Kidnapped! Read online

  Kidnapped!

  A Sled Speed Novel

  by

  John Savage

  Copyright 2012 John Savage

  Published by Strict Publishing International

  Chapter I

  Prisoner

  Beams of the warm Mediterranean sun slanted through the window to fall upon the naked woman lying on the floor, but still she shivered. Her nude body, fully a woman yet smooth and firm as only the youthful can be, was bound with ropes, the most visible of which crisscrossed her breasts and wrapped themselves around the narrow of her waist. It was obvious that her arms were bound behind her back and that she was uncomfortable as she lay upon them, yet she was forced to do just that since more ropes tied to her ankles spread her legs widely apart and were tied to opposite sides of the room. She might twist a little, but she could not sit up nor roll onto her side.

  She had been lying like that for almost two hours. The wooden floor beneath her body was hard and cool against her bare skin. The sun, where it fell upon her body, was warm and welcomed as it slowly crept across her hips and up to her breasts. Her long, ebony hair spread out around her head, matching the black of her sultry eyes. Her Italian ancestry was reflected in her face, as in the slight olive tint to her flesh.

  Having tried to free herself from the ropes and failing, she now lay unmoving save for the gentle rise and fall of those shapely, nineteen year old breasts. Her eyes were closed as she awaited whatever her captors had in store for her.

  The door opened and she heard footsteps on the hard wood floor but did not open her eyes. She did not want them to see the fear she was certain she could not hide. Two of them, to judge by the sounds of the footfalls, both stopping near her and undoubtedly looking down upon her nakedness. She could hear them breathing in the otherwise quiet room.

  One knelt beside her. A moment later she felt a male hand upon her left breast, taking it in the strong fingers and squeezing. Still she did not open her eyes. If they were going to rape her, she would not give them the pleasure of seeing her squirm or cry out.

  For a moment, the hand simply held her breast compressed, nothing more, the pressure strong but not enough to cause real pain. Then, without warming, there was a sudden burst of pain in the nipple. A moment later the hand let go.

  Her eyes snapped open and a gasp left her red, ripe lips. Looking down, she saw a metal clip of some kind holding onto her nipple, squeezing it in its metal jaws and sending hot, burning pain shooting into her breast.

  Her first reaction was to tell them to take it off; it hurt. But she held the protest within. They knew it hurt her. It was intended to hurt. And they would not obey any order from her to remove it. She grimaced and said nothing as tears began to slowly form at the corners of her eyes.

  “Get a few good photos,” one of the men said.

  There was the flash of a camera strobe and she blinked. They were taking photos of her suffering. She wondered why, but the answer came to her. She now knew why she had been kidnapped and why she was being held a prisoner. And why this was only a brief taste of the pain to come.

  Chapter II

  A Ruined Life

  My life was ruined.

  Me, Sled Speed, Private Dick, would never be able to hold his head up high again down at O’Mally’s Bar and Grill, and all because of my little sister.

  I opened my lower desk drawer and stared at the bottles there, finally selecting the Macallan 18. Next to it was a bottle of Glenfiddich and one of Chivas Regal. I’m testing them to find the best scotch. So many expensive whiskeys, so little time.

  I pour a glass and let the smooth liquid tease my tongue. Heavenly!

  Well, where was I? Oh, yes. My life is ruined. And all because of my little sister, Susie, whom I love dearly but who has totally destroyed my image and self-respect. I used to have a nice little office in a run-down section of town where the rent was dirty cheap even if the elevator didn’t usually work. But now, look at me! This office is on the tenth floor of a fancy building in Marina Del Rey. I look out the window and see the sea. Expensive yachts and condos that cost over a million apiece. What kind of self-respecting private dick would be found in such a place, I ask you? This is for bankers and lawyers and those who rob with a pen instead of a gun. Not for an old fashioned, hard-boiled private dick like me.

