Short Story

KIDNAPPED

by DIANA ELVIN

Slowly, slowly, into the room round the half-open door without a sound, holding the gun steady. There must be no doubt in anybody’s mind about my willingness to shoot.

I could see the slumped figure tied to a chair and, at the table, two men playing cards.

“Undo her,” I ordered. They swung round, amazed and afraid.

“Undo her,” I repeated, my voice steady, my limbs miraculously no longer trembling.

“Hang on,” one said. “Best not to do anything rash.” I pointed the gun at his head and looked into his eyes, letting the anger in mine burn fiercely.

“Nothing rash,” I agreed. “Everything carefully planned.”

If they had used their mobiles to summon help or taken the risk of attacking me what would I have done? But they quickly undid the cords that bound my sister, keeping a wary eye on me and on the gun. They were just the hired help, of course, not the brains of the outfit, certainly not the ones expecting to furnish a lifetime of easy living out of this escapade. Why risk getting shot for a pittance?

They used Sara as a shield, dragging her, for she’d been tied up so long she could not stand, let alone walk, but they kept her between themselves and the gun. Sara moaned and I felt her pain as though it was my own.

In the doorway they dropped her and ran, zigzagging to avoid the expected shower of bullets. If only they knew. My car was by the door. “Get in,” I ordered Sara and somehow she pulled herself on board while I kept the gun trained on the thugs. I slammed the door and shot away.

“They’ll follow us,” she was gasping with pain and shock, could barely speak.

“They can’t.”

She looked at me with admiration. “You shot their tyres!” “Let the air out – slower but quieter. Didn’t want to give them any warning.”

“They’ll r-ring for help – and waylay us somewhere.” Her voice was shrill with fear. “I don’t think so. They’d need a cast iron excuse for letting you go. My guess is that they’ll think it safer to cut and run – just disappear.”

“Dad – wouldn’t cough up?” She was right, of course! “No negotiations” he had insisted. “It only encourages these scums. When they find I won’t pay they’ll soon let her go.”

“He thinks that giving in to kidnappers is a mistake. He agreed my way was better.” I hadn’t actually told him, not knowing which of his personal staff had been the betrayer and afraid he would let something slip. Sara’s abduction had needed inside information although my father wouldn’t admit this. But they had known exactly when and where to waylay her.

However, he had strong principles as well as being immensely rich and would not give in to them. “He would have paid up, of course he would,” I reassured her. Possibly I was right. Everybody has their breaking point beyond which principles cease to seem so important. I just hadn’t wanted to wait and see.

At the hospital entrance I leant on the horn, praying for help. I found I was shaking so much that I couldn’t possibly have moved under my own steam. It had been five days of secret hunting for clues before I worked out where she was and how to get her out, during which time I had hardly slept or eaten. Now reaction set in.

Help came running and, seeing the state of us, and realising who we were – our faces familiar from a lifetime of publicity – rushed to get us safely inside and under police protection.

Reluctantly I handed over my gun.

Startled eyes met mine. “You rescued her with this?” the policeman asked incredulously.

“You must admit it’s a very good replica. The kidnappers didn’t get such a close-up. It cost enough – more than the real thing I should imagine – and it’s not so easy to get one of those in this country, in secret, in a hurry when you don’t know who to ask.”

He looked at me in frank admiration which did a great deal for my ego. “Wow!” he said. “You’re really cool.” Then he undid all the good he’d done by adding “…for a woman.”