Karen was running out of options. The safety pin wasn’t strong enough to turn in the lock. The key was gone. The paper was shredded by the bedsprings.
The bedspring. She’d all but given up on the bedspring, just as she’d all but given up on the safety pin.
And yet.
Karen flipped up the mattress, retrieved her spring. She took the safety pin and tried to put them together. The wire of the spring was just the right size to fit in the clasp of the pin. It just wasn’t the right shape. No matter. Karen could bend the wire.
After several abortive attempts Karen managed to fit the wire snugly into the clasp of the pin. It would be hard to hold it there, but she twisted the other end of the pin around the spring with the point sticking out.
Karen held her breath and fitted the makeshift key into the lock. She gripped it tight and turned. The point of the pin went into her finger, gave her some purchase. She eased the key in and out, trying to find the place where the tumblers would turn.
It was horribly frustrating. It was almost working. The key would move slightly, then it would slip. Her finger was torn and bleeding. She kept removing the key and making adjustments. Some made it better, some made it worse. None made it open. She kept on trying.
—
ABDUL-HAKIM LOOKED UP from the couch. “It’s time to go.”
The big man was annoyed. He was watching a game show on TV in the adjoining room, and he was keeping it low like he’d been told, and he ought to be allowed to watch it. But no, the guy decides out of the blue it’s time to go, and now isn’t soon enough.
“Uh-huh,” he said without moving.
“Go get the girl.”
The contestant on TV was going for the showcase. “Just a minute.”
“Now!” Abdul-Hakim said it in no uncertain terms.
The big man sighed and heaved himself out of his chair.
—
THE LOCK CLICKED OPEN.
Karen couldn’t believe it. She was sure they’d opened it from the other side, and she sprang back onto the cot. But no one came in. She got up, went to the door, and listened. She heard nothing. She tried the knob. It turned and the door opened.
She couldn’t see a thing. There were no lights. Karen stood for a moment and let her eyes grow accustomed to the dark.
Overhead pipes. Heating ducts. A concrete floor.
She was in a basement, but it wasn’t pitch-dark. There was a trace of light. Where was it coming from? Karen glanced around.
There were two small windows near the top of the far wall. They’d been painted black, but some light was leaking in. They didn’t look big enough to climb through. There were some crates she could climb on, but they didn’t look high enough.
Karen looked around frantically, but couldn’t see anything useful. Just a couple of lawn chairs and a lawn mower.
She paused. A lawn mower!
There must be a door to the outside!
Karen started across the room and—
Her face fell.
No one was using the lawn mower. It had been brought down there and junked. It was actually missing a wheel.
Suddenly a shaft of light split the darkness of the cellar. Karen jumped back into the shadows.
The big man came down the cellar stairs. Two steps down he reached out, grabbed a string, and pulled on an overhead light. It was a hundred-watt bare bulb, and it lit up the shadows. Karen was sure he could see her. She shrunk back, willed herself to be very small.
The big man clumped down the stairs and plodded across the cellar toward her room. He turned the corner and was out of sight in the alcove in front of the door.
Should she risk trying for the stairs?
She’d never make it. He was at the door. He had only to push it open and he’d be back.
But there was no place to hide, and time was running out.
Why wasn’t he back?
—
THE BIG MAN pulled the skeleton key out of his pocket, fitted it in the keyhole, and unlocked the door. He turned the knob and pushed.
It didn’t open.
He frowned. How was that possible? The door should be open.
He turned the knob and pushed the door again.
No. It was still locked.
He looked at the skeleton key. Could it be the wrong one? Even he knew that was a dumb idea. The key had turned, but the door was locked. It didn’t make any sense.
He stuck the key back in and turned it.
The lock clicked open.
—
SHE SHOULD HAVE GONE. It was taking longer than she thought. She should go now.
Karen scrunched backward into the shadow.
The big man exploded around the corner and thundered down on her.
Karen was trapped. She turned to meet her fate.
The big man rushed by her and stormed up the stairs.
Karen couldn’t believe it. She crawled out, ran to the stairs, and listened. She heard nothing. That was odd. She’d expected to hear the big man raise the alarm, but he hadn’t.
Karen crept up the stairs. The door at the top was open. She stuck her head out, looked around.
The cellar door was at one end of a long, narrow hallway.
At the other end was the front door.
Karen listened, trying to determine where the big man had gone. She could hear footsteps overhead. He was searching the upstairs rooms.
Karen started down the hall.
To the right was the door to the kitchen, but it had no exterior door. She kept going, past the stairs to the second floor. Now the big man couldn’t come down and cut her off. She was almost there. Just the living room and the foyer to go.
Karen’s eyes were on the knob of the bolt lock on the front door. She could turn it with her left hand while her right hand turned the doorknob. A matter of seconds. The big man couldn’t stop her.
Karen froze.
Through the door to the living room she could see the Arab was on the couch, his black doctor’s bag on the coffee table in front of him.
Karen shrunk back in alarm. The front door was a tantalizing fifteen feet away, but there was no way she could reach it now.
Overhead the footsteps got louder.
The big man was coming back down the stairs.
Karen was trapped. She couldn’t go forward, and she couldn’t go back.
There was a coat closet on her left. Karen pulled the door open and ducked inside.
—
“SHE’S GONE!”
Abdul-Hakim sprang to his feet. “What?”
“She’s not there!”
“You left the door unlocked?”
“Hell, no!”
“Then how did she get out?”
“I don’t know!”
Abdul-Hakim was sure he didn’t. The big man never knew. “Search the house.”
“I did.”
“Before you told me?” Abdul-Hakim said ominously. “How long has she been out?”
“I don’t know.”
“Check if the doors are locked.”
“They open from the inside.”
“They don’t lock from the outside. If the dead bolt’s on, she didn’t use it. Search the house.”
“I told you. I searched the house.”
“Search it again. Check the closets.”
—
KAREN PEERED OUT from the coat closet. The Arab was guarding the front door. She shrunk back in again.
She was trapped. The Arab would see her the moment she came out, and the big man’s search wouldn’t take long. Any minute he’d wrench the door open, and that would be that.
Footsteps thundered down the hall.
Karen peered out the tiniest crack.
And here he came, straight at her.
He reached for the doorknob.
Karen caught him by surprise. She threw all her weight against the door, slamming him into the wall. Before he could react she sprang from the closet and sprinted up the stairs, just ahead of the Arab and the big man.
Karen raced down the hall. There was a bathroom at the other end. She dashed in, slammed the door, and locked it just as the big man hit it full force. The door splintered but held.
The bathroom had a window, small but she could fit. Karen hopped up on the toilet, grabbed the bottom half and heaved. The window slid open, not all the way, but enough.
The door splintered again. The doorknob was nearly broken off.
Karen stuck her head and arms out the window and began to shimmy through.
There came a tremendous splintering of wood.
Karen felt the hands on her legs, yanking her away from freedom. She crashed to the floor under the weight of the big man and all the breath was knocked out of her.
From somewhere she could hear the voice of the Arab saying, “Bad girl.”
Then she felt the prick of a hypodermic needle, and everything went dark.