suit, pale blue shirt and a red tie. He stooped and whispered something to Emma who in turn leaned over towards the recorder.

"Interview terminated at O nine ten." And then she got up, switched off the tape recorder and walked out without a backward glance. The Chief Inspector sat down in her place and extended a hand.

"Bob Martin." He said and indicated the man next to him who was still sitting with his arms folded, "You've met my Sergeant." His handshake was firm like most policemen, but he didn't try to break my hand like some do. He looked at me thoughtfully.

"Tell me Bill, do you have any problems working with Inspector Bannion?" I looked at him. Working? He saw my slightly puzzled expression. "It's all right she's already declared an interest and asked to be taken off this case but I think that it might be better if she remained as your handler." I sat there shocked to the core. I'd read my spy books. I knew what a handler was.

Emma!

Emma was my handler.

Emma had declared an interest.

In other words she had told all and sundry that she was sleeping with me. That she was fucking me or vice versa. Suddenly all that business on the first night came into focus. I had been puzzled and more than a little flattered by her interest.

Attractive career woman.

Older man who'd written the odd mucky book.

Now suddenly it all seemed very clear.

Inside I was raging.

"My handler?" And my voice did not come out properly, it was a dry croak but nobody mentioned it. The Inspector sat back in his chair.

"Emma is aware that I intend to tell you what is going on. I'm not sure how much she expects me to tell you but it'll be more than I should and less than I ought but my hands are tied." He paused and looked around him," This department," he waved his hand, "is called C10 and I'm basically the head of it. My boss is Detective Chief Superintendent Ron Ramsey who deals with the politics and handles most of the fall out!" I looked at him.

"C10? Never heard of it. So what are you, a secret department?" He smiled.

" Officially we are SO31 but, like I said, DS Ramsey handles the politics and when he's asked about us he says that we're not a secret department but a department with secrets." He paused and smiled wryly, more to himself than anyone else. "We handle odd cases, the ones that require specialist knowledge, the ones that other units haven't the resources or the manpower, or just the wherewithal to deal with." Jimmy Clarke seemed to come out of his stupor again.

"All the kinky ones," he said with a grin, "remember the Amazons in the shiny black cat suits who were robbin' security vans?" I looked at him blankly.

"No, you probably wouldn't, the Guv'nor got it swept out of the papers after the second one and the London Eye. It didn't just get wrecked in that October storm like the papers said, it was a terrorist action well before 9/11, only it was home-grown terrorists but we managed to suppress it!" Chief Inspector Martin looked at his Sergeant thoughtfully and then leaned a little closer toward me. He seemed to have made an inward decision.

"Emma Bannion is new to this department and she comes with the highest recommendation. We had two vacancies to fill because," He looked down at the table briefly, "I've just lost two good members of staff who both resigned suddenly, so Emma and her sergeant have taken their places. Now, I do things differently to her old boss, so I am making you aware of what's happening because I am going to need your help." There wasn't exactly pain in his eyes; it was concern more than anything else. That light fitting was flickering again and even though he was sitting behind it he said,

"I thought they'd fixed that damn thing Jimmy!" Jimmy grinned,

"They did but the ballast's gone," He stood up "tell ya what, I'll go and talk to Handy Trevor and on the way back I'll get the coffees all right?" He looked at me, "Milk and one?" I nodded, "Want yours black guv?" the Chief Inspector turned to him.

" Yes Jimmy and use the freeze dried stuff not the granules, they taste like gravy! And see if there are any biscuits about would you? Only I can't remember the last time I ate!" Jimmy grinned again and left the room. Bob Martin steepled his fingers.

"There are things you need to know Bill and the first is that the man you killed, the man WE thought…" I nodded automatically, I would never forget that and he could see the pain in my face, "Yes, well I'm sorry to tell you this but everyone was under the impression that he was a bouncer called Vincent Henry, as I'm sure you're aware." I nodded again and I could feel the apprehension building in my stomach, he blew out his cheeks, "Well in the last few days we've received intelligence that identifies him as Henry Vincent Walker," he looked at me bleakly, "He was actually Sue Chandler's step brother!"

He let this sink in for a moment and I felt like I'd just been punched in the stomach. "Sue Chandler, bless her, was grooming him to take over from her brothers once she'd got them both out of the way. She believed that young Harry would do exactly what she told him and that with him as the nominal head of operations she could take over the whole Chandler Organization, because she also believed, rightly we think, that some of the people she would be dealing with, like the Yardies and the Snakeheads AND the various Mafias for that matter would not accept a woman as the head of a major crime syndicate."

Fuck!

I couldn't believe it.

Sue Chandler already blamed me, wrongly, for the death of her sister years ago and now I'd knocked off another of her clan intentionally. If the kidnappings of Linda and Sheila were her revenge for her sister's suicide what the hell would she do for the wilful murder of someone who was not only family but was pivotal to her plans to take over her brother's crime empire?

I rubbed my forehead in disbelief just as Jimmy came through the door with plastic cups in a plastic ring in one hand, a biscuit tin in the other and a sheath of papers under his arm. He put the cups and the tin on the table and flourished the papers.

"Reports from Forensics guv'nor, it's pretty much how we thought, looked like it exploded but they're fairly sure it was torched, no traces as yet."

Not for the first time that morning I was feeling more than a little confused.

The Inspector looked at me kindly.

"I know this is a lot to take in at once especially as most of it's not very pleasant." He took the papers from Jimmy and pulled a pair of reading glasses from his top pocket. He put them on and studied the notes in front of him for a few seconds, then he looked up.

"Bill, does the registration number BES 51E mean anything to you?" I thought for a moment. Of course it did! Put together on a number plate so that the "S" and the "5" looked similar it spelt BESSIE, Linda's big green Range Rover, it was how she always referred to it or her.

I was already feeling pretty sick and remembering that Linda had let Lady Heather use BESSIE while she was in New York did not help at all.

"Yes, it does, it's Linda's car, the one that…" something was wrenching at my gut.

"The one that your friends were travelling to Whitby in?" He asked gently. I looked down at the floor.

"Mmm." The Chief Inspector had obviously decided that the only way to deal with this was to plough through it and he did just that.

" The remains of a burnt out Range Rover were discovered last night in a field near Whitby. Several motorists, including the driver of a skip lorry, witnessed incidents at approximately four O'clock in the afternoon that would suggest that attempts were being made to force the car off the road." Jimmy Clarke, who had taken up his previous position and had appeared to be dozing, suddenly came to life.

