CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - WEDNESDAY 5th JANUARY

7:25 am

Georgina Watkinson circled the long sweeping bay that connected the sleepy seaside holiday town of Littlesea to the distant outcrop of rock called Castle Point. Dawn was breaking as she scaled the hill and headed for the old castle ruins. Here she planned to swing around in the small tourist car park and return to pull up just outside Wendy Bartlett's cottage. She looked to the clock on the dashboard of her car. She was about five minutes early, but that did not matter, she was sure that Wendy would be ready and waiting.
The previous evening she had persuaded Wendy's parents to let her go out for the day. It had not been easy. She had told them that it was just a day trip and was something she had promised Wendy whilst in hospital. Wendy's parents had reluctantly agreed only on the understanding that their daughter be returned before eight o'clock that evening. They did not want her stopping out too late. The doctor had said that she still needed a lot of rest and care, and like good parents they were intent on making sure that she got them. Georgina had received a little bit of protest from her own parents too. But being twenty-seven years of age they did not have the same say or influence as did Wendy's parents. The problem was her arm. The doctors had told her to keep it in a sling for at least another week. But Georgina had insisted that everything was fine and that she was not going to do anything silly with it. After all, driving a car was not exactly a very demanding exercise.
Georgina reached the old castle car park with the intention of doing a complete circle within the open space. There were no other cars around at this time in the morning so this was very possible. About halfway round she stopped to view the old castle ruins through the windscreen of the car. It was a picturesque scene and well worth a couple of minutes out from her schedule. On the horizon out at sea, the rising sun was casting a reddish glow against the decaying castle walls, and beyond the ruins long dark shadows blanketed the open heath land that stretched away across the rugged tops of the cliffs. She was five minutes early anyway, so she could afford to take just a quick look. She had lived in Littlesea all her life, but for all of that twenty-seven years she could not recall seeing the old castle looking so beautiful.
A return to this site also brought back a few recent memories. She had been assigned to the search for Wendy Bartlett after her disappearance, and had been part of the group that had entered the old castle and descended into the catacombs below. She considered herself lucky. She was one of the privileged few who had actually seen the old dungeons below, and walked the long passages that contained the bricked in alcoves where victims had been left to die.
Evidence of that intensive police search still remained. Tape circled most of the building and was in great abundance across the many portals and entrances to the ruins. One in particular was the old iron gateway that sealed off the entrance to the most dangerous parts of the castle and was also the only way into the catacombs below. It was at this point Georgina noticed something slightly amiss with the old iron gate. It was normally secured by a padlock and chain and this was missing. Clinging to her steering wheel she rose from her seat in order to look down on the ground immediately below the gate. She spotted the lock and chain lying on the floor.
The policewoman training in her took over and she stepped out of the car. This was damn right dangerous and the public should be protected. She walked across to the gate and picked up the lock and chain. She frowned at the sight that greeted her. Vandals had used a hacksaw to cut through the chain. In evidence there were broken bits of hacksaw blade lying on the floor at the base of the gate. She thought what best to do about the situation. The gate ought to be sealed and made safe until someone from the 'Littlesea Castle Trust' could come out and rectify the situation.
Georgina thought for a moment. The lock and chain were no-longer of any use, so what else could she use for a temporary measure? The only thing she could think of were her own police officer's handcuffs. She had put them in her car purposefully knowing that they may be needed later on in the day if confronted by Malcolm Smith.
It was a difficult decision to make, but in the end she decided to sacrifice the handcuffs and use them to reseal the gate. After all it was her public duty to do so. She would tell David tonight what she had done. She would then get him to return the handcuffs once a new lock and chain were in place. Quickly she gathered up the handcuffs from the back of the car and returned to the gate. Here she clipped one bracelet about a bar on the gate, then secured the other to a bar on the outside. She tested the gate. There was about three or four inches movement either way, but there was hardly any gap to speak about. At least it was now impossible to enter the parts of the castle deemed dangerous to the public.
Georgina returned to her car and drove away. She was satisfied that she had done her duty to the public. She looked to the time on the dashboard. She was now five minutes late. As she pulled up outside Wendy Bartlett's cottage, the young teenager was at the gate waiting.
Wendy climbed into the passenger seat and closed the door.
"Right Wendy, I've got a lot to talk about," said Georgina as they began to move away.
Talking over the phone last night, it had been impossible to tell Wendy exactly what was going on. But now they were together and on their way to Muddleton Morton, it was possible to fill her in with all the latest developments.
 
8:00 am

Malcolm rose from the double bed at Cuckoo Cottage and looked to his watch. The time was eight o'clock. He frowned. He had hoped to be awake a lot earlier than this. Crossing the bedroom floor to the window that looked out onto the front of the house, he drew open the curtains and peered out. For the month of January it was going to be a very nice day indeed. The sun was already shining and there was not a cloud in the sky. There had been a slight overnight frost, but already, where the sun had caught it, the whiteness of the ground had disappeared.
He looked up the narrow country lane in the direction of Muddleton Morton. He could see the low sun shining against the buildings of the village and illuminating the pointed church spire away in the distance. Malcolm stretched his arms and yawned. He had woken up in a good mood, and after a cup of tea he would make sure that all his girls in the dungeon received a decent breakfast. Exactly how he would go about it he was not quite sure. However it did seem that he would have to feed them separately. He would also have to make sure that their blindfolds were kept in place. He was even contemplating spoon feeding both Katie and Vicky. But that decision he would leave until he was down there.
Malcolm's outstretched arms returned to his sides and his gaze dropped to the lane a little nearer to the cottage. In the short space of time he had been stood at the window, the sun had moved just enough to pick up a reflection of light emanating from the lay-by about two-hundred yards up the road. His eyes focused on the source of light and immediately he could see the cause. A car was parked in the pull-in and the light was reflecting from off the windscreen. It had been difficult to see at first glance because of the trees and bushes in the foreground, plus the fact that the car was tucked well into the lay-by. But even now, all he could see was the vague outline of one edge of the car and about half a headlight. If it had not been for the reflection of the sun he doubted whether he would have picked it up at all.
