CHAPTER SIXTEEN - TUESDAY 4th JANUARY

5:45 am

Malcolm rose from one of the single beds in the smaller bedroom and switched on the light. He yawned, stretched, and looked to his watch. The time was a quarter to six. It was not as early as he hoped. He had wanted enough time to make Katie a hot drink and do a few rounds of toast before he set off for Lancashire.
Quickly he got himself dressed in his motorcycle leathers and crossed the small landing at the top of the stairs. He entered the bedroom opposite where Katie was sleeping. Leaving the light off and being guided only by the light from the single bulb on the landing, he crept to the side of the bed and peered at the occupant beneath the sheets.
Katie was sleeping peacefully and he decided not to disturb her. He would not make her a cup of tea, instead he would place some food and a jug of water by the side of the bed and leave her to look after herself. He would also leave her some sort of message so that she would not wake up and find herself alone and start to panic. He lifted the bedclothes from around her feet to check on the chain that secured her ankle to the bed frame. It was still in place and he was satisfied that she was not going anywhere whilst he was away. As for the other two girls in his complicated life at present, both Vicky and Jenny were locked away safely in the dungeon with the bolts to the steel door drawn firmly across.
Not wishing to hang around any longer than necessary, Malcolm descended the stairs to the kitchen and placed two slices of bread in the toaster. He then sorted out a bowl and some cornflakes for Katie. He checked on the time. He now expected to be away from Cuckoo Cottage at sometime around a quarter past six. He felt happy enough with that. He was only fifteen minutes behind schedule and he felt that he could make that up if he drove a little quicker once out on the open road.
With a sizeable breakfast prepared, Malcolm returned to Katie's bedroom and placed the food and drinks on the small cabinet beside the bed. On a notepad taken from Jenny's student collection of books and artistic notes he left Katie a message on the tray.
It read simply:

Dear Katie,

Sorry but I have had to go out for the day.
Have left you some food and a jug of water.
Just try and rest and sleep and I will be back as soon as I can.

Love and kisses.

Malcolm

XXXXXX

Satisfied that he could do no more for Katie, he propped the notepad up against the jug of water so that she could see it clearly. He then left the pen by its side. Finally he crossed the floor to the window that overlooked the front of the cottage. Here he opened out the curtains wide. It was still pitch black outside, but as daybreak came Katie would have the benefit of the light from the window. He took one last look around. As far as he could tell Katie would be comfortable enough on her own, and when daylight did come she would be able to read his little note. After one final look around he quietly tip-toed out of the room and closed the door behind him. There was nothing more he could do here, and the quicker he got away the quicker he would return.
Moving with some haste, he descended the stairs and switched off the last of the lights. From the outside he wanted the appearance of the cottage to look deserted. Hopefully no-one would turn up whilst he was away. That was his one dread. But he had been taking chances all along, and this was one risk he had to take.
In damp, murky conditions and in total darkness he fumbled his way to the Volvo and started the engine. The clock on the dashboard said that the time was ten minutes past six o'clock. His six hour journey times had only been an estimate and he considered himself to be on schedule.
In his mind he had formulated a plan of sorts. Originally he was simply going to leave Vicky's car in the Coach and Horses car park and swap it directly over for his motorcycle, but overnight he had thought deeply over the matter and come up with something a little more devious. For one thing, there was a possibility that the motorcycle may have been spotted. The owners of the pub may have considered it stolen or abandoned and reported it, or it might even be on the police wanted list and already traced. After all the motorcycle was registered in his name.
His plan was therefore to leave the car in the town's multi-storey car park and walk to the Coach and Horses from there. He would be cautious about entering the pub car park. If his motorcycle had moved or looked tampered with he would simply carry on walking. It seemed the safest thing to do.
There was also one more thing he took into consideration. On dumping the Volvo, he would purchase a parking ticket from the pay-and-display meter and stick it to the inside of the windscreen. This would then show a date and time. If the disappearance of Vicky and Katie had not been reported as yet, then the discovery of the parking ticket with a very recent date and time, may very well throw the police off the scent for a while.
Malcolm was optimistic that his little plan would work.
Hopefully by this time this evening he would be back safely at Cuckoo Cottage. The Volvo would have been ditched, and he could relax.

9:15 am

Inspector Hawkins, from his office at Littlesea Police Station on the south coast of England, was waiting impatiently for a report from his London colleagues. He had a patrol car stationed outside the main offices of Malcolm Smith's employers and waiting for the first of the personnel to return to work after their long Christmas break. He had been told that the doors would be open at eight thirty and that the woman in charge of the Personnel Department would be there shortly afterwards. He stubbed out a cigarette, lit up another, then drummed his fingers upon the desk. Forty-five minutes had gone by now and he wondered what was keeping them.
PC Grantford knocked on the door to the Inspector's office and entered. In his hand he carried a message that had just arrived on the teleprinter inside the main office. He looked rather pleased with what he had in his hands.
The Inspector looked up: "Well?" he asked impatiently.
"They've got his address sir," said the young constable and handing over the sheet of paper.
The message was from the London Police Force. The Inspector read the long awaited address and shook his head. It was somewhere in North London and nowhere near the place where the stolen car had been abandoned. No wonder what limited resources they had managed to put into the search had proved unfruitful. They had been concentrating all their efforts in the wrong area. He rose and moved to the map on the wall. Here he stuck a pin in London to the north of the River Thames. He now had five pins in his map.
He read the sheet of paper once more. Below the address was a short message stating that a search warrant had been granted and that Officers from the London Detective Branch were on their way to the above address.
At last something was moving and hopefully they may get some results.
But somehow he doubted it.
Instinct told him that the trail would be dead by now and Malcolm Smith had long departed the scene.
He looked at the map and dragged hard on his cigarette. Apart from Norwich in East Anglia, the other four pins were almost in a straight line northwards, starting at Littlesea on the south coast and ending in Muddleton Morton in the East Midlands. He wondered if that had any significance? Could Malcolm Smith be travelling north? After all no-one had come up with the missing girl's body yet. And there was that conflicting report on the road worthiness of her car.
Deep in thought he traced his fingers northwards along the map. Tapping his finger on the pin stuck into Muddleton Morton, he turned to PC Grantford and remarked: "Funny how all roads seem to lead to this place!"
PC Grantford simply nodded his head. Apart from being asked to locate the village on a map, he was not sure why a pin should be stuck there in the first place.