"Any idea who might have been driving?" I smiled. I couldn't help it. Ally couldn't drive and Angela, although she seemed to spend a lot of her time on the Santa Monica freeway was not considered a safe driver by anyone. In fact Lady Heather had said that she would rather travel in a pine box to Whitby than let Angela drive her there. Then I realised the implications of that statement…

"Lady Heather, Bishops wife, she was the only one who was really qualified…" Jimmy nodded slowly.

" Well from what the Yorkshire boys are piecin' together, your mate Lady Heather seems to 'ave the driving prowess of Michael Schumacher and it looks like she's as stubborn as him an' all!" He grinned hugely, "At one point the tyre marks on the tarmac indicate she must 'ave done one hell of a hand brake turn in the middle of the road AND on a roundabout but," his voice became softer," if anything had been coming the same way…" he crashed his right fist into his open left palm, " they'd all've been finished!"

"You're telling me they're not?" I said quietly. I was shaking now. Inspector Martin looked at me openly, he shook his head.

"We don't think so, although they DID find half a dozen, spent, 9 millimetre cartridges on the grass verge." He sighed and carried on," From what information we have the Beaumont abduction and this seem to be related. In both cases we can place what appear to be women in silver suits at the scene and even though they DO bear certain similarities to your friends in the Range Rover we do NOT suspect either them or you!" He put his head to one side, " I don't think you've turned into a criminal mastermind overnight, but Emma arrested you for your own safety. She went to your flat of her own volition but she has my backing." My inference from that was that the Inspector did NOT approve but I didn't probe, " We were slightly concerned about your disappearance in New York but there was no intelligence to suggest that Sue Chandler had targeted you, YET! We've got some pretty reliable contacts who can tell us what contracts are out and on whom, so when you showed up again on Virgin Atlantic's computer this morning then we were quite relieved but Emma wanted to keep tabs on you. She wanted to make sure that your flat was safe but you got there before her, mix up in time zones."

Was it a mix up?

I wondered.

Both he and Emma seemed too sharp for that and it only added fuel to my suspicions about Emma.

Jimmy joined the conversation.

"Right now there's a bloke of your stamp, Ritchie Harris," he looked me up and down, "could be twins the pair of yer, in Leman Street Nick. Custody Sergeant's got him down for abduction under your name and he's going to stay there!" He saw my worried look, "Don't worry he'll get plenty of grub and he's getting paid for it," he turned to the Inspector, "Double bubble according to Roy King!" The Inspector winced; I assumed that the money was coming out of his budget. Jimmy turned back to me "Oh, and by the way, he's a traffic warden, so if ever anyone spanks you in the mouth for no reason…" I smiled but there wasn't a lot of mirth in it.

"So what do I do?" The Inspector put both hands on the desk.

"You," he said quietly, " are going back to New York, you're safer over there right now, " he put up a hand to stifle the objection that he knew was coming, "You are Bill you really are, I cannot tell you why just please accept it. You're much more use to me over there than you are here where Sue Chandler can get at you more easily," suddenly he was speaking in little more than a whisper.

"There are leaks. The Chandlers were always one step ahead of us but the information they are getting now is even more accurate than it was before and it can only come from one or more people WITHIN the Metropolitan Police Force! It's information that can only come from relatively well-placed sources as well. It could," and here he looked at Jimmy, " even be from inside this department, because we were coordinating the original kidnap although we weren't actually involved as such and Sue had access to data that only we were collating." Finally I was coming to the end of the tunnel.

"So, " I said equally quietly and mentally referring to the Le Carres I'd read at school, "you've got a mole and you're using me to catch them!" And then it all finally dawned on me, "that's why Emma was so close to me on the original investigation. Because it was a vendetta personal to Sue Chandler you knew she'd want to contact me at some point and you hoped that she'd slip up." Bob Martin nodded.

"We still do! And if you're in New York she HAS to contact you one way or another, she'll want her pound of flesh." I shook my head

"No. She could just kill 'em. Sarah, Lady Heather, Ally and Angela she could kill 'em one at a time and send me the pictures!"

"No! Not her style. Not her style at all. She hates you! As far she's concerned you killed her sister 15 years ago and now you've murdered her baby brother, the heir to the throne that she's never had access to and her only chance to get there! And now, like they used to say in the films, it's PERSONAL! YOU'VE screwed up her plans! YOU'VE made her look small in the eyes of the world!"

" First she wants to weaken you by attacking the people closest to you and then she'll want YOU but she'll need to keep THEM alive so she can kill you in front of them, so she can reclaim her moral territory and to prove to all and sundry that she CAN! Pour encourager les autres!" I can't say that I wasn't chilled to the marrow because I was, even though I'd suspected as much myself. I turned towards the door because it was a new voice I had just heard.

A woman's voice.

A very confident, slightly husky woman's voice.

She was standing in the now open doorway, I'd been looking down so the first thing I saw were red knee length boots with a pointed toe and a four inch heel which led to bare, tanned, knees and thighs, a shortish red leather skirt and a white peasant, half sleeved blouse. A cheeky face with soft peach coloured lips, a little button nose, brown eyes and short, boyish, brown hair completed the picture. Early thirties? She walked towards me letting the door close behind her and stuck out a hand,

"Hi! Charlie Wright – Patterson," she indicated the two policemen, "I'm their resident shrink!"

*

It was like she was looking at something from another world, but to the best of her knowledge extra terrestrials don't dress in shiny PVC and wear high heeled, totally impractical for the terrain, boots and she wasn't even going to consider the very obvious breasts.

It was dark and already a wind was starting to blow up around the remains of the range rover. The woman? Girl? In the silver cat suit was pointing what appeared to be a thin silver pipe with a handle and a two pronged fork at the end, at her and then taking two, maybe three, paces back.

So she couldn't speak.

Or didn't want to.

But what she wanted was obvious; she wanted her to get out of the car. Heather knew she had to accept orders for the time being, although she hadn't expected them to come like this. She swung her long legs over until they rested on the door seal and then the silver girl gestured at her. Gestured at her feet with the silver pipe. Lady Heather was puzzled at first but then it occurred to her that the silver creature's companion who she could see out of the corner of her eye was making similar gestures to Allison, who was pale but holding up okay. The creatures might be mute but there was a good chance that they might be able to hear and understand English.

