All in the Faculty

Chapter 10: 'Till Death

"Turn left," bleated Tom's GPS.

Tom and Alison exited the city and began their journey through the countryside in Tom's Honda Civic. They'd managed to get this far following the spotty directions of a handheld GPS, but after a good 25 minutes driving down the same stretch of bumpy pavement, neither had spotted any evidence of human life. Among the vibrant green trees and lush foliage there appeared to be little more than rolling hills and agricultural land. Above, the November sky was grey. A ceaseless wind battered the thick clouds, beating them like whipping cream.

Alison was twirling a brown curl around her index finger. A pregnant pause had fallen in between their getting-know-you chit-chat.

"Do you think we missed our turn?" asked Alison.

Tom made a grab for the wedding invitation, which was nestled between the cup holders. He held it up next to windshield and read out the address.

"24 Lacuna Drive. The 'Lancaster Estate'. Sounds posh, doesn't it?"

"So it's being held at the bride's family estate? That explains why it would be so far out in the middle of nowhere, then… and the map says we're on the right track..."

Tom's phone erupted into ringing, prompting him to abandon the invitation and retrieve the phone from his pocket. Setting it to speaker phone, he answered,

"Alex?"

"Tommyboy!" Alex's voice boomed. "Where are you?"

"On our way," he replied. "Are you there already? What's it like?"

Alex broke out into cackling. "Oh, you'll see! When you turn onto Lacuna make sure to drive to the very end. You'll hit a bit of a fork in the road; stay on the left. See you soon!"

After Alex hung up, Alison pointed to the phone and asked,

"How does your teaching assistant know your brother, anyway?"

The question, while perfectly valid, caught Tom completely off-guard. He scrambled to come up with an answer on the spot. "Oh, uh, total coincidence actually. The two of them met each other traveling. I don't really know the specifics; that'd be a good thing to ask Alex."

"The two of you seem to get along well," she mused, smoothing out the creases of her pink chiffon dress. "He's certainly lively for a teacher of nine years."

Tom frowned. The statement was innocent enough, but toneless almost to a fault. It sounded like she didn't believe his claim. After deciding two lies in a row was perhaps a bit much for a first date, Tom cleared his throat and mumbled,

"Ah, yes. I don't really think it's true, to be honest…"

She peered across at him. "Hm?"

"That he's been a teacher for nine years, I mean."

"Oh," she said. Tom squinted at the road unfolding before them. Well. Now it kind of sounded like she had believed it.

"You think he lied to Theodore?" she asked.

Theodore. Hearing the head teacher's full name irked him. "Well, I think he may have exaggerated a little bit, that's all. You know how it is right now with the teacher shortage; there's a lot of demand for senior staff, but not a lot of supply."

"But if he's less experienced than he says he is, wouldn't he want to try and get his own class like you?" she inquired with a frown.

Tom scratched the back of his hand where it rested on top of the steering well.

"Gee. You'd think so. Perhaps the pay is better this way? Another thing to ask him, I suppose…" said Tom, knowing full well Alison had no plans to confront Alex with her questions. He felt like a bit of an idiot for revealing so much already.

A sign emerged on the side of the road, white lettering peeking out from the underbrush: Lacuna Drive. Turning in towards it, they followed Alex's directions until a large black wrought-iron gate came into sight. A single white balloon was tied to the left corner. The gate opened automatically when they approached, and the driveway continued like the meandering trail of a slug. They passed frost-bitten gardens and naked oaks shedding their summer skins. Orange and brown leaves floated down past them in a pleasant range of ambers and golds.

Finally coming to the end of the excessively long driveway, Harriett's family estate loomed into being. The towering mansion was more extravagant than anything Tom had ever set foot in. His jaw dropped upon site.

"Oh, my god," he said. "My brother is marrying that?"

Alison was also taking in the mansion. "Actually, I believe your brother is marrying the bride."

