1980 - You Can Say That Again Read Free Page A

in her direction. ‘I failed to get your name.’
    ‘How stupid of me.’ She put her hand on my arm.
    The poodle she was nursing shifted off her lap and onto my knees. The little beast began to lick my face. If there is one thing that drives me out of my mind it is to be licked by a dog. I shoved him away with some violence, and as I did so, I felt a sharp prick in my thigh.
    The dog, yelping, fell to the floor. I started upright.
    ‘Madam!’ I exclaimed. ‘Your dog has bitten me!’
    ‘Dear Mr. Stevens. You must be mistaken. I am sure Cookie would never do anything like that. He is the most gentle little gentleman and he adores . . .
    The rest of what she was saying faded into darkness.
     
    * * *
     
    The room was large and comfortably furnished and lit by a number of shaded lamps. I found myself lying on a double bed. My head felt heavy and my mouth was dry. I made an effort and half sat up, staring around in bewilderment. Opposite the end of the bed was a big wall mirror. My reflection as I lay on the bed showed me I was not only bewildered, but not a little frightened.
    The luxury of the furnishing did something to reassure me. A lot of money had been spent making this room more than comfortable, and money always reassures me. Heavy window drapes were drawn shut.
    I looked at my watch. The time was 8.45. Was it morning or evening? How long had I been lying on this bed? It had been 23.00 when I had got into the Rolls. I thought of the prick in my thigh I had imagined had been a nip from the poodle. It dawned on me, with a feeling of panic, the little old woman had given me at shot of some quick acting drug.
    Good God! I thought. I’ve been kidnapped!
    I scrambled off the bed and crossed to the window drapes and dragged them back. A solid steel shutter covered the window. I shoved against it, but it was immovable. Turning, I looked around the room to a door. Even as I reached it, I saw there was no handle.
    The door was as immovable as the window shutter. I went into the bathroom: deluxe fitments, but no window. I peered into the wall cabinet. It contained two toothbrushes in cellophane wrapping, an electric shaver, a bottle of aftershave, a bath sponge also in cellophane wrapping and toilet soaps. I looked at myself in the shaving mirror. From the stubble on my face, I had only been drugged a few hours.
    I made use of the bathroom facilities while I tried to control my panic. It was a good move. After shaving and washing, I felt a lot better when I returned to the room. I also became aware I was hungry.
    Crossing to the bed, I saw a bell push by the shaded bedside lamp. I hesitated for a moment, then pressed the button. I kept my finger on it for several seconds before releasing it.
    Then I sat in a big lounging chair and waited. I didn’t have to wait long. The door without a handle slid aside and a man, pushing a trolley, entered. The door snapped shut behind him.
    This man was a giant. He was a good six inches taller than myself and I am six foot one. He had shoulders a weight lifter would envy and huge muscular hands. His head was completely shaved and his face was something out of a horror comic: thick nose, lipless mouth and small glittering eyes. Working in Westerns, I had come across a lot of rough-toughs, playing baddies, but off the set, they had been as gentle as kittens: but not this man: he would be as unpredictable as a gorilla and as dangerous as a wounded tiger.
    He pushed the trolley into the center of the room, then looked at me. His savage little eyes chilled me. I began to say something, but stopped. He frankly scared the hell out of me. I just sat there and watched him stalk to the door which slid open and snapped shut behind him.
    I took out my handkerchief and wiped off my hands and face, but the aroma of cooked food brought me to my feet. I went to the trolley. What a feast! A thick, juicy steak, a bowl of sizzling french fries, a pile of pancakes oozing maple syrup, toast, butter,