“Coming up,” said Harry, producing it quite quickly.
The man drank it all, placing the glass gently on the bar.
“Another, please.”
He drank half the second one, placing the glass back on the bar.
“Good or bad news?” I said.
“Both. My wife’s had twins, but she’s haemorrhaging and is not that well. I’ve been in the hospital for the last twenty-three hours. The children are in incubators and she’s in intensive care. They told me to go away and get some rest, but I can’t face going home just now.”
Harry brought my food and a set of cutlery.
“That looks jolly good, can I have the same please?”
“Sure, you want the garlic bread too?”
“Please.”
I felt guilty eating with him watching, so I offered it to him.
“I’ll get the next one, I’m in no rush,” I said.
“No, neither am I. They’ll call with news, but I’m not good at hanging about.”
“I’m sure they’ll be doing all they can. How are the babies?”
“They’re okay, just a bit small. They’re both around the four pound mark.”
“Are these your first?”
“Yes, the first to get to full term. We’ve been trying for eight years. Carol had five miscarriages and we thought she’d never carry full term. We had IVF treatment and everything went well up until the last bit.”
I placed my hand gently on his arm.
“I’m sure everything will be okay, she’s in the right place.”
He seemed to crumple, tears started streaming down his face.
“I just felt so bloody useless and responsible. There was nothing I could do but watch. In the end, they chucked me out so they could work on her. I don’t know what I’ll do if she dies.”
“Then pray she’s okay, and look forwards not back.”
He took my hand that was still on his arm.
“I’m sorry to unburden myself on you. It’s not fair, but I haven’t been able to talk to anyone.”
“I’m Rebecca, Rebecca Carter.”
“I’m Richard Meecham. Thanks, Rebecca, for being so understanding.”
His phone rang, which he almost bust a gut trying to answer it. He looked worried and then started to cry. I thought the worst, but realised these were tears of relief and joy. He thanked the caller profusely and returned to sit beside me.
“She’s in the clear. They’ve managed to control the bleeding and she’s taken a transfusion. She’s sleeping now and the babies are both fine. Shit, I never want to go through this again!”
I smiled. “See, I told you everything would turn out okay.”
“Thanks, for just being here, Rebecca, you’re an angel.”
What can a girl say to that?
“Barman, a bottle of chilled champagne and three glasses, please.”
“Three?”
“You will join me, I insist!”
It turned into a pleasant evening. Richard, having eaten nothing for some time, got thoroughly pissed and after the third bottle, I had to get Harry to help me put him in a taxi.
“Goodnight, Rebecca, will you be coming back?” Harry asked.
“You’re my local for a few days, so probably.”
“Good, I’ll see you, then.”
Richard immediately passed out in the back of the cab. The cabbie refused to take him unless someone accompanied him, so cursing, I had to go with him to his home and get him inside. The taxi driver didn’t believe I wasn’t his girl friend, but he gave me a hand lug the silly man into his house. I found his key in his pocket and managed to get the front door opened. I hoped there wasn’t an alarm.
We laid him on the sofa, and I had just stood up when I sensed all was not well. The cabbie was wearing latex gloves, and I heard footfalls in the hall. This was a set-up!
I smelled the chloroform before it got anywhere near me. I lashed out with my foot and knocked the man who came at me from behind. Cursing, two other men appeared and I knew that I couldn’t win. I took a deep breath and allowed them to place a pad of noxious stuff over my face. I slumped and relaxed.
This caught whoever was behind me off guard. They let me fall to the floor, without the pad for a moment. I took a sneaky breath and waited. Sure enough, they placed the pad over my face again. I pretended to be unconscious, and waited for the pain test.
They were professionals. The pad was removed and someone pinched my left earlobe, squeezing very hard. Normal instincts would be to resist and flinch. I’m not normal. I took the pain, breathing slowly and once more acting my heart out.
“Shit, there’s one feisty girl! Are you okay Steve?”
“The bitch’s heel cut me, I’m bleeding!”
Someone laughed.
“That’s nothing, Warren’s still out cold!”
“She looks nice and peaceful now,” said another voice. He was English and the others were American. I assumed he was the cab driver.
“Okay, get her downstairs, and prep her. She’ll be coming round soon, so I want her ready to answer some questions,” said the first voice.
“Don’t hurt her, she’s a really nice girl!” said the man who claimed to be Meecham. He was English as well, having sobered up surprisingly quickly.
Bastards! I should have been more careful.
I allowed myself to flop convincingly as one man carried me down some steps into the basement. They put me on what felt like a small bed and then I felt a hypodermic needle enter my arm.
“Leave her half an hour, let the juice work.”
I was alone. I had two choices, one, to try to escape and probably succumb to whatever they’d just given me before I got out, thereby alerting them to the fact I’m more than I appeared. Two, I could try to use my training and experience to evade the questions and let them tell me as much as they could.
As I heard the lock turning, I knew I was left with one choice.
Whatever they’d given me was already affecting me. I was lying down, so experienced pillow spin as if I were drunk. I sat up, fighting the nausea and dizziness. The room was small, with one bed and a couple of chairs. A single light bulb hung from the ceiling. I was so glad I’d left the gun behind, with anything else apart from money, makeup and a front door key. I’d set the alarm, knowing that even with the key, if anyone entered without pressing the hidden deadlock switch, the boys up the road would be alerted instantly.
I knew I had to focus.
I was Rebecca Alison Carter, I was twenty-one, and recently returned from Hong Kong after the death of my parents. My father had been something in the old government and stayed on after the handover to the Chinese. I had been educated in British Schools abroad, so knew no one in this country.
I was still sitting on the edge of the bed when they returned. I think I surprised them.
“Where am I?” I asked, trying vainly to focus on their faces. I was very woozy, unable to concentrate on anything. For no reason I giggled.
“What’s your name?” said one of the two men who had come into the room and were now seated right in front of me. He was a hard looking man dressed in a suit. He gave me the impression he’d rather be wearing military fatigues. His hair was sandy and was cut very short, military style. He had an air of command about him, so I nicknamed him the Major.
“What’s yours?” I asked.
“You can call me Martin,” said the Major.
“I’m Rebecca, pleased to meet you. Where am I?”
“You had too much wine and we need to know who you are and where you live. What’s your last name, Rebecca?”
“My name is Rebecca Alison Carter, and you never told me where I am!”
“You’re in a house just close to the bar, do you remember the bar?”
“The bar? Oh yes, the barman’s hunky. He’s an Australian called Harry.”
The men looked at each other.
“Where are you staying, Rebecca?”
My head was spinning. Who the hell was Rebecca? Oh yes, that was supposed to be me! This stuff was good. I wondered what it was.