Alfonso looked shaken. He stepped back, edging away from Veronica. "Look, I really must ask you to leave now. I'm afraid I cannot help you with your enquiries." It was clear to Veronica that she had him cornered. The guilt was evident in his eyes, written in the signs of panic that had suddenly gripped him. "But surely, you were here just the other evening, Miss Hobbes? You saw a young lady disappear on stage and enquired of her wellbeing after the performance. Did she not make it home safe and well?"
Veronica smiled. "Yes, and that's the clever part, isn't it? They don't all disappear. That would be far too obvious, and you are much cleverer than that. Any number of young women have taken part in your disappearing act, whisked away before a large audience. And many of them you set free, to minimise suspicion." She paused. "What is it that you are looking for? What makes you choose one girl as a victim, over another?"
Alfonso glanced nervously from side to side, unsure how to respond. He stepped backwards, stumbling as the back of his knee encountered the large wooden rack of swords that had been placed on the stage as part of his act. He jumped as the rack clattered noisily to the floor. He glanced down at the mess around his feet. Then, realising that his options were swiftly diminishing, he reached down for one of the swords and came up again in a crouching position. Without hesitation, he swung the sword deftly in Veronica's direction.
Veronica moved quickly. She'd been trained for this sort of situation. She leapt backwards, away from the tip of the blade, as it swept past her in a wide arc, narrowly missing her breast. Alfonso grinned. He stabbed forward, and Veronica twisted away, causing his thrust to fall short. It was immediately clear to her that Alfonso was no brawler. He was lacking the finesse, the confidence.
She stepped forward, grasping hold of Alfonso's outstretched wrist with her right hand, twisting it hard and causing him to yelp and release the sword, which clattered loudly to the floor. With her left hand, she jabbed out, striking him sharply on the chin. He staggered backwards, but Veronica, stil retaining a grip on his sword arm, did not allow him to push away, returning for another quick jab to his face. By now, panic had entirely gripped the magician, and he must have realised he was fighting for his life. If Veronica was able to prove his connection to the missing girls – of which she had no doubt – Alfonso would surely swing from a taut noose.
Alfonso kicked out hard at Veronica's ankles, attempting to unbalance her. The blow struck home, but Veronica was too deft on her feet to tumble. She danced away, releasing her grip on his arm and wincing at the smiting pain of the blow. She kept her eye on Alfonso, trying to judge his next move. A change had come over him. He looked desperate, animalistic, even. His mouth was set in a grim sneer, his dark eyes seemingly boring holes right to the back of her skull as they met each other's glare. Shuddering, Veronica skipped forward and aimed a blow at the man's chin. She was fast, and she struck home, not giving him any chance to respond. His head twisted awkwardly to one side with the force of the impact. Blood was trickling down his chin from a split lip.
Veronica stepped back. She knew she needed to bring him down quickly, incapacitate him so that she could call for the police. Alfonso, however, was not giving up easily. He was like a cornered bear, and he lashed out, his bony fingers clawing at her face. She felt his nails biting painfully into her cheek, and she gasped as he raked them across her face, drawing bloody welts. Drawing ragged breath, she battered his arms away and kicked out at him in an attempt to maintain some distance.
If she let him in too close, she feared he may manage to overbear her. She caught him forcefully in the upper thigh and he fel back, stooping low and cursing loudly. "You filthy whore!"
Veronica rushed him as he was still bent low from the blow to his leg. She drove her fist hard into his gut. He creased, choking as the wind was driven out of him, doubling over at the waist. He clutched at his belly. Veronica saw her chance. She clutched at the straggly hair at the back of his head and brought her knee up, connecting resoundingly with his face. His nose burst with a sickening crunch, spreading a fountain of dark, red blood into the air and staining her culottes.
Alfonso gave a pitiful wail and sank to the floor. He was panting, spitting blood, pawing at his broken face. Veronica stepped back, looking down at the sorrowful wretch. Alfonso looked up at her. He was giggling like a lunatic.
"What? What is it?" Veronica was disconcerted by the sudden outburst. There was no reply, other than more of the insane laughter. She could only conclude that his mind had final y broken under the strain. She cast around, looking for a length of rope or fabric she could use to bind him whilst she fetched the police. She stepped towards the round table at the centre of the stage, where Alfonso's upturned hat and sword were still in situ. The pitch of the man's bizarre giggling increased.
The noise was like insects crawling up and down her spine; like nails being dragged across a dry blackboard. She gave an involuntary shudder. Still, she had him, finally, and as soon as she had bound him and arranged for the police to detain him, it would be over. No more missing girls.
She examined the hat, glancing back at Alfonso to ensure that he hadn't decided to risk his chance to escape whilst her back was turned. He was still clutching at his bleeding face, but he glowered back at her, almost expectantly. She had the feeling she was somehow missing something.
Then, with one sudden, unexpected movement, he flung himself to the right, slamming the heel of his hand down hard against the wooden stage. He must have hit a pressure paddle, for, to Veronica's astonishment, the ground beneath her feet suddenly gave way, and before she could react – before she could even fling her arms out to brace herself – she was falling.
She landed – hard – feeling her legs give way beneath her. The hatch in the stage through which she had fal en clicked tightly shut above her, throwing her into impenetrable darkness. She could still hear Alfonso's mad laughter echoing in the auditorium above. Veronica tested the space around her. She was encased within some kind of casket or coffin-shaped box. It was made of rough, untreated wood, and it splintered against her palms as she slapped at the sides of it, frustrated and scared. She thrashed out in every direction, trying to find some means of escape. But the box would not give.
She kicked, testing the floor, and she noticed that there was something at her feet. She reached down, as best she could in the confined space. Cloth. Bundles of heavy cloth. She frowned in the darkness. And then, with rising panic, she realised what they were: the rags had been soaked with chloroform. There was no mistaking the sickly-sweet perfume of the drug. She didn't have long before the fumes would overwhelm her.
Something creaked beneath the box, and Veronica felt it judder. She fell awkwardly to one side.
The box began to move.
She could feel it rol ing downwards, further underground. It must have been on castors, triggered by the introduction of her weight. This was clearly the mechanism that Alfonso had used to cause the women to disappear during his act. The chloroform explained why the girls who were later freed were left dazed and disorientated. And the girls who weren't freed.. Veronica tried not to think of that.
She had no idea what to do. She was trapped beneath the stage, trapped in a narrow wooden box that was creeping inexorably towards an unknown destination, where Alfonso was likely waiting for her, his motives still unclear. This time, there was no one to save her. She cursed herself for not listening to Sir Maurice. Nobody knew she was there. She had to face facts. Her time was running out. If she didn't find a way out soon, she'd likely die in the casket, or worse. She cal ed out, knowing it was a useless endeavour. The only person there to hear her was her captor.