Malcolm rubbed his chin in deep thought. The small portion of car that he could see reminded him of the estate car that had followed him about last night. He wondered who this could be? Could it be someone still looking for the missing girl in this area? And if so, could they connect Jennifer Stansfield's disappearance with himself?
He decided that something must be done about the situation. It was imperative that he found out the exact identity of the occupants. But how could he go about the task? He needed to see exactly who the occupants were before doing anything hasty. To do that, somehow he needed to get close to the car without being seen, and approaching from the direction of the cottage looked an impossible task.
Malcolm's gaze turned to the humpbacked bridge immediately in front of the cottage. He had not noticed before, but through the leafless trees that lined both sides of the River Muddle he could see the stile and sign that marked the start of the footpath that led upstream to Muddleford Mill. Suddenly he had an idea. Right in the corner of the lawn, at a point where the stone of the bridge met the branches of the hedge there looked to be a small gap. This was well round the bend and definitely out of sight of the lay-by. If he could get to the bridge without being seen, then it was possible to walk the footpath to the village and return back along the road. With the way the car had pulled tight into the lay-by, and with the advantage of a slight bend in the road all the way back to the village, then it was quite possible to get very close to the back of the car without being seen. He decided that it was something that must be done.
Quickly he moved away from the window and set about putting on his motorcycle leathers. He did a rough calculation. The distance was about one mile to the village and one mile back. Two miles at a brisk pace should take no more than forty minutes, forty-five at the most. If the car was harmless he would walk straight past it and be back in the cottage well before nine o'clock. That was not too bad. The girls would just have to wait another hour before being fed, but he guessed that they would not mind.
He also formulated a contingency plan. He would take a couple of sets of handcuffs with him and also carry a bottle of chloroform and a gauze rag. He did not want to use them. But they would give him a sense of security and be there to use in case of emergency. He also planned to wear his helmet. It would hamper identification and also add a little protection if attacked.

8:40 am

Davina and Tracy had taken it in turns to keep watch on the cottage overnight. This had been the pattern for the last four days and was by now a well established routine. Tracy was sat in the drivers seat of the estate car. Davina was now asleep in the back. The rear seats were down and a bed had been made from a couple of blankets and a pillow fabricated from a pile of dirty underwear stuffed inside an old pullover. Tracy had been on watch since six o'clock. They had been taking three hour shifts throughout the night and soon it would be time to wake Davina and let her do the final stint that would take the vigil up to midday. It was about that time Georgina was due to arrive.
Tracy crossed her legs. She could do with a wee. She had not been since late last night. On that occasion she had stooped down behind the bushes to the rear of the car. But it was dark then and she could not be seen. She was wondering whether to risk it now that it was daylight. She decided that it was something that had to be done, especially if she was going to grab another couple of hours sleep before Georgina arrived.
Tracy stepped out of the driver's seat and closed the door quietly behind her. Checking that the road was clear, she moved to the bushes some dozen paces from the back from the car. She was wearing an anorak and jeans to keep warm. She pulled down the zip of the anorak, undid her jeans about the waist and pulled them down to below the knees. Her panties quickly followed and she stooped down below the bush.
She was nearly finished when a branch cracked behind her and she spun around.
For a fleeting instance she glimpsed a figure dressed in black leather and dark helmet approaching rapidly. In a panic she tried to stand up and run, but her jeans were down around her legs and she stumbled forward onto hands and knees. She tried to call Davina, to wake her up and come to her assistance. But the cry for help was immediately cut short by a foul smelling rag thrust hard against her nose and mouth.
She fought hard to wrestle away the vice like grip. She was now kneeling on the ground with her assailant stood behind and holding her upright. With one last ditch effort she struggled to her feet and tried to claw away the hands. But still the rag remained in place and stifling her breathing. She could feel herself getting weaker and weaker by the second. Eventually the inevitable happened. Her arms dropped from her face and her knees buckled beneath her.
As the leather clad figure lowered her limp body towards the ground Tracy fell into a deep and peaceful sleep.
Somehow nothing seemed to matter anymore.
This was a very nice place to be.

8:45
 
Malcolm approached the estate car with great caution. Staying well within the bushes and trees that lined the riverbank he crept a little closer to gain a better look. He was now a very worried young man. He was thinking that he recognised the car parked in the lay-by. He could not be certain, but he was pretty sure that he had last seen this car parked outside the main gates of the Amusement Park back in Littlesea. On that occasion the headlights had been left on all day, and as evening approached he had waylaid the occupant and taken her to the dungeon.
So could this really be Davina Townsend? And if so, how on Earth did she manage to find him? Malcolm stooped down even lower and crept a little closer. If only he could recall the number plate then he could be certain.
Suddenly Malcolm dropped flat on the ground. The driver's door was opening and someone was stepping out. From low down and with helmet on his head it was unclear who the person was. The figure started to move towards him and he crept slowly backwards to conceal himself behind the trunk of a tree. From a view looking upwards from the base of the tree, he peered out to see the back of a young woman unbuckling the belt of her jeans. For a brief second she turned her head, and in that instance he recognised exactly who this person was. It was Tracy Goodyear, Katie's arch enemy. What was she doing here in Davina Townsend's car?
Malcolm decided to take action immediately. He had very little option but to act. Hastily he unscrewed the cap of the chloroform bottle and soaked a gauze rag with the liquid. He then got to his feet, poised himself for a moment then set off at a run towards the girl. He was some ten paces away when he set off. He stepped on a branch. The girl heard the crack and turned around. But by now he was almost upon her. She called for help and attempted to flee, but with the jeans about her legs she stumbled forward onto hands and knees.
Quickly Malcolm grabbed her and held the rag to her face. She began to struggle and managed to get back on her feet. But slowly the chloroform began to take its effect and eventually the girl's arms dropped to her side and her knees buckled from beneath her.
