Through the Devil’s Eye. C.R. Cummings

big to grip comfortably in his fingers.

      This will do, he told himself.

      Using it he did some tentative digging. The soil was soft enough and he thought he might be able to get under it after an hour’s work.

      Then he bit his lip and shook his head. Not if that bloody dog comes along. It will smell me for sure.

      That idea got him all anxious and he berated himself for a fool. Quickly he stuck his finger in his mouth to wet it and then held it up to check the wind direction. To his relief the wind was blowing from the river.

      I need to move around to the front of the house so that the breeze doesn’t carry my scent, he thought.

      Then other chilling thoughts came to him: was the house covered by other electronic surveillance, such as infra-red cameras or beams?

      With his heart hammering with anxiety, Willy lay and looked up, searching the fence posts and the eaves of the house for cameras or similar devices. He could see none but that did not mean they were not there.

      I need to think about this, he told himself. But first I need to get upwind. Then I need a rest.

      With that in mind he turned and slowly and painfully began crawling towards the front of the house. But as he did there was a loud crash and the tinkle of breaking glass and crockery from inside the kitchen. Willy froze and stared towards the house. Through the kitchen window he caught a glimpse of the woman Carla. She was shaking her head and sobbing and as he watched she backed out of sight. In her place appeared the cook, angrily waving a finger and then another woman who alternately looked down and then up at the woman. Then Zoltan’s angry face passed the window, followed by that of another man.

      There was loud shouting which revealed to Willy that the woman had dropped some plates and glasses. Zoltan’s voice added the description: “Stupid, clumsy bitch!”

      Willy was left wondering what he could do. Suddenly the side door was flung open and light streamed out. Willy cringed and froze, wishing he was back in the long grass. But it was too late for that so he just pressed himself flat and hoped as the doorway was only ten metres away. To his horror, Zoltan walked through the doorway, rifle in hand.

      Then the woman was shoved through the doorway by the other man. He gripped her by the arm and dragged her to the passenger door of the vehicle. Willy now noted that the vehicle was parked nose in so that door was closest to the house.

      The man opened the vehicle door and pushed the woman, snarling, “Get in, you dumb bitch!”

      The sobbing woman did as she was told. The door was slammed and the man walked around the front of the vehicle to the driver’s door. As he did Zoltan called from near the doorway.

      “Take the silly bitch back to the main house and lock her in until the Boss decides what to do with her. Bring Natasha back. The general might like a juicy Russian blonde.”

      “Righto,” the man answered.

      He opened the door and climbed in. A moment later the engine roared into life. As it did Willy lay watching in frightened frustration.

      Damn! They are taking her away. How can I possibly save her? he wondered.