Chapter 35: Tracking Tricia

I hated to admit it but Freddie was right. There wasn't much else I could do after I had put the flat back together again so I went in to the office as usual. I reckoned the kidnappers would find me if they had something to say.

I tried to do some work on the Glennis request. I'm not a big fan of desk research, it's pretty dull to start with, but sometimes it's the only way to find out what you need to know. Normally I do this stuff to analyse markets; this time it was to look for a potential target but the principles are the same. You aim to gather up the right sources and then work through them looking for clues, linking things together. Since Freddie had OK'd my thoughts on including a focus on British middle and upper class targets as one of our market niches, I'd been building up a library of stuff that might help us understand the market better. I'd got a pile of back numbers of 'Country Life' and 'Horse and Hound' and a copy of "Debrett's Peerage & Baronettage". For this project I added a few copies of Carriage Horse — the magazine for the British Horse Driving Trials Association. After that it was a matter of flogging through them. Looking at Carriage Horse for accounts of event winners and championship holders; checking out the "Lady This" or "Honourable That" in Debrett's and rooting through the other magazines for pictures that might give some clue as to whether they passed the Steve Glennis "can I tell if this is a woman or a horse?" test.

At the end of it all I had four possible candidates. The favourite, mainly on looks — not in the least bit horsy, I thought - was Lady Angela Marchmont. I dashed off an email to Research to do me a full profile of her and the other three. It worried me a bit. I'd worked all morning and I'd hardly thought about Tricia at all.

Rick phoned to give me an update on Rachel. They'd had quite a few "assisted conversations" as he termed it. He reckoned they had quite a good fix on what had gone on as a result. Turns out she'd studied psychology at college — they'd done a module on some of the brain washing techniques used in the cold war. It was primitive stuff then but apparently we'd used the ideas as the basis for our initial preparation. Apparently Rachel was a big fan of the Ipcress File — a book by Len Deighton and a movie in the sixties with Michael Caine. In the movie, Caine's character distracts himself from the brainwashing by using pain — he drives a nail into the palm of his hand during the brainwashing sessions. Rachel had been using the same approach, but without leaving any marks. She'd retreated into the pain and humiliation of her rapes, counting them off inside her head. They'd got her to vocalise it under sedatives. Rick said he'd play me the tapes. He thought that now he could fix her. It was good news, I guessed, but I was still thinking about my own problems. Getting the writer back on stream wasn't very high up the list.

My mobile bleeped again later that evening. It was Tricia's number again, another text. "Dont 4get the shopping. We need some wine." I guessed that this was setting up some sort of a meeting and the local supermarket seemed as safe as anywhere as far as I was concerned. I needed some food anyway.

I took a trolley at the door and started making my way up and down the aisles. I got as far as the wine. I'd picked up a couple of bottles of Californian wine when a woman turned into the same aisle. As I went to move along the aisle she pushed her trolley across mine blocking it in. She smiled at me. "You look like you're looking for something," she said.

"I'm told supermarkets are a great place to pick up women," I said, "would you know anything about that?"

"Tricia said you had a sense of humour." She peered at the bottles in my trolley. "You'd be better off going for a Chilean or South African," she said, "you're really paying for the label with those."

"I don't drink enough wine to bother with cheap bottles," I said.

She ignored me. "Are there any of Harry's team around?" she asked.

"How would I know?" I said. "You'd be more likely to spot them than I am. He's pretty pissed about this. So is Freddie. But I haven't seen anything of them for a while."

"No," she said, not even bothering to look around. "They seem to have left you to swing. Do you want to see Tricia free?"

"Sure but I'm guessing that might be hazardous to my health. I'd like to be a hero but I find it a bit of a challenge."

"All right," she said, "here's the deal. Your lady is sitting someplace where she won't come to any harm. We go for a ride in my car and talk to someone. You get to see her."

"Talk?"

"Talk."

"That still sounds hazardous to my health. Why don't they just give me a phone call? You've got my number." Another woman turned into the aisle pushing a trolley that held enough shopping to feed a small army for a month.

"Excuse me," she said pushing between us and picking up a twelve pack of beer before walking on.

I watched as she disappeared around the end of the aisle. The woman I was talking to just smiled. "And the alternative?" I said.

"Alternative?" the woman looked puzzled.

"Usually there's an alternative. You do this or we'll do that?"

"Oh, yes, sorry. Well, if you put it like that. I guess my contact can take out their disappointment on her. That might not be pleasant."

I was beginning to feel backed into a corner, which I supposed was the idea, but I didn't want to take more chances than I needed to. "You won't mind if I just check whether or not you're carrying a weapon? It's just that I've had a number of unpleasant experiences with women in recent times."

"Help yourself," she said. "I'm sure that it's not uncommon for two people meeting like this to become entangled in an intimate embrace."

She was right, of course. This wasn't the place for a conventional frisk down but there were other ways to achieve the same result. I pushed her back against the rack of wine bottles in a reasonable simulation of a passionate grapple. I ran my hands down her body and across her tits. She pushed back against me, helping out and no doubt looking for just the sort of things I was looking for. I groped beneath her skirt, running my hands up the inside of her thighs. She gave a surprised start and pressed her lips against mine. I pushed my tongue between her lips. She kissed me back enthusiastically. Satisfied that she was carrying nothing that might cause me any problems, apart from a well built chest. I backed away.