Slowly Malcolm lowered Tracy Goodyear to the ground. During the struggle her anorak had come away from her shoulders and was halfway down her arms. Quickly he yanked the garment completely away. He then brought her arms up behind her back and applied handcuffs to the wrists. He thought about using his other pair of handcuffs to secure the feet, but decided against it. The jeans were doing a nice job anyway. And besides, he had only brought two sets of handcuffs with him and the second pair might very well be needed if Davina Townsend was with her. Tracy Goodyear had called out the name Davina just before he got the rag to her face, so it was almost certain that she was in the car.
Malcolm applied a little more chloroform to the gauze rag and started to creep slowly towards the Japanese estate car. If Davina Townsend was in there, or anybody else for that matter, he could not see them. At least there was no-one sitting up in a seat. He concluded that if she was in there, then she must be lying down, either in the back or across the seats. Hopefully she had not heard the cry for help and was still fast asleep. If that was the case then he had a chance of getting the rag to her face without her knowing. His only worry was the number of people in the car. If there was more than one person inside he was uncertain as to what to do next.
Malcolm reached the rear of the car and raised up his helmeted head to peer inside. There was someone lying beneath a blanket in the back. From the lack of movement it appeared that the occupant was fast asleep. The person was lying with feet towards the tailgate of the car, so he crept around the side and peered in through a back door window. Immediately he recognised the sleeping person. He had been correct. This was Davina Townsend. That long blonde hair of hers was unmistakable. It was what had attracted her to him in the first place.
Malcolm prepared the chloroform soaked rag in readiness and placed a hand on the handle of the rear door. He took a deep breath, poised himself for a moment, then struck. Quickly he pulled open the door and flung himself inside. Within seconds he was on top of the blanket and holding the rag to Davina Townsend's face. She started to struggle. She was a strong woman and put up a hard fight, but Malcolm had managed to climb right on top of her and to kneel astride her waist. Eventually he could feel the chloroform taking its effect and the thrashing of arms and limbs became less and less. Then finally all movement stopped. Quickly he moved to one side, dragged away the top blanket and rolled the unconscious body over onto the face. He then pulled up the arms around the back and applied the second pair of handcuffs.
Malcolm crawled backwards out of the open door, stood upright and waited to catch his breath. It seemed that fighting and struggling with girls was becoming too much of a habit. He was totally shattered. Between gasps for breath he began to consider his next best option. He decided to move the car, complete with two bodies and all its belongings to the side of the cottage. What to do after that he was not quite sure. But he was certain that he could not leave the car here in the lay-by. That was far too dangerous. It was also imperative to find out exactly how these two girls had managed to track him down so easily. He considered how best to extract that information. There was certainly enough equipment down in the dungeon to do just that, but by exactly what means he was not quite certain at that point in time. His immediate plans were to simply get both the girls down there and restrained by whatever means were available. Only then would he start to think about interrogation.
Malcolm had one other worry. There was also a strong possibly that the police could be on to him too. After all, if these two girls could find him, then surely the police could too. He was rapidly coming to the conclusion that Cuckoo Cottage was no longer a safe place to hide, and that he should be on his way to someplace else. After all he had lots of ready cash, and a move to someplace else was looking a distinct possibility. He was even considering crossing the English Channel and staying on the continent for a few months until everything had blown over.
Malcolm put his arse into motion. Quickly he opened up the tailgate to the estate car and returned to Tracy Goodyear lying in the bushes. Grabbing her by the legs he dragged the unconscious body back to the car. He raised her up and bundled her inside. He looked around. An anorak remained on the ground. He collected it, tossed it into the back and slammed down the rear door.
Moving around the car to the driver's seat, he jumped in and started the ignition. The quicker he had the car tucked away around the side of the cottage the better.
A few minutes later and the task was done. The car was out of sight and the gate to Cuckoo Cottage closed. Malcolm removed the helmet from his head and placed it on the seat of his motorcycle. He did not need it any longer. Then moving to the rear of the car he opened up the tailgate.
Tracy Goodyear lay on top of the cluttered pile and he dragged the unconscious body out and onto the gravel drive. Having used chloroform on several occasions over the past few days he was becoming much more aware of the effects. He estimated that he had approximately thirty minutes in which to secure both bodies. Nevertheless he still moved quickly. With a sharp tug he yanked away the crumpled jeans and panties from around her ankles. He then relieved her of her trainer shoes and ankle stockings. These were only getting in the way and would hamper his progress. She was now naked from the waist down. However the top half would have to wait for the time being until he had a chance to remove the handcuffs from behind her back.
Taking hold of the girl beneath the arms he dragged her to the front door, opened it up, then continued to drag the body all the way down to the dungeon. On arrival he looked around. The three existing occupants appeared to be either sleeping or unconscious. At least none of them stirred in recognition of his presence in the dungeon. But he had no time to worry about them for the time being. He had more important matters to deal with. Moving swiftly he dragged the unconscious body into the centre of the chamber then moved across to the switches on the wall. Here he pressed the down button on the switch marked 'Hoist' and waited until the two leather cuffs attached to the horizontal bar made contact with the floor.
Returning to Tracy Goodyear he flipped her over onto her stomach and removed the handcuffs. He then pulled the thick pullover she was wearing up and over the top of her head and cast it to one side. Finally he unclipped the bra at the back, tugged it from beneath her, then tossed it away to join the pullover on the floor. With a push of the foot he rolled the body over onto its back and dragged the arms across the floor to align with the awaiting cuffs. Here he buckled the thick leather straps about the wrists then returned to the switch on the wall. Holding his thumb against the 'up arrow' button he waited until the body lifted to a sitting up position before releasing the pressure. The noise of the motor in the roof stopped and he crossed the floor to the cupboard.
