Torque (26 page)

The pack was a good distance behind so he
moved into the centre lane and drew up beside the BMW. When Reis
failed to look over he drifted right until their side view mirrors
were almost touching. She drifted closer to the shoulder. Needing
to be subtle, Fenn didn’t press her further. The interchange
cloverleaf was getting nearer and Fenn could tell she was
considering the exit. He stayed beside her and pretended not to
notice.

The exit ramp opened up yet Reis maintained
her position. The collapsible bullnose between the lanes became
prominent and it was now Reis’s turn to be coy. Fenn was about to
give a persuasive nudge when, just at the point of no return, she
slammed on the brakes and dropped off Fenn’s wing in a screeching
cloud of smoke. Reis chucked the 540i onto the exit ramp and hit
the gas.

Fenn’s smile was fleeting. He’d got what he
wanted but the next bit was going to be trickier. He flew under the
interchange overpass. To catch Reis now he’d have to exit the
highway via the opposing on-ramp. The median wedge beyond the
bridge became rapidly narrower and Fenn gave a sigh of relief when
he saw the merge lane was empty.

He cut his speed with braking and
downshifts—third—second—then keeping the clutch depressed slotted
the pistol-grip shifter into first. As the grass verge ended, Fenn
steered to the right and locked up the brakes, putting the
Challenger into a sideways slide. When just about stopped Fenn
released the clutch and applied the gas. The rear wheels smoked and
the back end spun left to complete the one-eighty. Still on the
gas, Fenn stamped down the clutch and banged the shifter into
second. The car launched up the ramp and he redlined the tachometer
knowing the sooner he made the entrance, the less chance he’d meet
someone head on.

Great theory—except for that minivan.

Both drivers flung their vehicles to the
right. Fenn barely missed the guardrail, the van was not so lucky.
The Challenger shot out of the merge lane into the path of oncoming
traffic. A Buick, about to enter, locked up its brakes as did the
truck behind it. Fenn cut across the yellow line into his own lane
and shifted to third.

The road rose steeply to Clappison’s Corners,
a major intersection, and Fenn could see the BMW approaching the
plateau. Its brake lights came on briefly then extinguished as the
traffic light blinked green. Fenn raced onward and crossed the
intersection as amber turned to red.

The change in landscape, from suburban to
rural, was immediate and the intersecting thoroughfares became
numbered concessions. It only took a couple of kilometres for the
clusters of houses to be replaced by secluded farm homes and open
fields. The BMW turned left onto a concession and the Challenger,
hot on its tail, did likewise. Fenn knew these roads intimately,
and for what he planned Reis couldn’t have picked a better road if
he had chosen it for her.

He took up the draft once again and as the
two cars sped along the vacuum effect began to suck dust off the
road. Fenn took a hand off the wheel and tapped his horn. It was a
declaration, not a warning.

CHAPTER
36

The BMW 540i was well-balanced fore and aft,
and had power and stability. Reis handled it well considering their
speed on the uneven surface of the country road. The Challenger,
with its big V-8 motor up front, was not quite so nimble. It had
the advantage of acceleration but this wasn’t a race and Fenn knew
he had to rein Reis in before much longer. He saw the next bend as
the perfect opportunity.

They weren’t travelling quite so fast as on
the highway though Fenn’s speedometer needle was close to 90 mph,
which for the 540i would be over 140 kmh. The only vehicle in sight
was a tractor collecting hay bales. The road itself was
deserted.

Fenn kept the space between their bumpers to
an arm’s length and eased closer to the shoulder. The road curved
right. Had it curved to the left, what he had in mind wouldn’t
work. He tapped the horn to get Reis to look in the mirror. It was
not intended to make her miss the bend, merely to make her
miscalculate the braking point. Yet she was also late in turning
for the curve and had to compensate with more brake and
steering.

As Reis pulled the car into the turn, weight
from the right rear corner was transferred to the left front wheel.
Fenn moved up and gave her a tap with the Challenger’s bumper.
Already off kilter, the high speed nudge was all it took to make
the BMW lose traction and swerve to a right angle with the
road.

