A Sharpness On The Neck (Saberhagen's Dracula Book 9) by Fred Saberhagen (book suggestions TXT) 📕

two hours or so, like the first, consisted of nothing but Graves, sitting behind his table and talking, sometimes reading from his notes, to the camera. It was a daunting prospect.

* * *

      Meanwhile the prisoners continued to be faintly cheered by the accumulation of bits of evidence that their kidnappers, whatever they thought they were up to, had some genuine concern for their victims’ physical comfort. They continued to be allowed perfect freedom of movement within the few rooms assigned to them.

      There came a moment when one of their captors, hovering tentatively in the doorway, suggested that they might enjoy a supervised outdoor walk. Hats of the proper size were available to guard them from the desert sun.

       Still Radcliffe could not entirely free himself of the tantalizing suspicion that the whole kidnapping performance might be nothing but a grandiose joke. It was impossible to know what expressions the guardians were wearing behind their masks, and much of what Connie said could not be taken seriously. But the suspicion of a hoax withered rapidly when Graves dropped in to call. This man at least was in deadly earnest.

* * *

      Half an hour after the Radcliffes finished their breakfast, Mr. Graves was back, looking somewhat worn, and older than before. He gave a token knock on the door with one knuckle of one pale hand before putting a key to the grillwork and letting himself in.

      The chief kidnapper was still conspicuously maskless, but now had armored his pallid skin against the desert sunlight with a broad-brimmed hat. Urbanely he inquired how Philip and his lady were settling into their new lodging.

      Radcliffe got up from the little sofa to stand with folded arms, confronting him. “You were going to tell me your real name.”

      The other looked at him in silence for a few moments, then said: “For the time being, ‘Mr. Graves’ will still do.”

      “Is the real name really the one that the tape suggests?”

      The dark eyes glittered. “What do you think?”

      Radcliffe started to speak, hesitated, and finally shrugged his shoulders. “Have it your way.”

      “I intend to do so.” Graves nodded agreeably. “Now let us speak of other matters which are awaiting our attention, all of them of much more direct importance for your future welfare than my name.”

      “What are those?” June demanded.

      Graves helped himself to a seat, and with a sweeping gesture invited his guests to do the same. “Have you now watched the entire tape?”

      “We’ve got a good start on it.” Philip considered complaining that the tape was boring, and overall poorly done. But then he thought better of it. “Just tell us this, are we being held hostage? Until someone else does something you want, or—?”

      Their kidnapper was shaking his head emphatically. “Nothing like that. You are not hostages.”

      “Then what—?”

      “I have no time just now for a long discussion. That is why my colleagues and I invested a large amount of time in preparation, making the tape for you to watch.” The dark eyes burned at Radcliffe, and he got a sense of patience beginning to wear thin. “I strongly advise you to watch it.”

      “All right,” said Philip in a small voice. At the moment he was overwhelmed by the feeling of being a small child, foolishly stubborn in his rebellion.

      In another moment he and June were once more side by side on the cheap sofa, facing the small television set, and now Graves turned it on, along with the adjacent VCR. After another moment of grim silence, he put on his broad-brimmed hat and stalked away; they heard the jail-door clash of the grillwork slamming shut behind him.

* * *

      Over the next hours and days the unmasked couple appeared and disappeared, usually one at a time, sometimes together, generally at night. How that oddly matched pair might be spending the bulk of their time, whether they remained in the area, or where else they might go and for what purpose, remained a mystery to their prisoners. Always, when they wanted to come in, they tapped at the door first, demonstrating at least a pretense of courtesy. Once Connie, who seemed determined to be different, came in through a window on the side of the building where there was no door.

      Constantia—as Graves preferred to call Connie—was more often than not observable somewhere in the vicinity of the mobile home. Though Graves was certainly not given to shouting orders or enforcing discipline, Philip continued to be certain that he was in command. All the others, including Connie, did as they were told.

      As soon as Graves had again stalked out the door, doing his impatient executive bit, squinting against the desert sun even with his whole face shaded by his broad-brimmed hat, the captives began a second session with the videotape. But this try lasted only about five minutes.

      At that point Philip and June, both pretty well worn out, fell asleep sprawling fully clothed on the sofa, leaving Graves-on-tape to deliver his vital lecture to closed eyelids and unhearing ears.

      When they awakened, several hours later, they rewound the tape, which had long since spun to its conclusion, as thoroughly ignored as most television screens at any given moment. Then they took turns showering in the little bathroom, and dressed in fresh clothing from their bags, which had remained unopened since being brought in.

      “Looks like we may be here for a while,” June sighed.

      “It does.” That was a depressing thought.

      Once more they were impressed with their captors’ eerie thoroughness when they opened drawers and saw that some spare clothing, of medium quality and in the proper sizes, had been provided. Men’s and women’s jeans and T-shirts, and a change or two of underwear and socks. Even gym shoes and moccasins. Radcliffe tried on the larger pair and looked at June soberly. “They fit.”

      One of the female masked guards knocked tentatively on the bedroom door and asked permission to come in. She seemed satisfied when told that the provided clothing fit. “Good. We weren’t sure we’d be able