Lisette and the Cyber Geeks
by
Brian Sands
todadi, HtF Vidcaps
Chapter Thirteen:
A Superfluity of Villains
Donald Caisson helped Lisette into the Mercedes, unsuccessfully avoiding a firm kiss on the mouth as he bent forward to fasten her seat belt. Roger had accompanied them across the road before walking several paces back down the street, where he stood beside a solid dark vehicle resembling a London taxicab in appearance. He waited patiently until Donald pulled out from the curb, then slipped quickly and gracefully into the driver’s seat of his own car and followed some distance behind. Donald half turned towards Lisette.
"We’ll go to Chérie’s apartment first, in case she hasn’t been snatched. We have to risk missing her if she’s already on her way back here."
"I don’t think she’ll be there, or in a taxi coming here," said Lisette gloomily. "You saw the scuff marks on the pavement when we looked closer. I’m sure she’s been kidnapped ... Obviously they know where I live."
"Yers. When they saw Chérie, they must have taken the opportunity. I don’t think they would have had the nerve to try anything with me and Roger about."
"Not with your gun in that shoulder holster, though that jacket alone would scare them off ... This is a cue for me to snuggle up to you again, but I can’t do it this time. You’ve got me strapped in with this seat belt, and with my hands tied I can’t do anything about it!"
"Maybe that’s a good thing. One doesn’t need distractions when starting out on a dangerous assignment."
"Hrumpph!"
Listte settled herself as comfortably as she could with her arms trapped between her back and the seat and pretended to pout. Her expression was so pretty that Donald could not resist reaching to the back of her neck and massaging her there with his strong supple fingers. Lisette closed her eyes and almost purred. The journey to Chérie’s apartment block became subjectively shorter.
They parked a little way up the street and watched while Roger entered the building. He reappeared about ten minutes later and sauntered down the pavement until he was opposite their car.
"I’m afraid, Sir, that the lady’s apartment is empty," said Roger as he leaned on the passenger’s side of the Mercedes and spoke through the open window next to Lisette. "What’s more, there is no sign that she’s been there recently. Miss Chalmers evidently never reached her home."
Donald sighed under his breath. "We’d better move on then. Thank you, Roger." Roger Iggotson returned to his car. ‘Lisette my dear, I think you will meet Chérie later, when you’re a prisoner too."
"Let’s go, Don. Chérie likes to pretend she’s tough, but she’s too genteel. I think it hits her harder than it does me, to be gagged and bound. You should have seen the way she looked when I first met her, all tied up in that chair!"
The Mercedes pulled away from the curb and was soon streaking over one of the exit bridges, a fraction above the lawful speed limit. A black nondescript vehicle followed, scarcely visible save for its headlights.
Their journey was long. Lisette watched the dark countryside roll past, took note of the villages they came to, and dozed. She recognised the junction where the highway turned off to Lower Bodley, but they were travelling well beyond that place. She thought about the different houses where she had met with villains over the last days, far too many villains for her liking. And she considered that, of all the places, the library and the florists’ suppliers seemed most likely to be principal shipping points for the drugs that she supposed were crated up with the innocent cargo of bande dessinées. Perhaps the computer room where Don was taking her held the key to the criminal cartel. Lisette reminded herself that she had to take another look through those files in the disc captured from Doc Legato. There were so many things still to do before the affair could be solved.
Lisette came out of her brown study as she felt the car begin to slow down. She looked up the road. Don was taking a narrow laneway, passing under a stand of trees. The headlights were killed. The Mercedes came to a stop. They were parked near the crest of a hill that overlooked a distant farmhouse with some of its rooms still lit.
"The custom of placing country homes against sheltered hillsides sometimes works in our favour," Donald Caisson observed. "When you and Chérie escaped from the gang after those village runners went past, I watched your progress across the field to the road. That was why I was able to come to your aid immediately. I knew where you were."
"Is this the place? Is this where Roger will watch?"
"This is where Roger will start out from. He won’t be far."
"And you?"
"I’ll be close as well, of course. After delivering you, I’ll find some pretext to search their computer room. But it’s more likely that I’ll be expected to leave - the messenger boy thing I mentioned before. But that will serve the purpose of distracting them. Your arrival is certain to cause a considerable diversion that will allow Roger to get in unobserved."
