Twenty Five
Jakes sighed and flicked through another scene of Morse's battered old Richard III manuscript, trying to find any possible hint as to where he was. It was day three since he'd been taken, and late, too, the evening sun filling the station with a golden light far too warm and gentle for the inner turmoil he was feeling.
Careful, Sergeant, you're beginning to sound like Morse.
Yea, well, obviously not enough.
Running a hand through his hair, he let his head thud on the table and rested it there for a minute.
He still had a pounding headache thanks to the concussion Morse had given him, though thankfully not as bad as yesterday, but going through Shakespeare with a fine-tooth comb wasn't exactly making it any better.
Okay.
Inventory list.
One missing detective, check.
One ancient play with a link to his whereabouts, check.
One completely confused and somewhat irritated Sergeant going brain dead from trying to find that clue, triple check.
Leaning back in his chair, he took a deep breath.
What did he know?
Gull had a thing for names, that much was certain, so maybe his new hideout was related to it as well. The play was set in real life locations, being a somewhat amped up version of historical events, after all, and if Morse was England, or the King, in other words, then maybe he was being kept in the same place King Edward was killed?
Flipping through Morse's notebook, he found the page with the list of locations, places haphazardly scrawled in with their victim's names next to them.
King Edward was killed in... the Palace of Westminster.
Jakes groaned.
There was no way Gull had gone that far out of Oxford, and even if he had attempted it, there was no way that he wouldn't have been seen. Morse may have been scrawny, but he was no light weight, and dragging all 5ft 9 of him into one of the most guarded places in England was a bit much for even Gull's standards.
Right then.
Maps of Oxford it was.
"You planning on leaving at all tonight?"
Jakes startled and looked up.
Thursday leant against the door of the office, coat on and hat in hand.
"Only I know a young lady who'd be very put out if you didn't say goodnight".
He quickly glanced at the clock and swore when he saw the time.
Thursday sighed and straightened up, walking over to see the papers sprawled across his desk.
"What's all this then?"
"Maps" He explained, "Oxford city, the surround area, everything inside county bounds".
"Everything that Gull might have considered holding Morse in" He caught on, dragging up a chair, "Alright then. What have we got?"
"Well, the most accurate choice would be the Palace of Westminster, but for obvious reasons... From what I can find, there's no 'Westminster' anything in Oxford, and the only 'palace' is way out in Woodstock and currently occupied by the Duke of Marlborough".
"Dead end, then".
"Exactly. So, I broadened the search, started considering anything related to 'England', which also came up with nothing. Any variation is also useless. 'Richard' just gives a few jewellery places and the likes... which leaves me with 'Edward'".
"Any results?"
"Too many".
Thursday hummed, shuffling through the maps in front of them until he found one of the inner city.
"Well, I can't imagine that Gull would send us too far. We've road blockades up at every major exit, and that aside, the closer he is to home the more exciting it is for him. This used to be his hunting grounds, after all. You've got the Bodleian, St Michael at the North Gate, Trinity College... My monies on him being close by. Just enough to taunt us with".
Jakes frowned and started circling names, "That does narrow it down, and half of these places can be ruled out due to their business anyway. It'd have to be remote; well, as remote as anywhere in the city can get. And sound is probably a factor as well".
"Somewhere quiet with no people in the middle of Oxford?"
"And with a connection to 'Edward'".
They stared at each other.
Thursday let out a heavy breath, "Fresh start tomorrow?"
"... I don't want to leave him there. I can't".
"He's not the only one you're looking out for right now".
Jakes sighed and recalled Abby's hopeful face the evening before. Being so young, she had no grasp of the concept of work or time needed in cases like these, and every time he returned home without her father, she was reduced to tears.
He couldn't do that again.
But he had to.
"Fresh start" He agreed, shoving the papers to one side.
Standing up, he reached for his coat, too tired to even curse as the action knocked a few maps off his desk.
Bending down, he began to pick them up and Thursday turned off the lights.