  Since Susie came, nothing has been the same. She’s organized my business, put advertising on the Internet, and even created a website for Sled Speed, Inc. Sam Spade would be turning over in his grave if this happened to him.

  I was happy handling an occasional missing person or cheating husband case; poor, true, but I never expected to be rich. So long as I could buy bullets for Betsy and rotgut booze for myself, I was content enough. Then she comes into my life, fresh out of college, and tells me that she wants to be a private dick, just like me. Only she calls it ‘Private Investigator’, which is probably better in her case anyway. So I let her help me on a case. And, I’ll have to admit, she did good.

  But then she starts changing things.

  When I came back from a little trip to Japan where I cleaned up a case for the CIA, I found she had been busy. I was now incorporated, had several clients, and, worse of all, a computer on my desk!

  She had set up a website, done some advertising, and gotten me more cases in a month than I usually get in a year. And, worse, she was handling them by herself. She claims that those courses she took in college are really helpful. Did I mention that her degree is in “Police Science?” Police science, sheesh! As I’ve said before, all a policeman needs is to be able to shoot straight, crack a few heads when needed, and tell the criminals from the victims.

  I took another sip. Nice scotch.

  I will have to admit, however, that I do appreciate the extra money. Since replacing my old Betsy .45 with a new Desert Eagle .50 I call Wilma, the cost of rounds has gone up considerably. But after learning how to handle that big recoil, I really have come to love Wilma. She has a loud voice and is a commanding presence. Plus she could knock an elephant to its knees. I actually saw one round from her pick up Skinny Lester and throw him out his office window. Take about stopping power!

  And I don’t have to buy that four dollar a fifth booze from the local discount store.

  I took another sip. A guy could get used to the high priced stuff.

  Well, anyway, there I was, sitting in my office, lamenting my lost lifestyle, when there is a knock on the door.

  “Come on in,” I growled. All us private dicks growl. It’s a hard habit to break.

  It was Susie’s secretary, Ramona, about the sexiest Latina I’ve ever seen. She came in on those gorgeous legs and gave me a good eyeful of big-breasted beauty.

  “There is a man to see you,” she said. I was wondering how I could get her to take a deep breath and see if one of the buttons on her blouse would actually pop off. They looked like they were being strained to the structural limits of the fabric already.

  “Why doesn’t Susie take care of him?”

  “She’s not here.”

  “Oh?” That puzzled me. I had thought that we were going to go to lunch together, but it was almost noon and she was out?

  “Ms. Speed left this morning to oversee the planning for security at the Winthrope estate and hasn’t returned.”

  “Well, then I guess you can let him in.”

  Right now I’ll publicly state that I prefer my clients to be female, of centerfold class, and willing to do anything to get me to help them. But, what the hell, I hadn’t actually worked a case in a while. It might be interesting.

  The guy was pretty far from the classy broads I like to see strolling into my office. He was tall, solidly built, dark features, and, from the slightest bulge in his thousand dollar custom made suit, packing. I s
uddenly wished I didn’t have Wilma hanging on a coat rack behind me. Maybe this was someone I had sent to jail in the past, coming to settle up an old score.

  “My name is Rocco. I work for Mr. Raszini.”

  That was all he said, as if I should know who this Mr. Raszini was. The name did sound a little familiar.

  “Have a seat and tell me what Mr. Raszini wants.”

  “He wants to see you. Said to tell you he has a case for you.”

  I didn’t like this guy. For one thing, my senses were tingling just like they do when I’m confronted by criminals. Secondly, I don’t like being ordered around by someone who was obviously just hired muscle. And thirdly, I didn’t like his not sitting down. I mean, after all, I invited him to.

  “My case load is all full right now.”

  “That’s too bad,” he said with one hell of a sneer. “Mr. Raszini don’t like being turned down.”

