Read Online Framed by Lynda La Plante - Free Book Online
Authors: Lynda La Plante
Tags: Fiction, Media Tie-In
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moment's worry about the dogs, but then ignored it, knowing his housekeeper would take care of them. But he'd miss them, he loved his dogs. He breathed deeper, deeper, and his body felt good, strong, he clenched his buttocks, his thighs, could feel the muscles obey him, then he exhaled slowly, feeling the hard stomach muscles relaxing, contracting ... his hands remained folded on his lap, no indication that his entire body was working, moving, exercising, perfecting the control he took such pleasure in achieving.
f
Lola sobbed, and Charlotte eventually had to get tetchy with her. They had to pack and be ready and waiting, as Philip wanted; they would be on the next flight tomorrow, but Lola could not stop weeping, and eventually Charlotte wrapped her arms around her. "We'll be there for him, we'll be there . . . we have to contact his lawyer, arrange for him to be waiting in London. Lola . . . don't cry, Lola!"
Lola hiccuped and bit her lips, nodding in confirmation. They must do as Philip had instructed. She crossed to the balcony and watched the two dogs below. They wandered around the gates and then sat, their heads craning forward, looking for their master, waiting for him.
"He will be all right, won't he?" Lola whispered.
Charlotte nodded from the balcony window, from which they could see the dogs waiting patiently. "Yes, he'll come back; he's our magic man, Lola, nobody can take Philip away from us. . . ." They seemed so childlike, and in some ways they resembled the two waiting dogs, their eyes looking, pleading, to the high barred gates, willing them to open, willing the past hours to be a nightmare from which they would wake. Without their magic man the villa was deathly quiet, without him they were at a loss; they both loved him, they both needed him, he was the center of their world; he wasn't Eddie Myers, they didn't know him, had never known him, they only knew the man they worshiped, Philip Von Joel, their magician.
f
Myers was taken from the plane to a waiting patrol car, a blanket covering his head, and not until the car was moving out of the airport was the blanket removed. He was handcuffed to a uniformed officer and accompanied by one more driver and a plainclothes detective who had not said one word.
Larry, Falcon, and Co. were somewhat disappointed, as they had to settle all the paperwork at the airport and were trailing behind in a patrol car, the convoy with Myers aboard way ahead. Larry was pissed off; no one had even said one word of congratulations, it was as if they were the three stooges.
Myers remained as silent as the men seated in the car. Ahead was a patrol car, behind another, their blue lights flashing, sirens blasting as they screamed across London. It was raining, it was cold, and the streets and buildings were as gray as he remembered, if not worse. The night was gray, the people they passed were gray, the flashes of brilliantly lit billboards and advertisements gave splashes of color to the grayness. Myers's face was half in shadow, the blue lights gave his dark features an almost eerie quality. The plainclothes detective half turned around, saying quietly that as soon as they reached St. John's Row station he wanted Myers's head covered up. Myers paid no attention, and it gave the officer a moment to take a good look at him. He was unnervingly still, very composed, staring out the window of the fast-moving car.
They reached St. John's Row police station shortly after nine o'clock. A group of Special Branch officers formed a flinty-eyed escort as Myers entered the station handcuffed between two uniformed constables, his head covered with a gray blanket. Larry, DI Falcon, and DC Summers, who had traveled behind in an unmarked patrol car, unpacked their luggage from the trunk and straggled into the station, shivering, looking slightly lost.
Myers was marched to the first floor, where he was fingerprinted and photographed. People from other departments stuck their heads into the room,
f
Lola sobbed, and Charlotte eventually had to get tetchy with her. They had to pack and be ready and waiting, as Philip wanted; they would be on the next flight tomorrow, but Lola could not stop weeping, and eventually Charlotte wrapped her arms around her. "We'll be there for him, we'll be there . . . we have to contact his lawyer, arrange for him to be waiting in London. Lola . . . don't cry, Lola!"
Lola hiccuped and bit her lips, nodding in confirmation. They must do as Philip had instructed. She crossed to the balcony and watched the two dogs below. They wandered around the gates and then sat, their heads craning forward, looking for their master, waiting for him.
"He will be all right, won't he?" Lola whispered.
Charlotte nodded from the balcony window, from which they could see the dogs waiting patiently. "Yes, he'll come back; he's our magic man, Lola, nobody can take Philip away from us. . . ." They seemed so childlike, and in some ways they resembled the two waiting dogs, their eyes looking, pleading, to the high barred gates, willing them to open, willing the past hours to be a nightmare from which they would wake. Without their magic man the villa was deathly quiet, without him they were at a loss; they both loved him, they both needed him, he was the center of their world; he wasn't Eddie Myers, they didn't know him, had never known him, they only knew the man they worshiped, Philip Von Joel, their magician.
f
Myers was taken from the plane to a waiting patrol car, a blanket covering his head, and not until the car was moving out of the airport was the blanket removed. He was handcuffed to a uniformed officer and accompanied by one more driver and a plainclothes detective who had not said one word.
Larry, Falcon, and Co. were somewhat disappointed, as they had to settle all the paperwork at the airport and were trailing behind in a patrol car, the convoy with Myers aboard way ahead. Larry was pissed off; no one had even said one word of congratulations, it was as if they were the three stooges.
Myers remained as silent as the men seated in the car. Ahead was a patrol car, behind another, their blue lights flashing, sirens blasting as they screamed across London. It was raining, it was cold, and the streets and buildings were as gray as he remembered, if not worse. The night was gray, the people they passed were gray, the flashes of brilliantly lit billboards and advertisements gave splashes of color to the grayness. Myers's face was half in shadow, the blue lights gave his dark features an almost eerie quality. The plainclothes detective half turned around, saying quietly that as soon as they reached St. John's Row station he wanted Myers's head covered up. Myers paid no attention, and it gave the officer a moment to take a good look at him. He was unnervingly still, very composed, staring out the window of the fast-moving car.
They reached St. John's Row police station shortly after nine o'clock. A group of Special Branch officers formed a flinty-eyed escort as Myers entered the station handcuffed between two uniformed constables, his head covered with a gray blanket. Larry, DI Falcon, and DC Summers, who had traveled behind in an unmarked patrol car, unpacked their luggage from the trunk and straggled into the station, shivering, looking slightly lost.
Myers was marched to the first floor, where he was fingerprinted and photographed. People from other departments stuck their heads into the room,
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