Chapter 15: Chapter 15

James Michael is showing the strain, constantly pacing Richard’s office. I’m about to ask him to stop doing it, but pull myself up short as I realise I’m doing the same myself.

We’ve not heard from Charlotte now for two days.

Beth has shadows under her eyes. Richard has sent her upstairs, supposedly to sleep. But I’m not sure if she will.

And Richard himself…. He looks almost haunted. Perhaps someone who didn’t know him well wouldn’t spot it, as he puts up a show of going about his daily work, but every so often, I catch him staring into the distance.

Francis too, I see watching him constantly, if surreptitiously. Then too, I see her eyes following Michael as he stalks back and forth.

“You’ve not heard from her again?” Anxiety lies layered within Richard’s words.

Michael snarls. “You think we wouldn’t have told you if we had?”

Abruptly the air rattles with the clanging of alarms. Richard sits back in his seat. Michael ducks his head as though dodging the wall of sound. Outside, a siren blares.

“What the hell?” mutters Richard. “Francis,” he yells through the door. “Is there a fire drill going on they’ve not told me about?”

Through the internal window, I see her brows crease as she taps into her desk phone. “No, not today, Mr Haswell. I’m just calling Security now.…” She nods, the receiver pressed to her ear. “They’re reporting some kind of disturbance in the basement levels….”

Red-faced, his patience short, “Well, get them to shut off that racket!”

As the alarms die away, he turns back to me. “Um, what were we talking about? Oh, yes, how Charlotte is returning. So, she’s not told you any details at all? Just a couple of one-line messages to say she’s alright and still on her way?”

“All we know…” I say, “… is that she wanted a top-end smartphone and flashlights.…”

“She planned to travel in the dark?”

It seems reasonable, doesn’t it….

…. all those underground plans of the City she compiled….

“Er….” It’s Francis, her head popped around the door, eyes dancing, wiping tears of laughter away. “….

you’d better all get down to the parking level. You’re wanted there….”

Underground….

The three of us move as one, heading for the elevator.

*****

The journey down seems interminable. A part of me is singing, another part anxious….

How is she?

Is she hurt?

Richard repeatedly laces and unlaces his fingers. Michael looks grim.

What’s wrong with him?

Surely he must be pleased?

The doors swish open to the gloom of a basement parking lot and the smell of drains. One of the maintenance engineers is jimmying up a manhole cover with a crowbar.

He nods politely to me and Richard. “Not had to go down here for years,” he comments as, with a heave and a puff, the cover rolls to one side, settling with a clang.

His grin is broad as he extends a hand down. “Come on, Love. Y’know, there’s a reason they call these manholes. Usually, women aren’t interested in wading through three feet of shite.”

A hand rises from the depths to meet his. He takes the hand and heaves, hauling up an arm, followed by Charlotte on the end of it.

She’s filthy, encrusted in mud….

Mud????

…. Perhaps it’s mud….

Her hair, normally so beautiful, straggles down her body in grey-green snakes which cling and crawl.

Every part of her skin and clothing is coated in God-knows-what….

Head hanging, shoulders bowed and breathing heavily, she turns her hands over and over, looking at herself. “Oh…. that was fuckin’ awful,” she pants at the plumber as, standing back at a safe distance, he nods sage agreement.

Then her gaze swings and she sees me, Michael and Richard.

It’s hard to make out her expression through the caked-on muck covering her face, but as her gaze meets mine, I think there’s worry there.

But through the filth, a pair of emerald eyes shine bright and clear….

“Um, hi, Guys. Sorry it took a while. The plans I had didn’t quite match the reality down there, and I had to make some diversions. Got lost for a bit. Er…. I know you’re going to bawl me out, but can I have a bath first? I had to come through the sewers part of the way, and there were places I had to wade….”

She came through the sewers to get back to us….

…. to me….