She gave them her very best Californian drawl, which sounded pretty much the same as the Texan one in some respects but was infinitely less annoying.

"What do you want me to do Honey?" She looked at the silver being. It was pretty obvious that she had registered and understood what she said and now she was gesturing at Lady Heather's feet with her silver stick. Heather looked down.

"My boots?" Heather LOVED boots. She had pairs in every conceivable shape and texture. Snakeskin boots, Alligator boots, cotton boots, gold and silver lame boots, fur boots, moon boots. Ankle length, knee length, thigh length. She had them in black and brown and red and blue and white and yellow and pink and even green. She had them in high heels; she had them in low heels. She had several pairs with open toes that could look really, somehow, decadent. Some of them were the most comfortable things she had ever worn and some of them weren't but they always made her look and feel good.

The ones she was wearing now were her driving boots, a pair of red cowboy boots, hand embroidered with a Cuban heel that she had had for something like fifteen years and that still fitted her like gloves.

The silver creature was nodding slowly.

"My boots?" She said again, "You want my boots?" The creature shook her head and Heather finally saw sense. "Oh! You want me to take OFF my boots!" The creature nodded enthusiastically. Behind her Allison was having pretty much the same trouble. As she began to pull off the first boot so Heather whispered to her younger companion.

"They want your shoes honey!" Allison was dumbfounded.

"Why?" Heather pulled the boot off and dropped it onto the floor below the dashboard, she sighed.

"I guess it's because they don't want us running away baby! If we're barefoot we're less likely to go dashing off," she looked down into the muddy field and wrinkled her nose. "Especially in this!"

"But…" Heather was insistent,

"No "buts" sweetheart! You saw what happened to Angela, just take off your shoes and leave them in the car!" Today, like most days, Ally was wearing all black but she had opted for trousers with a huge flare rather than the short skirt and stockings that she normally wore and like Angela she was wearing high-heeled strappy sandals and her toenails, as usual, were painted black. Without another word she began to unbuckle her shoes.

Lady Heather had now pulled off both her boots but the creature was still gesturing at her feet, she looked up at her and realised immediately what she wanted.

"My socks? You want me take my socks of as well?" The creature nodded. Heather sighed and grateful that she had painted her toe nails that morning pulled off her socks and tucked each one into its appropriate boot. She looked down. Her feet always looked too small for her and with their scarlet nail polish they looked even more pale and delicate than usual. She looked back up at her captor.

"Okay now?" The silver being nodded and took several paces back once more, indicating that she wanted her to step out of the stricken Range Rover.

"You okay honey?" she asked Allison who seemed to have recovered a little.

"I guess so!"

"Okay now get out of the car and just do what they want. Shit!" she hadn't meant to say it but as she was talking to Allison she had looked up and seen the largest of the three creatures, weapon tucked into her belt, walking slowly towards them in the gloom, the inert body of Angela hanging limply in her arms.

Heather watched as the creature drew level with the range rover and stopped. The white van was now driving slowly into the field. Heather turned to the silver being who was as tall as she was.

"Is she okay?" The tall creature did not even turn. The white van was backing up towards them and even now she was shifting Angela's body in her arms in order, it appeared, to heave her into the back. Heather had had enough

"ANSWER ME DAMMIT! IS SHE OKAY?" The smaller one put a hand on her shoulder more in a gesture of compassion than anything else but Heather was past compassion. Heedless of the fact that she was barefoot she slipped past her silver captor and moved quickly towards Angela. The tall one saw her coming and dumped Angela's body into the back of the van.

She didn't even bother to draw her weapon. She strode forward, grabbed Heather by the arm and punched her hard in the face.

Lady Heather may have been to better schools than Linda Hutton and her parents may have cared much more about her but she had still been raised to look after herself. Bare feet skidding in the mud she managed to steady herself and, clenching both hands together, delivered a blow to the silver ones stomach that doubled her up.

Reluctantly, it seemed, the smaller silver creature that had been watching over Heather came forward now lifting the weapon that Heather already recognised as a cattle prod. The larger of the two was still doubled over. Heather wanted to grab Ally and run but she was standing watching her wide eyed with another smaller silver creature standing next to her cattle prod raised run and she couldn't leave without Angela and she couldn't leave Ally on her own.

She straightened up and put up her hands.

"Okay! Just let me see Angela and I'll…"

The tallest silver creature punched her fiercely in the face again and then thrust the cattle prod hard into her crotch. So hard that Heather staggered backwards. She was unconscious before she hit the ground

*

"So when did you first find that you enjoyed tying up women?" I smiled, the question wasn't quite a blunt as it might sound. We were now in Charlie's office on the sixth floor of the Broadgate complex that was built around Liverpool Street station in the late eighties. The room was predominantly green and there were houseplants in every conceivable nook and cranny. The lighting was soft and the windows double-glazed to keep out traffic noise. The whole building was very warm but in here there was just a hint of air-conditioning keeping the room pleasantly cool.

Below us was the Broadgate ice rink and even now, at roughly eleven in the morning on a crisp winters day two weeks after Christmas, there were already some hardy souls out on the ice.

Charlie was smiling at me. I had been left in her care after the two policemen had been called away on other business and we had been chatting amicably for over half an hour. I knew what she was doing but she was probing me so pleasantly that it would have been churlish not to answer. I put my hands on the desk.

"Charlie, I honestly don't know. When I was six I clearly remember having rubber fantasies and I haven't a clue how I came by them, girls, women, dressed entirely in rubber and chained up or tied up in dungeons, I was SIX years old for Christ's sake. There wasn't anything like that freely available in the late fifties; it's just always been there, in my head. Any TV programme where people got tied up got my interest straight away and when The Man From Uncle and The Avengers came along…" she propped her elbows on the desk and supported her chin on her joined fists.

"Mmm, so you think you were born with it then?" I shook my head.

"I don't know Charlie, I honestly don't know! It used to be like a curse, I used to be so ashamed of it…" She smiled

"But you seem to have turned it around, you know, the books, the websites..." I sighed

"Well, times have changed. People admit to reading and watching "stuff" now that was taboo a few years ago, in fact sometimes I think that maybe people give you a bit too much information about their little peccadilloes." I had no problems with what Charlie was asking me but I thought it was my turn to ask a question or two

"What about you Charlie?" She looked at me,

"Oh what? What do I think about pornography?"

