*****

Richard

My mobile rings. I snatch it up. “Yes, Ross?”

“I've lost contact with James. They've made him leave the phone behind when they sent him on the next leg…”

Fuck…

How do we help him now?

“… And the earpiece. And…” Ross’ voice is shaky… “Richard... They… the kidnappers I mean… they spoke to me via the connection. I recorded it all. I'm playing it back to you.”

Klempner. You know who this is.

Just like you to let this tired old bastard run the gauntlet. But that's just you all over isn't it. Letting someone else take the heat.

We'll have the money very shortly. And believe me, it had better be all the money in that bag. But the deal’s not sealed until we have you too. Until then, that darling daughter of yours is going nowhere.

The voice snaps off. There’s a moment’s hiss then Ross speaks again. “Richard, what do you want me to do? Should I call the police?”

“No… don’t do that. If they think the police are involved, they’ll almost certainly murder Charlotte… and her baby… before Michael and Klempner can get to her.”

“What then?”

What indeed?

Should I go?

Leave Mitch to look after Elizabeth?

*****

How do I tell her this?

Wearily, I climb the stairs to find my sleeping wife.

But she’s not sleeping. “Elizabeth… There’s been a development. Ross has…” I stop, mid-sentence. “Elizabeth?”

From the pillow, she stares up at me, wide-eyed. “I’m sorry, Master…”

“Sorry? Elizabeth, what’s wrong?”

shaky… Then, “They’re still about fifteen minutes apart. I didn’t

Oh, God…

are you going

so, Master. It’s too early I know, but I think

early? It’s way too

Master. But, I’m pretty

I’m just

Calm…

Stay calm…

*****

a flask. “Hot coffee,” she says. “And I’ve packed sandwiches for you and…” Her voice trails off

Elizabeth is

“She’s not due for another…

no

way with her. I’ll bring your

*****

Michael

Baxter exit, and after a cautious

stale, musty with cigarette smoke, the walls and ceiling perhaps once white but now yellowed and

chair recently occupied by Finchby, trying hard not to actually touch anything.

employed differently,” mutters Klempner. But he regards the hovel of

the laptop closer. “Okay, so he runs the women as prostitutes, but he

by me, watching the screen with half

what looks like an entrance lobby, then a dance floor, various corridors... Each

is unresponsive, moving at its own pace. “He’s got plenty of

lower lip. “Nothing from the

shift to one room after another of couples, triples and more;

if the clients know they're on camera?” I

and Mighty there. Good blackmail material if

of barred and padlocked doors. Each door has a small

doors say ‘cells’ to me,” I

to keep them either working or

to supply

simply staring at him, leaning in, intent

a moment Klempner realises I’m watching him. He doesn’t turn from the screen. “Michael, you know my past. I’m not going to spend every waking moment apologising for it.

of course, he’s

shifts once

corner of the screen, it’s

rises. “Oh,

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