Wild Fiction

They moved along the side of the hedge in the direction the bug had parked. A slight breeze caused a rustle in the leaves and masked their footsteps. Banks of clouds over the sky had ensured that any moon would be of little use. Conrad held up his hand in the shape of a fist and stopped. James moved up next to him and held still.
In front of them, silhouetted in the darkness in the middle of the field, was a Range Rover. It was too dark to make out if anybody was inside it. Conrad tapped James on the shoulder and pointed at a gate that led from the field into the road they had been travelling in. He could see the dark shapes of the author and Rebecca come through the gate and into the field.
The lights of the Range Rover came on full beam. The author held his hand up in front of his eyes. Rebecca shielded her face with the manila envelope she was carrying. They stood still, like a pair of startled rabbits caught in the beam of a car’s headlights. The driver’s door opened and someone got out.
‘Does the girl have the bonds?’ a man’s voice asked.
‘Yes,’ the author replied.
‘Show me.’
‘Take one of the bonds out,’ the author said turning to Rebecca.
She opened the envelope, pulled out the top bond, and held it up in front of her.
‘Stay where you are and send the girl forward,’ the man said.
‘Where’s my wife?’ the author replied grabbing Rebecca’s arm and holding it tight.
‘Send the girl first and then you’ll get your wife.’
‘Where is she?’ the author asked not moving.
The author’s question disappeared unanswered into the night. The figure of the man remained motionless behind the open door. Insects flew around the headlights and pinged against the glass. Then the man moved. He walked behind the Range Rover and opened the passenger door. He pulled Genevieve out and fiddled about with her head before pushing her forward and into the glare of the headlights. Grey duck tape held her wrists and elbows together behind her back. Another piece of duck tape covered her mouth. Around her neck looped a thin metal cord that trailed back to where the man stood. Her face, streaked with black lines, glistened white in the lights. Strands of auburn hair lay plastered against her forehead.
‘Send the girl and I’ll let her go,’ the man said. ‘One false move and I pull this cord and it’s all over. She’ll never survive it.’