"No! When did YOU first find that you liked tying up women?" For a very short time she looked a little flustered and then she smiled broadly but didn't say anything. I don't really know why I did it; maybe I just wanted her to know and to report back that I was a little more perceptive than I looked. I smiled.

"Only the way you look at Inspector Martin, the first impression is that you and he…" she laughed.

"Oh Bob! Bob's a sweetie but…" I was feeling so very, very smug.

"But you prefer your sweeties to have holes…" her expression was intentionally comical. If she were upset she didn't show it but I somehow felt that I'd hit the nail right on the head for once

"And your inference is based on what exactly?" She chewed the end of her pen, I didn't back down.

"On experience." She looked down at the desk for a moment and then she looked up

"Your ex?" She asked, still smiling.

"Mmm, among others, didn't know if she was Arthur or Martha!" Charlie pursed her lips.

"And by that you mean?" She put down the pen

"I mean that Sheila was and is bisexual and can NOT accept it. You, on the other hand and please don't think I'm being presumptive because I don't mean to be, seem very comfortable with it." She looked, right then, very, very sexual. She tossed back her head and her eyes were glittering.

"Okay, so what would you say I was? You know, am I dominant or submissive or what?" There was some kind of chemistry between us right now. I could feel it and if she couldn't I would have been very surprised

"I hate labels Charlie," for the first time she interrupted me.

"Funnily enough," she said, with more than a twinkle in her eye, "that's exactly what Sheila said when I spoke to HER!" Now it was her turn to fluster me momentarily.

"You spoke to Sheila?" It was hard to keep the surprise out of my voice. If SHE was smug she didn't show it.

"Mmm. Whilst she was still in hospital. I had to assess her suitability as a witness. I thought we got on very well! I liked her and I think she liked me!" I smiled.

"Birds of a feather! And I do NOT mean that unkindly!" Now she smiled.

"No! I think you might be right!" She leaned forward and said quietly. "She still likes you, you know. In fact I shouldn't say this but I'd be very surprised if she wasn't still in love with you!" I pulled a face

"Well she's got a funny way of showing it!" I grinned because I couldn't help it, "Even funnier than usual." Charlie spread out her hands.

"Bill you have to remember that Sheila is not a demonstrative person." She saw my grin widen. "You KNOW what I mean. She has difficulty showing affection and she shows it in the only way she can - by arguing and generally bad mouthing people. Think about it! The two people that she argues with the most are her two best friends and lovers," She counted off on her fingers, "You…" I knew a little bit about doctor/patient confidentiality and I knew she couldn't tell me. I sighed a little

"I know about Linda!" Her face remained neutral.

"Thought you might."

"Mmm, have done for a couple of years. Linda doesn't talk about it but I think she would tell me if I asked." Charlie pursed her lips.

"And what about you and Linda, would YOU tell Sheila if SHE asked?" we locked eyes.

"You've been talking to Sarah Beaumont!" Charlie held my gaze.

"Couldn't possibly say!" I had nothing to hide because there WAS nothing to hide.

"Linda and I get on, we get on very well, chalk and cheese maybe but nothing has ever happened between us!" I thought for a second and corrected myself, "Apart from the odd kiss. Sarah thought it had but by that time she was so paranoid about Linda and Sheila, and her and Sheila that she would have believed anything!" Charlie and I had still not broken eye contact," We've been out quite a bit but always as a threesome with Liz because we all seem to get on. And before you ask, I am not sleeping with Liz either." Suddenly something stirred inside me. "Charlie, does Sheila know all this? Is that why she's shutting me out?" Charlie folded her arms and sat back in her chair.

"Bill, I think you have to look at the bigger picture here. She may have heard rumours about you and Linda but she didn't mention them to me. But just think about it for a second. You have just done the ultimate! Buying people chocolates or gifts or whatever is one thing. Making sacrifices for them is another. But when you KILL for someone, what else is left? What can she DO for you? You've killed someone for HER. How can she ever repay THAT? And how must it make her feel?"

For a moment I didn't think I would be able to close my mouth, she had just turned my world upside down!

"No Charlie that's wrong! She's wrong! I didn't kill for HER. I killed another person because he was about to kill Niles and ultimately me. At that moment Sheila didn't even come into it!" Charlie reached forward and took hold of my hand.

"That's not how SHE sees it. I know what you're saying and I completely agree but my opinionated guess, my fairly educated guess, based on one session, is that she is suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder." Suddenly her eyes were soft and sympathetic. "Your comment earlier? About her not knowing whether she was Arthur of Martha? It couldn't be more apposite right now. At this moment she is questioning EVERYTHING in her life including you, including Linda, including her whole attitude to her own sexuality. She is undergoing a kind of mental housecleaning. You MUST give her time Bill. She needs that more than anything right now and don't worry about Sam. COM!… I put her in touch with them!" She let this sink for a moment, "I know BJ personally and he WILL not harm her, I promise you that, but she needs some form of release and judging from her comments when I interviewed her I think this is exactly the release she needs!" then that mischievous look came back. "Oh and give Amy my love when you see her!" Dumbfounded might not quite have covered how I felt but it wasn't too far off.

Charlie patted my hand, looked away for a few seconds and then said,

"Now, where were we? Oh yes you were going to tell me," she smiled,

Not sarcastically, "Without labelling me, what you thought I was and I have to admit that I've just given you a fairly big clue!" I couldn't help smiling back at her

"Well Charlie, bearing in mind what you HAVE just said, I'd say that you were a switch. That you were dominant with other women and submissive with men!" The temperature in the room seemed to have risen a little. She leaned across the desk and said quietly,

"And would you like me to be submissive to you?" I shivered but I had to be honest.

"I don't consider myself to be dominant, I don't expect anyone to bow or scrape or grovel to me!" I said equally quietly. She was more or less in my face now and still smiling.

"So, not like most men then!" She said in a whisper and more to herself than anyone else, she was somehow looking up into my eyes giving her just the tiniest suggestion of compliance. "I don't bow or scrape or grovel to anyone," she said a little more loudly and I swear that she licked her lips, "But I do as I'm told sometimes," was it me or were her eyes twinkling? " Just sometimes!" Now she was sucking at the end of her pen and I'm sure it was just my imagination that saw her treating it as if it were an erect penis. She changed tack.

"So you don't think of yourself as dominant." She sucked on the pen again. "You do in your books!" I was about to express surprise that she'd actually read them, I didn't get time "Maybe YOU'RE a switch. Maybe you're really a submissive!" I shook my head vigourously.

