CHAPTER ONE

 

Not far from the magnificent, rugged coast of the Big Sur, near Carmel, a terrain made famous by the great poet Robinson Jeffers, there stands a castle-like house made of curious black stone, very much like volcano rock. It is about twenty-six miles west of the arterial highway 101 which connects San Francisco with Los Angeles, yet isolated enough and with no houses within a range of four miles on either side so as to become virtually a part of the landscape. Not far from the chateau, the Pacific Ocean stretches, and sometimes when the wind is high, the great waves pound on the rocks a hundred feet below, since the chateau was built on a fortified incline above the shore and the pebbled beach beyond.

The road to the chateau was obscure and required a map even for an expert driver, and it was so contrived. Half a mile before you came upon it, there was a large forest of Douglas fir and spruce and elm, and waist-high buffalo grass, which helped to camouflage its presence even more.

But the narrow road, which was dirt and not at all paved, wound circuitously about ten miles north of Carmel, and seemed to be aimless and ambling. At a fork near a deep ravine where a lightning-scarred giant oak tree stood, still defying the elements, the road wound at last towards the ominous building which seemed so anachronistic, so out of place and yet, because of the rugged grandeur of this coastal area, singularly part of it.

Vanessa Larson looked nervously out of the rear window of the limousine. Though she had lived in Los Angeles most of her twenty-five years, she had never really seen any part of Northern California and certainly not this isolated coast with its rocks and coves and heavy surf. It was late afternoon, in mid-July, and already the treacherous drifting fog which had already begun to engulf San Francisco to the north could be seen rising over the edges of the coastline.

“Will we be there soon?” she turned to the handsome, prematurely gray haired woman beside her.

“I’d say in about fifteen minutes, my dear. I realize it’s rather lonely out here, but then remember the opportunity is great and so is the salary. As for comforts, you’ll find the chateau provides everything that could be desired, and then one can always get back into town.”

“Yes, I suppose so.” Vanessa bit her lower lip, doubts beginning to cloud her mind, as she leaned back and sighed.

She had met Miss Evelyn Douglas in Monterey, having taken a Greyhound bus from Los Angeles that morning. In fact, the woman had been waiting for her in the depot, and had taken her directly to the limousine where a liveried chauffeur with receding black hair and thin lips and hawk-like nose, was waiting.

Vanessa Larson at first had seen the ad in the Los Angeles newspaper, and since she had lost her job as a secretary to Matthew Pearsall, sales manager of a lumber company, two weeks before that, she had really needed a job badly. Naturally, with the times being what they were, a single girl couldn’t save too much money out of the skimpy salary, not if she had to dress properly. If only Mr. Pearsall hadn’t tried to get personal with her - she had been doing so well there, for a whole year and even had a raise!

And of course he had given her a bad reference, so the employment agencies had been a little hesitant about placing her. That was why the minute she had seen the ad, she had sat down and had written a letter and mailed it to the post office box indicated. It had read:

‘Wanted - Secretary - Companion.

Prefer college graduate, personable, neat, must, be free to travel. Excellent salary. Permanent.’

She had had a telephone call at the cheap little boarding house where she had moved to after losing her job, because she just couldn’t afford the upkeep other apartment with such an uncertain future. It had been Evelyn Douglas, who had spoken in a very cultured, contralto voice and told her that her letter was quite interesting and could she possibly send another with even more personal facts about herself.

For example, was she engaged or likely to be married in the near future, and were her parents living, and what was her height and weight, the color of her hair and skin and eyes?

Excited at the prospect of finding something that might be a real dream job after the succession of unfortunate misadventures she had already had after her graduation from college four years ago, Vanessa had sat down and composed a second letter with all the details about herself. Her parents were dead, she had only an aunt and uncle living in a little town in Oregon with whom she occasionally corresponded, she wasn’t engaged, and she’d had to work since leaving college because her parents’ business had gone into bankruptcy and there’d been no legacy at all.

And then, three days ago, Evelyn Douglas had called again and told her that Mr. Himberton would like to have a personal interview with her, and her expenses would be paid and she would even be given a hundred dollars as a kind of consolation in the event she wasn’t hired. It was Mr. Himberton’s ailing aunt whose companion she was to be, and he himself was a writer and occasionally dictated, so she would also work for him. The salary, if Vanessa proved satisfactory, would begin at $150 a week with room and board. There would be occasional travel, but not excessive.