"Right ... Roger finds more computer stuff ... you backtrack ... and together you and Roger come and rescue me, and Chérie."
"Yers. That’s the plan. Are you still game?"
"Of course! ... Do you have those scarves? You’d better gag me and blindfold me now."
"Yers. The blindfold comes first."
Donald Caisson drew Lisette’s black silk scarf from his pocket, folded in into a broad band of several layers in thickness, and brought it up over Lisette’s head. He tied it across the young woman’s eyes and over her brows, adjusted it to make sure that her face was well covered at the bridge of the nose, and made it firm with a doubled knot at the back of her head.
"How does that feel?"
"It’s tight enough, and it blocks out all light."
"It will be tighter shortly."
"Don ... It’s really fun to be tied up and blindfolded by you. But I know that very soon I’ll be in the hands of those horrible women, and that awful man, and I’m a little frightened. Don, will you kiss me, and hold me for a moment? ... Ohh, thank you! ... You must think I’m a crybaby."
"On the contrary, I think you’re a very brave and wonderful young woman."
"Flattery will get you everywhere! ... All right, I’m ready. Don’t wipe the tears from my cheeks. It will look more convincing if they see I’ve been crying. Put the gag on me, and make it very tight. You have to impress that Sigrid woman."
"You might be wearing it for a long time."
"If it looks sloppy, one of them will make it a lot tighter. Anyway, it won’t be for long if the plan works. And put some packing in my mouth, not just a piece of silk over my lips. That wouldn’t fool anyone."
"How about this then?"
"Ngggggg."
Lisette tried to say more, but the thick wadding of two silk scarves folded together that Donald Caisson wedged between her jaws tangled her words together and muffled her voice. Another scarf of dark blue, folded in the same way as the blindfold, was placed over her mouth and the ends drawn to the back of her head. The gag’s knot was tied above the knot that held the blindfold so that when Donald made it all tight the scarf holding the wadding in her mouth locked the blindfold in place, making it tighter as well. Lisette shook her head experimentally. The gag and blindfold anchored each other and were impossible to slip free.
"Tight enough for you?" asked Donald in ironic tones.
"Mmm hmm," was all Lisette could manage, with a faint nod of her head.
"Good ... The next step is to tether your ankles."
"Mmm ph?
Don’s hands traced pathways down both her legs from her thighs to her feet. As cords were tied, first around one ankle and then around the other ankle, she regretted for a moment not having chosen a pretty dress to wear, with stockings. She felt Donald come upright, resuming his seat next to her.
"When I escort you into the house you’ll be hobbled. A small point like that won’t go unnoticed among that crowd! Now, one more thing ..."
Lisette heard the burr of Donald Caisson’s mobile phone. There was a pause, then he spoke again, but not to her. It was a brief message.
"This is Casement. I have the Ruisseau woman ... Yes, I’m only a few minutes away."
The mobile’s cover snapped shut and a second later the Mercedes trembled into life. Lisette sat back in the seat and closed her eyes under the blindfold. Don was silent as she felt the car leave the bumpy surface of the lane for the smooth roadway. He was probably tense and not wishing to talk. Lisette understood. He was handing over the woman he loved to a bunch of dangerous criminals. And Lisette herself could not break the silence. It felt too much like a real kidnapping. Well, it was, she conceded. Certainly it would be far too real once she was in the villains’ collective hands.
The centrifugal force throwing her gently towards Donald on the driver’s side told Lisette that they must be turning left into the grounds of the farmhouse. She had a leaden, cold feeling in the pit of her stomach, and sweat broke out on her neck and on her face under the blindfold and gag. She was committed to their dangerous ploy. She could not change her mind now that she was gagged and unable to communicate properly. And pride held her back from mumphing vigorously at Donald Caisson. I’ve put myself in this position so I just have to see it through, she decided.
