CHAPTER !
Susan Flynn screamed and only one person heard her. It was
ironic that， having uttered her first weak cry naked and being
held head-down by a man， she should now， twenty-three
years later， be uttering her last cry in approximately the same
situation. Of course the cry was very much louder.
Until that night in November 1975， Susan had lived in a
ground-floor flat in a rather large rambling Victorian house
near Sale in Cheshire. An only child whose parents had been
killed in a car accident when she was seventeen， she lived
alone and worked in a small local engineering firm as a
typist-cure-clerk. She had a steady boyfriend， James， a
junior reporter on a Manchester evening paper. She was
pre:ty， although slightly dumpy， and made friends easily.
That evening she d been with James - she refused to shorten
it to Jim or Jimmy - to the pictures. James lived in
Manchester and， as it was late when the film finished， they
made their ways home independently. Susan s bus let her off
about three hundred yards from the house; and， as she
covered the distance， she failed to notice the dark figure
following her.
A healthy girl， she always slept with the window open
whatever the weather， and that night was no exception. It
was a pair of large french windows through which her
unwelcome guest entered， concealing himself behind the
curtains - waiting.
On Susan s return from the bathroom half an hour later，
she took off her bathrobe. She was in the，act of bending over
the bed， taking her nightdress from under the pillow， when
she heard a shuffling noise behind her. She had barely time
to half-turn her head and scream before her nylon tights were
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