"No I'm not!" But Charlie was quick to take the advantage.

"Sure you're not in denial? Sure you're not suffering from the same problem as Sheila?"

Before I could answer Chief Inspector Martin walked in followed closely by Sergeant Clarke.

"Sorry to interrupt Charlie but I've just been speaking to Keith Hartnell, Crime Reporter at The Sun, he got these pictures attached to an unsigned and unidentifiable email about 15 minutes ago!" He spread them out on the desk in front of us. Charlie picked up one and studied it, her expression blank. I tentatively touched one and looked at the Inspector.

"Yes of course, " He said, "you can probably throw more light on them than we can!" I picked it up. It was colour and printed on photographic quality printer paper. It was a good likeness. The background was fuzzy but the subject was clear enough. It was a woman. A woman in her late thirties to early forties. A large but attractive woman with very large breasts wearing just a large disposable nappy her head covered by a PVC baby bonnet. Her eyes were closed and she was sucking contentedly on a large dummy. I looked back at the Inspector.

"Recognise her?" He asked. I nodded

"Yes, " I put down the picture because I'd seen enough, "It's Sarah. Sarah Beaumont." He nodded and looked down at the floor briefly.

"I thought so!" He handed me a piece of paper, it was a copy of an email and it took a little time to decipher even though it consisted of only fourteen words.

"can U reely trust a witnes like this praps U shuld ask the Chandlers!" I looked at him.

"And that was all?"

"Mmm. That was all. Didn't HAVE to say much else. Keith is aware of the Chandler situation although we managed to keep the last kidnap out of the papers. He is NOT going to print these because he's a responsible journalist but he IS going to show the photos and the email to Sue Chandler's solicitor and I have to say that I don't think he has any option." Now it was my turn to look at the floor, "and before you say anything you should know that Sue is likely to be released on bail this afternoon anyway. They've set it at a couple of million but that's probably a day's turnover for her. She's getting out on a technicality and also on compassionate grounds. It doesn't look as if Kevin Chandler will see out the week."

Straight as ever Jimmy Clarke put down the photograph he had been holding.

"And to be honest when the CPS see these they might start to wonder how sturdy a case they've got all together. Adult babies are pretty laughable in the eyes of the public. Someone, probably Sue Chandler, is doing their best to discredit Sarah, that's probably why she was kidnapped! These won't stay secret for long; they'll probably end up on the Internet eventually." He rubbed his nose thoughtfully.

"The defence are certainly going to try and pull Linda Hutton apart because in their eyes she's an ex hooker and we know that she's not exactly unknown to the some of the major players in the East End, some high up members of the MET AND a couple of High Court Judges, in fact word was that the prosecution were very iffy about putting her on the stand at all and that just leaves Sheila!" He paused, as if choosing his words, "From what Emma tells us and judging by Charlie's assessment there's a good chance that she might be considered to be an unreliable witness." He looked at me, "Come on Bill gissa straight answer, what's your opinion of Sheila in the witness box?" I rubbed the back of my neck; it was something that had been worrying me for weeks.

"Well she's mercurial at best. No matter how much you coach her if she thinks the defence is giving her shit she'll throw it right back at them!" Charlie looked concerned.

" We could consider Vallium before she goes in the box." I knew she was only being helpful.

"Charlie you'd need more than Vallium. I suspect that you could give Sheila all the drugs that Sue Chandler sells in a day and it wouldn't make the slightest iota of difference!" Charlie sat back in her chair.

"And that's why you love her so much isn't it?" I know I went red, I could feel the flush in my cheeks and I nodded.

*

The first thing she saw were two silver beings with long silver weapons on their laps sitting opposite her and she had to concentrate hard for a few seconds. She must have been dragged upright because she was in a sitting position. Her head was resting on something. Something that felt soft and smelt nice. She moved her head a little. Her head was on Ally's bare shoulder. She looked down at Heather her face a mask of concern.

"How do you feel?" Heather's reply was instant.

"Stupid! Totally dumb. I'm sorry Ally, I really am." She felt something touch her right shoulder. Something that was also soft. She turned and saw Angela fully awake, naked, her hands tied behind her back and gagged with a big solid ball gag.

"Ange! You okay honey?" she whispered softly. She wanted to stroke her hair and then realised that her hands were tied also. Angela mewed through her gag and put her head on Heather's shoulder again. Heather whispered "Good girl!" to her and turned her head to Ally once more, noticing as she did so that Ally's hands were also tied but that she was wearing underwear, black underwear of course, black mesh Gossard panties and a black mesh bra that barely contained her generous breasts. She like the others was also barefoot. She guessed Heather's next question.

"I had to undress Angela and you! Like your stuff by the way," Heather looked down, she was wearing a low cut violet bra and a deep cut violet thong, " and then I had to take my own clothes off. Angela didn't HAVE any underwear on that's why she's naked and they gagged her because once she regained consciousness she wouldn't stop abusing them!" Heather turned to Angela who was still nestled into her.

"You GO girl!" she whispered and kissed her gently on the top of the head. Angela snuggled even further into her. Heather felt a hand on her right shoulder. One of the two silver beings was standing next to her looking at her somehow questioningly. Then she moved her hand and lightly stroked Heather's cheek. Quite dumbfounded Heather looked at Ally for answers whilst the other silver creature looked on, saying and doing nothing.

Ally looked up at the silver one.

"She's okay! She's really is! She was worried about you and Ange but neither of them can speak. It's the tall one that's the bastard and she's in front!" She motioned with her head to what Heather realised must be the front of the large white van, that seemed to double as some kind of ambulance. The three of them sat on the movable stretcher whilst the two silver creatures sat on the chairs provided for the paramedics and nurses.

The one in front of her stroked her cheek again and moved her head questioningly.

Reluctantly Heather nodded her head.

"Yeah I'm okay I guess but that…" the silver one put a hand over her mouth and a finger to her own lips. She looked at her for a few moments and moved her head questioningly. Heather understood and nodded her head in agreement. When the creature took her hand away she said.

"Okay, honey I won't say anymore." satisfied, the silver creature sat down again. Very, very quietly Heather whispered to Ally,

"If I get the chance the big one is dead meat!" Ally looked at her for a few seconds and then, like Angela, rested her head comfortably on Heather's left shoulder and closed her eyes.