Tom laughed, successfully managing to turn the comment into a joke. Internally he was still gawking. Harriett wasn't just a well-traveled horse trainer. She was an heiress, in full definition of the word.

"Four years they've been dating," Tom explained to Alison, "and it never came up that she was filthy rich."

"That does seem a little odd," said Alison as they pulled up into the roundabout. The valet, a well-dressed young man in a suit, smiled after they cut the engine. He collected the keys from Tom and the two of them were off.

Closer up it became even easier to marvel at the brilliant Victorian architecture. It could've passed for a castle, with red and green vines encompassing a good half of its surface area, and likely held servants in separate quarters throughout the twentieth century. Perhaps it still did.

After their names were taken, Tom and Alison were ushered down a mahogany-paneled hallway and into the large room where the reception was being held. Tom wasn't sure what to call the space – ballroom? Parlor? Whatever its ordinary purpose was, it served as an exquisite setting. The floor was made up of an endless amount of elaborately-designed tiles, and there were more windows than walls. Two geometrical glass domes formed the roof 30 ft above them, and two matching chandeliers came down from the center of each. Below, round tables had been set out with white table cloths, and a few benches framed the edges of the room. At least a hundred people had arrived before them, which made finding Alex a more complex task than Tom had originally accounted for.

Alison tugged at Tom's cufflinks, drawing his attention to where she was facing.

"Open bar!" she said with a giggle, gently pulling him in its direction.

"I want to find Alex," said Tom, scanning the room for the familiar blond mop. More than anything he wanted to keep an eye on his friend and ensure that Alex wouldn't be pulling any stunts to embarrass Jerry in his new palace. After the monarchy projects incident, Tom wasn't taking any chances.

"I think it's a safe bet to look by the bar," Alison replied as they combed their way through the crowd. Tom nodded and allowed his body to be towed behind hers. Lo and behold, Alex came into sight just as they reached the edge of the buffet table. He was standing near one of the windows, talking to a group of balding white men and their aging, elegantly-dressed wives. Next to him, Jane Beatrix looked exceedingly bored. Her dark hair was partially pulled back and teased at the top; combined with her beaded black dress, her appearance was formal yet somehow wedding-defiant. Tom got the feeling that she would've fit in more at some kind of award ceremony, or the opening night of an esteemed film festival.

Jane spotted them before Alex did. Briefly brushing her fingers over his arm, she broke away from the group without interrupting the conversation. Alex's eyes flickered onto her back as she moved away from him, and stayed there for as long as he could politely get away with before returning to the people in front of him. The crowd shifted, obscuring him from view.

"I am so happy to see you two," Jane said, taking a long swig of her champagne. "Oh! Neither of you have glasses yet. Come on; you're going to need them."

"I get the feeling," Tom responded, following her in the direction of the bar. A good third of the crowd was over the age of fifty. Jerry and Harriett's wedding was panning out to be a social gathering of the London elite. The idea passed through Tom's head that he may well be the poorest person in the room. Best not speculate that one out loud, he thought, glancing over at his date.

"You look lovely," Alison said to Jane.

"And you!" she returned. "I had no idea you and Tom were seeing each other."

"Oh, well, we're not," she said. Her light skin took on an obvious pink tint; the reaction was almost schoolgirlish. After Alison excused herself to find the washroom, Tom and Jane were left alone with one another. While they were both filled with questions, neither one quite knew how to begin the conversation.

"So, um," Tom started, refusing to let the opportunity pass, "would you be willing to tell me what Alex said to you to get you here? I'm really curious."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you don't actually like him, do you?"

The sentence sounded clunky as soon as it was out of his mouth, but in his haste to get answers before Alison returned, he'd lost the ability to properly think through what he was saying. Luckily Jane was either graciously forgiving, or even she realized how strange it must've looked for her to have agreed to accompany Alex to a wedding.

"I don't entirely dislike him," she defended.

"People don't normally agree to go to weddings with people they 'don't entirely dislike'," said Tom.