Reis counter-steered like an expert but there
was too much momentum and not enough room for the correction. The
black car shot off the tarmac, skipped across a shallow
water-filled ditch, and ploughed to an abrupt stop in the loose
dirt of the cultivated field. Fenn had swung far left after the
bump to avoid the spinning car and then brought the Challenger to a
halt. He threw it into reverse and backed onto the shoulder. The
540i was up to its axles in mud and there was no sign of movement
within.

Fenn shut off his motor and pulled the key.
He advanced on the BMW, walking in the ruts where its tires had
compressed the soil. Reis appeared to be slumped forward, her seat
belt still on but loose. The sudden stop had probably lashed her
head against the steering wheel and knocked her out without
triggering the airbags. He opened the driver’s door. Reis lay
against the wheel, her left arm dangling beside her leg.

With a hand on the door for support, Fenn
leaned in to push her back against the seat—and came within a
hair’s breadth of being skewered. Peripherally, he saw her fingers
twitch as Reis jerked upright and thrust her right fist toward his
face. He threw himself backwards using the door for added thrust.
Her lunge barely missed his chin and as Fenn fell back he heard the
door hit her skull with a thud. He scrambled up, ready for another
attack, but found Reis lying motionless over the passenger seat.
This time she was truly out.

Her weapon had landed in the mud. It was the
jade hairclip he’d knocked off the desk the last time they’d been
this close to each other. The pin appeared to be a needle, locked
open like a penknife blade. He cleaned the piece off and his thumb
found the lever on the little brass tube. Fluid squirted from the
needle tip. Interesting. He figured out how to fold it up and put
the device in his pocket. Then he went back to his car and fetched
some bungee cords from the trunk.

Reis was still unconscious. Fenn trussed her
wrists and ankles with the cords then carried her, fireman-style,
to the Challenger. He dropped her onto the passenger seat and
strapped her in. That would be good enough. They didn’t have far to
go.

== == ==

Eileen Tillart went out to feed her
chickens. It was a job she usually did earlier in the day but a
good part of her morning had been spent talking to the missing
persons division of the Hamilton Police Service. She’d told them
what she knew about Kim’s date with Fenn, and that Kim hadn’t
answered her calls, or turned up for work.

Yes, it was out of character for Kim.

No, I don’t know what she’s wearing.

Yes, I will let you know if she gets in touch
with me.

And, she thought, I should check on her dog.
She should also try to contact her parents, again. Neither one had
answered their cell phone.

A car came up the driveway and stopped in the
large open space at the back of the house. She didn’t recognize the
make, some sort of muscle car, but it must belong to someone
familiar because only friends would know to come around to the
back. The driver was male, his passenger a female. The man got out.
Eileen could scarcely believe who it was.

“Bloody Hell! You’ve got some nerve showing
up here. And who’s that, your new girlfriend? Does she know what
you’re like?” She swished out the rest of the seed and briefly
considered throwing the pan at the car. Fenn raised his hands in a
gesture of surrender.

“Eileen, please. I know what you’re thinking
but I’m here to help. My ‘girlfriend’ here is responsible for Kim’s
kidnapping.”

“So Kim
has
been kidnapped. And you
knew this!”

“I just found out. Look, call the cops if you
want, but this woman may be able to tell us something. Have you got
a wheelchair?”

“You know damn well I do, a couple in fact;
but I’m fine with my cane.”

“Not for you. For her. She’s a bit
incapacitated and I’d like to keep her that way.”

“Oh. Right. Just a minute.”

Eileen’s rage was such that she hardly needed
the cane to get to the back porch where she kept an old wicker
wheelchair. It was quicker to get aboard and coast down the ramp
rather than push it to the car, so she did. Fenn pulled Reis out of
the Challenger and with a couple more bungee’s secured her to the
chair. She stirred and her head lolled back.

Eileen stared at the woman’s inert form with
hatred in her eyes. “I don’t want this person in my house. Take her
to the barn over there.” Fenn obeyed.