10:00 am

At the home of Georgina Watkinson, the telephone in the hallway rang once more.
Georgina was waiting and she picked up the receiver after just one ring.
"Hello, Georgina Watkinson speaking," she answered.
"Morning Georgina," came a familiar voice.
"Morning Davina," replied Georgina. "Nothing to report I guess?"
"Not a thing," she replied with a sigh. "I think we've just wasted two days here."
"It's move on time then I suppose Davina," replied Georgina. "Have you got any specific plans?"
"Not really, I think we'll just book ourselves out of here and go and park up in Katie Brown's road. Perhaps tonight we'll find ourselves someplace else to sleep. To be quite honest I'll be glad to get out of here anyway," said Davina.
"The landlady still chasing your arse?" asked Georgina.
"Won't leave either of us alone, and she's taken to wearing all her sexy dresses. She walks around with her tits almost popping out and her bum flashing beneath her mini-skirt. So I think it's about time we bid a hasty retreat before she decides to leap on top of one of us in the bedroom," said a frustrated sounding Davina.
Georgina smiled and pictured the scene.
"Best switch to our original plan then," suggested Georgina finally. "Book out and report back tonight Davina. What time shall we say? Nine o'clock again? Is that okay?"
"That's fine Georgina," agreed Davina. "Look, best go. She's just down the hall and smiling at me again. Speak to you tonight…. Bye…"
"Bye," said Georgina and replaced the receiver.
Georgina was hopeful that Davina and Tracy would find someplace different to stay tonight, and also perhaps have more luck staking out Katie Brown's place. She would just have to wait and see. In the meantime she had been flexing and moving her arm. She wanted to be ready to leap into the car at any moment if the need arose. She had also received good news on the Wendy Bartlett front. Dr. Gabriel Lang was due to see her again this morning. And if he agreed, then she could go home this afternoon. She decided to keep her fingers crossed for Wendy as well as for the two girls slogging it out in Lancashire.

10:15 am

Even though the weather outside was dull and overcast, there was enough light coming in through the open curtains of the window that overlooked the front of Cuckoo Cottage for Katie to read the message on the note pad.
She poured herself a glass of water from the jug and nibbled the corner of a piece of toast and butter. So Malcolm had gone out somewhere for the day? She wondered what he was up to, and where he had gone? And for that matter, where was Vicky? She recalled something Malcolm had said about Vicky being there too. She wondered if Vicky had gone with him. She concluded that to be the most probable explanation. Perhaps they had gone shopping?
She was ill anyway and that was the reason why she could not go with them. She had fallen down Vicky's stairs and banged her head. Malcolm had told her all about it. She felt the swathe of bandages about her head and touched her scalp. There was still a certain amount of soreness at the back. However, her brain no-longer throbbed, her eyes could focus properly, and the pain to the forehead had gone. Yes, she was feeling a whole lot better now. The only real thing that concerned her was the gap in her memory. For the life of her she could not remember falling down any stairs, or for that matter being at Vicky's place to do it.
She tried to think of the last things she could remember. Little bits and pieces were coming back to her. She recalled meeting up with Malcolm at the club. That was something fresh. Yesterday any memories of the club had been a complete blank. But now she could definitely recall seeing Malcolm in the room and the two of them meeting and embracing in the middle of the hall floor. Brian had been there too. Yes, that was it! She remembered that he had to go and negotiate a deal over their new flat. She had kissed him goodbye at the club then turned to face Malcolm.
But what happened after that?
Somehow her thoughts were hitting against a brick wall.
On the notepad Malcolm had left her she turned to a fresh page and wrote down the words:

Met Malcolm at club.
Said goodbye to Brian.
But what happened next?

Katie began to idly trace lines on the notepad. First she drew a square around the words she had just written, then added thickness and depth. Eventually the scribble began to take on the form of a box-shaped frame.
She sucked hard at the end of the pen and stared at what she had done. The doodle had lit a little spark. But what? There was something concerning the frame at the club that she thought she ought to remember.
But what was it?
For the life of her she could not think.
 
