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Rear Window [16]

Hanne Berg's picture
Submission type:


 “We were going to do some building work, honestly !”

Anson struggle against the handcuffs. Dwight said nothing as he wound a roll of duct tape round and round the body of Bartram who was just starting to recover from being cattle-prodded.

Tell him Barty !”

Bartram was still feeling rough from the electrical shock. He was also confused as his surroundings came into focus. The last thing he could remember was getting into the van outside of Anson’s place. Now he was trying to figure out why he was propped against a rusty old bus and was staring out across a canyon at some ridiculous height. Bartram was too confused to answer Anson’s appeal.

Listen mate, let us go huh? We know some people, right? Travs, they’ll pay. Good money, right? Huh?”

Dwight snipped at the roll of duct tape and smoothed down the free end across Bartram’s chest. He closed on Anson, face to face, nose to nose. Anson could see right into Dwights baleful dark eyes. What he saw scared him. Dwight covered Anson’ s mouth with a short strip of duct tape then simply put a finger up to his lips

Shhhh.. “

Joe was at the wheel of Kirsten’s car as they drove home after the party.

Anneka was tired out. Kirsten turned around and smiled at her sleeping daughter. Silja smiled too then turned her head to watch the streets go by.

What do you think happened to the clown Joe? “ Kirsten asked. Joe just shrugged and watched the road ahead but his mind was on other matters.

Kirsten settle back in her seat and smiled softly. “At least Anni didn’t seem to miss the clown. She was having a grand time with the kids.”.

Joe nodded, glanced in the mirror. Silja turned her eyes away and looked out of her window again.


Now that Anson and Bartram were efficiently cocooned in duct tape, Dwight set out his small portable table and camp chair. He opened a basket then neatly set out a plate and cup on the table, filled the cup with tea and set sandwiches on the plate. Dwight liked the evening sunset view from the bridge. He enjoyed how the suns orange rays illuminated the rock of the canyon wall opposite.

"What a pleasant evening." He nibbled his sandwich and sipped tea, smiling happily, oblivious to the muffled grunting behind him.


The sun was just short of setting when Hanne arrived at the bridge. Anson heard the car arrive and twisted his neck to see what was happening. He saw the shapely woman walking towards them. Tight jeans, heels. The leisurely sway to her walk. He saw how the wind blew at her loose blouse and hair. The dark glasses. ‘Who the hell is this?’ he muttered into silver tape.

Dwight got up from his table and carefully folded the chair before leaning it against the rusty bus. The woman came and stood in front of Anson. She pulled away her shades and despite the wind blowing her blonde hair across her face. Anson saw her ice blue eyes, they looked somehow familiar, but different. These eyes were not full of love, they were cold, piercing. He shivered involuntarily. Hanne pulled the tape from Anson’s mouth.

So nice of you to join us. I am Hanne Berg, President of The Ranyhyn Company. This is Mister Frye, I hope he has been making you comfortable.” Hanne indicated toward Dwight who nodded with a smile, it was not a nice smile. Hanne went on. “I do apologise for keeping you waiting, but I was busy shooting a clown !”

Hanne watched. Anson and Bartram exchanged instant and involuntary fear filled glances of surprise. Their reaction to her bluntness was all the proof Hanne needed.

I have to admire your nerve, Mr. Anson.” Hanna paced a few steps in front of Anson she looked thoughtful. “Most people are wise enough to think better than to go up against Joe Spivey. Clearly you are not that wise.”

Anson bit his tongue. Hanne prodded his chest with the leg of her sunglasses. “And to think you could kidnap his daughter?” Hanne shook her head ruefully at Anson, “Not bright at all.”

Hanne looked over at Dwight then leant her head towards Bartram. Dwight nodded.

Anson looked on in increasing horror as Dwight bodily picked up the tape wrapped figure of Bartram then dumped him over the edge of the bridge.


Hanne and Dwight peered over the edge as the scream faded, wincing slightly as the package hit the canyon floor.

They looked at each other. Dwight smirked “Not bad” Hanne tilted her head in agreement.

Then they turned their attention to Anson.


Joe Spivey's picture

Poor Silja. Love's young dream dashed upon the rocks... Literally, in this case.

Beautiful read Hun.

Stick with me kid and you'll be farting through silk.

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