Jane placed a hand loosely on her hip and swished her champagne around in its glass. "I suppose that's a good point."

Both of them lifted their glasses to their mouths at the same time. Jane paused, licking her lips.

"We've agreed to help each other."

Jane had her eyes trained on the entrance where people continued to flow in. After a few moments, she sighed and looked back at him. "Let's do an information trade."

Tom found himself intensively relieved by her direct approach. "Okay. What do you want to know?"

"Alex hasn't really been a teacher for nine years, has he?"

"Um. No."

"And you two knew each other before he came in to assist you with teaching?"

"What? Wait – that's two questions. You have to tell me what Alex promised you."

She rolled her eyes. "He agreed to keep an eye on Bridget Flowers. Look out for her, that kind of thing."

"Bridget Flowers?" Tom repeated. "What do you care about Bridget Flowers?"

She shot him an irritated look. "You don't care about any of your students?"

Liam's face flashed across his mind's eye. "Of course I do. But I have my reasons. What's so special about Bridget Flowers?"

"That's two questions."

Dammit. Tom took another swig of his drink. "Alex and I do know each other. We met… a long time ago."

She narrowed her eyes. "I knew it. He's not a teacher; he's your friend."

"No, he's a teacher," said Tom. "He – he teaches. He lied about his experience, but he's not new to teaching. Now back to Bridget."

"She's special. Smart; focused. She doesn't have it easy at home. In some ways she reminds me of myself. And she's targeted for being different. That's it."

"She is special," Tom agreed. "When did you and Alex make your deal?"

"About a week ago... Why?"

"It was a rubbish deal for you. Didn't you know? Alex took a liking to Bridget almost immediately. He was looking out for her long before you ever asked him to."

He wanted to laugh at the expression on her face. "Seriously?"

Tom nodded. "I'd go so far as to call the two of them close. He sits next to her in class."

"That doesn't sound very teacherly…" Jane muttered, and indeed, she was right. But Tom had theory that Alex enjoyed pretending to be a student more than he enjoyed pretending to be a teacher. Having the identity torn away from him before he could properly finish it up with graduation, it was a piece of his childhood that he wanted, perhaps unconsciously, to reclaim.

A substantial amount of time had passed since Alison had disappeared into the swathes of people. Standing on his tip-toes, Tom looked for her near the bar, but the only person he recognized was Alex, who had attracted the attention of a young boy.

Tom excused himself and shouldered his way over to him. As he got closer, their conversation came into hearing range:

"… will do no such thing."

"Come on! I thought you were cool!"

"I am cool!" Alex snapped. "And you're twelve!"

"Fourteen!" the pre-pubescent boy insisted. He was a little on the chubbier side, with a rash of closely-shaved red hair coating his round head. Alex scoffed at the claim.

"If you're fourteen, I'm thirty-two," said Alex, pointing a finger at the boy from the stem of his wine glass. He cackled at his own inside joke, drawing a confused look from the boy and an eye-roll from a fast-approaching Tom.

"Alex! Stop tormenting the children."

Alex's laughter broke off at the sound of Tom's voice. He threw an arm around his friend, swaying slightly. Oh, God, thought Tom, examining the breadth of Alex's grin. Is he already drunk?

"You've got it backwards, Tom," said Alex, gesturing at the boy. Tom watched Alex's wine slosh around in its barely-sufficient container. "This little twit won't leave me alone. He wants me to knick him a glass of chardonnay."

"Please!" the boy begged. "You must remember what it's like to be my age!"

"Sure I do," said Alex. "Now run along and go play under some tables."

The boy's face had taken on the same colour as his hair. He stormed off, weaving his way through the crowd.

"What a spoiled brat," Tom commented. "Have you seen Alison anywhere?"

"No," Alex replied. "Have you seen Jane?"

