Chapter 7

Grace had known what it was like to be "scared," had even experienced a bad "fright" now and then, but never before had she felt terror so strong that it paralyzed not only the mind but the body as well. This morning, when Andy had called demanding his money, she was forced to lower her voice so that Judi working in the other part of the office could not hear her. "I'm sorry, Andy," she said. "It's terribly embarrassing, but I don't have any money. I'll pay you someday, though, I promise."

"Mrs. Hope," Andy had said, "I told you I want my money this afternoon." There had been a click on the line, then Andy had hung up before she could say anything else.

It was at that moment that Grace began to get worried. The worry graduated into fright, but the terror had begun only when Grace went out for lunch and two burly men were waiting alongside a black Oldsmobile for her. One with a squashed nose had said, "Mrs. Hope?"

Her heart began hammering. For a moment she was sure they were police who had come to arrest her for bad checks. "Ye... yes," she stammered, "I'm Mrs. Hope."

Squashed nose had nodded his head toward the back seat. "Get in."

"But I... but I... "

"Get in!" The words were like a barbed whip.

Still thinking they were police Grace woodenly slipped in the back seat, resigned to the fact that she was being taken to jail. She was thrown back as the vehicle abruptly accelerated. "Where... where are you taking me?"

The driver, who looked as if he had once been a not too successful wrestler, glanced up in the rear view mirror and answered, "Andy wants to see you."

There was something about the way he said it that made Grace's blood run cold.

The men drove rapidly and silently across town, and left the boulevard to wind up a small road leading to the Skyline area. Grace's terror fed on itself, so much so that she had to be helped from the car when they finally pulled up before what appeared to be a deserted estate with crumbling roof and weed overgrown yard, hidden by thick trees from the road.

Each man took an arm and led her up the stairs to the front door. At the doorway, both men stopped as a beautiful looking giant German Shepherd bared his fangs and growled in warning.

From inside the house, Grace heard Andy's voice saying, "It's all right, Samson. Let her in."

The men let go of Grace's arms, and turned to go back to the car.

"Come in, Mrs. Hope." With legs trembling uncontrollably, Grace did as she was ordered. Compared to the bright sunlight outside, it was almost dark in here. The dog followed her across the room: she jumped once as it nuzzled the back of her nylon dress, pressing his nose in at the junction of her legs. When her eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, she saw Andy for the first time sitting behind a huge desk, and recognized him as the little jockey who seemed to be a constant companion of Ricky Karl.

"Sit down, Mrs. Hope." He nodded toward the small milk stool in front on his desk. When she hesitated, he added, "I think you'd better know right from the start that unless you do exactly what I tell you to do, you're not going to leave here alive."

Grace sat down where he instructed; she had to, her legs would no longer support her terror-ridden body. The dog came around and sat on its haunches beside her; its long red tongue hanging out of the corner of its mouth, its almost human gaze never leaving her face. Grace hastily averted her eyes when she saw the pink shiny penis slip out of the dog's abdomen and begin to grow.

It was impossible to face Andy's evaluative stare. He seemed to be a judge looking at a condemned prisoner, trying to determine life imprisonment or the gas chamber.

Grace knew now what a bird with a broken wing must feel like as it sees a snake slithering toward it. This was the epitome of the primeval terror. But if she thought she had been frightened before, it was nothing compared to the horror which was to come within seconds. Andy threw over about a dozen 8 x 10 inch glossy photographs. "Look at them," he said, ominously.

She reached out with her right hand, but it was shaking so badly she had to use both hands. For a moment the scene in the photograph didn't register, then when she realized her eyes really weren't playing tricks on her, she almost fainted. The photograph showed a nude young woman, dead--very dead in the most horrible way. Where her vagina had once been was now only a huge black cavity. Her nose obviously had been broken, teeth were sharded, and in a final humiliation her throat had been cut. "Oh... my God!" Grace moaned, feeling that she was about to vomit.

Andy said, "That was Dorajane Dunlop. She owed us $710 which she refused to pay. Just so you'll know how she died, the boys all fucked her silly for four days. Then, we gave her to one of my men who don't like to fuck women--don't like women period; hates 'em. He knocked out all her teeth, broke her nose. Then he strapped her spread-eagled to the end of a table and used a blow torch to burn out her snatch. You know, during that time she only passed out once and then just for a second or two, the pain kept bringing her back to full consciousness. She screamed for two days and two nights until one of my other boys took pity on her and cut her throat."

