She moved a fraction to try and ease the burning pain in her shoulders. The sound of the chains moving attracted the guard's attentions.
He leered at her. "Won't be too long now," he said thickly, glancing down at his watch.
Emily shuddered. Below her, between her legs, was an open grating. She shivered, wondering whether she could bring herself to urinate into it. The smell coming up from the floor would suggest it wasn't the first time it had been used as a lavatory.
"I need the bathroom," she whispered.
The guard shrugged. "Nothing to do with me. You heard Leonora."
Two more minutes and she had no option but to pee where she stood. The guard watched with barely concealed amusement whilst Emily's face flushed crimson.
Time passed slowly. Emily was aware of every muscle in her back and arms. As the light outside her cell darkened, soft wall lights began to fade up, throwing the bars of the cell into uncanny shadows. With every passing second she began to feel more apprehensive. The guard outside was getting restless, shifting from foot to foot.
She heard footsteps in the distance in an abstract way on the periphery of her hearing. They sounded like marching feet. When the noise stopped she looked up. Leonora was outside the bars and Birdie, the guard, was with her. He stood close to Leonora's shoulder, his cruel face split into a salacious grin.
Leonora stared at her coldly, taking in the details of her undress.
"Time to go." She nodded towards Birdie who had unlocked the door. Leonora wrinkled up her nose. "She stinks."
Birdie shrugged and then turned. Behind him the second guard unrolled a hose from the wall and turned on the tap. Leonora stepped out of the cell.
Emily braced herself as the guard walked towards her with the hose and switched it on full blast. Nothing could prepare her for the electric explosion of cold water as it hit her body. She screamed, writhing against her chains, oblivious to the pain in her shoulders and legs as the icy blast thundered on her chest. sucking the breath out of her body. The thin dress offered no protection. Emily twisted, trying to avoid the torrent. From the corner of her eye she could see Leonora smiling with satisfaction. The guard walked around her, playing the hose up and down until every inch of her flesh was wet and frozen. Emily's teeth began to chatter, her skin rising in goose bumps.
After a few minutes Leonora nodded and the man switched off the water. Emily was frozen through to the core, any last shred of resistance trickling away as the remains of the water dripped off her. She wondered if she might pass out from the shock and the cold.
Birdie stepped into the cell with a set of keys and undid the manacles and leg irons. She was so cold and stiff that she fell helplessly into his arms.
Peter Howard stared at the computer screen and then rechecked the number against the pad in front of him. There was no doubt about it. Angela had rung Johnson's home number. To double check he tucked the extension she had left him under his chin and tapped in the number.
"Hello?" said a female voice.
Peter cleared his throat. "Good evening, may I speak to Mr Johnson?"
There was a few second's hesitation before the cultured voice replied. "I'm afraid he isn't available at the moment. May I take a message?"
Peter hung up. He realised now that Angela's appearance at the hospital had been remarkably fortuitous. She had been careful to avoid the other staff. Things that had not registered before tumbled into place; she was a plant. Shit, he thought, staring at the evidence on the screen in front of him, I've delivered myself straight into a trap.
He glanced at Magenta, wondering what it was that was keeping Johnson and his henchmen away. Johnson knew how Magenta worked. There was no obvious reason for waiting before they reeled him in. Unless, of course, they thought that he had copied the key already, in which case perhaps Angela had been hired to find out whether he had made a duplicate before the plane crash. He sighed. He'd already told her he hadn't got as far as making a copy. He glanced around the comfortable room; it didn't quite make sense.
If Johnson knew where he was, why had Angela brought him home to the cottage? Why hadn't she just relieved him of the box that Johnson wanted? He would have been at their mercy in the hospital. And why…
As his thoughts spun away he heard Angela opening the annex door.
He turned the wheelchair slowly, wanting to catch her expression. In the top left hand corner of his computer screen a small light flashed, announcing the arrival of a message. He was torn between clicking to read what had been sent to him and watching Angela.
Angela won.
"Here," she said, "I hope you like chicken casserole." She stood a tray on the table by the window. "Would you like me to wheel you over here or are you going to try walking. You ought to at least -" The words died in her throat as she approached him.
Peter hadn't cleared the screen which showed Johnson's phone number. Her colour drained dramatically.
"So, when is he coming to get Magenta?" Peter said softly, watching her face like a hawk. "And what was all this about?" He lifted his hands to encompass the room. "Johnson certainly knows how to bait a trap, I'll give him that."
Angela took a deep breath. "This isn't how it looks, Peter."
As she spoke he noticed the way her nipples, stimulated by some deep animal fear, hardened and pressed against the material of her dress. For an instant he felt a flicker of an ancient hunger to take her where she stood, slap her lying face and screw her until she could do nothing but follow him blindly. He wanted to make her scream with pleasure, wail with pain.
He snorted, controlling the fury in his voice. "Oh really, well from where I'm sitting it all looks pretty convincing. Why did you want to know about Magenta? Or was it that your friend Johnson didn't let you know what you were trading your pretty little arse for?"
Angela looked furious. "How dare you!"
Peter grabbed hold of her wrists, jerking her close to him. She shrieked as his fingers bit into her skin.
"Because you've been paid to stitch me up, haven't you? Why the hell did you bother rescuing me at all when you could have taken Magenta while I was unconscious? Any half decent hacker would have known that I hadn't made a duplicate key."
She struggled, turning to try and get away from him.
"Stop it, Peter," she said. "It isn't like that at all." Her fear made the lights inside his mind flash. She was afraid of him. Her body arched against him, stoking the dark need to take her.
"So how is it?" he snapped, his fury growing alongside the lust which glowed white hot in his belly. "And what have you done with Emily?"
Angela stared at him in astonishment. "I haven't done anything with her. I'm not working for Mr Johnson, you have to believe me. Peter. Please -"
"Who then?"
Angela shook her head. "I can't tell you."
Peter laughed furiously. "Oh right, you can't tell me. Why not?"
She shook her head. "Isn't it enough for you to know that I'm on your side? If I'd been working for Johnson, you're right, you wouldn't have got out of the hospital. We could have easily taken Magenta from you then, who would have known? You have to trust me."
"And what was all that crap about ringing in for leave? You didn't even work at the hospital. Did you?"
Angela trembled. "No, but it had to look convincing. I'd done some relief work there a long time ago. I knew my way around."
Peter glared at her. "As Angela Ruskin?"
The woman shook her head. "No, that isn't my real name. But you do need my help."
Peter released her with a disgust. "Give me one good reason why I should trust you?" he snapped furiously.
Angela straightened her dress, struggling to get back into control. "You can barely walk. You need me. I promise you, I'm not working for Johnson. What choice do you have but to trust me?"