  Then it hit me! Mr. Raszini was Theodor Raszini, one of the big crime bosses who started out in New York then moved to the West Coast. I had seen his ugly puss and name on the evening news a lot. I had to wonder if this had something to do with the Case of the Kidnapped Countess, which had me going to the Big Apple to save a dame.

  “Well, he’s going to be disappointed this time. I’m not interested.”

  “He said that you might feel that way.” His hand started to move inside this coat and I was about to jump up and reach for Wilma when he pulled out a cell phone. Touching the screen a couple times, he held out the phone for me to see.

  I almost shit in my pants! There, in full color, on the tiny screen, was a woman I had not seen in a couple years. Unfortunately, it was also a woman I had never forgotten – a woman who broke my heart when she dumped me. It was Linda Goodbody! And I was not happy to see that she was bound to a chair, gagged and looking very angry.

  “What’s the game?” I growled. “You know treating my… friend like this makes me upset.”

  “She’s your former girlfriend and Mr. Raszini knows that you will be pissed as hell. He also knows that you’ll want to talk to him now. Shall we go?”

  I gulped down the last of the scotch, because I needed a belt, and stood. I made sure he saw me put on the shoulder harness and settle Wilma beneath my arm. Then I added my coat and gave him my meanest, most hard-boiled look. The usual effect was to make men cringe and women swoon. This guy just grinned and walked for the door.

  “I’ll be back soon,” I told Ramona on the way out. She looked puzzled but said nothing.

  He declined to let us go in my car, so I had to sit beside him in his large, black, American-built auto. The trip was not a long one, only to the Hilton hotel next to LAX. There, I was led up to the top floor and into one of those if-you-have-to-ask-the-price-you-can’t-afford it rooms. Had a nice view of the jets taking off and landing, cold air conditioning and the smell of expensive cigars.

  “Mr. Speed, I am Theodor Raszini.”

  The man, who was more often than not the target of the Justice Department, was not large. In fact, he barely came to my shoulders. He came forward and offered his hand. I ignored it.

  “Please, sit down,” he said, waving a hand to comfortable looking chairs around a coffee table. “Would you like a drink?”

  “Scotch,” I said. Have to keep up the image, you know.

  The second man in the room, obviously another of his bodyguards, poured two glasses of that refreshing amber liquid and placed them in front of us. I sipped mine. Like myself, he went for the high class booze. I couldn’t tell you the brand, but it was smooth with a wonderful hint of smokiness.

  “I have a job for you,” he began.

  “What about my… Miss Goodbody?” I interrupted. “I want her released.”

  “In good time, in good time.” He sipped also, making me wait. I was very much aware of the two men standing behind me. “You finish this job for me, and your former lover will be released with no harm done to her.”

  I grunted. What I really wanted to do was yell at him and threaten to rip his fingers and toes off with tongs.

  “All I want you to do is go to Italy and rescue a girl. Do that, and you friend will be released.”

  “Why me? You’ve got muscle. And they probably speak Italian better than I do.”

  He smiled, but there was no humor in it. “I hear that you get things done, you don’t always stay within the law, and that you can keep your mouth shut.”

  “Who is the girl?”

  “My daughter, Angelica. So you see, I am very interested in her safety. Even as you are for Miss Goodbody’s safety.”

  I had to keep from reaching for Wilma. I don’t like it when people kidnapped a woman I cared about. She might have dumped me, but that doesn’t change my feelings towards her.

  “She was visiting some relatives in Italy when she was kidnapped. She is being held a prisoner by a man who… Shall we say, does not like me.”

  “Another boss?” I asked.

  “Yes. A powerful man.”

  “Why did he snatch your daughter?”

  “It is a long story. Suffice it to say that he hates me. The feeling is mutual.”

  “If she’s an American citizen, why can’t you go to the local police there, or the American authorities?”

  “Let us say that the American authorities and I are not on the best of terms. I cannot expect any help from them. As to the Italian authorities, well, let us say that they are mostly in the pay of this man and will also not help me.”