10:30 am

Dr. Gabriel Lang entered the side ward where Wendy Bartlett had been transferred. Much like the day before, she was sat up in bed and watching the television. On seeing the doctor she switched off the set using the remote control. She now had practically full use of her thumbs and could do almost anything but grip objects tightly.
"Good morning Wendy," greeted the psychiatrist. "And how are you feeling today?"
"I'm fine and wanting to go home," she told him.
"That's good," replied the doctor. "Let's see what we can do about that then."
Wendy smiled nervously. As nice as this doctor was, she knew that he was going to make her talk about all the horrible things that happened to her, and deep down inside she was not ready for it. Perhaps if the other three girls were with her she might force herself to say something. But not on her own. It was far too difficult an ordeal to accomplish with just the doctor present.
"Please can I go home doctor?" she begged. "I'll tell the police all what they want to know when the time comes. Honest I will!"
Dr. Lang smiled. "Of course you will Wendy. But I know how difficult that must be for you, and it's my job to help you," he explained.
Wendy returned an uneasy smile.
"I'm feeling a whole lot better now doctor," she said and waggled her bandaged thumbs in the air.
"I know you are Wendy. Now just lie back and relax, and listen to my voice," he told her.
Wendy lay back on the bed and shut her eyes.
Dr. Lang waited for Wendy to settle. Yesterday's session had been short and he had not delved into her ordeal. Instead he had got her to speak of her childhood. She had not been ready for anything strenuous. Though things were going to plan. This was not a rush job, and he was already under the opinion that he would let her go home today. He would resume with group therapy as soon as the two returned from their short break. Hopefully that would be within the next two to three days. The police were also anxious to start questioning the girls, so it was important that he got them all together quickly and began his counselling sessions.
Today he would just get Wendy to relax and lay her trust in him a little further. He felt that was necessary. But he would not get her to talk about her ordeal. He would continue on with her childhood and advance a little into her schooldays. Eventually she would be cured, he had no doubts about that. But it was going to take a long time and not be easy. Even at the first group session he was not expecting her to participate to any great degree.
Wendy was still a teenager and had not matured enough, either physically or mentally to get through this terrible ordeal without a great deal of anguish and counselling.
But he would persevere.
He also thought that some good news might help.
He decided that after today's hypnosis treatment he would inform her that she could go home in the afternoon.

11:00 am

Katie sat up in bed, stretched across to the bedside cabinet and poured herself another the glass of water. She took a sip and tried to think. For some unexplained reason the sound of running water had triggered off something in her brain. But what was it?
She picked up the pad and pencil and began to scribble once more. She did not know what she was drawing. It was just an image in her brain. This time the object in question was more cylindrical than square. In fact once a handle had been added it looked very much like a bucket. She flicked back a page to her previous doodle and the square shaped frame she had drawn. Katie smiled, then began to chuckle. Seeing the frame and the bucket together had been the trigger to recollection. Suddenly she remembered exactly what the two of them had been up to at the club.
Katie added a rope to the bucket that went up and over a bar, then wrote these words below:

Had great time with Malcolm at the club.
He tied me up and filled the bucket for me.
Oh! and he also got the knot just right!

She smiled.
Her memory had returned a little more.
But what happened after that little bondage session?
She could not remember whether Brain had come back for her or not.
In fact she could not remember leaving the club at all.

12:15 pm

Davina started the engine of her dark blue Japanese estate car. The landlady had kept them talking a lot longer than they had wanted. It was only after they had both promised to return in a few weeks time did she seem willing enough to make out the bill and tell them how much they owed.
"Come on, let's get out of here," said Davina pulling away from the car parking spot and moving towards the entrance.
"You're telling me," agreed Tracy still in a rage at being kept waiting so long. "One more minute with her and I think I would have hit her."
Davina turned left out of the car park and came to a halt at the cross-roads just a little further along the road. To get to Katie Brown's place they needed to turn right. She waited for a gap in the line of traffic to appear before pulling out. As she waited a pedestrian dressed in motorcycle leathers and wearing a helmet crossed the road in front of them.
Suddenly Tracy called in astonishment: "That's him Davina!.. Look, crossing in front of us now!.. That's Malcolm Smith, I'm sure it is!"
Davina watched the leather-clad figure step up onto the pavement, and then through her mirrors she looked on as the youth first tended to hover about the entrance then disappear into the car park of the Coach and Horses public house.
"Right!… Let's get back there and wait in the road for him to come out… It looks very much like he's come to collect his bike," she told Tracy.
Davina looked to the traffic. The road was now clear so she swung the car right round and returned in the direction they had just come from. At a distance of about a hundred yards down the road, she swung around again to park up against the kerb and face the entrance to the car park.
"Right Tracy!… This is it… we stick to him wherever he goes…" she said with a steely determination. "And this time he's not going to get away from us… I promise you that!"
"I'm with you all the way!" echoed Tracy.
After a while a motorcycle appeared and turned to stop at the cross-roads.
"Right, here goes," said Davina as she engaged gear and set off down the road in pursuit.
"He's turning left," informed Tracy.
There was no way she was going to let that motorcycle out of her sight.
The chase was now on.

2:00 pm

Katie picked up the notepad and pen and turned to a fresh blank page. She was trying to recall events after the club meeting had ended. The question on her mind was, did Brian call back for her? She thought he must have done, but her current memory ended after being untied from the frame by Malcolm, getting dressed and joining the others at the tables by the sink. Her final recollection of events that evening was saying goodnight to a lot of people.
She wrote down the last things she could remember. The notepad was certainly becoming a great help.