Grace dropped the photographs to the floor and jumped to her feet, glancing frantically around for a way out of this horror dungeon. The German Shepherd stood growling in warning.

"He can kill you, Mrs. Hope. I've seen him kill men twice your size. Sit down. Pick up the rest of the pictures. I want you to see them all. Every one of them."

Grace was not aware she had obeyed instructions, but she did sit down on the stool and her hands began leafing through the pictures. Some part of her mind shut off all images however. All she knew for sure was that each photograph was of a person who had died under some of the most horrible circumstances imaginable. There were men and women alike there... all victims of unbelievable sadism and brutality.

When she finished looking at the photographs, Andy said, "These welshers tried to do the same thing you're trying to do-- get out of paying us money. One of them owed us two hundred and fifty bucks. Another one, the blonde-haired guy you saw who was about twenty-three, he owed us twenty-eight hundred bucks. That's the most that any of those jokers owed us--twenty-eight hundred-- until you came along. Now you owe us thirty-one, Mrs. Hope. And we want it. Now, today. Or else."

She must make him see that she wasn't trying to avoid payment of the debt. She must! "Andy," she pled, "I want to pay. All I need is a little time."

"You've got until six o'clock. That's time enough."

"As God is my witness, I... "

"God is a lousy credit reference, Mrs. Hope," Andy said, then stood in dismissal. "Six o'clock." The interview obviously was concluded.

Grace got to her feet and walked blindly toward the door. She stopped but did not turn around when he added, "Oh... and Mrs. Hope, don't try to go to the cops about this. I got a couple of guys on my payroll who work downtown... as cops... and I'll know who you talked to, when you talked to them, and what you said. When that happens, you're dead... and you'll go out in a way that'll make these other welshers look like they died happily in their sleep."

She stood there, head bowed, waiting for dismissal. After a moment it came, "You can go now. We'll see you at six."

She really wasn't aware of the journey back down the hill or across town to her office, but she did not fail to note the brazenness of Andy's henchmen--their utter unconcern for the law-- by dropping her off right in front of Austin Motor Sales.

Grace walked from their car to the door. She glanced up automatically toward the clock and saw that it had been exactly one hour, to the minute, since she left.

Judi returned from her own lunch twenty minutes late, giggling and wise-cracking with Bill Hill. She took one look at Grace's face and sobered. "Jeez, honey. What's wrong?" She sucked in her breath and bit her lower lip as her eyes widened in alarm, "Has something happened to Stan?"

"No... no. Nothing's wrong." Grace turned her head, indicating she didn't want to discuss it.

Judi stood there undecided for a second, then shrugged "Okay. If you change your mind and want to talk to someone about it, I'm available."

For the next three hours Grace worked like an automaton, the shock of what had transpired during lunch having completely numbed her senses. Gradually, sometime between four and four-thirty, she came to the conclusion that it would be far better to go to jail than to wind up a victim of Andy's sadistic torture. She would pay Andy, would give him his money out of the bank deposit. And then, on Monday or Tuesday when the auditors made their month-end check of deposits, she would be forced to confess her embezzlement. Jail, after all, was a safe haven. She would be alive there. Besides, she deserved to be put in jail. At least she couldn't get deeper into the morass of gambling debts that way.

At five o'clock, Grace began totaling up the bank deposit. There was $11,287.10 in checks, all worthless to her, and $4,921 in cash. She intended to make up a separate bank deposit slip showing only $1821 in cash receipts and give Andy the other $3100.

Once she had made the decision and filled out the two different deposit slips, Grace felt a great calmness descend on her. She felt more at peace than at any time since this whole thing had started that first night at the races.

At five thirty, she went into the ladies room to comb her hair before going to the bank. She stared in the mirror for a long period. It was the first time in many weeks that she had inspected herself critically. Her face looked as though she had been ill. No more innocence there, not any longer. No more the clear, direct stare of honesty and sincerity. Somehow or another she had assumed a furtive look... evasive. She swallowed painfully, then went back into the office.

The bank deposit was gone from her desk!

A silent scream of terror shrieked and reverberated through her brain. She spun around. "Judi! My God! what happened to the bank deposit?"

Judi, hearing the tone of panic in the other girl's voice, looked up from her desk in open mouthed amazement.

"What happened to it?" Grace yelled, wanting to run across the room, slap the little blonde, and shake her until she told the truth.