The car came softly to a halt. When Donald walked around to the passenger’s side, opened the door, and helped her place her feet on the ground, Lisette could scarcely get out of the seat. Her legs felt weak and rubbery, and she had to be supported by Don’s hand at her upper arm. When she took several tentative steps forward, she found that her ankles were connected by about a foot of rope which forced her to take short mincing steps. It felt like a long way, traversing some sort of gravel path, mounting what felt like stone steps - she counted five - tripping on a doormat of some kind - did it have the words "Welcome"? she wondered - and the sound of a door buzzer. The scratch of the door handle told her that the door was opening. They were quick, evidently waiting eagerly for her arrival.
"Well well! Won’t you come in my dear?" It was Red Vellum’s voice. "I’m so glad you could come to our little party. One of your friends is here already. You will meet her eventually. She is a little tied up at the moment."
Very funny, thought Lisette, but the feeling in her stomach told her that it was not amusing at all. It was frightening.
"She was easy to catch." Don’s voice. "Alone in her apartment as I expected."
"You had no trouble with her?"
Vellum said this as she took Lisette’s arm in claw-like fingers and pulled her stumbling across the threshold. Donald Caisson’s hand still held and supported Lisette on the other side.
"None whatsoever. She was completely surprised and hardly put up a fight."
"Don’t be over-confident about this little woman." Vellum’s voice was almost a snarl. "She’s escaped from some of our best operatives. A proper lady Houdini."
Lisette noted with agitation, "some of our best operatives" ... How big is this organisation anyway? But the events taking place on the other side of the blindfold were moving too fast for her to do more than store that thought away for future reference.
"Come along, my dear. We’ll put you in solitary for the time being," grated Vellum as she propelled Lisette along what sounded by the echoes like a wooden floored hallway deeper into the building.
Don’s hand, still gripping her by the other arm, helped to reassure Lisette that their plan was working smoothly, so far. They halted. She heard the soft snick of a key turning in a lock. The door must have been on well-oiled hinges because she did not hear it open. Instead, she was walked on and guided down wooden steps. I’ll be an expert on gangland cellars before this affair is over, thought Lisette wryly.
The surface she was walking on felt like smooth concrete. There were no carpets in this place. She walked on until her captor brought her to a stop and pushed her down into a chair. The seat was cushioned. The scraping of its legs on the floor told her that it was a metal-framed chair of some sort. Her arms were lifted over the back of the chair and what felt like a length of pliable wire was looped several times around her wrists and fastened to a metal rod that made up several in the chair’s back. The cord tethering her ankles was removed and her legs were fastened separately to the chair with what felt like more wire. She was thankful that it was wound over her jeans, and silently blessed Donald Caisson for insisting that this time she wear something sensible. Lisette had the impression of being in the centre of an open space, in stark contrast to the restraints and occlusion that locked her a prisoner in her own small world.
However, she was to receive a modicum of relief. Lisette felt Don’s fingers working on the knot of her gag. But it was loosened only enough to allow the blindfold to be pulled away before being tied at the back of her neck again, a lot tighter than before. She blinked and looked up into Vellum’s grinning face.
"Comfy, my dear?" the woman asked with mock solicitude.
Don’s gagged me so much tighter in order to please this bitch, thought Lisette. I hope I can stand it. I think I’ll be here for a long time.
With her wrists and ankles wired to the chair’s frame, Lisette knew that her Houdini days were over. They had never really begun, she told herself truthfully. A lot of my mysterious escapes were because Don came and rescued me! The others were more a question of luck.
Vellum had not quite finished with her. More wire was wound three times around Lisette’s waist and twisted into the framework of the chair. It was simple, but it prevented her from moving her body about on the chair’s seat.
"We should have thought of this before," Red Vellum commented. "Wire is much more difficult to get out of than rope. If you struggle too much, it will cut right into your wrists."
"Yas," said Donald Caisson in a completely different voice from the one to which Lisette was used to hearing. "Tha’s a’slutely righ’ boss. On’y, I din have any."
"That’s all right, Dougie. You’ll get a fat bonus for this night’s work. I don’t forget my employees."
Don’s even changed his name, thought Lisette with surprise. There’s a lot about this man that I don’t know. I’ll have to do something about correcting that, when we’re out of here.