*

"Well. Have we heard from either of them?" Charlie's voice

"No! Gerda contacted O last Monday and O contacted us. Something was going off, Gerda was absolutely sure of that and O had suspicions too but neither of them could say much and since then nothing!" Inspector Martin.

"Do you think they're involved in any of this stuff?" Charlie. There was a pause.

"I think Gerda might be." The Inspector again

" Well Sir Steven's still on the Costa Del Crime sunning 'imself…" Jimmy

" …and we all know where Mistress Antoinette is!" Inspector Martin.

I had excused myself on the grounds of wanting a pee but had phoned the Bishop to find out the latest. The door to Charlie's office was ajar when I got back and I couldn't stop myself from listening.

"Well, what d'you think?" the Inspector again.

"He's up for it. Deep down he's angry, but he's rational and his experiences have changed him, I'd say for the better." It was Charlie, "He hasn't come to terms with killing someone yet…."

"Don't think you ever do luv!" Jimmy

"No. Agreed. But he CAN live with himself. He's also extremely aware of what's going on around him. Probably on the border line between very astute and totally paranoid…" Charlie

"That means he must have sussed you out STRAIGHT away!" Jimmy.

"Don't look so smug Jimmy. It took you nearly three years!" Charlie again. there was a pause "One thing I would say Bob. He's honest. Very honest. Perhaps too honest."

"What? You mean he'd never be a copper then?" Jimmy, "Or never get past DCI anyway!" I could imagine him grinning at the Inspector. Charlie was speaking again

"Bob I know this was partly my idea and I know we're being as straight as we can but we are really putting him in a very difficult position and expecting him to act the right way." There was a pause and then the Inspector spoke.

"I know Charlie and I agree but we've run out of options. I don't think O and Gerda are in any danger YET neither is he, YET, but his friends are, Bettie is and so is Mistress Antoinette. I will keep all of them as safe as I possibly can…bugger!" The phone was ringing, "Answer that Charlie and tell them we've gone abroad for a week or something!"

I trusted the Inspector.

Rightly or wrongly I trusted all three of them, him, Jimmy and Charlie the dominant forensic psychiatrist but one thing I had noticed was that Emma had not once been mentioned unless she was one the people they spoke of in code names.

O and Gerda were two famous literary slaves. Sir Steven was O's Master and Mistress Antoinette was a real life dominant who spanned nearly thirty years. But Bettie? Who was Bettie? Staying on the same theme, the only Bettie I could think of was Bettie Page, the original bondage starlet but who were they really?" I pushed open the door and walked in as discreetly as I could, wondering whether I was going to get any answers.

*

Jimmy looked at me archly. It was early afternoon now and the sun was so bright that Charlie had had to close the blinds.

"Okay sunshine any questions?" I shook my head.

"Well it's not exactly rocket science! I go to New York and wait to be contacted, although personally I think you're barking up the wrong tree! They could just as well contact me here." The Inspector was forthright

"They could just as well KILL you here. You have to trust me Bill, the FBI are a much safer pair of hands right now than we are. We HAVE to trace the source of the leak and you can help. Just stay put over there, go and find Sheila and if at all possible I want you to keep HER there as well." I raised my eyebrows. He raised his, "We'll pay REASONABLE expenses. It's worth it just to keep her in place and who knows…" I smiled genuinely,

"Sorry Inspector, I'll give it a go but I can't guarantee she'll want to spend much time with me." Charlie had donned a pair of glasses that made her look totally different, somehow bookish and perhaps even more alluring.

"You never know until you try Bill, romantic weekend in The Big Apple, it might rekindle old fires." I shrugged

"Yeah and it might start World War three!" Charlie and the Inspector laughed and Jimmy pursed his lips.

"Well, just do yer best okay?" I nodded, "Now we've got you on the nine o'clock out of Stansted tonight." I looked puzzled

"Stansted?" He grinned

"Yeah, they fly to New York from there but it's a cargo flight, the old pilots'll love you, they'll have someone different to talk to!" He adopted a conspiratorial tone, "And if you're a good boy they might even let you fly the plane for a bit!" I smiled

"What happens when I get to New York?" Jimmy was full of himself.

"You're a very lucky man! You've got your own personal customs officer. A geezer called Joe Lebowski. He'll meet you off the plane and check you in. Apparently he's massive and smokes big smelly cigars but he'll have ID and make sure you see it, okay?"

I was about to ask what happened next but the theme from Thunderbirds stopped me. I cursed myself for not putting the phone on vibrate but Jimmy smiled.

"It's alright mate, go outside and answer it. There's a rest room just down the corridor," He looked at his watch, "should be empty this time a day."

I walked slowly from the room raising the phone to my ear as I did it and heard a voice I had not been expecting.

"Hey Big Guy! How are ya?"

"Amy Hi! Look Amy, this is a bit difficult to explain, I would have called you earlier but something happened."

"Don't tell me! You got arrested, right?" Well, it's the sort of thing you say to people and 99 times out of a hundred it ain't true.

"Er, right first time!" A pause. A long one.

"You're serious?"

"Very!"

"Have you been hitting people again?"

"No! Look Amy, it's a long story but I'm coming back to New York."

"When?" Might have been my imagination but she sounded genuinely pleased.

"Tonight!"

"Hey that's great! BJ wants to talk to you!"

"Wants my ass more like!" I was taking that sort of slow plod that you do when you're too busy concentrating on your mobile to worry too much about walking properly and I was just turning into the rest room. There was a water cooler and a fridge and some comfortable chairs that had seen better days, you know the kind of thing and there were also two bags. Two holdalls that looked remarkably like mine.

"No Bill he wants to talk, guess he's got a sort of..." the reception had cut out. Fairly normal in London but transatlantic calls were normally free of it

"Amy! You still there?"

"Yeah sure, anything wrong…" it cut out again and this time there seemed to be a buzzing noise on the line which was followed by the arrival of Emma.

"Are these anything to do with you?" I hissed. She nodded a little haughtily.

"I was asked to pack you some stuff because you wouldn't be going back home. Why? Problem?" Amy was still trying to get through. And the buzzing was even louder.

"Bill are you still …"

But by then I had already thrown down the phone and launched myself at Emma who screamed, called me an arsehole and crashed to the floor with me on top of her.

The bomb exploded about five seconds later.

*

"Are you sure you're okay with this?"

