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She was staying on a large estate owned by a Chilean friend she had met several
years ago at one of her lectures on the Lost
World. He had given her a
long-standing invitation to visit his estate and she had finally
consented. The visit to
Soon to be joining her would be her female companions; all six of them, but in the meantime she was alone except for her four children. She was enjoying the time with them. Too often her children had grown up without her, although she had frequently taken them with her when the situation permitted. The thought of her family caused her to think about returning to the ranch house. She clucked her tongue and urged her horse in the general direction of the estate when a slight movement off to her left caught her attention and she turned her striking violet eyes in that direction.
More than her eyes were striking.
At five-foot-nine, she was two inches above the average height of
a man and was blessed with a body and face that would have fitted easily
into a Greek temple. At thirty-nine
years old she hardly appeared past her mid-twenties, a characteristic due
to a rigorous daily routine and the occasional sip of water from the mystical
spring she had discovered in
The slight movement she had see manifested
itself into a man on a horse. She
might have thought that it was her gracious host, Diego Villalobos, except
for the fact that he was coming from the wrong
direction. Since he was some
way off she took out her binoculars and pulled him into
view. She nodded and put her
binoculars away. He appeared
to be one of the estate’s outriders, probably looking for a few stray
head of cattle. She was surprised,
however, when he appeared to be coming directly toward
her. Wondering what the man might
want she reined in her horse and waited.
It was unlikely that the stranger riding toward her represented any
threat, but a lifetime of exposure to danger made her automatically cautious,
and she absentmindedly tapped the .45 Browning at her
hip.
As the rider moved closer Larra saw that it
was a man in his early forties. But
except for his dress he did not ride like any ranch hand she was familiar
with. He rode with a military
bearing and beneath his wide brimmed hat he had a haircut to
match. Tall, he sat his horse
with the familiarity of man who had spent years in the
saddle. As he rode toward her
he smiled. “Good morning,
He spoke with a clipped upper class British
accent, but his use of her name put her instantly on the
alert. How was it that he knew
her and why had he arranged to meet her in such a lonely
location? It was more than obvious
that the meeting was far from accidental.
“You have the better of me, sir,”
Larra replied coldly, her brilliant violet eyes fixed on the stranger, but
her senses alert for any signs of danger.
“Forgive me,” the stranger
replied. “I am Major Harper
of British Intelligence. And
I have been given the pleasant mission of seeking you
out.”
Larra relaxed a little, but not
much. Meeting anyone like this
was too unconventional to completely put her at her
ease. “I see,” Harper
continued, “that your picture does not come close to doing you
justice.”
Larra coloured a little at the unexpected
compliment. She was well aware
of her physical appearance, her incredible beauty having proved both a blessing
and a curse. Although dressed
casually in riding pants and a white blouse, and devoid of makeup, her youthful
appearance gave no hint of her thirty nine years or the numerous struggles
she had endured. Her brilliant
violet eyes, full, sensuous lips, high cheekbones, and shoulder length dark
hair were something no one who saw them would ever
forget. Nor would they forget
her tall, lush body. When she
moved it was with an athletic grace that exuded sensuality and an aura of
complete confidence. Just now,
however, she was somewhat disconcerted.
If Harper actually was a member of British Intelligence why had he
chosen this rather unorthodox way of contacting her and what was he doing
in
Without seeming to do so she checked her
surroundings. In front of her
was Harper and the open field he had crossed when approaching
her. But behind her was a region
of rocky ground through which her favourite trail
wound. It could hide any number
of ambushers lying in wait. The
fact that she had detected no one when riding through there just a few minutes
ago meant nothing if someone wanted to remain
concealed.
If Harper was who he said he was it would
not be the first time Larra had been asked by her government to perform some
duty that required her special skills, but she had never been contacted while
on horseback in a wilderness area and the bizarre nature of the situation
had her on full alert.
“This is rather unorthodox, Mr. Harper,
she said. “How do I know
you are who you say you are?”
“I have a letter from General Atlee that
will explain everything,” Harper
said. “I believe you are
familiar with the General? He
began to reach toward the inside of his jacket and then
paused. “May I?”
“If you move slowly,” Larra replied,
her fingers tapping the butt of her Browning once
again.
Harper carefully reached into his jacket and
pulled out a folded manila envelope.
Then, reaching across the neck of his horse he handed it to
Larra. Even as she took it she
could see that it was sealed in wax and had the British coats of arms stamped
upon it.
She reached for it and almost missed the motion
behind her as several men on foot moved out of the brush behind
her. But Larra had not survived
many similar situations without learning to remain
alert.
She
spurred her horse forward, driving it directly into Harper’s mount and
catching the supposed British major completely
off-guard. The impact knocked
Harper from the saddle and allowed Larra to bolt past
him. She urged her mount into
the open and then toward the ranch.