And I have never seen anything so beautiful as the sight of my dripping filthy Jade-Eyes. Arms held out, I stride over and her face lights up, a white-toothed grin bright under the caked muck. But she backs off just a trifle. “For God’s sake, don’t try to touch me….” She hesitates.” Beth’s okay? Yes?”

Richard’s reply is warm. “Elizabeth’s fine. Thank you, Charlotte.”

I don’t try to touch her, but, “Come on. Let’s get you into the shower and some clean clothes.”

She nods happily, but the sunshine fades as she looks to Michael. He’s smiling but the smile is strained, cracking at the corners.

What the fuck’s wrong with you?

We got her back….

That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?

The ride back up in the elevator is fragrant to say the least. Charlotte retreats into a corner, vainly trying to catch the drips from her clothes. A small, but feculent pool gathers at her feet, and she looks apologetically at Richard, who simply sucks in a smile and taps on his phone. “Francis, get some cleaners to follow our trail would you….” Then he smiles at her, his eyes warm.

“I’ll catch up with you in a while,” he says as he exits the elevator. “I’m going to go give Elizabeth the good news.”

Alone with me and Michael in the lift, she looks anywhere but at us, and as the door sweeps open to the apartment, she marches straight to the bathroom, shedding her clothes in a stinking heap just outside the door. As she strips off, even naked, it’s difficult to see, under the filth, her condition.

Michael gathers up the discarded garments with distaste, shovelling them into a trash bag, tying it tight, then dropping the lot down the chute. “The sooner we’re rid of those, the better.”

The sound of hissing water and splashing in the background, we talk quietly as we wait. Michael’s not happy, I can see that.

Certainly not as happy as he should be….

“What’s our line?” I say. “How mad at her are we?”

He hovers before he replies, then, “Hugs first. Mad later….” The sound of running water continues.

“Mmmm…. I’m just going to take a look at her, now the worst of the dirt should be off. See what state she’s in.”

He pushes open the door, looking inside, then I see him inhale, curse under his breath and stride through.

What the hell?

He’s saying something to her. I can’t pick out the words, but as I enter the bathroom myself, he’s stepped into the shower fully clothed, and is holding her, almost enfolding her with his body.

She’s sobbing into his chest. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Shhh…. It’s alright. You’re safe now. And so’s Beth.”

And as he spots me there, standing in the doorway, he eye-points down her body. She’s a mass of cuts, bruises and welts.

Jeez….

Where the muck has washed clear of her, her pale skin is marked in livid purple and blue. Older injuries fade through black, red and yellow in places. An angry gash on one thigh is seeping pink fluid into the shower stream and in a couple of places, the flesh is swollen and red.

Whoever did this to you….

“I’ll get a medic here,” I say, dashing back for my phone and leaving Michael comforting the weeping Charlotte.

My call is answered almost immediately. “James!” exclaims Francis’ happy voice. “Congratulations.

We’re all so….”

“Francis, can you get a doctor here and quickly, please. And can you request a woman.”

Her voice snaps to business mode. “Of course, James. If you hold the line for one moment….” Her voice turns remote. “Surgery? Is Doctor Lisowski down there? Yes, get her up to the Penthouse apartment. Yes, right now….” There’s a pause, then, “She’s on her way, James.”

Back in the bathroom, Michael is still holding her. “I’m a bit wet. Here, you take her. Get her into bed.”

As he strips off his sopping clothes, I scoop her up into a large towel, then carry her through to the bedroom. She rests, quite passive in my arms as I murmur quiet nonsense to her until she calms, all the while scanning what I can see of her, trying to decide what has happened to my Jade….

Michael, once more in dry clothes, pokes his head around the door, eyes questioning. She’s drifted into sleep, so I lie her back, tugging warm blankets over her.

The bedroom door standing a little open, we talk together in the lounge.

“What do you think?” I ask. “Just beaten? Or raped too?”

Michael rubs at his forehead. “Raped too, I think. When I went in there, she tried to cover herself.”

Oh, Christ…