*****

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?”

I didn’t

Oh, God…

are you

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

early? It’s way

But, I’m

stay calm. I’m just going to

Calm…

Stay calm…

*****

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

think Elizabeth is going into

raises a hand to her mouth. “She’s not due for another… what,

Mitch, there’s no way I can leave

them you’re on your way with her. I’ll bring your car to the

*****

Michael

a cautious

stale, musty with cigarette smoke, the walls and ceiling

not to actually touch anything. “You'd think

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

so he runs the women as prostitutes, but he must be worth plenty. What's the point in being

but says nothing, simply pulling up the other seat by me, watching

quartered screen flicks between shots of what looks like an entrance lobby, then a dance floor,

moving at its

slowly, chewing on his lower lip. “Nothing from

room after another of couples, triples and more; rooms where girls ‘entertain’ their

if the clients know

of the City High and Mighty there. Good blackmail material if he ever has any problems with the

series of barred and padlocked doors. Each door

‘cells’

grunts agreement. “Yes… Finchby tends to keep them either working or

to

words, finding myself simply staring at him, leaning in,

know my past. I’m not going to spend every waking moment apologising for it. Now… shall we get

course, he’s

shifts once more…

a corner of

rises.

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