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again？
Then； with a 'suddenness that was almost frightening； he heard himself laughing； a thick nasal sound that was only too familiar seemed to be ing from somewhere inside him； building up to a pitch and forcing its way out through his lips against his will。 For a second he panicked； clapped his hands to his mouth； but he could not stop that awful spine…tingling animal…like noise。
Quentin Sabat had killed and now he was gloating。 And he wanted to kill again。
CHAPTER FIVE
'WE MUST leave at once；' there was an expression of fear on Madeleine Gaufridi's strained features。 'We must flee to Lucerne。'
'We'll have to wait until morning。* Sabat stood in the bedroom doorway and surveyed her naked body with something akin to contempt； an arrogance which he had not displayed previously。 He had killed and enjoyed it。 Now there was another craving to be satisfied。 'There won't be any trains leaving Interlaken until daylight。 We don't have any transport of our own so we've no option but to stay put。 And enjoy the night！'
She licked her lips nervously。 Her panion had killed in cold blood； had laughed about it。 He was far more dangerous than she had thought。 With an effort she smiled nervously and her voice quavered when she spoke。 'Did you really have to kill him？'
'I thought that was the idea of spending the night hours out in a cold damp wood。'
'Yes 。。 ； but it seems so horrible。*
'He'd've done the same to me。 It was kill or be killed。 I guess he was the unlucky one。' Sabat kicked the door closed behind him； began to undress。 His eyes never left her； savouring her body； forcing himself not to rush。
'It was right what the French newspapers said about you；' her voice trembled。 'They said you were more dangerous than all those fake vampires。'
I'm dangerous；' he laughed as he advanced naked towards her； 'but it just depends which side of the fence you're on。*
She cried out as he grabbed her； pinioned her to the bed。 She wanted to yell that there was no need to take her this way because she would let him anyway； but she kept silent because she was afraid。 This was how the man they called Sabat wanted it； last night she had been his lover； tonight she was his plaything； an inanimate sex object for his own selfish pleasure。
He was rough and strong； hurting her； oblivious to her feelings。 She tried not to look into those eyes but they were irresistible。 Hypnotic。 A feeling of sheer helplessness assailed her； he could and would do what he wanted to her。 She was in the grip of a mighty tidal wave； being swept aloft； dashed on the rocks and thrown back。 Crying。 Orgasming。 But there was no way it was going to stop until Sabat was fully spent。
Finally it was over and with a low groan his sweat…soaked body sank down on top of her。 He was trembling violently； gasping for breath。 Their eyes met and for a fleeting second she thought she read an apology in them； but she must have been wrong because he wasn't the type。 He'd taken what he wanted and he'd take it again when the need arose。
'I thought maybe you were a virgin when we first met up the Jungfrau。' He was staring intently up at the ceiling。 'You didn't learn to screw like that at the convent。'
'No；' she replied。 'But I've been on the run for some time； you know。 A girl has to have food and a roof over her head。 There are times when principles have to go overboard。'
'And sometimes you end up with enough francs left over to treat yourself to a tourist trip up into the mountains；' he laughed softly。 'And why not？'
'We must leave for Lucerne at daybreak。' She changed the subject。
'And after Lucerne？'
'Who knows； Sabat。 At the moment we are living from day to day。'
'They'll find that body in the wood in a day or two；' he mused； 'and it won't be long before they tie it up with the couple who rented this chalet。 Yes； you're right； Madeleine； we're living from day to day。'
Sabat had attempted to look like any one of the hundreds of tourists who thronged the streets of Lucerne as he tried to make his third cup of tepid coffee last。 He couldn't drink any more and Madeleine had already been gone over an hour。 From the verandah of the small cafe he watched the crowded Haldenstrasse intently； trying to pick out a dark…haired girl whom one took for eighteen at first glance but was a good seven years older； a facade of innocence which she used to her advantage。