Red Vellum walked across the floor and paused at the foot of the steps. Donald, aka Douglas, had paused by a table and chairs.
"She won’ get outa tha’ will she?"
Don’s acting the half-wit, and doing a pretty good job of it too, Lisette thought with admiration.
"Not a chance. If she struggles, she hurts herself. There are no knots she can work on, and wire can’t be loosened, not like rope. No, our little escape artiste," Vellum emphasised the word "artiste" with cruel glee - "has to sit very still. And there’s no need for a blindfold. You were quite right in taking it off. Not a single gleam gets in this room when the light is switched off."
Donald followed Vellum up the steps, the switch was thrown, the door closed after them, and Lisette was plunged into total darkness.
For the first few minutes she took deep breaths and fought back incipient claustrophobia. Her tentative movements proved that Vellum’s words were true. Even the wire that held her legs was not cushioned sufficiently by the material of her jeans, and already the bands that circled her wrists were cutting into her skin through the thin satin sash that still bound them.
I’m the bait all right, she thought. There’s nothing I can do except to wait for Don, or perhaps Roger, to come to my rescue. I wonder where Chérie is? She ‘s probably feeling as uncomfortable as I am. Lisette bit down on her gag and tried not to think of all the things that might go wrong with their plan.
*
The darkness and the discomfort continued for a very long time. As well as not daring to struggle, Lisette found that she could not afford to relax. The wire around her body cut painfully into the soft flesh of her waist whenever she sagged in the chair. And that was when she caught herself nodding off towards sleep, which was one of the effects of the total darkness. She tried to guess the time. They had reached the farmhouse at midnight and she thought that she had been sitting wired to the chair for at least two hours, by the way her body felt. Some movement, some involuntary straining against her bonds, was unavoidable during that time, and her wrists and ankles were on fire.
While the gag was a simple affair - wadded scarves held in place by another scarf tied very tightly over them - it held her jaws so far apart that she could not budge it. She was by now familiar with the effects of a gag of this kind. At first she drooled into the cloth, some of the saliva seeping from the side of her mouth and down the curve of her chin. The silk bound about her face made the corners of her mouth itch relentlessly. Gradually the wadding became heavy and stale before beginning to dry out. The roof of her mouth grew parched. The silk of the wadding stuck uncomfortably to her palate. Her jaws ached from being bound and held open. And by now Lisette was desperately thirsty.
Sitting ramrod straight so as to relieve as far as possible the burning agony of the wire that bound her, and tortured by the gag, Lisette allowed tears to sting her eyes. She wondered, not for the first time, whatever had happened to Donald Caisson? Had he left the building, as he expected he would be forced to do in order to keep up the appearance of being a loyal employee? And where was Roger, who was supposed to have an enviable reputation as a cat burglar?
But she believed in Don. For goodness sake, she was in love with the man! That placed him on a pedestal that she did not wish toppled. But from where she was now, in the dark and unremitting pain, her confidence was taking a battering. Against her better judgement, she felt abandoned. Oh Don - or Roger - come quickly and rescue this helpless heroine! I’ll never joke about your jacket again, Don. I’ll be the soul of sobriety ... Who was she kidding? Not herself! She knew that she would tease that darling man the moment her mouth was freed. The spark of levity re-ignited her high spirits. Lisette Ruisseau determined to bear the discomfort and pain of being tightly bound and gagged. It could not last forever.
And what about the gang members? To date, she had only seen Red Vellum. As if in answer to her internal question, the door at the top of the steps swung silently open, letting in a flood of light from the hallway beyond, and Vellum’s gang trooped in one after the other. She had not heard the key turning in the lock. Lisette squeezed her eyes shut against the dull light and it took some time to refocus after the hours of being in complete darkness. Indirect lighting from lamps in wall brackets spotlighted an area of the large room near where the steps began, and another lamp spotlighted the bound captive sitting in her chair.