The soft evening glow had long since turned into a fiery red, the setting sun for once matching the anger he felt himself. It cast long shadows against the walls, and even longer ones on the papers he was holding. Maps of Oxfordshire, Oxford city itself, the buildings and parks and utilities and-
He froze.
"Jakes?"
The utilities.
"Jakes".
The underground utilities.
"Peter!"
He quickly looked up, before jumping to his feet and turning back on the desk lamp, pushing pens and papers aside as he slammed down the utilities network map on top, one name in particular highlighted by the blazing sun.
"King Edward Street!"
"What?"
"King Edward Street!" He half-shouted, pointing at it.
Thursday frowned, "But that's mostly retail, shops and the like. It's too busy for Gull to keep Morse there, and last I remember, there's no abandoned building he could keep him in anyway".
"Above ground, yes".
He could pinpoint the exact moment that Thursday realised.
"The tunnels".
"There's a whole network underneath Oxford for sewers and electricity and everything, but the tunnels beneath King Edward's Street have been shut for years. They used to be used as bomb shelters, too, which means they're solid concrete-"
"-and if they're solid concrete then he doesn't have to worry about sound reaching the street above" He finished, "... Are you sure?"
"It has direct access to the Bodleian Library" He said simply, "If the name and location doesn't confirm it, then that much does".
It was too late to get permission from Bright, and even if the man was still up, the backup that they needed wasn't. Which meant Jakes had to go back to Thursdays and face Abby's hopeful and then distressed expression again. The news of them possibly finding her dad tomorrow did nothing to cheer her up, because as far as she was concerned, that's what they said every day.
In a way, Jakes mused, she was right.
He slept fitfully, on and off, just counting down the hours until they could return to the station, and sometime after half past three, he found himself silently creeping downstairs to the dining room table where he'd left the map. If he couldn't sleep, then he might as well plan.
The light was already on.
Slowly pushing open the door, he was met by the sight of his guvnor in a dressing gown.
Thursday stared at him.
He stared back, acutely conscious of his own dressing gown.
The old man relit his pipe and gestured at the chair in front of him.
And that was that.
Thursday called Bright early the next morning, and the Chief's grumbling about the wakeup call was abruptly cut off when they told him why. Win made them breakfast as usual, and Joan joked about with Abby, but there was an obvious tension that hadn't been there before.
Jakes found himself jumping at the slightest bit of noise, his nerves on edge and adrenaline already coursing through his veins. He could barely keep down the plain oatmeal and cup of tea, and found himself rushing to get everything done despite having loads of time.
They had a backup team waiting for them at the station, as well as DeBryn, but they couldn't do anything until they'd explained the plan, which couldn't happen until they told Bright the plan, which couldn't happen until the man got into the station himself.
The waiting was the worst part.
Finally meeting Thursday at the front door, he focused on Abby as he kissed his wife goodbye.
He may be living with the man and technically dating his son and all, but he was still his boss and there were somethings he just didn't want to see.
Abby was still in her pyjama's, Herbert the giraffe clutched tightly in her hands, and Jakes felt a wave of sympathy for the girl who had already gone through so much at such a young age.
"We'll get him back, you hear me?"
She nodded, somewhat tearfully, then jerked forward and pulled him into a hug.
Surprised, he quickly hugged back.
"You gotta come back too, okay?" She whispered.
Christ.
"... I will".
She held him tighter.
"Promise?"
Double Christ.
"I promise, kiddo" He said, slowly pulling back, "Both of us will be back. Alright?"
"Alright".
He leant forward and kissed her forehead, a strange feeling of dread in his heart.
"I'll see you this evening, okay?"
But dread wasn't quite the right word, he realised, it was too heavy for that, too... guilty, almost.
He hugged her again and then reluctantly let go, heading for the car where Thursday was already waiting.
But guilty wasn't right either, it was more like... anticipation, but it was anticipation for something that might yet feel guilty for.
Sitting into the jag, he watched as Abby stood by the door and waved.
Like if he didn't bring Morse and himself back in one piece, he realised.
He waved back.
Like... Like he would disappoint her, in a sense, almost as if-
Holy shit.