"Oh, don't be so daft! Of course I am Linda!" Liz fixed her with a steady gaze, "Look New York was great! But right now we're both more use over here. I count Bishop as a friend as much as you do, okay?"

They were standing on the twentieth floor of a car park in Tobacco Dock. They had slipped back into the capital through London City Airport in Docklands and now they were picking up Linda's second car, which they had left there something like two weeks previously. When Liz had asked if it would be okay as they were parked at the top in the open air and there seemed to be no other cars around, Linda had just winked rather annoyingly and suggested that she was calling in a favour.

Despite the coldness of the day it was very bright. Liz slipped on her sunglasses.

"The view up here is fantastic! Look, there's that Gherkin thing, oh and there's Ken's Glass Testicle!" Linda stood next to her, gloved hands on her hips. She was wearing a knee length burgundy leather skirt, matching jacket and burgundy over the knee boots with a five-inch heel. She also wore a matching leather waistcoat and a black blouse.

"The "Gherkin" is the Swiss Re building and "Ken's Testicle" is the London Assembly, " she turned her head away from Liz and scoffed, "Huh! Call yourself a producer? Y'know Jack Shit!" and then she turned back and smiled." Have you thought about what I said?" Liz looked at her, a little comically, Linda thought.

She was wearing tight black pants, soft brown furry boots to her knee, a brown suede bomber jacket with a huge furry collar and sunglasses.

"Yes I have, but Linda you know what my problem is, I like you, I like you a lot, I might even… but I'm just not ready…" Linda looked at her sternly.

"Whaddyou think I am, some rampant old dyke?" Liz studied her, dressed, as always, from head to toe in leather and smiled to herself. Dyke was not the word that sprang to mind right now. She shook her head. Linda was looking in the direction of Tower Bridge. A chilly wind was starting to blow around them. "Liz, get this straight, I am not asking you to move in with me for sex, I'm asking you to move in because…because it makes sense! Where I live is central to The City and the West End and we both need someone around – I've got two spare bedrooms you know that!" Liz smiled

"Oh what? You mean we can't sleep in that double bed and read the paper to each other like Morecambe and Wise used to!" Linda smacked her hard on the backside but she was laughing.

"Bollocks Liz if you can't…" but Liz had moved a little closer.

"Linda I WANT to move in with you! I maybe want to do other things as well…maybe… but I can't get the sex thing right in my head yet! God knows I didn't have a string of men lining up for me but, well, my parents, they're still alive, just about, and they're a different generation, you know that…" Putting aside the fact that Liz had not been quite so reticent in a New York hotel bedroom with Sheila, Linda took her by the shoulders.

"Two women living together, happens all the time, don't mean they're shoving dildoes up each other or rimming each other or licking each other's fannies…" Liz did her best to keep a straight face.

"Yes, yes, very succinctly put dear!" Deep down she knew that right now she needed Linda in her life because Linda had changed that life, for the better and beyond all recognition. She leaned forward and kissed her gently on the cheek, then she sighed.

"Yes Linda, I will move in with you!" Linda punched her playfully on the shoulder and grinned hugely.

"You know it makes sense!" Liz grinned back

"Yes, Del Boy, I suppose it does." She looked thoughtful. "And at least if I'm around I can try and keep YOU out of trouble." She turned suddenly as she heard the noise of a car revving it's way up the inclines of the car park and sounding very close. She turned to Linda. " I thought you said nothing comes up here."

"It don't! Nothing gets past the sixth floor, apart from us. Might be the Old Bill checking us out, let's get going!"

They picked up their bags and packages and moved towards the silver, sporty looking German car that was parked in the far corner but before they could reach it a black 4x4 with thick, black, bull bars attached came bouncing off the ramp and headed straight for them, behind it came a black Harley Davidson whose rider was dressed entirely in black leather. Linda saw it first and she had already dropped her bags and was sprinting towards the car.

"Run Liz!" but Liz didn't follow orders well, she was too used to giving them. Thirty seconds ago the roof of the car park had been a haven of tranquillity now it was a cauldron of noise and exhaust smoke.

Liz had dropped her bags and their packages on the ground. The motorcyclist was circling them and the 4x4 had slowed down but was moving inexorably towards her. Linda had reached their car and not for the first time she felt powerless as the black vehicle closed in on Liz who was rummaging furiously on the floor. Suddenly she stood up; Linda was already running back towards her as she saw the front door of the 4x4 open slowly.

"This must be what happened to Heather and the others!" Liz shouted, "Here catch!" Linda was taken by surprise but she managed to catch the object all the same. She couldn't help smiling. In her hands was a twelve-foot, sixteen strand, and oiled Kangaroo hide Snake Whip that she had bought in New York.

Snake Whips were slower and less accurate than Bull Whips but right now she wasn't worried about that. She unfurled it, weighed it in the palm of her hand, spread her legs and turned slowly in the direction of the motorcyclist and cracked it in the air three times as if to signal that she was ready.

Liz meanwhile had finished her rummaging and had dropped into a low crouch holding the black cordless violet wand that she had bought when Linda had fallen in love with the snake whip. Violet wands had been around for years but this one delivered a much stronger shock and had a metal rather than a glass ultra violet end. The sparks they sent out could also be used to ignite flammable liquids, Liz grabbed the bottle of surgical alcohol she had also bought and dropped it into the pocket of her jacket just in case.

Linda edged toward the motorcyclist, wishing that the black visor did not cover his or her face because she wanted to see their fear but it didn't really matter too much. She raised her arm, cracked the whip, aimed and bought it down just inches from the Harley Davidson's front wheel. The rider saw it coming and had no option but to take evasive action in case it made contact. One foot on the ground handling the bike like a speedway rider and revving furiously they turned the bike in on itself and sent it hurtling back towards Linda.

Liz could see that the 4x4 intended to pin her up against the wall of the car park, realising that she was being hampered by the sunglasses she threw them on the floor and muttered "Bollocks!" as two hundred and fifty pounds worth of Louis Vuitton shades were crushed under the unforgiving wheels of the black vehicle. The passenger door was fully open now and already she could see a silver boot with a high heel making contact with the ground. She rolled again and dragged herself up behind the creature in the shiny silver PVC suit and rounded silver mask.

Liz was not going to stand around and chat, she raised the wand and threw herself at the silver woman, it was only then that she realised that she too was carrying a weapon.