Lisette looked at the circle of faces that gazed down at her with various expressions, all of them unsympathetic. First there was Madame Red Vellum. Her pinched angular visage grinned at Lisette from within a halo of dark hair. The huge Sigrid stood by her side, long blonde plaits circling her brows. The look of triumph in her eyes made a shiver course through Lisette’s spine. On Madame Vellum’s other flank stood Doctor Bombadil Kidd, his face contorted by a salacious rictus of lust. Next to Kidd, where she kept a jaundiced eye on the man, stood Mrs Alvina Gamms, looking unusually chic in a dark skirt and jacket, the suit highlighted by a brilliant red blouse. On the other side, next to Sigrid but keeping some distance from the woman, Lisette saw the librarian of Lower Bodley, Dorothea Wimple. The woman was staring at her intently through her horn-rimmed glasses, her lips drawn tightly in a "we are not amused" frown. She wore a pleated skirt and a cardigan over a floral printed blouse. Next to her stood the tall figure of Priscilla Moons, manager of the flower nursery. Her long straggly hair was pulled into an untidy bun at the back of her head and she wore the same dark trouser suit she had on when they first met. Her lavender blouse was buttoned to the throat with the collars turned upwards that added a vague Edwardian touch to her features.
Lastly, standing in the background was the figure of the boy "Doc" Legato, his hands thrust deep into the side pockets of his capacious overcoat, hat pulled low over eyes that Lisette knew were looking intently at her. Oh no, thought Lisette, Don’s cover is blown, or will be. That little squirt will recognise me, if he doesn’t know who I am already.
"There you are, my people," beamed Madame Vellum, "Now follows a short tutorial about keeping a little nuisance neatly bound. I favour the minimalist approach, as does my colleague here."
With a nod she indicated Mrs Gamms who visibly swelled with pride.
"But that doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with a little excess when applying restraints. Our Sigrid’s penchant for lots of rope, or Dorothea’s special ways with miles of tape."
Sigrid straightened and clicked her heels militarily. Dorothea Wimple gave a small ironic bow.
"The secret lies partly in one’s choice of material and partly in its application. Please note that this young woman’s wrists are bound together with wire and attached to the back of her chair and that her legs are wired separately to the legs of the chair. The only other restraint is this wire around her waist. Yet she does not dare to move, otherwise the wire will cut through her wrists like a hot knife through butter. Isn’t that right dearie?"
Lisette looked back at Madame Vellum defiantly.
"See how the little spitfire looks daggers! But she can’t do anything. Where are your escapology tricks now my dear?" Vellum gave a dry and crackly chuckle.
"Tape is very good, Madame," said Dorothea Wimple, bridling a little. "There was nothing wrong with the way I had her trussed up. I don’t know how she managed to get away from me."
"Yes, that is a puzzle. She got away from us because her feet were not bound. She escaped from Miss Moons and Jakes by somehow cutting the tape around her wrists. So she’s a young woman who has to be watched. Our policy will be to keep her tied up, all the time, so that she can’t move, though perhaps with occasional bathroom privileges. The other woman is less trouble, but she has to be kept tightly bound as well. Has that been done Sigrid dear?"
"I checked on her, Madame. Iss ver’ still an’ qviet, like a leedle mice."
"Goot ... ah, good. Ve ... ah, we shall pay her a visit shortly ... Yes, she’s less of a problem. But some things don’t altogether make sense with Miss Ruisseau ... Shall I take off your gag and force you to explain how you do it? Hmmm, I think not. Dougie’s done such a neat job. See how she is quite unable to dislodge it?"
"Hrmmph ... Douglas? ... I know why!"
The boy "Doc" Legato stepped forward, frowning. "Yer say Dougie did this?"
"Why, yes."
"Ahh, the bastard stopped me from having a little fun with her."
"Who?" asked Vellum sharply, "Who do you mean? By ‘her’ do you mean Miss Ruisseau? Explain yourself."
"We had her," said Doc Legato, his words tumbling out all at once. "We had her, me an’ Dougie, took her to a warehouse. I was just gonna have a little fun with this Roosoe bint, before bringin her in ter yous o’ course. I wanted ter take a photo of her with a rope aroun’ her pretty little neck. You know, like I did with that other one on ther way in ter that farm. But the bastard kicked me in the knackers. ‘E took me money, and me photos too. When I got up, they were bot’ gone. They’re in it together!"
