Michael
In utter horror, I watch the monitor, the scene unfolding; Charlotte, all but helpless in her advanced pregnancy, assaulted, drugged unconscious and taken.
And on the point of going into labour…
Even in her current condition, she fights back, punching out at her assailants, landing a punch on the one with the hypodermic, screaming for help…
There’s no sound, it’s video only, but her cry is so obvious…
“Mast…”
… as she shrieks for James. And is cut short.
Her Master…
Her sworn protector…
So close… Only in the waiting area…
So far…
The back of a hand across Charlotte’s face sends her reeling, rattling her long enough for the needle to drive in. Within seconds her eyes roll closed, and she sags into the arms of her attackers.
And I was barely any further away than James… Probably strolling into the hospital as they took her. Exchanging chit-chat with him as…
Nausea billows up inside me…
It’s not real…
This can’t be real…
The two ‘porters’ bundle her onto the patient trolley and moments later, exit through the emergency door.
Babe…
What have they done to you?
Your Baby…
James’ child…
Our child. The child of our Triad…
The first…
A cold chill radiates out from my stomach, somehow turning to heat in my face.
Don’t panic…
Don’t give in to the panic…
Think straight…
I turn to the doctor. “What about the monitors outside?”
He blanches. “All we have is the short video of an ambulance driving away. We’re hoping the police can give us more from the City highway cameras.”
Richard…
Good friends with the Police Commissioner…
He’ll speed things up for us…
“James, we should contact Richard. He’ll… James?”
Beside me, James is trembling, his face scarlet. With a groan, he drops forward to the tabletop, resting his weight on white-knuckled fists. Sweat runs in long trickles down his forehead and cheeks. His breathing is laboured.
“James?”
He doesn’t reply; instead, gasping for air.
“James!”
Christ!
Is he having a heart attack?
“Doctor!”
But the medic is already moving. “Help me sit him down. Sir, breathe. You have to breathe. Long, deep breaths.” He nods me to the door. “There’s a water dispenser just outside. Get him a drink.”
In the seconds it takes me to return, James is already recovering, snarling as he brushes off the doctor. “Get off me.”
Warily, I pass him the paper cup and he gulps down the water. “Thanks.” Hard-eyed, he pins me. “That won’t happen again.”
*****
When the police arrive, it’s depressing.
“So, how long were you apart before you missed her?”
James is calm now, but grey-faced, his voice dull. “Two or three minutes, then Michael arrived. No more than five.”
The officer, a narrow-faced individual, turns to me. “And you are?”
“Michael Summerford.”
His brow creases. “Her brother?”
“Her husband.”
“Ah…” He scribbles a note then turns his attention back to James. “So you are?”
“James Alexanders.”
“And your relationship to Mrs Summerford?”
“Friend of the family.”
The officer gives him a long look. “But you were accompanying Mrs Summerford to the ante-natal clinic? When she is within days, maybe hours of going into labour?”
A voice booms over the room. “That’s enough Gavinski. I’ll take over.”
Gavinski jerks to attention as Will Stanton, the Police Commissioner, strides in, two more officers in his wake. He’s a big man, tall and beefy, which does his authority no harm at all when he chooses to exert it.
“James. Michael. I came the moment I heard.” He turns to the pair on his coattails. “You…” He jabs a finger at the first… “I want statements from everyone in this area, the adjoining departments and anywhere there are entries and exits.”
“That’s just about the whole hospital, sir.”
“So call in help. When you’re interviewing, remember the possible Haswell connection. If this is an attempt at ransom, they’ll be going for big money. Look for links. And I want this fast. Get on with it.”
“You…” The finger swings to the other coat-tailer… “Every byte and inch of security footage you can find. The hospital itself, the grounds outside and all the immediate streets. Hard drives, files, tapes… Anything.”
He returns his attention to us. “I don’t know what to say, except that I’m giving this every man I can spare…” He pauses, eyes narrowing. “James, are you quite well?
James could have aged ten years in the last thirty minutes. “In truth, no. But it’s not important. What are your plans?”
Stanton stares at the ceiling, sucking his teeth. “I’m making a working assumption that Lawrence Klempner is behind this. We already have the word out on all the ports and airports, and we’re circulating a description…”
James is taking slow deliberate breaths. “Is there any idea of his whereabouts?”
“None. After…” Will’s eyes slide to mine… “After the events ending with Ben’s death, he simply disappeared. Along with anyone else we’re aware of connected with him. The driver of that stolen car. They all vanished like Irish mist. Whatever else you say about Klempner, he’s a pro.”
He lets out air. “Of course, the other possibility is that, whoever is responsible, they took the wrong pregnant redhead. Beth Haswell is so obvious a ransom target that I think we always have to assume that any attack on Charlotte could have been intended for her.”
“What can we do to help?” I ask.
He speaks briskly. His professionalism is reassuring, settling. “I can send you copies of the security videos as I receive them. The more eyes we have going over this, the better. And the two of you may perhaps pick up details we wouldn’t… familiar faces perhaps. Odd behaviour. That okay by you?”
James pulls a card from his wallet. “That’s my e-mail address. There’s a cloud storage service too. Get the data to me ASAP and we’ll start.”
“I’ll do that.” Stanton hesitates, seeming not to know what to say. He settles for, “I have work to do. I’ll be in touch as soon as I have something for you.” And he leaves, taking his officers with him.
“My car’s at the back of the hospital, says James. “I’ll meet you at home.” He’s holding keys; car keys, house keys, office keys. The bunch trembles in his hand.
“James, I don’t think you’re fit to drive.”
“I can’t just abandon my car.”
“So, we’ll ask Ross to pick it up.” His breath is still shaky. “James, this wasn’t your fault.”
“I’m her Dom. It’s my place to protect her. My duty… Oh, God…” His voice cracks. Closing his eyes, he pinches the bridge of his nose… “The expression on her face when she was screaming for me…”
I try to ignore the churning inside. “It still wasn’t your fault. There was no reason to expect any problem more dramatic than Charlotte breaking her waters in the waiting room. Get past it, James. We need to deal with this.”
“I know…” But his eyes are still squeezed closed… “… but…”
“But, what?”
“We have to tell Mitch.”
Oh, God…
*****