"Grace. Calm down. Jeez, I've never seen you like this. What's got into you? Mister Austin took it. He said he was going past the bank anyway and he'd drop it off."

Grace stood there, the disaster plainly written on her face, then one hiccuping sob was wrenched from her belly. She sat down weakly into her chair, weeping loudly.

"Grace? My God... what's wrong? Are you sick?" Judi came over rapidly, her face full of concern.

Grace shook her head wordlessly.

"Honey, come on. I know you. Something is terribly wrong. Let me help you."

"Take me home, Judi," she sobbed. "Take me home now."

The little blonde didn't hesitate a second. "All right." She quickly took her purse out of the drawer, then reached in Grace's desk and pulled out the other girl's handbag. "Come on," she coaxed, reaching down and pulling her to her feet.

All the way home, Judi kept glancing over toward the white-faced, violently trembling Grace. When they got to the apartment complex, Grace wordlessly slid out of the car, even before Judi cut the ignition, and ran blindly toward her room. Once inside, she locked the door and put the night chain on.

Judi hammered at the door. "Grace... let me in."

"Go away," she sobbed. "Leave me alone." She heard Judi's sigh of resignation through the door, then moments later the sound of the little blonde's apartment door opening.

Whereas an hour earlier she had been calmly resigned to going to jail, now she was in a state of sheer, blind, unreasoning panic. She glanced at her watch, not really seeing it... but realizing that the two hands were fingers of doom moving inexorably toward six o'clock, only eleven minutes away.

Grace sat there, a lonely huddled figure exuding terror, while life swirled on all around her. She could hear radios playing in other parts of the apartment complex, could hear the children laughing and screaming around the pool.

The pool! At that moment a small flicker of hope ignited in her breast. Ricky Karl! He knew Andy! Hope became a raging fire of certainty. Ricky Karl liked her as a woman. He wouldn't let them disfigure her. He would help her. Quickly then, because only eight minutes were left before six, she threw off the chain lock and dashed downstairs to the pool.

She stopped, dead still, when she saw Ricky was nowhere in sight. Then, running again, her high heels beating a rat-a-tat-tat of such urgency on the sidewalk that everyone glanced up curiously, she dashed toward the fat man's apartment section.

She punched the penthouse button on the elevator and prayed all the way during the journey to the top floor that he would be there.

The doors whispered open. R. KARL, the card above the bell read.

She pushed the button and heard soft chimes ringing inside.

There was no answer.

Frantically, she pushed the button again and hammered on the door. Her watch hands pointed to 5:55 now.

It was almost a minute before Ricky Karl opened the door in front of her; she had the impression that he had been standing there all along. Ricky was dressed in a very short karate-type silk gown that gaped open over his hairy chest and belly. It was obvious that he wore absolutely nothing beneath it.

"Well, Mrs. Hope," he purred. "What a pleasant surprise. Do come in."

She didn't want to enter his apartment, especially not with him dressed the way he was, so she stood steadfast and said, pleadingly, "I need your help."

The smile faded from his face. "I never discuss business in the hallways. Come in if you want to talk to me."

Grace knew she must not antagonize him, so she stepped across the corridor, feeling her shoes sink into the deep pile of the expensive carpet. Ricky closed the door behind her, then waddled into the living room. He turned, saw Grace still standing by the door, and jerked his head impatiently.

She followed him into the spacious, well-decorated living room which was easily twice the size of her entire apartment. Original oil paintings were tastefully hung on the walls. An all white couch sat in front of a picture window overlooking the city. He indicated that she was to sit there. "A drink?"

"No... no, thank you. I haven't time." Her eyes darted to her watch, there were less than three minutes left.

"I insist," he said, pleasantly. "Surely you can't be so rushed that you haven't time to enjoy the social amenities."

"Oh, please, Mister Karl," Grace began sobbing. "I don't have time. I'm in terrible trouble."

He paused, pursing his lips, then nodded once, and sat down on the ottoman in front of her. For a moment, revulsion almost overcame her terror, for his testicles like two ripe plums in a furry sack could be plainly seen above his ham-like thighs; it was as though he were deliberately exposing himself to her, she thought, quickly averting her eyes.

"What can I do for you, Mrs. Hope?" he asked after a moment.

"Please... oh... please... will you call Andy and tell him that I will pay him the money I owe, but I need more time. Only a week. A week! That's all I ask."

