Looking Good Dead

automobile wreck and lets them get their hands on his laptop with our film of D’Eath on it, and you don’t think that’s a fuck-up?’
    The Russian was silent.
    ‘Here’s what we do,’ Venner said, his tone suddenly more conciliatory. ‘We shoot the film of Mr and Mrs Bryce right now, and get rid of them. Then we’re out of here. We’ll go to Paris this afternoon. Then on from there. OK?’
    Two silent, reluctant nods.

    Then the Albanian said, ‘Where we do the film?’
    ‘Here,’ Venner said. ‘In this room. I have some very creative ideas. Mr Bryce has put us through a lot of grief; I want to hurt him. And I’d like to see him watch all the things we are going to do with Mrs Bryce first.’
    He looked at the Russian. ‘Roman, go bring them up here. Just untie their legs and gag them with gaffer tape – I always like tearing that stuff off.’
    And suddenly, his mood buoyed by the thought of some very inventive things he was going to do to the Bryces, Carl Venner began to hum.

85
    ‘Tom!’
    The sudden, hushed urgency in Kellie’s voice made Tom look up. Shit! The rectangle of light had appeared again at the far end of the room. Someone was entering, a tall, thin man in black. The eastern European.
    Tom dived to the floor, on top of the Palm to smother the light. Quickly, groping with his hands, he found the PDA, located the power button and pressed it in hard to switch it off. Had the man come to empty the bucket? Tom wondered, a little irrationally. He pulled his arms tight to his sides and squeezed his legs together, faking the original position he had been trussed up in as best he could. He lay still, watching the torch beam steadily jig across the floor towards them.
    Then it was right in his face.
    ‘Mr Bryce, I take you upstairs now. We make you and Mrs Bryce movie stars!’
    Tom, quaking with terror, was thinking that any second now the man was going to see that his cords had been removed. He must see that, unless he was blind!
    ‘What do you mean, “movie stars”?’ Kellie said, her voice cracking with fear.
    The man swung the beam onto her face. ‘We enough talk! Maybe you like quick fuck? Mr Bryce, you like watch me sex your wife for you?’
    Tom’s terror suddenly switched to fury. ‘Touch her and I’ll kill you,’ he said.
    The man rounded on him and shouted imperiously, ‘ENOUGH TALK I SAY!’ He stabbed the beam of the torch right into Tom’s face. ‘YOU QUIET. YOU ARE NOT THREAT ME!’
    Then the man knelt down. Tom heard the sound of tape ripping and realized what was coming next. Blinking hard, he could see theman was leaning over him. He could smell cologne on him, a sharp, masculine tang.
    Tom stiffened.
    He knew he had just one shot at this, that was all. He hadn’t thought it through, he just had to do it.
    The man was holding a wide strip of gaffer tape between his hands. ‘You close mouth,’ he said.
    ‘Can I just blow my nose?’ Tom asked.
    ‘No blow!’
    ‘I’m going to sneeze!’
    And in that moment he detected the hesitation, just the briefest wavering by the man. It was enough.
    He sprang sideways, rolling over once, grabbing the bucket with both hands and lifting it, then turned and found the torch beam straight in his face. Kellie was safely to the left, well out of range. With all his strength he hurled the contents of the bucket straight at the flashlight beam.
    He felt a few sharp pains on his hands like stings, droplets of the acid, but barely registered them as his ears filled with a terrible, piercing scream of agony.
    The torch fell to the floor. Tom could just see the man staggering back clutching at his face. Had to get him! He had to grab him before he got out of reach!
    Had to.
    Tom lunged, launching himself forward in a full rugby tackle, aware there must be some acid on the floor but beyond caring. This was his only chance. Somehow, his arms almost leaving their sockets, he just managed to grab the man’s right ankle before the chain snapped tight against his own, jolting him to a halt. Then, with a strength he did not even know he had, he yanked the ankle back towards him.
    The man fell back across him, writhing, screaming, howling pitifully, clawing at his face with his hands. Kellie was screaming also.
    ‘Tom! Tom! Tom!’
    ‘HELP!’ the Russian cried. ‘HELP, YOU HELP, YOU HELP, PLEASEHELP!’ Then he just started bellowing in agony, clawing at his face, at the same time writhing, trying to wriggle away from Tom.
    The man