This was the first time in his life that he had someone to come back to.
Someone who was waiting for him at home, someone who he was accountable for, someone who he had to return to despite the dangers of the job, despite the dangers of Gull, despite the dangers of the world itself.
It wasn't dread or guilt or anticipation.
It was responsibility.
Thursday caught his sudden wide-eyed look and smirked knowingly.
"Don't worry. You'll get used to it".
Morse choked as a fist landed squarely in his ribs, forcing all breath from his lungs and filling his mouth with blood as he bit his tongue too hard.
Coughing, he went limp in the chair, only the zip ties keeping him upright which, you know, not good, considering he thinks his right shoulder is dislocated. The restraints dug into his wrists, leaving them black and blue and bloody, and he lost feeling in his right leg hours ago which, also, not good.
The flat edge of a knife pressed beneath his chin as his was forced to look up.
Gull almost looked just as bad as he did, though for entirely different reasons.
The man had officially gone insane.
His clothes were old and filthy, hair falling over his forehead in a messy clump, and eyes wide and bloodshot. There was dirt on his face from their brief fight however long ago, and it was streaked with sweat and angry tears as Morse continued to not give in.
He couldn't give in.
Giving in meant he was just as mad as his kidnapper, and despite what Gull kept telling him, they were nothing alike.
He distantly wondered how long he'd been here for. Gull didn't have a watch, and as far as he could tell, he visited him at random times of the day. The hunger pains in his stomach had long sense been and gone, however, so he had to have been here for a few days.
He thought a lot about Peter and Abby.
"You're not listening to me, Endeavour".
The knife turned and dug into bruised skin.
"I wonder why".
"Shut your mouth or you'll be punished!"
"What, more than you've already done?"
Gull glared, his grip on the switch blade tightening, before suddenly stepping back.
"Why don't you just give in?"
"Because I'm not a lunatic".
"And you think I am?!"
Morse grinned, painfully and bloody, "Fool, of thyself speak well. Fool, do not flatter".
"That's my line! Don't take my- That's not- You- You can't'!" He exploded.
"Alas, I rather hate myself. For hateful deeds committed by myself".
"Shut up, I told you! That's not you, that's- that's Richard, that's me!"
"I am a villain".
With an enraged yell, he flung the knife at him, the blade missing his neck by inches, clattering loudly on the stone floor behind him.
And then, just as sudden, the man calmed.
"Finish the quote, England".
He frowned.
What did he mean by-
"Finish it!"
"... What do I fear? Myself? There's none else by. Richard loves Richard; that is, I and I-"
"-Is there a murderer here? No. Yes. I am" Gull finished, turning back to him.
"I am, Morse. A murderer, a fool, a villain... But the villain's going to win, this time".
"The villain never wins" He countered, "You played your hand too early, Richard. Everyone knows exactly what kind of man you are".
"... Since I cannot prove a lover, I am determined to prove a villain" Gull slowly said, walking over to pick back up the switchblade, "And if I cannot prove a villain, Endeavour, then at least I can take you down with me".
*BANG*
They both froze, eyes snapping to the metal door that Gull had shut behind him.
From behind it, in the distance, they could hear more doors being opened and closed.
Morse felt his heart rate pick up until it was playing a steady accelerando beat in his ears.
Could it be...
There was a sharp sting on his wrists as the zip ties were ruthlessly cut.
"Up!" Gull snarled, "Get up! Get up! Get up!"
He was dragged carelessly to his feet, his right leg going out from under him almost immediately, and Gull swore as he tried to keep him upright without losing grip on the knife.
There was only one thing that would make him this panicked.
"Come on!"
He hardly dared to hope.
Yanking open the door, he shoved Morse ahead of him, down a damp dank corridor filled with pipes and cobwebs.
Hearing yelling voices coming from the other end of the hall, he decided that no, actually, he would dare to hope.
Gull pressed the knife against his neck as they half ran, half stumbled forwards.
"Make a single sound and I'll slit your throat!"
There was, after all, only one thing that would make him this panicked.
The cavalry had arrived.