Malcolm selected a spreader-bar and returned to the centre of the chamber. Here he kicked open Tracy Goodyear's legs with a foot and knelt down between them. If only he had more time he was thinking, then he could appreciate what he was doing a little better. He stretched out a hand and ran his forefinger up and down her wet slit. The sight and sensation of the touch aroused him and he edged a little closer to fondle a breast with his other hand. He had forgotten exactly how huge these girl's tits were, and on seeing and feeling them once again, they brought back some pleasant memories. On their previous encounter he had refrained from physically assaulting the girl. She was intended to be his Christmas present to Katie on her return to Littlesea. Well things were a little different now. Katie was no-longer absent. She was here with them, sat in the chair and directly facing this way. Perhaps later in the day he would surprise Katie by removing her blindfold and revealing his latest prisoner to her. He wondered what her reactions would be?
Malcolm shook his head and cursed himself. What was he thinking of? These sort of thoughts were just not on. He was day-dreaming again and had work to do. His attentions returned to the matter in hand. Shuffling back a little he positioned the spreader bar against Tracy Goodyear's ankles. This piece of equipment was very similar to the bar suspended from the cable above. It consisted of a wooden pole about three feet in length with two wide leather straps attached to either end by two short chains. Quickly he buckled the straps around the ankles. Then when he was done he returned to the switch and raised up the hoist until the body stood upright with the feet just making contact with the ground.
Malcolm rubbed his hands together in pleasure and smiled a little at what he had achieved. The renewed sight of those large breasts stirred an emotion somewhere deep down within his loins, and he considered the best ways of having a little bit of fun with them later. He had an ideaHeHe, but time was pressing and there was one more girl to deal with first.
"Right, that's number one!" he whispered quietly to himself.
He looked to his watch. He estimated that he had only about ten minutes left in which to bring Davina Townsend down here and secure her to the back wall. He had a little something special in mind for her too, so he had not got much time to waste. Hastily he collected up the clothing he had removed from Tracy Goodyear, then departed the dungeon and shot up the stairs to the room above.
Returning to the car, Malcolm tossed the clothes he carried into the back, then threw in the jeans and other items from off the gravel drive. He was now ready for Davina Townsend. He removed the blankets and other debris to one side to expose the peacefully sleeping woman. She was dressed in roughly the same manner as the other girl, with jeans and floppy pullover keeping her warm. But at least her shoes and ankle socks were missing. She was obviously a person who preferred to sleep in bare feet. Quickly he undid the jeans from around the waist and tugged them down the legs. Then with one final yank he pulled them completely away. He tossed them into the back of the car and moved quickly on. In the ensuing struggle the woman's panties had come part of the way down and were now wrapped around her upper thighs. He took hold and pulled them all the way down to the ankles, then eased them away from the feet. With a flick of the wrist the panties joined the rest of the scattered clothes in the back.
At this point Malcolm decided to strip her completely naked all in one go. It seemed a lot easier this way. He was already thinking about the difficult task that lay ahead. Somehow he had to get the limp body standing upright and shackled to the back wall of the dungeon. After his experience with Jenny on the X-frame, he was not looking forward to it one little bit. Undaunted by the thought, he set about his self imposed task. He removed the handcuffs, dragged the body around so that the head was at the back, then set about tugging the pullover up and over her head.
To his surprise she was wearing two layers of clothing and he drew the second garment up and over the head too. With two pullovers finally removed and cast aside, and with only a bra remaining, he could see the scars of his last assault. Quickly he removed the bra to see the full extent of the damage. The whip marks were almost healed, but five thin brown lines spread across her breasts were still very much in evidence. Slowly he ran a finger across the scars and recalled the time he did this to her. She had been sentenced to ten strokes of the whip. Five across her back and five across the front. He turned the body over slightly to observe the other five scars. He recalled the way she had danced upon the floor as the lashes struck home. She was a tough woman and had taken her punishment well.
Malcolm pulled himself together. His mind had only drifted for a second or two and he had managed to stop himself on this occasion. He told himself not to be so stupid and concentrate on the matter in hand. Time was pressing and he hooked his hands beneath the woman's arms and set about dragging the unconscious body from out of the back of the car and towards the front door of the cottage.
On arrival in the dungeon he kept moving and only stopped once he had reached the far wall. Here he lay the body down and waited a second or two to regain his breath. He looked to the task in hand. All the straps on the ends of the each chain were open. Now all he had to do was stand the body upright and secure the straps about the limbs. Quickly he bent down and heaved Davina Townsend to her feet. Holding the body upright he shuffled his way towards the wall and sandwiched her there with his own body. He then raised up an arm and after a bit of a struggle managed to get the strap buckled about the wrist.
Waiting to catch his breath, Malcolm let the body fall to hang suspended by one arm from the wall. After a few seconds break he was ready to try again. This time he decided to do things a little differently. With the lower chain resting on the floor between her buckled knees it looked a simple task to attach the strap to one ankle. He bent down and this time with very little effort buckled the wide leather band about the leg. He stepped back. He was halfway there. At least the left hand side of the woman's body was buckled to the chains.
Malcolm bent down and grabbed the free leg. He then pulled it outwards along the wall towards the second chain on the floor. Once again this proved to be not such a difficult task, and after a little bit of a struggle he finally got the third strap secured about the ankle. Not wanting to stop now, he stood up and took hold of the remaining free arm. In combination with holding the limp body back against the wall with a shoulder, and bringing the chain and wrist together with his two hands, he finally finished the job. The last buckle slipped about the wrist and the strap was threaded and locked in place.
As soon as the task was completed Malcolm stepped back to see the fruits of his labour. Davina Townsend's naked body was stretched and pinned against the wall at the four anchorage points. Her head was slumped forward and at present all her body weight was being borne by her arms. However her feet were in contact with the floor, and he felt certain that once awake she would be able to adjust herself and stand upright.
But Malcolm had not finished with her yet. He wanted a lot of answers from her and the other girl as soon as they both came round. So now was probably a good time to prepare a few things in readiness for what was to come. He had already thought of an idea. He was stood directly in front of her at about two paces distance, and directly above his head, fixed into the ceiling was an eye-bolt. He recalled the things he did to Katie with the rope and water, and thought that a little similar experiment here would not go amiss. He had not got a bucket and water, but he did have a great pile of heavy weights instead. Twelve ten-pound weights to be exact. That was one-hundred and twenty pounds in all. He wondered how many it would take before she started squealing?