That was why this Friday afternoon Vanessa Larson found herself in the black limousine heading towards the black chateau and a destiny she could not have conceived in her wildest imagination. At twenty-five, she was magnificently provocative, rather tall, about five feet eight inches in height. Her face was heart shaped, her light-brown hair coiffed in a fluffy bob. Her eyes were dark blue, very large and widely spaced between the bridge of a straight nose with dainty wings. She had a full ripe mouth, for she was quite an emotional young woman. Also, she was a virgin, though she had been briefly engaged to a senior at UCLA and then broken off with him when she had found that he really wanted to get her to bed and didn’t much care whether they eventually got married.

It was not only her features which attracted the male, but most of all her sumptuous body. Her waist was slim, and thus it accentuated all the more the tempting jut of her big, widely spaced round breasts, so firm and erect on her chest that she really did not need a bra, though of course she wore one. Her hips were spacious, her buttocks broadly rounded yet compact with a very narrow crease between them. Her long thighs were delightfully graceful, her calves sinuous and high-set. Her finely grained skin was tawny, and freckles dotted her cheeks and nose and forehead in a most provocative way.

“Here we are at last, dear. I know it’s been a long ride but now all you have to think about is pleasing Mr. Himberton,” Evelyn Douglas was saying to her just as the big limousine turned down the broadening road which led directly to the chateau. Vanessa uttered a gasp of surprise at its sudden sight, its emergence out of all this rugged and desolate coastal terrain.

“I’ve never seen anything like that before - why, it’s - it’s like a castle!” she ejaculated. And then she turned to look anxiously at her chaperon: “But who would have expected such a curious building out in the middle of nowhere. Miss Douglas?”

“Mr. Himberton is quite rich and a little eccentric. He’s spent a bit of time in Europe and he likes German castles. So he had this built some years ago.”

“I see,” Vanessa Larson stammered, though she didn’t quite see at all. Still in all, the prospect of that wonderful salary and the money she could save by having her meals there and a room as well momentarily overcame her sudden misgivings.

Evelyn Douglas smiled reassuringly. She was a woman of about thirty, oval faced, with dark, almost black eyes, high-set cheek bones, almost as tall as Vanessa but more svelte. She wore an attractive green faille dress, a neat blue pillbox hat with a feather at a jaunty angle over her short-bobbed black hair, and her lips were thin and her nose aquiline with severely thin wings. She had represented herself to Vanessa as Peter Himberton’s business manager, explaining that many of his books under pennames were best sellers and that she acted also as his agent, as well as arranging the itinerary when he travelled.

Soon the limousine drew up in front of the chateau, Evelyn Douglas opened the door and extended her hand to Vanessa who emerged, smoothing down her blue cotton skirt and glancing nervously at her beige nylons to make sure they didn’t have a run or ladder in them.

The chauffeur touched his cap to the two women, got back into the limousine, and drove it around to one side where there was a small rectangular building at the side of the chateau itself which served as garage.

Meanwhile Evelyn Douglas, taking Vanessa by the wrist, led her up the stone steps and to the door of the chateau. She pressed the doorbell, and a sound of chimes was heard. The door opened and Vanessa perceived that a tall, gray haired man in slacks and smoking jacket, a pipe in his hand, stood before her.

“Here we are, Mr. Himberton,” Evelyn Douglas said cheerfully. “This is Miss Larson.”

“A great pleasure, my dear,” he extended his hand. “Please come in and let’s get the formal part of the interview over with. I do hope you’ll be the right one for Aunt Abigail. She’s very exacting, but at first sight I’d say that you have a very good chance of pleasing her. You’re certainly attractive, and she likes a pretty face around her. Do come in.”

“Will you have any need of me, Mr. Himberton?” Evelyn Douglas asked.

“No, not at the outset. I’ll ring for you if I need you, Miss Douglas. Thanks again for bringing this lovely young woman for me,” he chuckled.

Then, turning to the bemused Vanessa, he said, “This way down the hall, to my office. I hope you’re not worried by our being so far away from civilization? I have an excellent chef, and of course it’s not a long ride to either Los Angeles or San Francisco whenever we want to go shopping for anything. The house is very comfortable and I’m sure you’ll be happy here if Aunt Abigail takes a liking to you. There are just a few more questions I have to ask you first before I introduce you to her.”