Sat at table at club with Malcolm and Vicky.
Everybody had gone home except us three.
We were drinking tea and waiting.
But for who or what?
 
Katie sat staring at the words. It just had to be Brian she was waiting for. She forced herself to delve deep into the haze. She was sat at the table, Malcolm was seated one side of her, Vicky the other.
But then what?
She thought hard and something did come back to her. Just a little spark, but it was enough. She recalled getting up from her chair and crossing over to another table. A club member had left a magazine behind and she had brought it back to the table. Slowly she put the pieces together. It was a hard slog but bit by bit she was getting a little closer to the time of receiving the bang to the head. That was her goal. She needed to know exactly how she had managed to get such a bump and have such a big gap in her memory.
Katie forced herself to concentrate and think deeply. So what happened after that? The three of them, sat around the table, had talked at great lengths about something. But what was it about? She vaguely recalled it had something to do with Malcolm. But once more that solid brick wall was there.
She yawned and rested her head on the pillow. She had overdone it and was suffering from mental exhaustion. Just recalling that last effort had been a great strain. What she needed was sleep. She tried to make herself comfortable, but nice as the bed was, it was not as comfortable as her own. She wondered how Malcolm coped with this large bed. After all this was his home and she was sleeping in his bed.
Suddenly a flash of light burst within her brain and that stubborn barrier of the mind began to tumble. Thoughts of Malcolm and sleeping had triggered off another serious of delving questions.
Katie sat up and collected once more the notepad and pen. Below the last line she had written she added:

We discussed where Malcolm should sleep.
Vicky said he could stay with her.
It was agreed, but had to remain a secret.
Nick was never to find out.

Katie lay back down on the pillow and shut her eyes. That was enough for the time being. However, the next question was already formulating in her mind. Did Brian come back to the club to collect her? Or did she go with Vicky and Malcolm? It had to be either one or the other. But which one was it? Try as she might, she could not remember.
Katie sighed and cuddled below the sheets. She had knocked down one barrier only to be confronted with another.
Perhaps after a little rest she might recall something afresh.
But for now she felt so tired she needed to sleep.

3:00 pm

The phone on Inspector Hawkins' desk rang.
He picked up the receiver and answered: "Hello, Hawkins speaking."
"Hello, this is Detective Inspector Lloyd from London Constabulary here," he told his fellow ranking officer from a different Police Force. "I've just come from the home of your escaped suspect Malcolm Smith."
"Good, and did you find anything?" asked Hawkins.
"His mother lives there alone and I managed to interview her," replied Inspector Lloyd.
"And?" queried Hawkins.
"And basically she doesn't know a thing. I don't think your suspect has ever made contact with her since the day of his escape. She told me he was working at an amusement park in Littlesea and that I should contact him there. She gave me his address and telephone number and appeared to be quite helpful. She did not look like someone trying to hide anything and seemed genuinely concerned that we were wanting to speak to him," explained Lloyd.
Inspector Hawkins sighed. Somehow he had expected this. If only he had gone instead, then maybe he would be allowed to make up his own mind. It was gut feelings that mattered and without meeting Malcolm Smith's mother face to face he had no idea whether she was being genuine or not.
"So you've not taken her in for questioning?" asked Hawkins.
"No, there seemed no reason to, but we will if you want us to," replied Lloyd.
"No, not at this point in time anyway," said Hawkins then added: "What about the neighbours? Has anyone seen him, or seen anybody acting suspiciously?"
"Not a thing. Though most are out to work. It'll probably take a couple of days to contact everybody in the street, but I don't hold out much hope there though. It's one of those streets where you're lucky to find somebody who actually knows their neighbours name. This is London you know?" Lloyd tried to explain.
"What about the Smith's property? Did you search the house?" asked Hawkins switching to another subject.
"We did. Everything was neat and tidy and there was nothing to suggest that your suspect had been there. He's got his own bedroom and it did not look as if it had been slept in for weeks. If you ask my opinion, I don't think he came back here at all. I think he's scampered off someplace else," answered Lloyd.
Inspector Hawkins felt a little despondent at the news.
"I guess you could be right," he told his fellow officer. "But can you keep a lookout on the place anyway? There's an outside chance he might turn up."
"I've already got that organised," replied Lloyd. "I can spare an around the clock watch for the next seven days. After that we'll have to review the situation."
"That's fine… And thanks for doing what you did… I've got a few other lines of enquiry going at the moment, but keep me reported on the house… You never know, it might lead to something," said Inspector Hawkins signing off.
"Will do… and best of luck," added Inspector Lloyd.
Inspector Hawkins put down the phone, stubbed out his cigarette and re-lit another. It looked like another dead end. However he had never met Inspector Lloyd, and although not questioning his ability, he still had a nagging doubt about the way the interview went. There was still a remote possible that Malcolm Smith's mother was trying to cover up something. She surely must have known that the police were looking for her son? His escapades were now in all the daily newspapers and she must have heard or read something. If only he had been there to question her personally, then maybe he would know for certain. After giving the matter considerable thought he decided to do something about it anyway. He would go to North London and meet the woman. A second interview would certainly not go amiss?
The Inspector rose from his chair and crossed the floor of his office and opened the door. He called out across the general office beyond to an officer sat at his desk: "Grantford, can I see you for a minute?"
Police Constable Grantford rose from his chair and entered the Inspector's office.
"Grantford," said Inspector Hawkins. "I want you to drive me to London tomorrow morning. We're going to Malcolm Smith's house. I want an early start. I think we should be away from here by eight o'clock. So change whatever schedules you may have and pick me up from home at that time. Is that okay?"
"Yes sir," replied Grantford.
He was just as keen as the Inspector to get things moving.