Larry was out with the tractor so there was
plenty of room in the barn. Fenn wheeled Reis inside then asked
Eileen where Larry was working.

“We rent a field across the road. You’ll
probably find him there. Are you just going to leave her like
this?”

“I’ll be back shortly. Perhaps she’ll be
conscious by then and we can get some answers.” Fenn got into his
car and drove off, leaving Eileen to attend to Reis.

As dust from Fenn’s departure settled, Eileen
studied the woman in the chair. She raised her cane and poked Reis
in the leg but there was no response. Eileen looked around. The
barn had cats. They were feral but good for mouse control. She
didn’t feed them but did keep a water bowl out. It was empty. Just
outside the door was a hand pump and she carried the bowl over. The
cats gathered round as she pumped, obviously thirsty.

“Sorry, my dears. You’ll have to wait.”

The cold water hit Reis like a slap in the
face.

“Wake up, bitch!”

Reis gasped and shook her head. Eileen stood
over her with the dripping bowl in her hand. She leaned on the
walking stick but right now didn’t feel the least bit infirm.

Reis looked up and tried to focus. Her head
throbbed. She couldn’t move and the front of her silk blouse was
wet.

“Who the hell are you? Untie me this
minute!”

Eileen walked around the wheelchair and
tapped it with the cane as she went.

“I’m going to ask some questions and you are
going to answer. I recommend you do so quickly and truthfully. Now,
where is my sister?”

Reis twisted against her bonds and gave
Eileen the full effect of her steely eyes. Who did this gimp think
she was? The woman couldn’t even get her shirt to match her
chinos.

“If you want your sister back then you need
to release me. Mark my words, you don’t know who you’re dealing
with.”

Eileen held the stare then turned abruptly
and walked away.

“And neither do you, Fraulein, but you’re
about to find out.”

CHAPTER
37

Eileen returned to the barn towing a small
wagon. It was an antique
Radio Flyer
like the one she and
her sister used to pull each other around in when they were kids.
Country auctions were great for stuff like that, and for other
decorative items they’d found for the house such as the rooster
weathervane Larry had installed on the roof, and the wicker
wheelchair that Reis currently occupied.

Reis, now familiar with her surroundings and
situation, strained against the elastic cords that fastened her
ankles and wrists to the chair. She glared at Eileen but said
nothing.

Eileen dropped the handle of the wagon and
came toward her. Reis noticed a few bees in her wake, one even
crawling on her shoulder. Hanging from a cord around Eileen’s neck
was a strange pendant. It looked like a tiny cage with something
moving inside. Eileen undid the bow holding it on and refastened it
on Reis. The bees now hovered around the wicker chair but Reis
didn’t appear overly concerned.

“I take it you’re not allergic to bee stings,
then.” Eileen had the sting kit in the wagon, just in case.

“I’m not.” Reis gave her a bored look. “So if
you think hanging one around my neck is going to bother me, then
you’re going to be disappointed.”

“Oh, she won’t bother you. That’s not her
job. She’s the queen and her role is to be the focal point of the
hive.”

Eileen pulled the cart closer and Reis now
noticed that the large wooden box sitting in it had several more
bees crawling on the top and sides. Next to it was a smoker.
Similar to a tall tin coffee pot, when stuffed with a combustible
like burlap, pine needles, or twine it produced a smoke that made
the bees less likely to sting. A trick that Eileen kept to
herself.

She produced a pair of tweezers and perused
the insects crawling on the box. The forceps caught one around the
midsection and Eileen brought her selection to Reis.

“It really bothers me to expend the life of
this beautiful girl on someone like you. She understands the bond
between sisters.”

The bee struggled in the tweezers. Close to
her face, Reis could see the stinger protruding from its
abdomen.

“A sting in the eye will cause optic
neuritis. More than one can make you blind. Several stings to the
neck can close your throat and cause suffocation.” Eileen lowered
the bee and Reis yelped in pain.

“A sting to the hand is just irritating but
should remind you of how painful it can be.”

Reis flexed her hand and blinked back a tear.
A red mark began to grow on the flesh near her thumb.

“Just what the hell do you want from me?”