Michael Christ!
Trying to ignore the pounding under my ribs, I tap off my phone, hastily dropping it into my lap and slapping both hands on the wheel as I pass a police car.
At least he knowsâ¦
James can look after himself, at least for a while.
Charlotteâ¦
How far away am I?
At least an hourâ¦
Shit!
Iâm trying to get my foot down on the pedal but Iâm moving through traffic.
The blue light drops away behind me and I fumble for my phone again, trying to tap in Charlotteâs number.
A horn blares and I swerve. The pounding in my chest turns to a bang and my fingertips tingle.
And before I can try again, the screen flashes and Benâs ringtone plays.
Thatâs all I needâ¦
Fumbling, I tap to connect. âBen, whatever it is, I canât.â
His voice is surly. âI called to talk to you but itâs too much trouble is it?â
âBen, gimme a break. Iâve got an emergency on my hands. This isnât the time.â
âWhat?â His voice perks, the tone changing completely. âWhat emergency? Whatâs wrong, Bro?â
âKlempnerâs out.â
âKlempner? The maniac from Blessingmoors?â
âYes, him. And the timingâs too much of a coincidence. Heâs got to be after Charlotte and her mother.
Sheâs not answering her phone. They donât know. Iâm trying to get to them, but Iâm caught in traffic.â
âMike, where are you? And where are they?â
âIn the city center somewhere. Went shopping. Iâm an hour away. My meeting ran lateâ¦â
âWhoa! Slow down. Stop panicking. Iâm in town myself. Iâll go find them. Where in the centre? Dâyou know where they were headed?â
âJames says they were going to Francescaâs. You know⦠the tearooms.â
âOn my way. Iâm on my way. Iâll call you back.â
âThanks, Ben. I owe you one.â
âNo, you donât, Bro. Iâll always look out for you. You know that.â
He rings off.
Foot hard down, ignoring the horns blaring at me as I squeal through traffic, dodging from one lane to the next, then back again, I race to find my Charlotte.
*****
James Down⦠Along the corridor to the end room⦠My playroom.
My mouth quirks as I consider the likely reaction of strangers entering here: racks, restraints, a spanking horse, the four-poster at the end⦠Not a place one brags about in public, for all the pleasure I have had there with my friend and my Jade-Eyes.
But this room holds another secret.
Making my way to a rack affixed to the stone wall, I press at what is apparently a knot in the timber.
With a quiet click, the rack swings and opens to reveal the entrance beyond.
Iâd always hoped we would never need to use it, but right now, Michaelâs tunnel represents my only hope of safety. Stepping inside, I pull the door quietly closed behind me and breatheâ¦
I have time now. No-one will find this entrance without a very careful search, and even then would probably need to know what they were looking for. And no-one does.
The only person outside our Triad who knows of its existence is Richard. I told him because there was always a small chance that if Klempner arose again to make trouble, Beth might somehow become entangled. And Richard is utterly trustworthy. If any person feels anything like the love and affection that Michael and I do for Charlotte, it is Richard. He would never betray her secret.
Part of me wants to panic; to run in stupid circles shouting that the sky is falling. But Michael is right.
The best thing I can do right now for Charlotte is to get myself to safety. We can take it from there.
I make my way along the passage, ducking here and there where the roof dips. Wires trail where Michael had started on installing lighting, but not yet completed the work. No matter. I light my way with my mobile, first passing through the stonework of the house foundations, then through earthen walls shored up with timbers.
The sound of banging reverberates down. I pause, looking upward towards the source of the sound.
Forcing entry?
The shriek of splintered wood and metal screams through, followed by a crash. A fine trickle of dust filters from the roof timbers and hastily I lower my face before I get an eyeful.
Theyâre inâ¦
I keep moving.
The passage widens a little at one point to make space for a stack of sealed plastic crates. Despite the emergency, I smile to myself.
