Chapter 102: The Girl Who Was Hunted - Chapter Eighteen


    CHARLOTTE


    Richard’s whole manner screams of tension.


    Francis taps keys. “I’m already on it, Richard.” peering at herptop screen. “Her phone is showing up


    as being in Berkeley Street.”


    Richard? She always calls him ‘Mr Haswell’.


    “Is that where you and she were shopping?” he asks me.


    “Just around the corner, yes.”


    “Francis, give the exact location to Ross.” and back to his phone. “Ross, did you catch all that? Yes, go


    and find her.” Brow furrowed, he is pale.


    “Richard, what’s wrong?” asks my Master.


    “Elizabeth was kidnapped once. Ever since then, I’ve always kept an eye on more or less where she


    is…. Part of Ross’ job description is to be, essentially, her bodyguard. Charlotte, did anything odd


    happen while you were out with her?”


    “Um, not odd exactly. There were men looking at her, but they were looking at all the women. I thought


    they were just…. well, looking at women.”


    “Did you say anything to Elizabeth about it?”


    “Er, no.” I gulp, hanging my head. “I should have, shouldn’t I?”


    Richard looks at me over his sses. “You weren’t to know, but for future reference Charlotte, be


    suspicious. Ites naturally to you anyway, and it’s a skill you should hone, not damp down.”


    “Why was Beth abducted before?” asks my Master. “For ransom?”


    “On that asion, no. It was someone with a grudge against me, but ransom is always a possibility of


    course.”


    “How did you get her back?”


    “Tracked her phone.…”


    Richard paces up and down. In less than five minutes, his mobile rings again. “Yes? No…. Oh, God!


    Yes, have a look around for anything else, thene back here to the office Ross, if you would.”


    He switches off his phone, looking sick. “Elizabeth’s phone was in a refuse bin on Berkeley Street,


    along with her bag.”


    For a moment he almost sags, looking reduced. Then, swiping hands through his hair, he stands up


    straight again. “Francis, call Will Stanton would you. Report Elizabeth as missing.”


    My Master is shaking his head, unbelieving. “Richard, is there anything we can do?”


    “Charlotte, these men you saw, ‘looking at women’. Do you think you could identify them?”


    “Um, I wasn’t really looking at them, but I can try.”


    “You weren’t looking?”


    Feeling very awkward now, “When some guy you’re not interested in, tries to eye you up, you look the


    other way.…”


    The office phone rings, Francis answering. “Richard, it’s Will for you.”


    He takes the phone. “Hello, Will. Yes, yes that’s right. Within thest two hours. Yes, she was with


    friends, Charlotte actually, out shopping. Charlotte’se back, but Elizabeth didn’t get to her


    rendezvous with Ross…… Yes, that’s right. Charlotte’s here. She thinks she saw men looking while


    they were out, and that she might recognise the faces. Yes…. I’m sure she would look through the


    photos if you can bring them here….” He nces over at me, and I nod vigorously. “Yes, thanks. I’ll be


    here at the office.”


    He passes the phone back to Francis and sits back on the desk edge, head back, breathing deeply


    with his eyes closed. My Master and I stand helplessly by. Then Richard stands again, pulling himself


    straight. “Sorry about that,” he says. “I’m no good to her if I panic.”


    “What would you like me to do?” I ask.


    “Will’s sending an officer over with photos of known suspects for ransom, abduction and simr. If you


    could take the time to look through them….”


    “Yes, of course.”


    “Shall I send out for something to eat?” asks Francis.


    “Yes please, Francis. It could be a long night.”


    “I’ll let Michael know what’s happening.” says my Master. “Don’t want him panicking too.”


    Within fifteen minutes, I am sitting in the conference room, once more, scanning faces. This is


    bing a habit.


    An hourter I am still there, my Master sitting across from me, asionally sipping coffee and ….


    I freeze over a face. The police officer says, “Recognise him?”


    The face is older, more lined, the hair receding and greyer, but…


    Text content ? N?velDrama.Org.


    “Yes, but not from today.”


    “Then where?”


    “This man was at Blessingmoors. He was one of the staff there when I was a kid.”