4:00 pm

Katie sat up in bed once more and tried to think. After a short sleep she felt refreshed and wanted to carry on. A little bit more memory had returned. She was not one-hundred percent certain, but she was pretty sure that Brian had collected her whilst Vicky and Malcolm had gone off together in the Volvo. She had visions of walking out of the building escorted by Brian, and then climbing into his car which had been parked right outside.
Anyway she wrote it down on the notepad:

Brian arrived and took me home.
Malcolm went with Vicky.
Slept the night with Brian.

 It seemed that as her recollections got closer to the end of the day, everything was becoming much more difficult to recall. She could not remember going to bed, or waking up the next morning, or even going to Vicky's house. She thought that if she added one more line it would help.
She wrote:

Next morning went to Vicky's.

However it did nothing for her. The following day was still a complete blank. She turned over to a new page and began to scribble. Subconsciously she was staring at the vase resting on top of the chest of drawers. She was not a great artist but slowly the scrawl began to take on a shape. It was only after about five minutes of absent scribble did she realise that she was sketching the vase. She realised that this was getting her nowhere and below the vase she started to draw a face. It was meant to represent Malcolm. She was thinking that maybe seeing him in a picture might light a little spark somewhere. But again it did nothing for her. Her last recollections still remained firmly fixed in the previous evening. Her mind had stagnated at the point of leaving the club.
Absently she wrote down the words 'vase' and 'Malcolm' under the respective doodles, then closed up the notepad. She had racked her brains enough. Perhaps she had been overdoing it? Maybe if she just tried to relax and think of other things then maybe the gap in her memory would return of its own accord? What she really wanted was the chance to freshen up. She needed to take a long hot shower and wash the remaining globules of congealed blood from out of her hair.
She decided that the first thing she would do when Malcolm returned was to demand a shower. It was about time she started getting her own way again. And this silly chain around her ankle had to go as well. He had said it was for her own safety. Well she was a lot better now, and she was damn well not going to fall down anymore stairs.

5:30 pm

Malcolm reached the T-junction in the lane where just a few nights ago he had first read the sign pointing towards Muddleton Morton. He stopped and looked behind him. It was getting dark now and for the past few miles he had been aware of a car's headlights trailing some distance behind. He wondered if the car had been following him whilst it had still been light? The trouble was, when Jennifer Stansfield crashed into the hedge and toppled over his motorcycle, his one and only reversing mirror had smashed. Under normal circumstances he would have had a new mirror fitted straightaway. But these were not normal circumstances and there was no-way he could just pop into a garage and get the damage repaired.
He set off again in the direction of Muddleton Morton. He decided it best to keep one eye on the car behind. It was probably a false alarm anyway. This area was not entirely deserted and other people did live around here, and they did drive cars. So they had a perfect right to be heading in the same direction as him.
Malcolm circled the village green and took the road that led to Cuckoo Cottage. From here he looked back. The car that had been following was just entering the village at the other side of the green. He waited a bit, not actually stopping but going slow enough to observe the intentions of the car behind. He saw the car slow down outside the post office. It looked like whoever was in the car was going to use the phone box. He breathed a sigh of relief and eased the throttle open. He told himself to relax. He was almost home and there was no need to worry.
Malcolm entered the drive to Cuckoo Cottage and drove on around the far corner of the dwelling. From here he returned to close the gate. As he did so a car's headlights flickered beams of light through the open gateway and then through gaps in the hedgerow as the vehicle turned the first bend and ascended the steep hump of the bridge. He waited for the car to drop down the other side and take the next bend before approaching the gate. He had not had a good look at the car that had slowed down near the phone box, but he did notice that it was a dark coloured estate, and that was his prime cause for concern. The car that had just passed had been very similar. At one point he even thought it to be the stolen Ford Sierra he had abandoned in London, but on closer inspection it turned out not to be the case. He could not be certain in the darkness, but this car was probably a Japanese model.
