Noir

Chapter Seven – The International

The International

My captor beamed at me. I struggled a grimace, coughing violently and expelling particles of cake onto the grimy carpet.

“This was one I took last summer,” she droned, her nasal tones drilling into my skull as the rancid tea turned tricks on my stomach. I was trapped, unable to move, my energy spent and will pummelled to dust.

She had found me lying in a puddle of sweat and fear and exhaustion. Dragging me deeper into her lair, watched over by the demon Claude, “he’s a sweetie really, but he can pinch you something awful if you disturb him, you know” I was placed in a chair and, being forced to eat cake and tea, “this one’s of Stonehenge, where I saw balloons and aliens” was tortured, mercilessly, with “and I made the badgers a sandwich” photos of her holidays.

As she penetrated into the soft tissue of my brain with tales of Russian spires, I watched numbers dance in front of me, faint bonuses drifting in and out of view as every object shimmered with the image of my addiction.

The pyramids swum in front of me, hard edges lined by blocks, waiting to be felled. Her thick, floral scent seeped into my nose, violating my sinuses and growing its dank trendrils in my subconscious. I saw flowers, and wanted to vomit. The luke-warm tea sank into my throat, damping any such expressions of self.

I wanted to run, but instead the wall snaked before me, Peggle following close behind, like a dragon waiting to disembowel and torch its prey. Time taunted me, ambling when it should be running, fleeing this dark phantasmagoria. Then, as my mind slipped into darkness and my spirit lay ready to give itself up to the underworld, a miracle occurred. The slideshow ended.

“Oh well,” my captor said, rising stiffly from her chair. “More tea?”
As she padded away to return with more tools of torment, a vast wave of purpose came over me, and, summoning all the forces at my command, I staggered for the door and out, into the cold, clear downpour of freedom.

As I limped back to my office, suit and shirt tattered and stained, my heart slowly fell. I had escaped, beaten my demons and saved my sanity, but the case was dead. I would have to find some other lead, or else face once more the kiss of Gretel in some loan shark’s basement, and with it the end of everthing.