Walking to the cupboard he selected a long length of rope and collected just one weight from the corner. This would do for starters. At least it would give her something to think about when she woke up. Dropping the weight on the floor between her legs, Malcolm took one end of the rope and tied it tightly about her waist. He then twisted the knot around to the back and drew the trailing rope out from between her legs. After tying several knots in the rope at a point between her legs, he passed the end loose back under the waist and then up and through the eye-bolt in the ceiling. He then yanked down on the rope to pull everything tight. Finally he threaded the rope through the ring in the top of the weight, lifted it up to a height of some four feet or more off the floor, then tied it in place with a single knot.
Malcolm stepped back to admire his handiwork. He felt a certain pleasure from what he had achieved, but he had not quite finished yet. Like all the previous girls in his dungeon he wanted to prevent his newcomers from communicating whilst he was not around. A ball-gag and blindfold were needed for the time being, and that also applied to Tracy Goodyear as well. He returned to the cupboard and collected two blindfolds and two ball-gags.
On his way back he concentrated on Tracy Goodyear first. He pulled open her mouth and inserted the ball, then buckled the strap behind her head. He then slipped the blindfold over her head and pulled it down and into place. Before moving on he allowed himself a moments pleasure. He cupped his hands beneath those large breasts and bounced them as if to test the weight. He then kneaded them between his fingers and thumbs before finally grabbing the nipples and giving them a little squeeze. He smiled and finalised his plans. He now knew exactly what to do with these breasts as soon as she came round. It might even loosen her tongue and get her to squeal on how she had managed to track him down so easily.
Deep in thought, Malcolm moved to the back of the chamber. Here he inserted the ball-gag into Davina Townsend's mouth and drew down the blindfold over her eyes.
With the final task done Malcolm looked about the chamber. He shook his head in disbelief. Every position was now full. What was it about him? Somehow he had managed to collect five girls and imprison them all without even trying. He wondered what it was about him that attracted all these women to him? He was gathering naked girl's bodies like bees around a honey pot.
Malcolm shrugged his shoulders. None of this was his fault. He did not ask them to come into his life. He decided to go and make himself a nice cup of tea and eat a little breakfast. He was hungry and also had a lot of thinking to do. And besides, there was nothing more he could do down here until the girls woke up. That was when the real action was due to start, and hopefully, with a little bit of persuasion he would start to get a few answers to his questions.
 
10:30 am

"Right, pull up just here Grantford," ordered Inspector Hawkins. "This must be the house."
PC David Grantford stopped the police patrol car outside a semi-detached house in a quiet cul-de-sac somewhere in North London.
"I guess that's the surveillance team over there," said PC Grantford indicating towards a large Ford Transit van with two occupants onboard.
The Inspector got out the car and walked across to the van.
The man in the driver's seat wound down the window to greet the approaching Inspector. It was obvious from the appearance of the patrol car parked across the road that this was a fellow police officer. It was also apparent that these people were not local. Their patrol car was not a vehicle belonging to the London Police Force. The markings were very much different.
Inspector Hawkins showed the man his warrant and told him: "I'm Inspector Hawkins from the South Coast Constabulary. I'm here to interview the suspects mother."
"No-one told me you were coming sir," said the plain clothed officer.
"Well you do now!" replied the Inspector gruffly.
The man looked a bit taken aback by the statement.
"Well we've been assigned to watch the property opposite sir," was all he could think to say in reply.
"And has anything happened?" asked the Inspector.
"No sir," replied the officer.
"Is the suspect's mother at home?" asked the Inspector.
"Yes sir, she's at home," he confirmed.
"And is she alone?" he asked.
"There's no-one else in the house," the officer informed him.
"Right, I'm going across to interview her now. I'll let you know if I need you," said the Inspector.
"Yes sir," replied the mesmerised officer and gave an awkward smile.
He just wished that someone around here would tell him what was going on.
"Come with me Grantford," said Inspector Hawkins as he stepped past the patrol car and proceeded to stride up to the front door of the property.
He rang the doorbell and waited. Eventually a woman in her early thirties opened the door and greeted him. The Inspector showed her his warrant. He had expected a much older woman than this to answer.
"My name is Inspector Hawkins and I'm from Littlesea. Are you Margaret Smith?" he inquired.
The woman nodded her head. "Yes… yes I am," she confirmed.
"May we come in?" asked the Inspector.
"Yes, sure," she replied and opened out the door fully so that they could step into the hallway.
"Is there somewhere we can talk?" asked the Inspector once the door was closed behind them.
"Yes, we can use the lounge if you like," suggested Margaret Smith.
She led the Inspector through a door in the hallway into the sitting room alongside.
PC Grantford remained guard in the hallway whilst Mrs. Smith and the Inspector took up seats in two comfortable armchairs positioned to either side of the fireplace.
The Inspector began: "Mrs. Smith, you are aware that we are looking for your son Malcolm, aren't you?" he asked her.
Margaret Smith nodded her head. "Yes, there was another gentleman here yesterday and asking the same question," she replied.
"Have you read the newspapers recently?" he asked.
She nodded once more. She could not believe any of it. It just was not true. Her Malcolm was a quite, shy boy and would not do such a thing.
"Yes," she answered quietly.
"Mrs. Smith, has your son called here in the last few days?" asked the Inspector putting the question directly and watching her eyes closely.
Mrs. Smith hesitated. "N.. no.. Malcolm's working as a Caretaker in Littlesea and won't be coming home until February," she replied.
The Inspector recognised the standard reply. She had said this to Inspector Lloyd yesterday. He had no doubt in his mind that her son Malcolm had told her to say this.
"But you know that's not true now, don't you Mrs. Smith? You have read the newspapers and you know that he is no longer working there?" the Inspector reminded her.