Just thinking about her began to arouse Sabat again。 She was like a drug； one became addicted。 Maybe he should take her back to England to his own place。 She was as good a means of convalescing as any other he could think of。
Then he saw her ing； a lithe fast walk； glancing neither to the right nor the left； the breeze ruffling her dark hair。 She mounted the steps； slid gracefully into the vacant seat beside him。
'Well？' he regarded her quizzically。
'It is all right；' she smiled。 'I talked with Andre Schmid and he has agreed for us to stay at his place。'
'But can we trust him？'
'Yes； I am sure we can。 My father contacted him last week and Andre said that if I showed up he would let him know。 But he won't。'
Sabat thought； to hell with all this I could leave the girl now。 There's nothing to keep me here。 But his growing erection told him he would stay。 He rose to his feet； smiled； and said； 'Let's go meet your friend； Andre。'
The house stood back in its own overgrown garden off the Basel…Strasse。 Possibly the casual passer…by would be unaware of its existence； for the boundary hedge had grown tall and thick； unpruned shrubs concealing the short drive。
Sabat viewed the large building with a feeling of sadness that such an impressive structure had been allowed to fall into decay over the years。 Possibly at the turn of the century it had been a holiday home for some wealthy Frenchman； a carved balcony on the upper…floor affording a magnificent view of the Chateau Gutsch and within walking distance of Lake Lucerne itself。 Slates had fallen from the roof and had not been replaced； paintwork had peeled and much of the woodwork was rotten； grimed window panes； a broken one reinforced with brown paper。 Utter dereliction everywhere。
Madeleine banged the wrought…iron door knocker and they heard the noise reverberating throughout the interior； an eerie hollow sound as though the house was empty and nobody was ing back。 Echoing desolation that died away to silence。 Then they heard approaching footsteps； somebody struggling with a rusted bolt。
Andre Schmid was certainly not what S abat had expected。 Short； somewhat overweight； no more than thirty years of age； Schmid looked almost ical in faded dirty jeans with the waistband rolled over； a T…shirt untidily tucked into it。 Heavy features that pouched under the eyes； surplus flesh jowled beneath the chin； small eyes that shot furtive； suspicious glances alternately from Madeleine to Sabat as he habitually brushed strands of long brown hair back from his forehead。
'This is Mr Sabat；' Madeleine Gaufridi motioned towards her panion； 'the friend I was telling you about； Andre。'
'Of course；' the other seemed to jerk himself forcibly out of a daze。 'You are both wele here。 e inside。' He dragged the door wider across warped floorboards。
The interior smelled musty and Sabat noted that the large hallway； empty except for a hat stand with broken pegs and a small table； had not been cleaned in recent weeks。
'I will show you to your room。' Schmid began to mount the stairs； following a well…worn path through an accumulation of dust。 'The others will be back shortly。 We eat at seven…thirty。 Prompt。'
The bedroom would have overlooked the Bruch…Strasse had not the trees formed an impenetrable barrier and the windows been clean。 A double bed had recently been made up with clean linen and there was ample drawer space in the two oak chests。 Sabat shivered slightly； some form of heating and a carpet would have helped to destroy the spartan atmosphere。
Andre Schmid went out； closing the door behind him。
'This is a mune；' Sabat's voice was low。 'These people are hippies。'
'Yes。' Madeleine blushed slightly as though she had deliberately deceived him。 'Andre once worked in my father's vineyard until he opted for his freedom。 Here； these people are free to e and go as they please。 They are idealists； like myself。'
'So you're going to spend the rest of your days skulking here and smoking pot。' There was a note of contempt in Sabat's voice。 'You'll be just as much a prisoner here as you were in the convent。'
'No；' Madeleine regarded him steadily。 'I shall be free。 Perhaps I can even persuade you to remain here； Sabat。'
'I doubt it；' he laughed。 'But I'm in no hurry for the moment。 Let's make ourselves fortable and then we'll see what the food is like here。'
The resonant tones of a heavy gong somewhere in the lower recesses of the house brought Sabat out of his reverie。