Ricky managed to look shocked. "You mean you actually made some bets and didn't have the money to back them. Why, Mrs. Hope... I'm surprised at you, That's not only dishonest, but very, very dangerous as well. I've known some people who were seriously hurt by doing that. Bookmakers have ways--usually unpleasant ways- -to ensure payment."

"He's going to kill me," she sobbed. "Help me. Oh, please, help me."

"Now... now, I seriously doubt that he'll do anything too injurious for fifty or sixty dollars. They don't begin to really get tough until it runs in the hundreds."

"But... but I owe him three thousand one hundred dollars," she wailed.

"You're joking," Ricky said, jerking back in mock amazement, the movement causing his gown to open all the way now, revealing a stubby little penis that could barely be seen below the rolls of fat hanging from his belly.

"No... I'm not," she sobbed.

"Oh, my, my, my! I would say that you are in very serious trouble indeed. I'm not even sure I can help you. I don't have that kind of money at hand."

"I don't want your money. Just call Andy And ask him for a delay."

Ricky stood, making no effort to pull his gown together. He stared down at her, then said softly, "Let me look at you, Mrs. Hope." He saw her frightened eyes flicker toward him, and grinned inwardly as he knew she had seen his prick. He made a great pretense of studying her face, as if judging her honesty. The thought of her ripe, red lips ovalled around his cock made his penis begin to crawl into life. She saw that, too; he could tell by the way she flushed and looked away. "All right," he said, finally. "I don't know what I can do, but I'll call Andy tomorrow and ask him... "

Grace interrupted frantically, "But you don't understand. He wants his money by six o'clock. Tonight!"

Ricky looked down at his watch. "But it's six o'clock now."

"I know," she wailed.

"I'll see what I can do," Ricky said, reaching over toward the phone at the end of the couch. Now the gown had slipped completely off his waist, and Grace knew he must be aware he was exposing himself. That faded into insignificance alongside the fact that he had just said he would try to help. She watched, unable to tear her eyes away from his fat stubby fingers as he dialed a number.

"Hello, Andy. How are you this evening?" He looked over toward Grace and she thought his eyes now had grown bolder; they locked themselves on her breasts, and she saw his prick swelling even more. "Well, Andy, it seems you have a slight collection problem with Mrs. Hope. I would like to ask you a favour, please. Call off your dogs, give her some time... Yes, yes, I know you gave her until six o'clock. Yes, she's here."

Grace saw Ricky's eyes seem to widen in alarm. "But, Andy, you can't. I won't let you while she is in my apartment. What? No, I don't think I can guarantee her loan. Or at least, I don't think I can. Look I'll call you back in twenty minutes. Promise me you won't let your thugs do anything rash before six twenty. Thank you, Andy."

Ricky slowly replaced the phone on its cradle. When he turned back to Grace, the message of doom was clearly written on his face. "I'm sorry, my dear. He wants me to guarantee your note. But you see, I'm a businessman and I don't invest in non-interest bearing propositions. Now it would be different, of course, if you and I could reach some sort of understanding. I might even be persuaded to pick up your bad checks."

Grace blanched. "You know about those, too?"

"I know practically everything. About you and Jim Meloney... " The last was a shrewd guess on Ricky's part; he had seen Grace in the winner's circle that night, and he knew Meloney's reputation. One look at the girl's face told him he had struck pay dirt. He continued, "There are no secrets between me and Jim. He said you were very good, indeed. A bit inexperienced... but delightfully fresh."

"Oh, God!" Her head was reeling. This new assault on her sensitivities was almost more than she could bear. It wasn't bad enough that Jim Meloney had taken advantage of her, but to brag about it. To tell everything that had happened. It did not occur to Grace that Ricky had, in reality, said nothing incriminating. In her terror-drugged mind she assumed from his remarks that the fat man really did know--and that Jim had been the one who told him. She felt betrayed, degraded, and she burst into tears of shame.

"Now... now, my dear," Ricky moved over, sat down beside her, and put his arm around her shoulder. "There's nothing to cry about. I think you'll find that I'm every bit as much a man as Jim Meloney. And, if you and I become friends, I'll agree to act as your protector."

"What... what you're suggesting is that... that I... " She could not finish the abhorrent thought.

Ricky pulled her resisting body closer to him, running his fat, stubby fingers up and down along the outside of her arm. "What I am suggesting is quite simple. You spend the evening with me and we get to know each other better. You and I will become very good friends, indeed."