  “Is she well guarded?” I asked.

  “Probably. He has a villa near Bologna.”

  “Why don’t you just storm it? You’ve got muscle.”

  “He has more. Plus he had the local police in his pocket. I fear that a direct assault will not succeed and maybe bring about my daughter’s death.”

  “So I have to go into a heavily armed villa in Italy, pick up a girl being held there, and get her out. Sounds like too much to expect from someone who is just a private dick.”

  He smiled again, this time with a little touch of real humor. “I find your use of that term archaic and amusing. But yes, that is what I expect you to do.”

  Raszini leaned back and held up his hand. One of his men put a photo in his hand. Without a word, he set it down on the table where I could see it.

  There was a pretty girl in the photo. She might not have been drop-dead gorgeous but had the sultry, very sexy look that only Italian girls seem to have. All I could see of her was the top half. She appeared to be lying down on a floor and was topless. Tight ropes crisscrossed her breasts. On one nipple hung a heavy metal clip. From the tears and expression in her eyes, she was in pain.

  “He sends me a new photo of her every day,” Raszini said vehemently. “And every day it is a new torture. This I cannot allow to continue.”

  Apparently he loved his daughter very much. Which explained why he would go to the extreme of kidnapping Linda Goodbody to force me to work for him.

  “You will, of course, be paid handsomely upon return of Angelica.”

  “I will do what I can,” I told him.

  “You will do better than that. You will bring back my Angelica and in good health.” There was a vein throbbing on his forehead, a sign of the tension inside this man. “To assure that, I will have Miss Goodbody tortured every day, the same as Angelica is being tortured. I will send proof of that to your cell phone so you will know that I am serious.”

  I believed him. I would rather have turned him down, but… Well, I just couldn’t bring myself to allow Linda to be tortured. Besides, if I rescued her, maybe she and I could get back together. None of the numerous other women I had bedded down since then measured up to the pleasure of her company. Not to mention her extremely kinky tastes.

  “I will need some time,” I began. “There are things to fix up first.”

  He interrupted. “Time, Mr. Speed, is something that neither of us has a lot of.”

  Chapter III

  No, You Don’t Ge
t to Go

  I left Mr. Raszini in his hotel room, carrying with me a folder he said would have all the facts I needed. I was of a mind to see if he and his boys would like to meet Wilma. I am pretty fast on the draw – a private dick has to be – but killing all of them would not help me find Linda Goodbody, and would make for a messy interview with the LAPD.

  I was driven back to my office, which gave me time to look over what he had given me. There were a couple photos of Angelica, and I have to say she must take after her mother a lot, because she looked nothing like the ugly puss of Raszini. Dark hair and eyes, and, to judge from one photo taken of her in a bikini enjoying some sandy beach, one fine body. I’ve always liked Italian girls. There were several typed sheets listing who she was visiting with in Italy, exactly when and where she disappeared, plus some info on the man Raszini said kidnapped her.

  Alberto Savinio, import and export businessman on the surface, but under that a trafficker in drugs, white slaves and most anything else that will get you a buck. Wanted by US authorities but so far had been able to avoid extradition back to the US. Was suspected in the killing of several rival mob bosses. Had an apartment in Rome, London, and Paris, plus two villas in Italy.

  There was also a photo of him. Not much prettier than Raszini. Not the sort you would like to meet in a dark alley at night. A nose broken at least twice and a scar running down the left side of his face did not add to his attractiveness.

  By the time I was getting off the elevator and walking into my office, I had calmed down. Still angry, but in a more determined sort of way. I was going to get this Angelicia back for Raszini, and then I was going to do a number on him, probably rearranging some of his parts. Maybe throwing some of them away. No one grabs my girl and gets away with it. Not even if the girl dumped me and took up with a movie star of the female gender.

  “Hey, big brother, where you been?”

  Susie was standing by the door into her private office, some papers in her hand and that cute little Ramona about to take them.