    The officer checks the reference and taps it into hisptop. “He’s an identified trafficker. And he’s also


    known to be in this area now. We’ve been keeping an eye on him, but could never pin a conviction on


    him….” He taps more keys.


    “…. he has a number of known associates…” He keeps tapping.


    Both Richard and my Master are bending behind over me, watching over my shoulder. The officer


    swings hisptop to me. “Could you look through those, please. See if any of them look familiar.”


    I click through half a dozen faces, then….” That’s one of them. One of the men I saw today.”


    My Master straightens up. “Fuck!”


    Richard drops a hand on my shoulder. “Charlotte, I’m sorry. It looks as though they took Elizabeth by


    mistake. They were after you. They abducted the wrong woman.”


    He turns to Michael. “Get her out of here, out of the City. Take her back to your mountain ce. No-


    one’s going to fall across that by ident. She should be safe there.”


    “Hang on.” I protest. “I don’t want to hide away. I should be helping here. And Beth’s my friend too.”


    My Master swings a long finger in my direction. “Go with Michael. We have things to do here, and I’ll


    work better when I’m not worrying about what’s happening to you. If you’re with Michael, I know you’re


    safe.”


    “I’m not some kid to be packed off to bed. And I looked after myself quite nicely long before I ever met


    you.”


    “Charlotte. I’m not arguing. You’re going. Michael….”


    Michael takes me by the wrist, pulling me towards him. “Are you going toe without arguing? Or do


    I have to sling you over my shoulder and carry you out? Believe me, in this case, I will.”


    There is no way I can physically resist Michael. What choice do I have?


    Reluctantly, I gather my dignity and leave with him. But I don’t have to like it. As we drive up the steep


    mountain road, narrow and bending, I stare out of the passenger window, unspeaking.


    “Are you going to keep that up all day?” he asks. “There’s no point sulking at me just because you don’t


    like the realities.


    “And how would you feel in my situation?”


    “It hardly matters. I’m not in your situation. He rubs my thigh with his non-driving hand. “Come on. I


    know you’re not happy about it, but James really will cope better without you there. So will Richard. So,


    why don’t you make the best of a bad job and at least try to cheer up?”


    He’s right of course. And I shouldn’t take it out on him….


    I paint on a smile and turn it on Michael, full power, total dazzle.


    He grins. “That’s my girl…. Hey, how do you feel about picking out a Christmas tree from the woods at


    the back? We can at least get the ce looking good.”


    “Great idea.”


    *****


    Several hourster, our kitchen/lounge/living space smells pleasantly of pine and resin. The chosen


    tree did not put up much resistance in the face of Michael’s axe, and now it has sumbed to my


    efforts to trim it up for Christmas.


    We have no real decorations, and Michael refuses point nk to even consider going to buy any, so I


    have trawled through old cupboards, draws and hidey-holes in the hotel to see if I could find anything


    that would pass for Christmas decor. The result is odd, but colourful, as Michael, suddenly revealing a


    talent for origami, has shown me how to make stars and birds by folding paper. Using brightly coloured


    pages from old magazines has produced stars and birds the like of which nature never saw, but on our


    tree, they look great.


    “No candles,” he says. After all the work I’ve put in here, I don’t want to identally set light to the


    ce now.”


    *****


    MICHAEL


    Sitting by the kitchen range that evening, its heat warding off the bitter cold of the December night, I


    watch Charlotte, happily making more paper birds, like some little girl at school.


    “Why are you looking at me like that?”


    “Like what?”


    “As though you’re trying to work something out…”


    “Perhaps because I am trying to work something out.”


    She says nothing, simply gives me a questioning look, but her ‘pretty and innocent’ mask fades to her


    ‘feral’ face; that expression that says, this is who she is, and to hell with anyone who doesn’t like it.


    And James thinks she’s a sub….


    “I’m trying to join the dots…. make sense of you.”


    Now she looks surprised. “Me?”


    “Yes, you.”


    “I don’t follow.” Suddenly, she looks worried. “You’re not annoyed with me about something, are you?”


    In my driest voice, “No more than usual.”


    She grins. “What then?”


    “It’s hard to put into words. I saw you, earlier, back in the offices, facing off me, James and Richard,


    over something you feel strongly about….” I point a finger at her…. “And by the way, I’m not fooled by


    your apparent surrender.…”