As she did so she was aware of a loud “pop” and ducked
instinctively. But she was not
the target of the shot, her horse was.
She heard the animal scream and then it was
going down, catapulting her through the
air. Larra described a neat
somersault and came down on her feet, but her forward momentum forced her
to bounce forward onto her hands and then back onto her
feet. It was only as she completed
that last acrobatic feat that Larra realized she was headed straight for
a tree. She twisted her body
in a desperate attempt to somehow avoid the impact, but slammed into the
tree with brutal force. A blinding
light stabbed at her eyes, followed by a wave of nausea and then her
consciousness faded.
She awoke to total
darkness. She felt as if she
had been thrown into a concrete mixer and allowed to mix with the
ingredients. Every part of her
body hurt, but especially her head.
She remembered the blinding flash just before she passed out and realized
that she had struck her head hard.
Very hard. There was a
strong buzzing sound between her ears and a continual stabbing pain that
started in her frontal lobe and went straight through to the back of her
head.
Tentatively she tried to move and experienced
a moment of panic when none of her limbs
responded. In her semiconscious
state it took her a few seconds to realize that she was tightly
bound. Her arms were tied painfully
behind her at the wrists and elbows and her legs were bound at the ankles
and just above the knees.
It was almost impossible for her to move,
but as she lay where she was she became aware of various sounds and movements
that helped her determine where she was and what had happened to
her.
There was a rumbling sound and a swaying motion
that told her she was being transported by some sort of motorized vehicle,
probably a truck. The slight
movements she could make and the smell of wood allowed her to determine that
she had been stuffed into some sort of box or
trunk. She wondered about how
long she had been where she was.
The total darkness indicated that there were no air holes in her prison;
either that or the box she was in was inside another
compartment. However, just yet
the air did not seem stale so she guessed that she was probably not going
to suffocate; at least she hoped not.
One thing that gave her hope was the fact that her kidnappers had
tied her up. Why do that if they
were just going to let her die from lack of oxygen?
Whatever the case, she had no intention of
remaining a prisoner any longer than
necessary. First, however, there
was the small matter of escaping her
bondage. Her head still ringing
in pain, she carefully tested her bonds and found that she had been well
tied. There was almost no give
and the ropes cut into her flesh so tightly that her hands were numb from
lack of circulation.
“I can deal with this,” she
thought. “I’ve gotten
out of worse situations.” She
would have preferred to wait until her pounding headache subsided, but every
second might count. If she was
to have any chance of escape then getting out of her bonds was a critical
first step. Tensing her muscles
she worked on the ropes binding her wrists and
arms. There was not much slack,
but fortunately her captors had not tightened the bonds enough to completely
immobilize her. No doubt they
didn’t want to completely cut off her circulation for fear of causing
permanent injury. It was an oversight
she was determined to take advantage of.
She pushed the pain in her head to the back
of her mind and concentrated her considerable strength into stretching her
restraints. It was slow tortuous
work, but gradually she felt the ropes loosen as her determined efforts gradually
stretched the fibres of the rope.
It seemed to take forever, and Larra was more than conscious of the
fact that her journey might end at any time, but she had no choice but to
proceed at the speed allowed her.
For almost anyone else, escape would probably have been almost impossible,
but Larra had learned to focus her strength with an intensity that overcame
the resistance of the ropes, stretching them ever so slightly, but gaining
her enough of an advantage that she was able to work first one wrist free
and then the other. Then she
went to work on the ropes binding her elbows, sliding her arms back and forth
and gradually working the ropes lower, enabling her to finally slip the ropes
over her hands. With her hands
free she was able to determine that she was indeed in some sort of
box. Fortunately, it was spacious
enough that she was able to remove the other ropes from her ankles and
legs.
She was breathing hard by the time she had
finished. The escape from her
bondage had taken a great deal of strength, and her blouse and undergarments
were soaked through. For a few
seconds she rested, and then she tested the lid of her
prison. There was no give and
she pushed harder, bunching her legs and pushing straight
up. There was a creaking sound
and she realized that the lid of her coffin had been nailed
on. However, encouraged by the
slight movement she gathered her strength and tried
again.
Suddenly the crate she was in rocked as the
truck slowed down and Larra realized she was too
late. The truck stopped with
a jerk and a squeal of brakes. Then
there was the sound of a tailgate being slammed down and sound of men’s
voices. Larra braced herself
as the box was stood on end and then slammed to the
ground. There was the sound of
a voice raised in anger. The
thickness of the box prevented her from hearing more than a muffled sound,
but there was something about the words that made her
uneasy.