"Well, actually–"

Tom's arm was roughly shoved aside, revealing the boy once more. In ten seconds he'd somehow managed to acquire a glass of red wine, the contents of which he was now launching at Alex's chest. For all his finesse Alex was unable to avoid it, staggering when it hit him. The look of pure surprise on his face was something Tom rarely got the chance to see. There was a beat of silence after the act where both of them just stood there, broken finally when the boy started to giggle.

Swift as guillotine coming down, Alex made the shift from dumbstruck to murderous. His hand shot out to grab the front of the child's shirt, dragging him forward so that his face was inches away from Alex's. The boy flinched at the sudden proximity.

Tom's humor evaporated the moment he realized this was turning into a scene.

"What'd you go and do that for, you little shit," Alex growled into the kid's watery eyes. A circle had formed around them, and onlookers were now openly staring at the spectacle. Tom moved to intervene, but somebody beat him to it. A hand fell on Alex's shoulder, jerking it back so that Alex was forced to straighten. Then another landed on his wrist, pressing it toward the floor until he released his grasp.

Alex turned towards the boy's rescuer, and Tom got a brief glimpse at the person's face. His first guess was that it had to be the boy's mother, but as soon as the crowd shifted and he got a clearer look, Tom saw she was much too young.

Jane materialized on his left.

"What's going on?" Her eyes landed on Alex and the dark-haired woman who was now leading him away from the scene. As soon as Alex was gone, the little boy burst into tears.

"That boy lobbed a glass of red at Alex," Tom explained, motioning at the nearby melt-down.

"Oh, Jesus. What for?"

"He asked Alex to smuggle him a drink, but Alex refused."

"And that woman?"

Tom grimaced. "Not sure."

A tall, broad-shouldered man made his way over to the little boy's side, then leaned over to grab his hand. Glancing at Tom, he offered a weary smile. With a handsome face characterized by a wide mouth and a strong nose, he exuded an easy charm; similar to Alex's, although Tom couldn't quite pinpoint why.

"I'm sorry you had to witness that," he apologized to Tom and Jane without introducing himself. "Matthew! Why would you do something like that? Your parents are going to be furious…"

Tom watched Matthew's presumed relative lead him away through the crowd. A pity he couldn't have stepped in any sooner, he thought. Turning back, he caught Jane polish off the last of her bubbly.

"Have you any idea why Alex invited me to this wedding in the first place?" she asked, her almond eyes flickering around the room. "He seems perfectly capable of working crowds like this on his own…"

Tom considered the question. He focused first on Jane's striking features: the high cheekbones, angular face, cupid's bow mouth. She was, without a doubt, extremely fit. But Tom knew looks weren't enough for Alex. Here was a woman who liked puzzles; whose job was to problem-solve on a daily basis. So encapsulated by the world of mathematics and logic was she that she'd given up all of the easier, more luxurious paths afforded to her as a beautiful woman to permanently pursue it.

The corners of Tom's eyes crinkled. "You fascinate him."

"That's it? That hardly warrants a wedding invite."

"Well, maybe he's hoping to sleep with you," Tom deadpanned.

Jane's mouth tightened. "Why run off with some other woman then? It doesn't seem that simple."

"You could be over-analyzing things," said Tom, wondering how long receptions usually went on for. It had been ages since he'd last attended a wedding.

Her eyes fell to the floor. "Maybe it's just one of those things," she said.

Tom didn't have time to ask her what she meant by "those things". On their right, Alison's bright voice broke into their exchange.

"What'd I miss?"

0o0o0o

Alex was led out of the main ballroom and down a long hallway to the bottom of a staircase. On the second floor he navigated further luxuries, ducking past ten-ft-tall doorways and large works of classical art. Finally Alex's companion chose a room to enter, which turned out to be two-story library. Does this house ever end? Alex wondered as they made their way across the room. When their getaway came to a halt at the foot of a towering window, Alex laced his fingers behind his back and smiled at his kidnapper.

"Do you think I'm surprised to see you?" he asked.

The woman's deep red lips drew back to reveal a pristine smile. "On the contrary, Alex. You must've known I was here the second you stepped foot on the estate."

