Sweat was pouring off Ann as she worked at the screen in the bathroom, trying to pry it loose from the window with her fingernails. She paused every minute or so to wipe her brow.
She was astonished to find her strength so depleted. She hurt in places she didn’t know could hurt. Her right arm felt broken as did one of her ribs. The burn marks and bruises on her stomach and back ached. Her face throbbed, especially the swelling around her nose and mouth where she had been punched. She had trouble breathing.
The dampness in the warehouse didn’t help. At least twenty thousand square feet, she guessed, with row upon row of pallets. It wasn’t overtly dirty, but a fine layer of dust permeated the air and stuck in her nostrils.
In her weakened state, Ann found little relief in having learned the truth. That the attack on her in Hong Kong was meant to scare her off her search for the inventor of Baby Talk N Glow, Charles Ling. That Sidney Greenspan’s involvement was as she suspected: the rights to the doll were to be his if he cooperated. Now he was being held against his will, able to move about the warehouse as he pleased, but not permitted to leave. Sidney found a way to get a message to her saying he would try to help, but she couldn’t see how this would be possible. The last time she’d seen him—she didn’t remember if it was yesterday or the day before—the man’s blood pressure appeared out of control and near the danger zone.
Ann went back at the window, trying to speed up her progress. It was not easy. Her nails had splintered and her fingertips were rubbed raw. She was so weak she could not fully concentrate.
Soon, she heard Mad Dog approach. When he asked what was taking so long, she told him she wasn’t feeling well, that this could take a while.
“Well, hurry it up,” he said.
Just the sound of his voice made her cringe and filled her with revulsion.
It took a few more minutes before she finally pulled a portion of the screen apart. With another tug, mercifully, it came free.
She tried to push the window open.
It wouldn’t budge.
She pounded with the palm of her hand, fearful of the noise she was making, but feeling powerless to prevent it.
Again, with what little strength she possessed, she banged the window frame.
Finally, it gave. She raised the window and felt the outside air brush against her face. She stood for a moment, breathing it in.
Slowly, carefully, she propped herself on top of the closed toilet seat, prepared to maneuver herself through the window. It appeared to be a daunting task. Her loss of stamina was causing her to sway from side to side.
Suddenly, the bathroom door caved in and Mad Dog confronted her.
She told herself to reach up, to make at least one effort to escape. But before she could act, he was upon her, his hands taking hold of her waist. Pulling hard.
“No!” she hollered. Tears of frustration burst from her eyes as she began to lose her balance.
Mad Dog yanked, knocking her off the toilet. She hit the tiled floor with a thud and blacked out.
When she regained her senses she was back in the warehouse, chained and immobile. She was hot, almost feverish. She looked up, noticed Mad Dog hovering above her. Her heart started to hammer in her chest.
He took a cell phone out of his pocket and tried handing it to her. “I want you to call Jonathan and instruct him to meet you here. He is to bring Verna Sallinger with him.”
Just the mention of Jonathan’s name filled her with regret. She doubted whether she’d see him again. Or Felicia.
“Call him,” Mad Dog said, pushing the phone towards her.
Ann refused to take the phone in hand.
He came at her, aiming a punch at her mouth. She turned at the last possible moment and it caught her cheek, opening a cut. Blood trickled down her chin.
Ann remembered the advice she had given to that girl they had hired to do their television commercial—Lisette Smile. To go inside herself, where no one could do her harm. And she tried following her own advice now, forcing her thoughts inward, as she squeezed her eyes shut.