Not even bothering to think whether the PVC suit would afford the creature any protection, she lashed out with the Violet Wand that she had earlier turned up to full power, striking the creature in the areas where she hoped she would be most vulnerable. She struck out at her tits once, twice, three times and was relieved to see her cringe signifying that the creature was obviously vulnerable to pain.

She reacted but she didn't make a sound.

Liz ducked down again, going for the weakest spot, hoping to disable her attacker for long enough to help Linda. She jabbed the wand at her victim's crotch, holding it close but not quite touching so that the electric sparks could jump and feeling the creature literally vibrate with pain and writhe against the wand, which she would have pushed up into the soft sensitive membranes of her cunt if she had been able.

She felt more than a little satisfaction when the creature doubled over in agony and collapsed on the floor but it wasn't over. Door swinging open the car was now reversing and reversing very, very fast. So fast that the tyres were screeching on the pitted concrete surface of the car park

Linda waited until the last moment and then she jumped out of the motorcyclist's way, the cycle zoomed past her and had to brake hard to avoid hitting the low brick wall at the far end. Apparently fearless, Linda advanced towards the motorcycle swirling the whip around and around above her head. Then she jerked her right hand violently and sent the whip cracking into the body of the motorcyclist. She guessed that one strike through the thick leathers that he or she wore would not hurt them too badly but that wasn't her plan. Before the rider could recover she steadied her aim and cracked off another shot. This time she wasn't aiming for the body – she was aiming for the head.

The silver creature was beginning to stir but Liz was more concerned about the 4x4 that was literally screeching toward her. She had never played chicken before but now she was it and she was looking straight at a set of bull bars that could crush her. The noise of the engine was ringing in her ears. She could hear Linda shouting at her,

"Liz! Get out of the way! Get OUT of the fucking way!"

She left it until the very last moment because she wanted to make sure.

She wasn't doing this for herself she was doing it for Linda. she doubted if even she could take another beating like the one she had had before and she wasn't going to let her. Only one thing was in her mind now.

She had to save Linda.

She could literally feel the heat of the engine when she finally threw herself to one side; automatically putting out an arm to save herself and hearing something crack as she hit the ground awkwardly.

Tears in her eyes, she rolled over and heard the grinding, grating and immensely satisfying crash as the 4x4 hit the wall at something like sixty miles an hour, shattering the radiator and causing the bonnet and wings to concertina into the main body of the vehicle.

Engine noise ricocheting of the walls, the motorcycle was coming at Linda but Linda would not get out of the way. She aimed the whip once more and brought it crashing down onto the rider's helmet. This time they reacted as she knew they must. The cycle skidded dangerously, at one point keeling over to an angle of something like twenty degrees to the ground. The rider corrected but she was pleased to see them shaking their head vigorously as if to clear it.

She was deliberately lashing the whip at the rider's most vulnerable area and although the helmet they wore was designed to withstand impacts, it could only take so much. And she knew just how much damage a whip in the right hands could do.

Liz stood up unsteadily, her arm was numb and hung limply by her side, she could walk but it was painful.

Only the bull bars had saved the black vehicle from being completely wrecked but she didn't know what condition the driver was in Even now the prone silver creature on the floor was trying to get up, Liz bent down and thrust the violet wand into her crotch again, wanting to hear her scream but only seeing her writhe in what had to be acute pain.

Hot scalding steam was spattering out of the 4x4's radiator and the engine had died but the car park was still not quiet, it echoed with the roar of the motorcycle and with horror Liz realised that it was now coming at her full pelt

She knew she was in shock.

She knew her arm was broken.

Even putting her foot to the floor sent shock waves of pain through her body. For the motorcyclist this was a revenge-motivated attack, and she could not get away in time

Tears in her eyes, Liz looked straight at the charging motorcycle and then she heard Linda's voice,

"Oh no you don't, you cunt!"

She heard the whip crack once.

One moment the motor cycle was heading straight for her, the next it was leaping up into the air and away from her as the rider, the single strand of the snake whip embedded in their neck, was yanked out of the seat and brought crashing to the ground. She ducked, wincing in pain as she did so and felt the Harley Davidson whiz past her, fly over the perimeter wall and go crashing into the street below. She heard the screech of brakes as cars tried to avoid it and then a roar as the petrol tank exploded on impact with the ground. She raised herself up and surveyed her once peaceful surroundings.

The motorcyclist lay deadly still on the floor.

Linda was still trying to uncoil the whip from around the their neck.

The silver creature was on her feet and at the driver's door of the black vehicle.

Linda was standing up now, she shouted across to her.

"Are you all right?" the reaction was already kicking in, Liz shook her head.

"No! I feel like shit and my arm's broken… apart from that I'm fine! Linda, just call the police and let's get…" she didn't finish because bouncing off the entry ramp came another vehicle, a large white van this time. Having finally freed her whip Linda raised it but the back doors were open before she could react and another silver creature appeared, a much taller one this time, and ran straight for Liz.

Liz screamed as the creature grabbed her broken arm and pulled her by it towards the van. In the grip of the worst pain she had ever felt Liz used the only option left to her, holding the wand in her mouth she dug into her pocket with her good hand and grabbed the bottle of alcohol, loosening the top with her fingers as she did it. As soon as the bottle was out of her pocket she threw it at the silver creature dousing it in alcohol. Dropping the bottle to the floor she grabbed the wand and holding it on full power touched the creature with it.

It screamed more in shock than in pain as the alcohol ignited, blackening the silver suit and giving Liz just enough time to aim the wand at its neck, roughly where she hoped the carotid artery was. The creature recoiled in pain, kicked her in the stomach and was aiming again but the first blow of Linda's whip across its back stopped the attack before it could properly start

This creature screamed in pain and screamed again and again as Linda's whip fell repeatedly across its shoulders and buttocks.

Engine still running, the van had turned and one of its windows had been rolled down.

Linda saw it first and shouted at the top of her voice.

"They've got a gun Liz, get down!" Barely able to move Liz threw herself agonisingly to the floor. The taller creature had forgotten about her now and was dragging the prone motorcyclist toward the white van whilst the smaller creature helped her companion who had been driving the 4x4 out of the vehicle and in the same direction. Whoever was in the passenger seat of the van opened fire and raked the car park with bullets.

Linda and Liz could only stay flat on the floor and pray that they would not be hit.

© Wallace 2004. The writer maintains the right to be recognised as the author of this piece. This is a work of fiction and bears no resemblance to any places, either real or imaginary or any people or characters real or fictitious, living or dead.