"It may have crossed my mind… there are some noteworthy people in attendance, to say the least."

"Perhaps you already know why I'm here, then?"

Alex rolled back onto his heels, gaining a bit of extra height over her neat figure. Not that he needed it – she was at least six or seven inches shorter than him.

"I would never be so arrogant as to make the assumption," he replied. "Do enlighten me."

She stood before him in a smooth, vanilla dress. It hugged her curvy figure in soft folds all the way to the floor.

"Always so lovely," he sighed, allowing his gaze the freedom to roam. Her winter-blue eyes peered evenly across at him, utterly piercing. In her hand was one of those terribly impractical clutch purses. It was dark gray in colour, embroidered across the front and back.

"Don't stare," she chastised, opening up the false bottom on the clutch and extracting a wad of papers. "You'll make me blush…"

Their exchanges never failed to give him that squirmy feeling adolescent boys often felt in the presence of cute young girls. Hiding none of it, he lifted his hands and placed them on her lightly-freckled shoulders, smoothing his thumbs across her collarbones and over the straps of her dress. Taking a brisk step back, she brushed him off like a layer of dust: the regular routine.

"Hands to yourself," Sabina ordered. "This is business."

Alex bit down on his bottom lip. Why was it that he so enjoyed being put in his place? "Yes ma'am."

Sabina spoke as she unrolled the package. "I'm looking to gather information about a crime syndicate operating largely along Oxford Street. Have you ever heard the name 'Concrete Massive'?"

Alex wracked his brain. "It sounds vaguely familiar, but I don't know anything about it."

"The name is somewhat knew, and it has yet to really reach aboveground. Private knowledge about them is limited; public is nonexistent."

Alex nodded along. "It makes sense I haven't heard of them, then. I haven't been on active duty in over a month."

Sabina frowned, revealing to Alex that she hadn't known this fact. Tracking what Sabina knew about him was an ongoing project of his. At times her knowledge of his life seemed far too in-depth for the extent of information he specifically disclosed to her. Moments like this, however, proved to him that following Alex around (or hiring someone to do so) wasn't always at the top of her priority list.

"Is that so," she said slowly. "Taking a break, are you?"

He grinned. "And I'm having the time of my life."

"I've never heard of you taking time off before," she observed, lifting her chin and narrowing her eyes. Trying to read Sabina was sort of like trying to identify vague shapes and forms in shadows as they appeared behind a flowing curtain. Since their first encounter at Wimbledon all those years back, she'd grown up to develop a kind of porcelain beauty; elegant, but untouchable. Alex surmised that he had, in the same span of time, grown somewhat taller.

"You're not misinformed on that," he said. "But I was asked to fill out this mental health evaluation, and I failed, so… they sent me home and told me they'd call me…"

To his delight, this earned him a giggle. "Of course. Well, I hope you've at least been using the time to lay low and catch up on some reading…"

"Oh, yes. I've become a bit of a history buff, actually. Monarchies… fascinating stuff."

She handed the papers to him, shaking her head. "Well, I hate to have to burst your comfortable bubble, but I could really use your help in collecting more information about this group. From what I've gathered, the implications behind their stirrings are… troublesome."

Alex scanned the first page of the thin pile.

"They're organizing," he extrapolated. She nodded.

"And you know what can happen when a gang becomes too powerful…"

Alex certainly did: that was the point when Alex was usually called in. Sabina was quite nicely framing this to look like a bit of simple homework for what would shape up to be quite the test later on. It was undisguised manipulation.

"I see what you mean," he conceded. You beautiful seductress.

"So you'll help?"

Alex spent a moment feigning disinterest, glancing between her face and the papers with half-lidded eyes. In an instant Sabina was smiling. An open book now, she showed him everything she knew he wanted to see: the hopefulness, the excitement, the approval, as though he'd already agreed to her proposal. Alex's skin felt hot. Her tactics ensured that he had no way out except through the exit she'd created for him, completely on her terms. You say yes, and I'll look at you like this for just a little longer, he imagined her thinking. You say no, and…

"Alright," said Alex, unblinking. He twisted up the papers and stuffed them into his jacket pocket. There was a tingling in his spine; some vague feeling of warning, unrest. Sabina's smile widened as promised, and he savored every second of that glowing appreciation until it all, quite literally, came crashing down.

