I walked quickly across the foyer, but paused as soon as I stepped outside. A blustery wind had come up since lunchtime, and there were a few spots of rain in it. Between that and the cold grey sky, it was depressingly like winter. I considered for a second whether I should go back for an umbrella, but decided against. If I got wet, I got wet. I wouldn’t melt.

“Sonya?”

I looked up, expecting someone I knew, and was surprised to see a stranger standing right in front of me. I looked at him quizzically, still not particularly worried, then jumped when someone else came up behind me, folding their arm companionably about my waist. I went to pull away, but held still when I was told to look sideways before I moved.

The man to my side was a lot larger than me, and he was holding me firmly. I twisted slightly as instructed to where I could see his free hand in his pocket. There was no particular shape to it, but the gesture he made through the fabric was easily recognizable. If we’d been in a movie, it would have been a gun. Standing in the middle of Sydney I found that hard to believe, but wasn’t prepared to take any chances with the number of people around us on the street. 

I stiffened perceptibly, knowing exactly what was happening, and turned back to the man in front. “What do you want?”

No one around us had noticed that anything was wrong. The men were smiling pleasantly and I guessed we looked for all the world like a group of friends who’d just met on the street. I’d have thought my expression would have given me away, but apparently not.

His smile broadened. “Archer Chapman wants to see you.”

I didn’t reply. What could I sensibly say? My eyes widened slightly, and I shifted against the arm that was resting on my hips. As soon as I moved, he gripped me more tightly.

“Don’t even think about it.” The smile was still pleasant, his tone anything but. “You’d better start looking like a long-lost friend, or I might start getting impatient,” he commented, the threat obvious.

They actually had caught me by surprise, acting very quickly when I’d expected it to be several weeks before Archer made any kind of move. He must have been very sure of his information, which meant Lawrence must have set me up extremely well.

“Where is he?” I asked.

“Not far.” And they started to walk, drawing me along with them.

I’d thought that once we were moving the larger one may have taken his arm away from my waist, but it didn’t happen. They weren’t to know it, but I  wouldn’t be trying to escape. This was also the most dangerous point for me, but the very fact Archer had acted on his information said that he was probably more interested in blackmailing me than killing me. I hoped.

I wasn’t prepared, and was still too surprised to be seriously afraid. I went where I was directed, not yet trying to be anything other than myself. Besides, this was what I did for a job. Now it had started, I was fine. The anticipation had been the problem.

We walked awkwardly, hurrying to beat the rain, heading towards the harbor. Since we were walking we couldn’t be going very far, I figured. There were still plenty of people around us and, even if I’d wanted to, I couldn’t risk trying to get away. I pulled at his arm occasionally, letting him think I was testing his grip. I wanted him to believe I was there under duress, but I continued to go where I was led without protest.

A couple of blocks on, it started to drizzle. There were no awnings at this end of the city and we sped up, apparently trying to reach wherever we were going before we got soaked. I started to think maybe we were heading for the harbor itself as the familiar smells of salt and marine oil were getting stronger. It was wafting all around, and felt like it was dripping onto us in each drop of rain. The harbor was visible between the buildings now, heavy and grey-green, spray being whipped up by the gusts of wind.

The buildings were generally older down here, nothing like the tiny sandstone houses of The Rocks on the other side of the Quay, but old enough. There were fewer high-rises, and considerably fewer people. The handful of street trees we passed were no protection, their straggly branches battered by the wind and flinging handfuls of drips all over us. I’d started to shake with the cold and was almost glad of the arm wrapped firmly around my waist. I really hoped we weren’t about to go out on the harbor--I’d freeze on a boat in this weather.

Neither of them had spoken since we’d left the forecourt of Chifley Tower, and I wanted to know where we were going. When I asked, the man in front replied briefly, “Just up here,” and that was all. He hadn’t been exaggerating about how close we were, and I relaxed slightly as we turned in towards the lobby of the Intercontinental. I slowed, automatically reaching up to straighten my hair, brushing the moisture out of my eyes and off my face. I felt bedraggled. The damp had made my hair flat and created annoying squiggly bits around my ears.

The one holding me laughed at my fussing, and took his arm away from my waist. He didn’t leave me free though, grabbing my hand and holding it tightly enough to make my fingers tingle. Apparently, the impression we were giving out was no longer of friends but of lovers. Yugh. 

We walked straight past reception, skirting the bar that took up most of the floor-space, and headed directly for the lifts. It was a beautiful hotel, designed around the heritage orders that wouldn’t let them demolish the building originally on the site. Its façade now surrounded the lobby, with a massive glass roof overhead, and the hotel tower off to the side. The bar was on a slightly raised platform in the centre of the room, giving the impression it was removed from the everyday activities going on to either side. It was always peaceful, and I glanced towards it longingly as we passed. I was a lifetime away from it, not just a few paces.

We didn’t have to wait for a lift, there weren’t many people here at this time of day, and we stepped straight in, the doors closing behind us. They didn’t choose a button straight away.

“Close your eyes.” He spoke abruptly but I wasn’t paying attention.

“What?”

“Close your eyes,” he said again, and I understood.

I closed my eyes, feeling silly, and considering if I should peep. It was like a child’s game except for the pressure I suddenly felt in my side. Something was being pushed hard up against me, warning me to take it seriously.