"Yes… yes… I know now," she admitted. "But he's still not been here."
The Inspector knew that she lying.
"Mrs. Smith, where is your son Malcolm? I know that you are covering up for him, and I know that he has been here," he demanded.
Margaret Smith shook her head and began to cry. All these interviews and awkward questions were getting too much for her. Her concern was also twofold. She had the added worry of Mr. Mortimer hanging over her. The police were not to know anything about him dying in her bedroom.
"I don't know… I just don't know… He didn't say where he was going," she sobbed.
"So your son was here?" quizzed the Inspector and needing confirmation.
Mrs. Smith took out a handkerchief and wiped away the tears. She nodded her head. She could keep up the pretence no longer.
"Yes,… he did call here," she answered softly and held her head in her hands.
"What did he do when he was here?" probed the Inspector.
"He… he… took his… motorcycle," she said between sobs.
This was fresh news to the Inspector, but it did make some sense. He was not aware that Malcolm Smith had a motorcycle, but it would explain his disappearance. Having dumped the car in South London, he would be looking for a new means of transport. He also recalled that he only wore a shirt and trousers at the time. It would be helpful if he knew what he was wearing when he left.
"What was he wearing when he left," he probed further.
"His… his… motorcycle leathers," she answered.
That too made sense. Mrs. Smith was now in a talkative mood.
"And did he take anything else? Did he pack some clothes?" he asked.
Margaret Smith shrugged her shoulders. She was sobbing loudly now.
"He.. he.. just packed a case,… and then went… I don't know anymore," she told the Inspector. "He just went off on his motorcycle… and didn't say where he was going."
The Inspector believed her. She was telling the truth now. But at least he had gained some facts and could put out an all-points bulletin to look for a motorcycle registered in Malcolm Smith's name. He decided to leave her for a while to calm down and take a look around the house. In particular he wanted to see inside Malcolm Smith's bedroom.
"Mrs. Smith, which is your son's bedroom," he asked.
Margaret Smith blew her nose hard before answering.
"It's the first door on the left at the top of the stairs," she informed him.
Inspector Hawkins left the room and climbed the stairs. PC Grantford remained outside the lounge door to prevent Margaret Smith from escaping.
The Inspector entered the room and looked around. The room was very neat and tidy. The bed was made and everywhere looked clean and sparkling.
There was a bookshelf against one wall and the Inspector crossed to examine its contents. One item had caught his eye on entering the room. A book was out of place and resting on the top of the others. He picked it up. It was entitled: 'An Artist's Guide to Great Britain'. He flicked through the pages. About halfway through he came to a chapter with the heading: 'The Muddle Valley'. Suddenly his interest was aroused and he began to read the first few paragraphs. There were references here to both Muddleford Mill and Muddleton Morton.
"The missing girl!… Jennifer Stansfield!" he exclaimed. "I was right after all!"
This was far more than coincidence. In a room as neat and tidy as this, a book out of place suggested it had been read quite recently. Malcolm Smith must have been reading this just before he took off on his motorcycle. He looked across the shelf and found the gap where the book had once rested. This confirmed his suspicion. This was the natural spot for the book and only someone leaving in hurry would leave it resting on the top.
Quickly he returned to the lounge. With the book still in his hand he sat down opposite and asked: "Mrs. Smith, what do you know about Muddleton Morton and the Muddle Valley?"
The woman's reaction revealed everything. The words obviously came as a great shock to her. She just began to sob loudly.
"Please Mrs. Smith, I need to know where your son is? I believe him to be somewhere in the Muddle Valley area? I want you to tell me all you know?" he said and continuing to press for an answer.
Between sobs Margaret Smith tried to put a sentence together. But it was not Malcolm that was foremost in her thoughts at that exact point in time. It was her own problems surrounding the death of Mr. Mortimer that concerned her most. She decided it was time to reveal all.
"M.. Mr.. Mortimer's… cottage… Oh dear!… he had a heart attack… not my fault… please… not my fault…" she stammered.
Inspector Hawkins looked confused and tried to make something of the statement. He decided to take it step by step.
"Who's this Mr. Mortimer?" he probed.
Margaret Smith blew her nose once more and tried to compose herself. The Inspector waited patiently for an answer.
"Mr. Mortimer died in this house,… he had a heart attack…" she admitted finally. "He was a Judge… I read about him in the newspapers afterwards… Malcolm dumped the body in the city centre for me…"
Inspector Hawkins recalled the death of a top Judge being in the newspapers quite recently. The body had been found outside a brothel, but there were no suspicious circumstances surrounding his death as far as he could recall.
"So Mr. Mortimer the Judge died here in this house did he? But you also mentioned a cottage. Did this Mr. Mortimer own a cottage in the Muddle Valley area?" he continued to press.
Margaret Smith nodded her head. The police were bound to find out everything now. It was so degrading. They would find the dungeon and discover those photographs of her. It was just so embarrassing.
"Yes,… Mr. Mortimer owned a cottage… the name's Cuckoo Cottage… it's at Muddleton Morton," she answered.
The Inspector had heard enough and saw no reason to be hanging around here any longer than absolutely necessary. He was itching to get to Muddleton Morton.
"Mrs. Smith, I'd like you to go down to the local station and make a statement about Judge Mortimer. Will you do that for me?" he asked.
Margaret Smith blew her nose and nodded her head. It was about time she got everything off her chest.
The Inspector called to PC Grantford stationed in the hallway.
"Grantford, bring one of the officer's in from outside will you please," he told him.
A few minutes later the officer the Inspector had spoken to earlier appeared in the doorway.
"I want you to take this woman into custody," Inspector Hawkins told him. "She will help you in conjunction with your enquiries concerning the death of Judge Mortimer."
The man looked bemused but did as he was told. There had been another breakdown in communications and he was being kept in the dark once again. He had thought this case was something to do with an escaped prisoner from Littlesea, but now it appeared it was related to something completely different.