A split-second before the explosion occurred, Alex's intuition spurred him into action. He had just enough time to wrap one arm around Sabina and throw her to the floor, elbows slamming down on either side of her head. The window next to them shattered, and broken glass rained down from above, battering Alex's back. Below them, a chorus of screaming had erupted in response to the explosion, and from outside the open window Alex heard a distant cry.

"FIRE!"

The roof quivered. During the explosion Sabina had shut her eyes tight, but now they flung open as she flailed against Alex's chest. Satisfied that there would be no follow ups, Alex eased his weight off her and sat up, reaching around to rub the back of his head. It was there that he discovered his hair had taken on an uncomfortable wetness.

Alex could feel the liquid sliding down from his forehead. Sabina stared from where she was kneeling across from him. In her shock, she'd defaulted to a poker face, offering none of the concerned fawning Alex might have otherwise enjoyed as a result of the injury.

"You're bleeding," she informed him gravely.

"Yes," he said, a little dizzily.

"Are you okay," she asked without intonation.

"I think so." Alex placed a hand on the ground to steady himself as he clambered up onto his feet. Sabina followed suit, dusting off her dress and collecting her clutch from where it had fallen a couple feet away. Aside from the ruffled hair, she appeared no different than before. Alex snatched up her hands and examined them for scrapes. Finding them unscathed, he dropped them, brushed the broken glass off his suit, and began towards the exit.

"This is bad…" he muttered under his breath, not waiting to see if Sabina would follow. After a delayed moment, she did, running to catch up.

"Alex," she said, her voice taking on a slightly higher pitch. "I thought you said you were on vacation."

"I am," he responded as they crossed the length of the hallway, heading for the stairs.

"But if you're on vacation," Sabina continued, "what are you doing at this wedding?"

"I have perfectly legitimate reasons for being here that have nothing to do with my work," said Alex, descending the stairs. Glancing at her, he added, "I even brought a date."

"Well, clearly that's not all you brought…"

The hallway at the bottom of the stairs was teeming with people, all pushing their way towards the door. Alex and Sabina joined their ranks before quickly weaving their way to the front of the crowd. Out in the open, it was easy to spot the source of the explosion. The valets had been parking the cars in a flat field not far off from the mansion; it was from there that a large plume of black smoke could be seen rising into the sky. A car parked on the corner had been reduced to a flaming skeleton. All the cars around it had also suffered considerable damage.

Alex approached the field with growing dread. While it was difficult to discern the make or model of the victimized vehicle, he had a sneaking suspicion that it was his. Getting closer, Alex identified the car next to it as a black Jaguar. Does that mean…

Alex stepped out of the way just in time to avoid a collision with a man who whipped past him, running towards the exploded car. Not far behind him was a woman in a purple dress, also running. The two of them slowed to a stop in front of the fire and joined hands. Soon the man placed his arm around her. Pulling her in, he held her tight against his chest. Their actions gave Alex hope. Was it their car burning?

Sabina spoke up from where she was trailing just behind him. "The Flowers…"

Alex stopped dead in his tracks. He turned around, sending her a baffled look. "The Flowers?" he repeated.

"James and Carol Flowers," Sabina elaborated. "They're politicians. Somebody must've rigged their car."

Alex suddenly felt sick to his stomach. Head swimming, he placed his palm against his forehead and stared across at the wreckage, glancing between the fire and the black Jaguar next to it. Ahead of them, Carol Flowers was breaking down into tears.

"The Flowers?" Alex repeated for a second time.

Sabina furrowed her brows. "Yes… The Flowers. Alex, are you concussed?"