We rode swiftly upwards, and I was pushed to the back of the lift before the doors opened. I heard one of them looking cautiously out to check the corridor was empty, then was grabbed roughly and hustled out, one to either arm.

“Keep your eyes shut,” was growled in my ear, and I complied, letting them herd me down the hall. I wondered if Archer knew I hated not being able to see, or if they were just trying to stop me knowing which floor and room number we were going to. I hoped that was all it was. Now we were getting closer to it, I was starting to worry. I knew I’d let Lawrence talk me into this, and I’d known there was a risk, but it hadn’t really sunk in just how big it was. And it was way too late to change my mind.  

I stumbled when we stopped outside a door, and was pulled indifferently upright as they knocked softly. It was unlocked from the inside, the chain rattling, and I was pushed several steps into the room. The door closed behind me, the chain again scraping into place, and I was left standing by myself, eyes still closed, and feeling foolish.

“You can open your eyes now.” Archer’s voice.

I blinked a few times, the light bright after the semi-darkness, before looking across at him. He was standing a couple of metres away, safely out of my reach, and looking back at me in return.

“Archer,” I acknowledged him.

“Hullo Sonya, nice to see you again.”

“I wish I could say the same.” I kept my voice carefully neutral, my arms apparently hanging relaxed by my sides, but I was otherwise tense and I made sure it showed. After all, as far as they knew, I had no idea why I was here.

He allowed himself a small smile and commented that I wasn’t being very polite.

“Funny that,” I replied dryly. “Last time I saw you, you tried to kill me. Why would I think it’s any different today?” 

“Ah, but I didn’t actually do it, did I?”

“So?” I wasn’t helping him.

“Believe me Sonya, that’s not why you’re here. If I’d wanted to kill you, you’d be dead by now.”

He was sincere, but I sounded unconvinced. “Sure.”

“Really.” He was already getting impatient. “Alex could have thrown you under a truck at any time on your way here, and there’s nothing you could have done to stop him. If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead.”

“So why am I here? What do you want?”

“Straight to the point, hey?”

I nodded. I was feeling uncomfortable, standing in the middle of the floor with the three of them staring at me. The sooner this was over, the better.

Archer shrugged and pointed to the king size bed in the middle of the room.

“Lie on the bed.”

I hesitated, and he said it again. “I mean it. Go and lie down,” then added, the innuendo clear, “You may as well get yourself comfortable.”

I was taken aback, not expecting it, and was slow starting to move. One of them shoved me violently on the back and I half-fell across the room, totally losing my balance. I picked myself up, and walked surprisingly steadily to the bed, lowering myself onto its edge with hardly a shake. So far, this hadn’t needed much acting and I was wary of doing anything that didn’t come naturally. Archer had seen me in action before and would be suspicious of me, no matter what I did.

“I said ‘lie down’” he repeated, his voice harsh. “On your back.” He nodded as I did as ordered, my stomach wrinkling in fear. “Hold your arms apart, above your head,” he directed. There was a pause as he looked down at me and I tried not to squirm.  “Now spread your legs.”

There was no way I could control the blush that spread swiftly across my face, and I turned away from him, trying to hide both my embarrassment and the sudden panic that was swelling through me. I thought he’d tie my arms and legs to the bed, ensuring I was completely helpless, and was hoping like hell that we hadn’t completely misjudged him, so I was surprised when he looked nonchalantly away.

“Wait a sec…” He turned to the two men who were still leaning against the door. “Bruce, disappear for a while, would you? I’ll ring when I need you again.”

“We’ll be downstairs,” he replied, leering at me.

My heart was racing but I forced myself to stay calm. I can cope, I told myself, desperately trying to convince myself it was true.

Archer followed them to the door, re-latching it behind them, then stood at the end of the bed for a moment, looking down at me. He hadn’t tried to restrain me, but I couldn’t make any kind of sudden move with my arms and legs spread-eagled as they were.

“I wouldn’t have thought I was that good in bed!” I said nastily, letting him think I was expecting the worst, and he actually laughed.

“Oh, I don’t know… But that’s not what you’re here for. You can get up and sit in the chair over there if you want. We’ve got things to talk about.”

I hadn’t really expected to be raped, but I didn’t trust him either, and I caught myself trembling with the relief. I brought my arms down from above my head, and drew my legs modestly back together, sitting up quickly before he could change his mind. He saw me hesitate, not understanding what he was doing, and he explained. “I don’t want anyone but you and I to know what we’re talking about today. You can guess what they think we’re doing right now, and they won’t question it.” He screwed his mouth up for a second, like he’d just found half a worm in his broccoli. “Go sit in the chair, you’ll be more comfortable.”

“Why should I stay?” I questioned, wondering how far he’d trust me.

“Because you won’t make it out the door alive,” he said neutrally, pointing a small pistol lazily in my direction. I hadn’t seen him pick it up, and he was staying far enough away from me that I had no chance of getting it off him. I tensed, and he put it back on the dresser. “Besides, I’m sure you’ll be fascinated by our conversation,” he added.

I didn’t answer, just picked myself up stiffly and resettled into the single armchair by the window. Apart from my brief panic when he’d made me lie on the bed, everything was going pretty well as I’d thought it would. It was all pointing directly to blackmail. I looked up at him in curiosity, “So what did you want to talk about?”

He perched himself on the edge of the bed, still a safe distance away, the gun in arms reach. “You.”

*     *     *     *