“Yes, of course, Mr Himberton. My goodness,” Vanessa glanced around at the high ceilings and the stone floors, which seemed to be set in a kind of mosaic pattern. “It must have cost a fortune to build a place like this.”

“Yes, but then that’s what money is for. Miss Larson. Here we are now.” He opened a door at the left of the arrow corridor, and ushered her into it. She found herself in a magnificent study room, with thick rugs on the floor, a luxurious couch, a secretary at one corner filled with books on the three uppermost shelves, a writing desk with a chair in front in which he promptly sat, gesturing to her to draw up one of the other chairs.

He opened a manila folder and took out her two letters. Just briefly, I want to refresh my self about you. Miss Larson. Hm, That’s very good. You’re just about the right age. And you say you aren’t engaged, and you only have the aunt and uncle as your living relatives. Do you see them very often?”

“I haven’t seen them since they came to my parents’ funeral, Mr. Himberton. I get a letter once in a while, but they’re getting old and they live in a little farm and they’re pretty much wrapped up in themselves.”

“I see. Well, so far that’s very good. Yes, I think I might be inclined to give you a try. Oh one thing more - you take shorthand and type, I assume?”

“Yes, sir. My shorthand isn’t too good, but I can certainly brush up on it.”

“Well, we’ll see. And now, if you please, I’d like to see your body.”

Vanessa had not been prepared for this abrupt declaration, and her eyes widened and her cheeks flamed as she stared uncomprehendingly at him for a moment.

“I don’t understand you, Mr. Himberton -”

“It’s very simple. I’d like to see you undress. Don’t be alarmed, not naked. Just your dress and whatever you have under it.”

“Mr. Himberton, I don’t understand why I should have to take off my clothes in order to get a job like this as a secretary and companion to your aunt,” Vanessa said indignantly as she rose from her chair. “I think maybe there’s been a mistake. I don’t think I want this job after all.”

“On the contrary, you’re going to want it very badly. Yes, you’re extremely satisfactory. In fact, so much so that I hereby engage you. And since you are now my employee, you will obey my first order. Undress at once!”

His eyes seemed to glitter and narrow, and his mouth curved in a mocking smile. He had risen from the desk and was leaning slightly forward, and she had the impression that he was strong and powerful, perhaps in his fifties, but still menacing.

“I won’t do any such thing! You’ve got me here under false pretences, Mr Himberton, and I don’t care for that at all. Miss Douglas said that I’d have a hundred dollars if I wasn’t satisfactory - well, I’d be very grateful if you’d give me that and see that I got back to Los Angeles. I’m sorry I wasted your time, but I’m not that sort of girl!” she exclaimed, her voice trembling with indignation and disappointment. All this time wasted, all these high hopes for a wonderful job, and now this - why, she might just as well have stayed at the lumber company and let Mr. Pearsall keep patting and pinching her and making those filthy remarks about what he’d like to do to her and what he would do for her if she’d only let him.

“Then you refuse?” he asked coldly.

“Of course I do! I’m not a striptease artist, I don’t model in the nude, and I’m not a prostitute. I just want a job, and I thought this was a decent one. Now will you please let me out of here?”

“Gladly.” His smile deepened and he considered her for a moment with steely blue eyes which felt no mercy or compassion. Then he reached below the desk to press a hidden buzzer at the edge.

Vanessa had turned and was going towards the door when suddenly it was flung open and two men in black hoods with cut-outs for the eyes and nose only, completely robed down to their ankles, entered. They wore sandals, and at first glance they looked like monks - but the sinister appearances left by these mask-like hoods made Vanessa utter a cry of horror and recoil.

“That was fast work. Numbers Three and Seven,” Himberton chuckled humourlessly. “You will begin Vanessa’s training immediately. I had just given her the order to take off her dress, slip or whatever else it is she’s wearing under it, and of course she refused. Your first duty then, will be to make her comply with that order. Take care not to spoil her, not the first time. I’ll visit her later tonight.”

“What in God’s name - what does this mean - who are those horrible men -oh God - no don’t touch me - help – oh God, what are you going to do? Stop - oh don’t, you’re hurting my wrists, help me, oh help me please, oh Mr. Himberton, what are you going to do to me?”