The ride was a little smoother after that
and the box was tilted. Larra
could imagine the box being loaded onto a cart and then being moved
somewhere. There were several
jolts and then the sensation of the box being picked up and
carried. There was a thump as
it was finally set down.
Larra waited, wondering if her kidnappers
were going to open the box and let her out, but nothing happened and there
was no noise outside. However,
she sensed a low rumbling sound as of a large engine coming to life and then
a strange rolling sensation.
It was a sensation she had felt
before. “I’m on a
ship,” she thought. The
realization that she was being taken farther away from safety galvanized
her in attempting to escape once more.
Bracing herself she used her powerful legs to push against the lid
of the box. Once again there
was the creaking of nails as she loosened them and she kept up the pressure,
finally being rewarded as one of the boards broke
loose. Feeling with her fingers
she determined that there was not enough room to get out and so she went
to work on the next board. It
did not escape her attention that outside the box it was just as dark as
it was inside. She had obviously
been placed in a windowless room.
With a squeal of nails the second board broke
free. With a bit of effort Larra
managed to squeeze her body out of the box and into the dark
room. Without even the smallest
amount of light she was still in total darkness and she had to feel her way
first to the wall. The wall was
metallic, confirming her assumption that she was on a
ship. She quickly determined
that the room was not large; barely five paces across and it took her only
a few seconds to locate the door.
Her hand closed over the handle and turned the
knob.
To her complete surprise the doorknob turned
easily. Whoever had imprisoned
her must have been confident that she could not escape her bonds or the
crate. Easing the door open she
stepped outside into more Stygian
darkness. “What the hell,”
she muttered. “Can’t
they afford lights in this place?”
She stepped forward; her hands outstretched
and encountered a wall. She guessed
that she was probably in a corridor within the
ship. With no idea of which way
to go she began to feel her way along the wall, hoping to come to another
door. Instead she came to a
corner. With a mental shrug she
continued feeling her way around it and along the
wall. Sooner or later she had
to come to a door. However, she
had gone only a few paces when she heard voices.
“I do not approve of your
methods. You knocked her unconscious
and then stuffed her into a crate without properly determining her
condition? I thought you were
more competent than that.”
Larra did not recognize the voice, but it
sounded far from pleased. The
next voice she did know it was
Harper’s. “I examined
her before she was crated and determined that she had only received a bad
bump on the head. A few days
and she should be back to normal.”
“You are a fool,” the first voice
said. “She could have a
concussion. I want her alive,
not beaten to death through your stupidity.”
“There was no beating, Herr
Moeller. I abducted her as you
requested and brought her here.
Perhaps you do not realize just how very dangerous this woman
is. I took no chances with her
and by sealing her in the crate made sure that no one would suspect we had
her until she was on board.”
“I am fully aware of just how dangerous
this woman is,” Moeller growled.
“I have spent months studying everything about
her. It took me months to lure
her to
“I assure you Herr
Moeller. She has received only
minor cuts and abrasions. When
she regains consciousness she should be almost back to
normal.”
Two facts struck
Larra. The first was that the
two men were speaking in German, a language in which she was quite
fluent. The second was that the
information that had led her to
The two men were speaking only a few feet from
where she was and Larra knew that at any second they would open the door
to the corridor where she was hiding and discover
her. “They’re in for
a rude surprise,” she thought.
She tensed waiting for the door to
open. As soon as it did she planned
to attack them and then make a run for
it. The ship had only just gotten
underway. Once she was on the
outside deck she would go over the side and swim for
freedom.
She heard the door
open. Moeller was speaking
again. “I want her out of
that box and properly cared for. I
have waited years for a chance to get back at her and I want her in proper
condition to appreciate her fate.”
The opening of the door had not created any
light and Larra guessed that there must be two doors, an outer one and an
inner one that was not yet open.
However, one thing bothered her; Moeller’s voice sounded impossibly
close, almost as if he were standing just feet
away. But if he was then she
should have been able to see him when the door
opened. It puzzled her and she
supposed that it was some trick of the corridor amplifying the sound as there
was not the faintest glimmer of light from the direction of the two
speakers. She tensed her muscles
getting ready to spring as soon as the inner door started to
open.
“What the
hell!” It was Moeller’s
voice and he sounded as if he were almost standing beside
her. “The crate is
open. Harper, you
fool!”
“Wait,” said Harper’s
voice.
“Look!”
There was a moment of stunned silence, followed
by another shout from Moeller.
“Guards!
Guards!”
There was the sound of running
feet. Larra stood perfectly
still. Something was terribly
wrong. Every sense except her
vision told her that she was now surrounded by numerous men, and Moeller
confirmed it. “Do not try
to escape
Larra turned her head in the direction of
Moeller’s voice. A chill
went through her. “Oh no,”
she thought. “Oh no; I’m
completely blind”
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