As The Pig Turns

two thousand to me,’ said Guy quickly. ‘I have to do all the work of persuading them.’
    ‘All right,’ said Agatha. ‘Same deal. I get elected and you and the others get paid immediately afterwards. I assume you all want cash?’
    ‘You are so quick on the uptake.’
    ‘Aren’t I just,’ said Agatha, her bearlike eyes glinting oddly in the light. ‘But get this. This is a ladies’ agreement. You do not see any cash until the deed is done.’
    ‘But surely . . . I mean, a little in advance?’
    ‘Not a penny.’
    ‘I suppose I’ll have to trust you.’
    ‘Oh, you’d better. For your own good.’
    ‘I’ll be in touch.’ He smoothed back his hair with a nervous hand.
    Oh, dear, thought Agatha, watching his retreating back. What a wicked world!

Chapter Eight

    Roy Silver drove happily down into Carsely early on Friday evening. He wondered whether Agatha would admire his new appearance. His hair had started to grow again, so he had gelled it into spikes. Very much taken with his punk appearance, he had decided to go for the retro look and was wearing flares and an open-necked shirt, displaying a gold medallion on his skinny, hairless chest.
    He parked behind Agatha’s car and got out. He was opening the boot to take out his small suitcase when he was seized from behind and something cold and hard was thrust against his neck.
    ‘One squeak out of you and you’re dead,’ growled a voice.
    Terrified, Roy felt himself being dragged into a van and thrown in the back. The van took off with a roar. Where was Agatha? wondered Roy, trembling uncontrollably. A man wearing a balaclava sat in the back of the van, holding a gun on him. He searched Roy’s pockets and took away his wallet and mobile phone.
    ‘Why are you doing this?’ pleaded Roy.
    ‘If the Raisin woman does as she’s told, then you’ve nothing to fear,’ said the man. ‘So shut up and stop whimpering or I will shoot you.’
    As the evening dragged on without any sign of Roy, Agatha tried his mobile phone but did not get any reply. Then there was a ring at the doorbell. Roy, at last. She opened it and found James on the doorstep.
    ‘I thought you were Roy,’ said Agatha. ‘I’m expecting him.’
    ‘His car’s parked outside. Maybe he’s gone for a walk round the village, although it looks as if a storm is coming.’
    Agatha felt fear clutch at her heart. ‘But he wouldn’t go for a walk after a long drive from London. Oh, God, what if something’s happened to him?’
    ‘Calm down. What could anyone want with Roy?’
    ‘Blackmail,’ whispered Agatha. ‘They tried to frighten me off with that head.’
    ‘I never saw anything. I’ve only just got home.’
    Agatha took a deep breath. ‘I’m calling the police.’
    Roy was taken out of the van and thrust into a half-derelict cottage. At gunpoint, he was shoved into a small room and the door was shut and locked behind him.
    He looked around wildly. There came a great crack of thunder, and then a flash of lightning lit up the room. He caught a glimpse of a mattress on the floor and a bucket in the corner. The window was barred.
    He sank down into the floor and burst into tears.
    The police refused to let Agatha go out hunting for Roy. They said it would be better if she stayed by the phone in case there was a ransom demand. Toni, Phil and Patrick all set off in their cars to scour the countryside.
    Roy had been taken at dinnertime – teatime for the elderly residents – and everyone in the village had been indoors, or that was the way it seemed, because the police received the same reply as they went from door to door – no one had seen anything.
    Roy scrubbed his eyes dry with the sleeve of his shirt as the cottage seemed to rock under the ferocity of the storm breaking overhead.
    In all his misery and fear, there was one little nugget of comfort – he had not fouled himself. He had read in books that people did that under duress.
    He tried to be calm and search the room for any possible means of escape, but his legs were trembling too much and he sat down on the floor and began to sob. He had never believed in God, had been almost proud of the fact, but now, in extremis, he prayed for deliverance as he had never prayed before as the storm roared in ferocity.
    Then, as his sobbing subsided, he suddenly felt exhausted and weary.
    His eyes were just closing as he sat with his back to the wall when there was a tremendous explosion. He was to find out later that a