Chapter 9

"Why have you taken me?" Fiona asked.

Greg was surprised — both by the girl's strange accent and the fact that she seemed strong enough to respond in the way she did. He saw no reason not to answer her though, indeed thought it might help keep her calm if she realised she was not in any immediate danger.

"You're a means to an end, that's all. We want Gavin MacSween and we think he'll exchange himself for you," he told her.

Greg realised at once that he had miscalculated badly. The way the girl's nostrils flared and her eyes narrowed told him that she was going to be protective of MacSween.

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way — it's up to you," he told her.

When she didn't respond in any way other than to stare at him defiantly, Greg slapped her across the face without warning. The girl screamed at the force of the blow and Greg waited for her to break down and begin to talk. A few moments later her face turned back towards him and she locked eyes with his. He could see something there, a note of contempt perhaps and Greg felt momentarily ashamed at what he had just done. His fear of Osvaldo quickly pushed that to the side however, and he hit her again, harder. It took slightly longer this time, but eventually her head turned and she gave him the same look. Greg could see that there was already bruising beginning to appear below her left eye.

"She's got spunk, I'll give her that, but at the end of the day she's going to give me a phone number."

Rising up, he punched her once in the stomach. With her hands still tied behind her back, there wasn't much that Fiona could do to protect herself. Her legs were free however, legs toned from many hours of playing tennis. It took her a few minutes to recover from the nausea that had come with the punch, but when she did she lashed out with both feet, catching him on the point of his chin.

Greg found himself flying backwards and his head struck the bunks with enough force to have him falling to the floor of the cabin. Fiona experienced a few moments of triumph until he sat up and she saw the look in his eyes.

"You just made a big mistake, girl. You're going to give in eventually, but now I'm going to enjoy beating it out of you," Greg growled, rubbing his jaw where she had caught him.

A few minutes later and he had Fiona's legs taped together to restrict her movement even further. Greg prepared himself to work her over good and proper when another idea entered his head.

"Maybe I'm taking the wrong approach," he said out loud.

Fiona registered the change in his tone of voice and prepared herself for something even worse than he had subjected her to so far.

"What age are you, sweetcheeks? You can't be more than eighteen or nineteen. You certainly looked good in your little running outfit. What say we explore whether you paid attention in sex-ed?"

The words were accompanied by a leer and Fiona had no doubt now about what this vile man intended. Physical violence was one thing, but the prospect of being raped was another. She tried to remain strong, tried to think only of Gavin's safety, but when she felt his hands roughly mauling her breasts, she didn't know if she was going to be able to hold out.

"This must have been how Lizzie felt on the night when Gavin saved her from the rapist," she thought wildly. "Where's my big strong brother now when I need him?"

She had withstood the pain, but the mental anguish of what was happening now was completely unexpected and not something she was prepared for or able to deal with. She felt her spirit being crushed under the assault and that in itself was a shock to her.

"Firm. Ripe and firm. I haven't felt titties as firm as this since Molly O'Hara let me feel her up in high school," Greg snickered as he squeezed Fiona through her sleepshirt. "Why don't we see what you've been hiding under here?"

Markow rucked her shirt upwards. It snagged where Fiona was lying on it, but he was still able to bare her breasts and the little cotton panties she was wearing.

"Oh they sure do look pretty," he cooed. "Good enough to eat in fact."

With that, Markow dropped his head and slurped at Fiona's left nipple. She had been stoic up until now, hadn't squealed or screamed, but the feel of his tongue on her naked flesh was too much.

"STOP IT! GET OFF ME YOU PIG! STOP IT, PLEASE?!" she screamed.

Markow ignored her and tried to hold her in place while he continued his assault.

"Mmmm, just as sweet tasting as they look," he said, smacking his lips obscenely. "What other treasures have you got for me?"

Fiona felt as if her mind was almost about to shut down, as she felt the horrible man's hand trying to burrow roughly between her legs. With the last of her strength she bucked and writhed around, trying to deny him access until her head was rocked to the side by another heavy slap. The final realisation that there was nothing she could do to stop what was happening to her, that her assailant was bigger, stronger, and could take what he liked, was the killer blow. When Markow stood and began loosening his belt, Fiona's resistance crumbled.

"No, please, don't hurt me, don't rape me. I'll tell you my name — it's Fiona, Fiona Anderson. I'm Gavin's sister," she sobbed now, the fear overwhelming her.

"What makes you think I'm going to stop now?" Markow laughed. "You're just too tasty a morsel to pass up."

The fact that he wasn't going to stop when she broke hadn't entered Fiona's head. The act of resisting had been her only focus and when she knew she had to give in, it was in the belief that doing so would end her nightmare. To have succumbed and find that her submission was in effect worthless was another crushing blow. Never had she felt this helpless, this alone, this small.

"Please? I'm begging you. I'll tell you everything you want to know, just don't hurt me, don't rape me. Please? I'm only seventeen," she sobbed pitifully.

Surprisingly, the fact that she was underage had an effect on Markow. He had steeled himself to commit murder for Osvaldo, had even been enjoying himself only moments before as he took his pleasure from his captive. But something deep inside him baulked at statutory rape. Rape he could live with. Even enjoy. But for some strange, society-ingrained reason, statutory rape was different.

