Free Right to Life by Jack Ketcham Page A

of a narrow wooden chair topped by a thinly stuffed cushion and sat down.
        "Okay, now listen to me. I'm only going to say this once."
        He was either kneeling beside her or sitting, she couldn't say which, but he was very close. His voice was soft but there was something excited about it too A kind of heightened nervous quality. It scared her. She wanted him stable. As stable as possible.
        "You heard something up here awhile ago, didn't you."
        She almost said no . Then thought it was probably not wise to lie to him. She nodded.
        "I thought so. What did it sound like to you?"
        "Argument. A fight, maybe."
        "Very good. I'm going to show you something in a little while that will probably upset you. It's all right to be upset. It's natural. But I want you to know what happened before I show it to you. Two men just left here. These two men were members of the Organization. Friends of mine. They were with a third man, Victor, who I also know very well. But Victor was a traitor. There's no other way to put it. He knew things. And we found out he was talking to the police. We have people inside there too obviously. He hadn't said anything too specific to them yet, he was waiting for their bribe money to come through. But we knew he was talking or about to talk. And he didn't know we knew.
        "So what we set up was this. They all come over here for a friendly visit, a drink, some conversation, the usual. Then we confront Victor with what we know. He tries to deny it but we've got all the dates and times and people. We know which cops he's talking to. He finally admits it. He's very upset, very contrite. Says he must have been crazy, out of his mind. We agree with him there. Now what I want to show you is by way of instruction. I get the feeling you don't completely believe us about the Organization but maybe after you see this you'll think again."
        He stepped behind her.
        And lifted off the blindfold.
        "Victor," he said.
        Light flung itself at her eyes like swarms of stinging insects. For a moment she could see practically nothing, then saw she was in a living room. Saw chairs, a fireplace, a television set, a dusty hardwood floor.
        And in the center of the floor the shape of a man. A small man. Wrapped in heavy-duty black plastic bags tied with loops of twine.
        She felt the meagre contents of her stomach rise.
        "This is what happens when you fuck with the Organization, Sara. You die. It's that simple. Turn and look at me."
        She did, fearfully, knowing the stakes were being raised yet again by him allowing her to see him. She saw a dark-haired, almost handsome man of medium build standing there in a sweatshirt and old jeans. Slim, hairline receding a little, nose a little too sharp, but with eyes that were wide and dark and actually beautiful - how could they be that? - a good strong chin and full, sensual lips. He was gazing at her directly. Not smiling.
        And she had the oddest feeling that she knew him from somewhere, had seen him somewhere before. That he was not entirely a stranger.
        She said nothing.
        She wondered where the woman was. If she would be familiar too.
        "You think we're still fooling you, don't you. That Victor's some mannikin or something."
        He was right. After the initial shock that was the first thought that came to her. The mind simply rebelled. She couldn't be sitting in a room with a murdered man lying on the floor in front of her. It just wasn't possible.
         Do you really know the limits of the possible? she thought. In this place? Do you?
        "Get up. Go over and touch it. Here."
        He reached around and unfastened the manacles. It occurred to her that this was far and away the most freedom she'd had since the moment they took her.
        She could run for the door.
         Why don't you, then?
        Because the door is