âPeering at the labels on the crates⦠Charlotte.â⦠âMichael.â⦠I pick another one: âJames.â
Rummaging inside I find walking boots, thick socks, outdoor clothing, and lightweight waterproofsâ¦
Of course, a man who once escaped gunmen by running naked into the snow would think of these thingsâ¦
Quickly I change into the boots and socks and pull on a heavy woolen sweater. Itâs cool outside, but not freezing or raining, so I stash the waterproof jacket and trousers into a rucksack hanging from a nail.
What else?
I check the remaining crates. Five minutes later my rucksack contains a bottle of water, several self-
heating food packs, a laminated map of the area, a compass, a high-powered LED torch, and a wind-
up phone charger.
Time to goâ¦
Shrugging on the rucksack, I head for the exitâ¦
A short ladder leans against the end of the tunnel. I climb it, lift the hatch a littleâ¦
⦠and pause⦠listeningâ¦
I canât hear anything, but I am some distance from the house. Carefully, I ease the hatch fully open. I canât be seen here. The exit sits amid a scrambling mass of brambles, briars, and nettles, carefully nourished and encouraged by Michael.
Night is falling fast. Very soon it will be completely dark.
Chewing a lip I descend the ladder again, heading back to the supply stash to look for what I think will probably be thereâ¦
And it isâ¦
Hanging from another nail, three pairs of walking polesâ¦
No point risking a twisted ankleâ¦
He thought of everythingâ¦
Returning to the exit, I climb up and out, then maneuver my way through the thicket of thorns, spikes and brambles so carefully nurtured by Michael, until it opens into a woodland clearing. From here I have only to make my way to the walkerâs shelter on the trail and I can safely contact Michael againâ¦
Has he found them?
My gut contracts at the thoughtâ¦
Clear your headâ¦
Walkâ¦
Looking back, the house windows are brightly lit, the shutters raisedâ¦
Figures move, back-lit.
How many does he have in there?
My thoughts are ram-raided by sudden chaos from a different direction, the hotel. Through the trees fromâ¦
⦠from where�
â¦. from the kitchens⦠comes a gush of flame. Smoke billows, lit to an unearthly orange shade by the flames. Alarms sound and people stream out. A voice I recognise, Chad's, shouts out, echoing over the emptiness of the night.
âLadies and gentlemen. Please assemble in the designated safety areas. As soon as we have you all accounted for, we are arranging transport to alternative accommodationâ¦â
I watch for a few seconds, then as I see the red glow reflecting from my hands, realise that I could be seen.
Ducking back into cover, I find my bearings using the marks carved into the bark of nearby trees;
another idea of Michaelâs to guide escapees to the shelter in the dark. The walk itself is easy enough.
Placing my feet carefully, and with the walking poles to help, I donât stumble.
Beyond the range of Michaelâs marked tree-trunks, I lose my direction slightly. But itâs not a problem. All I have to do is head uphill and Iâll hit the trail. From there itâs a simple hike to the shelterâ¦
Michael did this nakedâ¦
In the snowâ¦
Gunmen right behind himâ¦
I stand for a moment, inhaling clear cool air. Whatever is happening behind me, I am safe.
Safe enough to worry.
Safe enough to gnaw at the thoughtâ¦
How did Klempner know about Mitch?
Who leaked?
Whoâs the spy?
The trail is wide and clear. Almost strolling now, I see the shelter ahead of me, outlined in black and silver by the rising moon. I step up my pace.
It's solidly built in stone, with a tiled roof and a hearth for any that need it. Not that Iâll be lighting fires.
But the prospect of being able to sit, breathe, use my phone, perhaps eat a littleâ¦
It feels good.
Jadeâ¦
Where are you?
Donât dwell on itâ¦
I lift the latch, push and step insideâ¦
⦠something presses to my temple. âDonât move.â
âWhat..?â I start to turn, but the something; cold, metallic, nudges at me. âI said, donât move.â
âWho the fuck areâ¦?â But my words are cut short. Abruptly, the shelter is flooded with light.
âIs that any way to speak to your father-in-law?â A figure sits on a bench, hands clasped behind his head, ankle crossed over knee. âGood to see you, James,â says Klempner. âDo sit down.â
*****
The Story Continues In âHer Enemyâs Promiseâ