Fiona saw the change in his eyes and a small spark of hope returned.

Greg's hands dropped away from his belt and he leaned over to pull Fiona's shirt down to cover her up.

"If you're his sister, how come your name's Anderson and his is MacSween?" he asked.

"He's adopted," came Fiona's quiet response.

"How do I contact him?"

"I don't know. I can give you the number for my mom," she conceded, one last vestige of defiance and the need to protect Gavin enabling the lie.

Greg scribbled the number down on a scrap of paper.

"There now. If you'd just given me the number to start with, you'd have saved yourself some pain. That's all I wanted from you," Greg said triumphantly and with a trace of relief. Now Osvaldo wouldn't need to know that he'd forgotten this important detail.

Carefully he entered the number into his mobile phone and pressed the call key. Fiona didn't know who answered, as she only heard Greg's side of the conversation.

"Listen carefully, we've got Fiona. Do you understand? Okay, good. Who is this? Put MacSween on."

Greg went quiet, as Frank explained that Gavin wasn't in Cedar City, that he was driving back from Baton Rouge and it would be some time before he was home. Having just made the drive in the opposite direction, Greg new just how long it would take and therefore didn't make a fuss about it.

"Okay, when he gets there you tell him this. He's to turn himself over to us in return for the girl. He's to go to St Luke's in Monroe and once we've got him we'll let the girl go," said Greg.

Fiona guessed from her captor's response that whoever he was talking to must have asked how Gavin would know where the church was.

"He's been there before — he'll know how to find it."

In Cedar City, Frank was thinking as quickly as he could, trying to find even the slightest advantage. He explained that Gavin would have been driving without a break for over twenty hours by the time he got home and that he would need some rest before driving all the way back again.

"He has until noon the day after tomorrow to be there — that's more than thirty six hours, more than enough time. Anyway, he won't need much sleep if he wants to see his baby sister again. Make sure you have a number we can reach him on the next time I call."

Greg ended the call abruptly at that point and reported the details of what he had told the family to do to Osvaldo. He'd had to explain the logistics involved in Gavin making it back to Cedar City and then returning to Monroe to justify the timescales he had given, but eventually Osvaldo accepted the reality of the situation.

Gavin was still several hours away from Cedar City when his mobile rang. A glance at the clock on the dash told him it was 22:24 and he wasn't sure he was going to make it all the way home without another break to drink some coffee or something.

"Hi," he answered the call.

"Gavin? It's Frank. This might be important. If you can turn round and head back towards Louisiana while we're talking, I suggest you do that. I'll explain why in a second. The kidnappers just called. They want to exchange Fiona for you. They've asked that you hand yourself over to them at a place called St Luke's church in Monroe. The guy who called said that you've been there before."

"I know where it is," Gavin confirmed.

"The reason I asked you to turn round is that I've tried to buy you a little time. I'm not sure what good it will do you, but it was the only edge I could think of. I gave the kidnapper a sob story about you driving back from Baton Rouge and told him there was no way to contact you. He's agreed that the deadline for you to hand yourself in is noon the day after tomorrow. That gives you more than 37 hours and if you can double-back now, you might have some time to do something."

Gavin did a quick calculation in his head.

"The fact that they want me at least clears one thing up — taking Fiona has got to be tied into the thing in Palm Springs. That helps narrow down who's behind it. My problem is ... hold on, I'm taking the exit."

Gavin dropped the phone so that he could manoeuvre safely. He focused on the road signs, looking for a way onto the interstate heading back towards Louisiana. Fortunately it wasn't too difficult and only a few minutes later he was able to pick up his mobile once more.

"Are you still there?" he asked.

"Of course, I take it you've managed to turn back?" Frank asked.

"Yeah. Where was I? Oh yeah, my problem is that I think the people behind this are actually in Baton Rouge, so you haven't bought me as much time as you think. It's another three or four hours from Monroe to Baton Rouge so I don't have much time to play with. Shit, listen to me whingeing. Frank, you did well in gaining me the time you did.

"Now, did they let anything slip at all about where they might be holding Fiona? Did they let you speak to her?" he asked.

"Nothing I'm afraid. I tried for that and I asked to speak to her, but nothing doing I'm afraid."

"I didn't think so. No, the people in Baton Rouge are our best hope I think. If the worst comes to the worst I can always stall — say I've broken down or got lost or something to buy a little more time. It's looking as if tomorrow night is going to be busy though — that's the only time I'm going to have to reach the people I think I need to see."

"You also need to try to get some rest. Tiredness kills and I don't just mean in terms of driving. The more tired you are, the more likely it is that you'll make mistakes. Be careful son — there's no point in losing you and Fiona."

"Thanks, dad," Gavin laughed. "I'll check in later, but meantime, if the kidnappers call back, give them my mobile number."

He made another quick call, then dropped the mobile onto the passenger seat. Once he was alone with his thoughts once more, Gavin knew he had some decisions to make. The timescales involved meant that he had perhaps as little as five hours to rest if he was to do everything he planned. The first decision was when to take advantage of that rest? Now? and perhaps make the drive a little safer or once he got back to Baton Rouge and before he took his next steps?