As the officer and Mrs. Smith departed, Inspector Hawkins turned to PC Grantford.
"Come on Grantford, we're going to Muddleton Morton. I hope you've still got that detailed road map with you. I think we'll need it," he informed him.
"Yes, I've got the maps sir. They're in the glove compartment," confirmed the police officer.
As the two policemen jumped into their patrol car the Inspector picked up the intercom microphone from off the dashboard.
"Right, now all we've got to do is call the local East Midland's police and arrange for them to meet us in the village," he said.

11:55 am

Malcolm returned to the dungeon in a pensive mood. He had been away a lot longer than he had intended. Most of the time he had spent in the kitchen thinking about what he should do next. After great deliberation he became slowly drawn to the conclusion that he must abandon Cuckoo Cottage. He considered it now too great a risk to remain here. His only problem was Katie. What was he to do with her? And that was his dilemma. Should he take her along with him, or simply leave her here? It was such a hard decision to make. He still loved he dearly, yet that endearment appeared not to be reciprocated. At the first chance she would probably go for the police. In the end he did not know what to do for the best. Eventually he decided to find out exactly what Davina Townsend and Tracy Goodyear had to say on the matter before making any final decisions. He had however packed his suitcase in readiness. It was now strapped to the back of his motorcycle. And since it was looking increasingly likely that he would have to depart in a hurry, he wanted to be ready for any eventuality.
As he looked around the chamber, all was quiet. If anyone had woken up in his absence it was hard to tell. He moved to the back wall of the dungeon. On approaching Davina Townsend it was noticeable that she was now supporting herself by her feet. He raised up the blindfold and the eyes beneath began to blink.
"Well hello again!… Fancy meeting you here!" he mocked.
Davina closed her eyes. If only this horrible ball thing was not in her mouth, then she would tell him exactly what she thought of him.
Malcolm stepped back and stretched out an arm. He gave a little tug to the rope just above the weight. Davina's body arched away from the wall as the rope drew tight, and she sucked in a sharp intake of air through the corners of her mouth.
She opened her eyes wide as the pain intensified. The rope between her legs had been cutting into her when she came round, and even then was very painful. The tug on the rope had just made things worse. She cursed for allowing herself to get caught once more, and now it was happening all over again. She was at the mercy of a madman. She looked around the chamber. Her tormentor had moved his position slightly and now she could see Tracy hanging suspended from a hoist directly in front of her. She turned her head. To her right there was a naked girl strapped to an X-frame, and to her left there was someone else strapped to a chair. This girl had bright red hair. It could possibly be Katie Brown, but she was not sure. But all the same, what on Earth had he been up to this time? She looked away in the distance. There was yet another girl lying on the floor in a cell in the corner. She concluded that Malcolm Smith was totally insane.
Davina could only watch with horror as Malcolm Smith stepped forward to stand face to face with her. He had that horrible grin on his face. What was he going to do to her now? She quickly found out. A hand moved to her forehead and pulled down the blindfold to cover her eyes. Suddenly she could not see again. In the darkness she closed her eyes tightly. She was expecting pain in one form or another, and she steeled herself for the inevitable onslaught that was surely to follow.
"I want you to listen, and listen good," he told her. "When you hear your friend squealing in agony, I will return. And then I want you to answer a few questions. Be stubborn and she'll squeal some more. And after that, if you're still not telling me what I want to hear, then maybe I'll see about cutting you in half with this rope. Things could get very interesting at the end of the day… Don't you think?"
 Davina was expecting something like this and was prepared for a fight. It was important that she hung on as long as possible. Georgina was on her way and would be here soon. The exact whereabouts of Cuckoo Cottage had been explained to her. So at all costs she must not alert him to her coming. That would have devastating consequences and must not be allowed to happen. But at least for the time being, whilst this horrible ball thing was in her mouth, she was not going to asked anything. The only worrying thing was, what awful deed was he intending to do to Tracy? She dreaded to think.
Malcolm tweaked a nipple hard and gave another sharp tug on the rope then walked away to the cupboard. For a second or two he studied the contents. All the things he needed were here. But one thing bothered him. The cash box remained on the top shelf and that gave him some cause for concern. He had taken out one bundle of five thousand pounds before his trip Lancashire. That money was now in his suitcase along with the original thousand pounds, and strapped to the back of his motorcycle. But still seventy-thousand pounds remained here in the cash box. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. By rights this money should be in his suitcase along with the rest. He was in two minds whether to do it now or later. In the end he decided that the transfer of the cash could wait for a little bit longer. There were still a few things he needed to do before he was in a position to go back upstairs.
From off the very bottom shelf he collected a long length of rope and returned to the centre of the chamber to confront the huge breasted girl. He lifted up the blindfold to rest about the forehead and smiled. The fluttering eyelids told him that she was awake. He waited for the eyes to adjust to the light before speaking.
"Hello again!" he greeted her with a smile.
Tracy did nothing but stare back in anger.
From Malcolm's point of view there appeared little reaction so he turned her round to face Davina Townsend strapped to the back wall of the chamber. As he did so Tracy's view arced past a redheaded girl strapped to a chair. She recognised the occupant. It was Katie Brown. So he had caught her too? She wondered why? He was obviously insane. The scene moved on and eventually she found herself facing Davina. She was naked and chained spreadeagled to the wall. There was a rope tied about her waist and up through her legs. It then went up to the ceiling and dropped down again. There appeared to be a weight attached to the rope. Davina was also blindfolded and had a ball-gag in her mouth.
"I'm expecting one of you two to talk," Malcolm explained. "And I don't care which one of you does it as long as I get the right answers. But you can see that your friend has already got a bit of a weight problem, and that will intensify if you start to become uncooperative. Do you understand what I am saying?"
Tracy shut her eyes to the horror. Her feelings and reactions were exactly the same as Davina's. Why had she been so stupid to allow herself to get caught twice by this insane person? Georgina had warned them about the importance of sticking together. She knew now that she should have remained in the car until Davina was awake. How stupid she had been. One moment of carelessness was all it had taken. She was also aware of the consequences of telling him anything about Georgina heading their way. To reveal that fact would be fatal. Whatever happened down here, no matter how vile and horrible, she was determined to stick it out to the bitter end.