"No, I…" Alex trailed off. He was thinking about that time he walked Bridget Flowers home from school. Her huge house… the excessive security… there was no doubt in his mind. The two people watching their car burn were her parents. All three had the same jet-black hair.

"Do you need to sit down?" Sabina asked.

Alex ignored her and resumed his march toward the fire just as the crowd was catching up to them. Passing the Flowers, Alex got as close as he could to the wreckage, then knelt down for a good look at the license plate of the black Jaguar next to it.

Shit.

The numbers didn't match up. It wasn't his.

Alex straightened, coughing into his fist. Carol Flowers had glued her eyes to Alex's head injury, which had yet to stop bleeding.

"… Are you alright?" she called. "You're bleeding!"

Alex moved closer to them. "I'm fine. Do you two per chance drive a black Jaguar?"

Carol's only response to this was a sob. It was James who answered him.

"We did. Now it's nothing but flames…"

"Is there anyone that you're aware of who might be out to kill you?"

Carol hid in the crook of James's neck. James bowed his head. "Unfortunately so… But I never thought – I mean, something like this…"

"James…" Carol mumbled through her tears. "James, we have to call the house, we have to find out if they – if anyone's targeted B-Biddy…"

"I'm so sorry," said Alex. "This is just horrific… and the valet…"

Carol released an ear-splitting wail, which James tried to muffle by running his fingers through her hair and pressing her face into his chest.

"But the car…" Alex continued. "It's – um, it's my car… We have the same car. Black Jaguar. They must have been parked right next to each other."

Carol gasped. "What? Oh, no! That could have been you!"

No, Alex thought, because the valet would have brought the car around regardless. Anyone going to the trouble of rigging a car with a bomb would know who'd be the first to start the car. This wasn't an attempt on anyone's life – it was a message. But to whom?

"There must have been some mistake," said Alex. "I can't imagine anyone would want me dead… I'm just a history teacher. An assistant teacher, actually."

"They must have mixed up the cars," surmised James. "Don't worry, son. We'll replace your car."

"Alex!"

Alex turned around to see Tom emerge from the throng of people now closing in around the parking lot. Sabina was nowhere to be seen. Alex took a couple steps back as Tom got closer, unable to dodge the violent grab Tom made for his arm. His grip was iron. "What. The. Hell! You bloody bastard!"

"Tom – the Flowers!" he blurted out to stall. Tom paused. The Flowers were lured back into the crowd and began conversing with approaching guests and wedding staff.

"Carol and James Flowers. They're politicians."

"Flowers…" Tom whispered, releasing Alex's arm. "As in, Bridget Flowers?"

Alex nodded. Behind Tom, Alison broke away from the people she was talking to and stood by his side. "They think a car bomb was placed in one of the cars, and a valet set it off when he went to move it…" she explained. "Oh, Alex! You're bleeding!"

She spun around as though looking for something to wipe his face with. Alex took off his jacket and dragged a white sleeve through the blood. "Don't worry," he said, "I've got it. This shirt's ruined already. Where's Jane?"

Tom looked back at the crowd, scanning the fearful faces for her familiar figure to no avail. "Dunno. I thought she was behind us."

Alex tilted his head back and allowed a wave of rampant self-pity to wash over him. Above, the sky was completely consumed by clouds. Shirt ruined. Car exploded. Ditched by two women in one day.

"Tom," said Alex, after a long-winded sigh. "Might I catch a ride home with you tonight?"

0o0o0o

Friends! I'm alive! And here's a niiiice long chapter to make up for my absence. Please let me know what you thought of it in a review! More feedback means more motivation to write the next chapter.

So, what does everyone think of Harriett Harris the horse-training heiress? Wait – you mean we never actually saw her? Ah, I see… Well then… did anybody see Sabina's introduction coming? I hinted at it in earlier chapters (for anybody who can actually remember what happened in earlier chapters… I'll be better, I promise…)

Next chapter: "She's in grave danger…"