Malcolm closed up the gate and returned to the cottage. He entered the front door and switched on the lights. Quickly he ascended the stairs and entered Katie's bedroom. As he switched on the light, Katie rose from the pillow and sat upright in the bed.
"Hello Katie, I'm back," he announced, then added: "And how are you feeling now?"
Katie smiled. She had removed the dressing from her head and straightened out her ginger locks with her fingers the best she could.
"I'm fine Malcolm," she replied. "Just fine!… My headache's gone and I'm no-longer seeing double."
Malcolm crossed the room to sit on the edge of the bed. A notepad and pen were resting there and he moved them to one side.
They held hands.
"And what about the memory?" he asked. "Can you remember falling down the stairs yet?"
Katie shook her head. That mental block still remained firmly stuck on the night before.
"No, sorry!…  I still can't remember a thing," she told him honestly.
"Never mind Katie, perhaps it will return one day," he told her.
Malcolm felt relieved. He was still safe for the time being and did not have to do anything to Katie that he did not want to do. He squeezed her hand then rose to draw the curtains. It was now completely dark outside and he did not want light showing at the front of the house. As he stood by the window with arms raised and about to draw the curtains he saw the lights of a car pass by once more. But this time it was travelling in the opposite direction. From the shape and position of the rear lights as the car headed off down the road towards the village, he could see that the vehicle was an estate car. In fact, it was more than a strong possibility that this was the same estate car that had been following him all evening.
Malcolm suddenly got suspicious and drew the curtains together in a hurry. He did not know what to think. Was it just all a coincidence? And was he being paranoid over the issue? Or did he have a genuine reason for concern?
Just then Katie called to him across the room.
"Malcolm, I need a shower," she told him. "I've been chained to this bed all day and I need to spend some time in the bathroom… So let me go… Now!"
Malcolm turned to face the bed. His mind was on other matters, but the forcefulness of the voice reminded him of the Katie of old. At least physically she was feeling a whole lot better, even though her memory was still not with her.
"Yes, of course," he told her.
Malcolm lifted up the sheets from the bottom of the bed, and with a key from his key ring he unlocked the bracelet from around her ankle.
"There!.. Can you walk?" he asked.
Katie threw aside the bedclothes to reveal her naked freckled body, and she swung out her legs to sit on the side of the bed. She tried to stand and tottered unsteadily for a few moments. Malcolm held out a helping hand but she brushed it aside.
"No, I'm all right Malcolm," she told him. "I need to walk myself. I need to find my own feet."
Malcolm let her walk unaided, and watched her move across the room to the door. He opened up the door for her, then did the same for the bathroom.
"The shower's electric. You pull a cord alongside to switch it on," he told her as she staggered past him.
Katie grinned at Malcolm as she turned to close the door behind her.
"Thank you Malcolm," she told him with the grin still upon her face. "And by the way, thanks once again for what you did for me at the club. You were absolutely wonderful. Perhaps I can repay you sometime?"
The door shut and as the bolt drew across to lock the bathroom door from the inside, Malcolm called: "And so were you Katie," then added softly so that perhaps she could not hear: "I love you!"
This was getting to be his Katie of old, and he loved her for it.
Malcolm returned to the bedroom. His mind was divided on two issues and he was having trouble deciding which one to follow. Through the two-way mirror he watched the naked Katie turn on the shower and wait for the temperature of the water to stabilise. He recalled what she had just said. Yes, their little session at the club had been wonderful, and it was nice of her to mention it.
Then suddenly a thought occurred to him. He was certain that Katie had told him that she had no recollection of their meeting at the club? He tried to think back, but he was almost positive that she had said those things. He crossed to the bed and sat down on the edge and tried to think. The notepad he had left on Katie's breakfast tray that morning was lying by his side and he picked it up. He opened out the pad to the first page and read his original message. This had been a brand new pad and he had written on the first page. But it was obvious that Katie had been using it during the day by the dog-eared way the next few pages fell inside the pad. He turned over the first page and saw what Katie had written.