Malcolm squeezed Tracy's breasts then tugged at her nipples.
"Lovely aren't they?" he suggested. "It seems such a pity to have anything nasty happen to these lovely globes, doesn't it?"
Tracy opened her eyes only to see Malcolm Smith's hand reaching for the blindfold. The next second and all was in darkness again. The blindfold was covering her eyes once more. She was naturally scared. What was he going to do to her? In that fleeting glance she had spotted a rope in his hands. Whatever he was planning to do, she was sure that it was going to be something awful.
The teenager began to fondle one of her breasts. Then both hands formed a circle around the base and began to squeeze hard. The pressure intensified as he gripped even harder. There appeared to be no letting up. Tracy could feel the breast bulging outwards now and it was beginning to hurt. She thought that he was never going to stop. Behind the darkness of the blindfold, and not knowing what was happening, she set her mind to fight against the pain. Eventually he released his hold. For a second or two nothing happened. Then a rope made contact with her skin, to pass around the breast where the hands had just departed. She sensed a loop being formed about the base, then felt a noose being pulled tight. This was ten times worse than his hands. Now she could feel real pain, and as if to make the point known to her captor, she hissed her disapproval through the corners of her mouth.
 Malcolm passed several loops of the rope around the girl's left breast then crossed over to continue winding it about the other one. After several tight loops about each breast he finished off the rope by passing it around behind her back and up and behind her neck. Then when all the rope was spent, he tied everything tightly and secured the final knot between her breasts. He stepped back and smiled. He had done a good job. The ropes were really tight and by the girl's protests he knew that already she was beginning to suffer some pain. He guessed it to be doing the trick. For one thing the colour of her tits had changed. Her ballooning breasts had turned much redder in colour compared to the rest of her skin not pulled tight by the ropes.
Feeling rather pleased with himself, Malcolm returned to the cupboard. From here he collected two crocodile clips and weights, and another a length of rope. Then from the corner of the chamber he lifted up a couple of the ten-pound weights. Carrying everything back with him, he deposited the heavy weights and rope at Tracy Goodyear's feet. He now had everything with him that he needed for his final assault.
Malcolm squeezed a nipple flat between thumb and forefinger and applied a crocodile clip. With the jaws wide open he pushed it against the flesh as far as it would go. He then let the powerful spring go. The girl screamed her protest as the jagged teeth sunk deep into her skin. He chuckled loudly to himself. The clip was obviously hurting. He moved on and flattened the second nipple in readiness. He then attached the other crocodile clip. Once again he made sure that the jaws gripped the maximum amount of skin before letting go, and once again the girl screamed loudly through the corners of her mouth as the teeth bit sharply into the sensitive flesh.
The lead weights attached to the crocodile clips swung in small circles from the ends of Tracy's breasts as Malcolm bent down to collect the rope from off the floor. Taking one end of the rope he knotted it about the small chain that connected a crocodile clip to a lead weight. He gave a little tug to make certain that everything was secure then dropped the rest of the rope to the floor. Kneeling down he then passed the end of the rope through the two iron rings of the ten-pound weights.
Malcolm stood up with the end of the rope in his hands. He pulled upwards on the rope and noted the downward tug on the crocodile clip attached to the other end of the rope. The girl hissed her disapproval as her breast pulled downwards towards the floor. A broad grin crossed his face. At least now he knew that his little plan was going to work. Soon he would be getting all the answers as to how these two had managed to find him so easily.
He tied the last end of the rope to the second crocodile clip. The rope now stretched down from one nipple to the floor, then passed through the rings of the two weights before returning upwards to the other breast. He was now ready to apply a little pressure. Not a lot at this stage. But enough to keep her mind occupied whilst he transferred the remaining money to his suitcase. After that he would return to the dungeon and the fun could start in earnest.
Crossing the floor to the switches on the side wall, Malcolm looked back to the hoist in the centre of the chamber. He thought for a moment. This was Tracy Goodyear he had here, and he was about to put her through some excruciating suffering. He wondered whether he should reveal her identity to Katie before he began. In the end he decided against it. By the look of Katie strapped to the chair, it seemed like she was fast asleep anyway. He decided it was best not to disturb her at this stage. Perhaps a little later on, after he had taken the cash upstairs and the interrogation was in full swing. Perhaps then would be a better time to do such things.
  Malcolm positioned his thumb above the up-arrow on the button, hovered for a second or two, then pressed. Slowly the hoist began to raise the stretched out naked body from off the floor. Her feet were barely touching anyway and soon she was swaying slightly to-and-fro as her last contact with the ground disappeared. The rope that passed from nipple to nipple and down through the weights had been secured as tight as possible, but there was still a bit of slackness there. As Tracy's feet rose steadily from off the floor the last of that slackness disappeared and the loop in the rope began to tension. Gradually a noticeable distortion of the breasts began to appear as the downward force took hold. He waited for the inevitable screaming to begin, then released his thumb from the button. He would leave her hanging like that for the time being. The sound level was good and Davina Townsend was certain to be listening. So surely now one of them would be ready to talk on his return?
Malcolm returned across the floor to the cupboard. Transferring the cash box down to the middle shelf he selected a key from his key-ring and opened up the lid. He had considered taking the box as well, but had decided against it. It was too big and bulky and would take up most of the space inside his small case. Quickly he removed all the bundles and holding them altogether with his two hands he set off up the steep concrete steps to the sitting room above.
As Malcolm stooped down low to pass through the small opening hidden behind the welsh-dresser, for a fleeting second he spotted the feet of someone standing next to the wall. But that was about all he could remember for quite some time.
Something hard struck him on the back of the head and he collapsed to the ground. At the same time great bundles of twenty pound notes flew everywhere across the red flagstoned floor.
 

cont.