The boy subsided. There was a stunned silence in the room. A slow shiver of apprehension ran through Lisette. That must be the longest speech he’s ever made, she thought. Don’s cover is well and truly blown.
"So what you’re saying is, our bag man Dougie Casement and this Lisa Rivers - or Lisette Ruisseau as she likes to call herself - are working together?" said Madame Vellum in a sibilent whisper.
"Yair."
"I told you it wasn’ a good idea to send him up the river," exclaimed Bombadil Kidd.
"But he couldn’t have known it was us, his own employers," interjected Mrs Gamms.
"The man’s no fool," muttered Dorothea Wimple, "He can put two and two together."
‘He iss, how you say, ‘turned,’ I zink," was Sigrid’s contribution.
Madame Vellum began pacing up and down, a habit that Lisette was beginning to find irritating. She was almost fainting from the gag and the effort needed to sit bolt upright, but at the same time she was enjoying the criminal’s discomfiture. It took her mind off the severe pain from the wire.
"Shit shit shit shit," gritted Vellum under her breath. "We can’t stay here! I don’t know whether he’s in league with the police, but we can’t take any chances."
"Nodal point Number Six?" asked Dorothea Wimple.
"Yes ... yes, I think so ... Sigrid, you and Dorothea prepare Miss Ruisseau for travel. Then leave her here and fetch the other woman. Secure her as well. Neither of them must be able to move or make a sound. Mummify them if you have to ... Alvina, you and I will go to the computer room and fetch the discs ... and delete the hard disc. You two men, get the cars ready ... Now, get going!"
Sigrid and Dorothea Wimple turned towards Lisette while the others rushed out of the room. Lisette steeled herself. I’m in for it now! Oh Don, Roger, where are you?
The librarian from hell took up a pair of pliers from a distant shelf and quickly cut the wire that held Lisette to the chair - at her wrists, her waist, and at both ankles. Lisette was lowered to the floor on her face, her wrists still painfully wired together behind her back.
"I’ll do her legs, show you what can be done with tape," said Wimple.
"I’ll use zis nice rough cord. Ze li’l darlink won’t get out of zis!"
Dorothea Wimple began to tape Lisette’s ankles together. When she had wound it neatly half a dozen times, she tore it from the roll, plastered the end down, and proceeded to tape Lisette’s legs. Half a dozen turns went around her calves, then just below her knees, above her knees, and around her thighs. Lisette’s legs felt as though they were welded together.
Sigrid at the same time bound their prisoner with long coils of rough hemp. She secured Lisette’s elbows, pulling until they ground together, forcing the young woman to arch her back, then trussed her upper body in a network of rope that passed above and below her breasts, then between them, cinching the rope as she tied it. More rope passed around Lisette’s waist and her forearms. This too was cinched. Lisette’s arms were drawn back and held rigidly against her body.
The two women straightened up and stood side by side, looking down at Lisette in triumph.
"Ze won’t nezzer escape, zis pretty one!"
"You’re absolutely right ... But there’s one little touch, then we have to deal with the other woman. We’ll pick up Miss Ruisseau on the way back out to the cars. They’ll travel separately of course."
Wimple was kneeling beside Lisette as she spoke. From her shoulder bag she produced what Lisette recognised with a shudder. It was the thick black silk hood that had been used on her before, at the library of Lower Bodley.
"Lift your head, my dear," Dorothea Wimple crooned. "This time there’s no escape."
There was nothing Lisette could do to prevent the next step. She raised her head, tears in her eyes, and thick stifling darkness descended upon her. With it came silence, for the hood had built-in earplugs that were pressed in deep and firm.
Lisette lay face down on the cold cement floor where they left her. Her head was turned to one side as she fought for each breath. Her arms had been pulled so far back at the elbows that her wrists were being forced against the thin wire. She was now in such agony that her body trembled, exacerbating the pain. We’re going to be loaded into cars and taken away again, she thought. What can Don and Roger do but watch on the sidelines? A hand took her shoulder. Lisette stiffened and mewed faintly. She knew that hardly a sound escaped through the gag and the hood. They had collected Chérie, and now they had come for her.
ã Brian Sands 2004
ã Brian Sands 2004