'Met Malcolm at club.
Said goodbye to Brian.
But what happened next?'

There was also a square-shaped box type object drawn around the words. It reminded Malcolm of the frame at the club.
He turned to the next page. Here Katie had drawn a bucket with rope attached.
He flicked over the pages again and then again. This was a record of Katie recalling everything step by step throughout the day. He rapidly moved on to the very last recording. On this page were the drawings of a vase and a face, and the words 'vase' and 'Malcolm' were written under the two pictures.
Malcolm jumped up off the bed and returned to the two-way mirror. Katie was in the shower now. If he was quick then there was still time to act. There was a bottle of chloroform in the top drawer of the chest of drawers. He did not want to use it, but he could see no alternative. If Katie remembered the vase then she had also recalled the article in the Sunday newspaper. She was having him on and lying to him. Furthermore she had already talked herself out of her shackles whilst he was not thinking clearly. So what was she planning next? He dreaded to think. But escaping to tell the police would be the most likely thing on that agenda.
He concluded that he had no option but to take immediate action, and the only safe thing to do was transfer Katie to the dungeon. With the sighting of the car in the lane and now this, he was not even sure whether Cuckoo Cottage was a safe place to hide anymore. What he needed was time to think and work out a completely new plan of action. He was sorry, but Katie could not be allowed to remain free to wander the house a moment longer.
Malcolm soaked a rag with chloroform and returned to the mirror. Immediately his arms dropped in disappointment. Katie was stepping out of the shower. He looked on as she picked up a towel and began to dry herself down. There was no-way now that he could pass through the mirror and spring a surprise. He would just have to wait.
 After quite some time Katie did eventually finish what she was doing. With a small towel wrapped around her head like a turban, and a bigger one tied around her body just above the breasts, she unbolted the bathroom door and moved back into the bedroom. Malcolm stood behind the bedroom door in readiness. As the door opened inwards and Katie entered he sprung into action. Quickly he grabbed her from behind and thrust the chloroform soaked rag against her nose and mouth. She began to struggle. Katie was a tough lass and holding on to her was not easy. But slowly the fumes began to take effect and her protests became noticeably weaker. Eventually she stopped struggling and dropped to her knees.
Malcolm turned the limp body around and tossed her over one shoulder in a fireman's lift. In the tussle the towel around her body had worked its way free and he cast it to one side. The other towel wrapped about her head was also loose, and as she flopped over his shoulder, that too fell to the floor.
With the naked body of Katie slung across one shoulder Malcolm set off quickly for the dungeon. It was quite a struggle. Katie was no slender chicken, and with the steepness and narrowness of the two sets of stairs the task turned out to be quite an ordeal. But he persevered and did not stop until he was within the chamber and standing in front of the chair. Here he flopped her down onto the seat and waited to catch his breath.
Whilst stood panting he took a quick look around. Everything appeared to be just the way he had left it. Vicky was still strapped firmly to the X-frame, her head was hanging down and the weights still dangled from her nipples and labia lips. Jenny too was motionless. She was lying on the mattress inside the cell and appeared to be fast asleep. He was satisfied that nothing had happened whilst he had been away and that he was not going to have any more trouble from the other two girls.
Breathing a little more easily now, Malcolm returned to the matter in hand. Katie was sat in the seat with her body slumped forward across her legs. He raised up her body, held her in that position with one hand, then with the other moved her elbows and forearms onto the arms of the chair. He then attempted to secure a strap about a wrist, but found this too difficult an operation to do using only one hand. After several attempts, and getting more and more frustrated he changed tack. Instead he raised up one arm above her head and held it there. Now, using both his hands he was able to strap the wrist to a leather belt at the top of the chair. With that done, he repeated the operation on the other hand so that now Katie sat upright in the chair with both arms raised above her head.
Malcolm stepped back once this was done, mainly to check on Katie's welfare. This was not what he intended. The last thing he wanted was to put Katie through any unnecessary suffering. But at least now he had her sitting upright and the body much more manageable, and besides she looked comfortable enough and in no discomfort strapped the way she was. He decided that this position should stay.
He moved on. There was still a lot more straps to tighten and he was in danger of her waking up shortly. Working from top to bottom, he secured a large leather belt around her upper body just above the breasts, then another of similar size about the waist. He then moved on the thighs, and after opening out her legs, he strapped each one to the insides of the chair arms. Finally he knelt down and secured the ankles to the legs of the chair.
He stepped back once more. Katie was now secured firmly to the chair and in no danger of escaping. There was one more thing to do however, he did not want her wake up and see Vicky strapped to the X-frame opposite, or for that matter communicate with her in anyway. Quickly he crossed to the cupboard and collected a ball-gag and blindfold. He was sorry he had to do this. But until he could sort out his own problems and come up with a fresh plan, he was afraid that he no other alternative.
Returning to the chair he forced open Katie's jaws and inserted the ball into her mouth. He then strapped it firmly in place around the back. Finally he slid the blindfold over the top of her head and positioned it over her eyes. All the time he was doing this, he was very careful not to catch the wound at the back of her scalp. Poor Katie had really suffered, and he did not want to hurt her anymore.
When he was done, he took one last look around the chamber. All was quiet and peaceful.
He breathed a sigh of relief.
He could do no more here. But at least now he was in a position to return to the kitchen, make himself a nice cup of tea, and sort out the mess he now found himself in.
He certainly had a lot of thinking to do.

7:00 pm

The phone in the Watkinson's household rang. Georgina's mother moved from the kitchen and picked up the receiver.
"Hello, this is Mrs. Watkinson speaking," she answered.
"Oh, hello Mrs. Watkinson, this is Davina speaking. Is Georgina there?" she asked.
Mrs. Watkinson had met both Davina and her husband when visiting the hospital, so she knew who she was speaking too. Georgina had not been anticipating a call at this time and was watching the television in the sitting room. Her father was out so there was only her mother and herself in the house.
"Why hello Davina, I'll just call Georgina for you," she said.
Mrs. Watkinson pushed the door to the sitting room slightly open and called into the room: "Georgina, it's you friend Davina. She would like a word with you."
Georgina looked a little surprised. She rose from her armchair, moved into the hallway and took the receiver from her mother. She waited for her mother to return to the kitchen before speaking.
"Hello, Georgina here," she said once all was clear.
"Georgina, we've got him. We've found out where he's hiding out," she said with more than a little excitement to her voice.
"What?… Where?..." enquired Georgina.
This was totally unexpected, but the excitement had spread and she felt a certain tingle of her own run down her spine.
"We're at a place called Muddleton Morton. You'll need to find it on a map, but it's nowhere near Lancashire. We followed him here on his motorcycle. He finally came to collect it," she explained.
Georgina attempted to take it all in and at the same time tried to stay calm. She collected a notepad and pen and got ready to write everything down.
"Right Davina," she said, "now give me all the details. How do I find you?"
"Okay Georgina, we're at a village called Muddleton Morton. It's somewhere in the East Midlands, but I'm not exactly sure where. We're phoning from a phone box next to the village green and there's a pub just down the road called the 'Shoulder of Mutton'," explained Davina.
"Right, is there anything else?" asked Georgina.
"Yes, Malcolm Smith's holed up in a place called 'Cuckoo Cottage'. You go through the village, don't cross over a bridge signposted to Muddleford Mill, but carry straight on for about a mile until you come to another bridge, and 'Cuckoo Cottage' is right on the bend. You can't miss it," she explained.
Georgina wrote all that down on the pad.
"Look, I can get there tomorrow, so don't do anything silly without me. Wendy is out of hospital and I'll give her a call straightaway afterwards. What we need to do is agree to meet up somewhere, so where do you suggest?" she asked.
"Well we could meet in the pub," Davina proposed.
"No!" responded Georgina immediately. "That's too risky. We should not be seen together in the area. We'll have to keep low."
Davina thought for a moment. There was a pull-in along the road to 'Cuckoo Cottage'. It was amongst the trees and next to the river bank.
"I tell you what," she said. "If you go through the village and take the lane that follows the river to the cottage, then there's a lay-by along there on the left. We can meet you there," she suggested.
"Okay," agreed Georgina, "we meet in the lay-by. We should be there about midday I guess. So what about you two tonight? What are you planning to do?"
"We'll sleep in the car. With the back seats down there's plenty of room, and we packed lots of warm clothes and blankets, so we'll be okay," said Davina.
Georgina seemed satisfied with the arrangement. At least that way no-one would be able to say they had bed and breakfast at their place.
"Right, now listen to me Davina," said an earnest sounding Georgina. "Don't do anything until I get there. Stay well clear and out of the way. Is that understood?"
"Perfectly," confirmed Davina. "We'll wait and do nothing until you arrive."
"Fine, I'll see you tomorrow then in the lay-by at sometime around midday. I'll pick up Wendy first thing and get there as quickly as I can," Georgina informed her.
"Okay Georgina, we'll be waiting in the lay-by," answered Davina.
"Right, bye Davina…" said Georgina, and then added: "and do be careful."
"Bye," replied Davina, "we will, and see you tomorrow."
Georgina put down the phone, closed up the notepad and opened out her own personal name and address book to the letter 'B'. She had some exciting news to tell Wendy Bartlett. This had been a new entry in her little book and she had never dialled this number before, so she did not know the number off-hand. She found the number and lifted the receiver again.
As she was about to dial the door bell rang. She replaced the receiver.
Her mother was in the kitchen, so she called: "I'll get it," then went to see who the caller was.
She open the door and smiled on recognising the visitor.
"Hello David," she said, and they kissed on the doorstep.
It was PC Grantford. He had arrived with yet another big bunch of flowers.
"Come into the sitting room David," Georgina told him and escorted him into the room.
She lay down the flowers on the low coffee table and kissed him again before settling down by the fire. The television was still on, and she switched it off using the remote control.
"Well how are you feeling now Georgina?… How's the arm?" asked David once they were sitting comfortably in their armchairs.
He could see that her one arm was still in a sling. But by the way they had embraced, and the way she held herself, she appeared to be in no discomfort from the injury.
"Oh, it's fine David," she told him. "I don't think the slings necessary, but the doctors say I've got to keep it on for at least another week."
"That's good," replied David, "perhaps we'll be seeing you back at the station then soon. Everybody's missing you Georgina."
Georgina smiled. She did so very much want to get back to work. Sitting at home doing nothing was very boring.
"How is work anyway?" she asked. "Are you any nearer to finding Malcolm Smith?"
David shook his head. "Not yet I'm afraid Georgina," he said with a sigh. "We've finally got his home address though… That's something we've been waiting to come in for a very long time... Apparently it's somewhere in North London, and old Hawkins wants me to run him there tomorrow morning… I'm picking him up at eight o'clock… He's intending to interview his mother tomorrow… He's got this bee in his bonnet that she's not telling the truth and she knows where he's hiding… And knowing old Hawkins, if that's the case, then he'll wring it out of her somehow."
"So you think he's on to something then David?" asked Georgina.
It was important to know exactly how close the Inspector was to finding Malcolm Smith. Hopefully the girl's were still that one step ahead in their own investigations.
"You never know with the Inspector," replied David with a shrug to the shoulders. "He's still sticking pins into his maps thinking that might give him a clue… He even asked me to find some place in the East Midlands for him the other day… I think it was called Muddleton Morton… Anyway, he stuck a pin in there too, so I don't know what he's up to."
Georgina felt the blood drain from her face at the mention of Muddleton Morton. The Inspector was much closer to finding Malcolm Smith that she had realised. Knowing how Hawkins operated, and if the mother did know anything, then by tomorrow afternoon the police would be crawling all over the cottage where the youth was holed-up. And that spelt trouble for Davina and Tracy.
"Are you all right Georgina?" asked David sounding concerned.
Georgina pulled herself together.
"Yes… Yes... I just went a little dizzy David," she told him and wiping her brow.
"Look, I'd best get you a glass of water or something," said David rising to his feet.
"No, sit down David," she told him. "I'm all right now… I'll be okay… It's just all this talk of work… I guess I'm not ready for it yet."
David returned to his seat.
"Let's talk about something else then Georgina," he suggested. "How about discussing Summer holidays? I was thinking that maybe we could get away together this year?.. Maybe Spain?"
Georgina rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "Yes David, let's talk about holidays. Spain sounds nice," she told him.
She had said these things because it was something different to talk about whilst deciding on what course of action to take tomorrow. Davina and Tracy were in danger of being caught in a net, so both herself and Wendy needed to be away before the Inspector in the morning, that was one thing for certain. She was going to suggest eight o'clock to Wendy just before David called, but now it had to be at least seven-thirty. They would then need to drive directly to Muddleton Morton without stopping. That way, hopefully they would have at least a one hour cushion in which to do something before the police arrived.
Still deep in thought, she hoped that one hour was enough.
David, as it happens, was deep in thought too. He had not expected Georgina to give such a quick and positive response to his suggestion about a holiday together in Spain. Perhaps at last their relationship was spreading out from the workplace?
"How about Ibiza?" he suggested.

End of Chapter Sixteen