Chapter 2

Driven by a sense of urgency, Phileas ran the entire way to Blayne's home. When he arrived, he snuck around the back and picked the simple lock. He was interested to realize that Blayne was, even after all that happened, the only person in town to bother with locks. That alone was suspicious, even if the locks were a joke. Moving silently as he had been taught, he made his way through the house. Not finding Blayne on the ground-level, he hurried up the stairs, wincing every time they creaked. He was hardly surprised to find that Blayne was nowhere in the house, but still disappointed.

"Preying on children..." he muttered in disgust, searching through the papers on the writing desk. His hand shook as he read a short note.

So far, the abductions have failed to find their proper target, however, that will not last. There are only two children left in town who it could possibly be. I'll report again as soon as he is secure.

The paper crumpled in Phileas's hand but he did not notice. "Blayne, you sick--" he trailed off at the sound of a creak on the stairs.

He hastily extinguished the light and stood next to the door. He silently removed his pistol from his pocket and held it against his chest. As Blayne entered the study, Phileas hit the School-Master on the back of the head with his pistol. Blayne crumpled to the ground. Phileas carried the surprisingly light School-Master into the basement. Picking up a length of rope, he considered how best to restrain Blayne.

"No, idiot. Search them first!" he reminded himself, shaking his head. "Um, weapons..." He began reciting what he had been taught on joining the Secret Service. "'They might be carrying weapons on their ankles, at their waists, on their wrists or arms, even secured to the chest'."

Nodding to himself, he quickly checked Blayne's legs, arms and waist-band. Nothing there. Sighing, he began unbuttoning Blayne's shirt. He hesitated for a split second, wondering why the School-Master needed such a large bandage on his chest and torso.

"If he's a spy or a criminal, he could easily have been hurt..." he muttered. The rest of the lesson on finding concealed weapons occurred to him. "'Weapons may be concealed most ingeniously by the skilled spy or criminal. A woman's hair-pin, for instance can be deadly. Her wig might conceal anything. Needles may be concealed under patches of fake skin. Guns and knives may be concealed in bandages'. Right..." He nodded and cut through the bandage. "Oh, my God!" he squeaked as he got a clear look at Blayne's chest. "He's a woman..."

With shaking hands, Phileas rebuttoned the shirt. "Okay, what now?" he asked himself. "What now, Phileas? She's still a criminal... Tie her up, question her..." He rubbed his forehead and shook his head. "My God... They certainly never covered this."

Blayne began stirring. Phileas pulled her to her to her feet and picked up the rope.

*****

Blayne awoke suddenly, but kept her eyes closed and remained perfectly still until she could assess her situation. The very first sensation she became aware of, after the throbbing in her head, was the freeness, for lack of a better word, of her chest. Someone had removed the binding. Definitely not good. She remained still, continuing her self-assessment.

Shoulders hurt... Why? There's rope on my wrists... My feet are barely touching the floor. That's it. My shoulders hurt because someone's got me tied up, literally, and they're supporting most of my weight. My feet aren't tied, though. Good...

She very slowly and cautiously pulled against the ropes on her wrists. Her arms were spread, her wrists above her head. The position was not unlike that of someone being crucified. She slowly rotated her hands, testing the knots. It would take time, but she could manage it. Unless she was being observed. She slowly opened her eyes.

"Where am I?" she demanded.

"Don't you recognize your own basement?" Phileas asked, stepping into view.

"You!" Blayne shook her head. "Great... This is just perfect! Do you have any idea at all of what you've gotten yourself into?"

"Why don't you tell me all about it." Phileas suggested. "Tell me where the boys are."

"You're treading on dangerous ground here, Fogg. You're going to want to rethink your involvement here. If you leave now, you'll be safe. If you stay, I can't guarantee your safety."

Phileas snorted. "Is that a threat?"

"If it were, you'd be dead already. I don't want to kill you, Fogg."

"You're not in much of a position to. Now I'm going to ask you nicely, but just once more. Where are the boys?"

"They're safe."

"That's not good enough!" Phileas hissed in her face. "Now you tell me where they are!"

"No." Blayne shook her head.

"Please, don't make me do this."

"I'm not in much of a position to make you do anything. You can leave anytime, Fogg."

Cursing, Phileas punched her in the stomach, sending her swinging backward. He heard one of her shoulders popping and winced. Blayne stared steadily at him without a sound.

"You're crying..." she noted softly. "Take a break and start again when you're ready, son."

Phileas stared at her in awe. "Tell me what I need to know or I'll do it again."

"No, you won't."

Phileas backhanded her. "Tell me!" he shouted.

"You're in over your head on this, Fogg. Back out while you still can."

This time, Fogg punched her in the face instead of slapping her. She regarded him steadily, blood dripping from her nose. Phileas felt worse than she looked. He hit her again, but with less conviction. He fell back, shaking, horrified with himself.

"You're out of your league, son. Not to mention being out of your territory." Blayne eyed him thoughtfully. "What's your interest here, anyway? You're in the British Secret Service. Don't you have a despot to protect? She's the one you should be worried about, not a pack of boys you've never even met before."

"I am always concerned for Her Majesty's welfare, no matter what I am working on. Good Lord, for all I know, you could be involved in some plot against her!"

"Based on what?" Blayne snorted, irritated.

"Why else would I be here?"

"If there was a real plot against her, do you think they'd only send one Agent. And on his first solo mission no less?" Blayne scoffed at him. "You're here to catch a kidnapper. That's it. It's not always about the Queen, you know."

"Yes, it is always about Her Highness. She is the most powerful person living on the planet right now."

Blayne snorted.

"And for all I know, this is all a part of some elaborate plot to kill her."

Blayne laughed in his face. "Phileas Fogg, you are a fool. If I planned on killing Victoria, I could do it quite easily. I could get a job as a Lady's Maid in the Palace." She sneered at him. "Better still, I could get a job at Shillingsworth Magna and assassinate her during one of her frequent secret visits to your family."

Outraged, Phileas hit the side of her face with his pistol. Blood drenched his hand and he backed away, horrified. Blayne's head slid forward and her whole body sagged. She had fainted.

"Oh, Good Lord, what have I done?" Phileas whispered.

He quickly checked her pulse. It was strong, and the bleeding was already less. Tears in his eyes, he pulled a chair in front of her and sat down, waiting for her to revive.

"She's right. I'm not made for this..." Phileas covered his face with his hands, weeping silently. Eventually, he fell asleep.

Blayne looked up cautiously. She examined him for a moment and nodded to herself. Carefully, she rolled her let shoulder until an audible pop told her that it was relocated. Satisfied, she lifted her feet off of the ground and tucked her knees against her chest. She jerked against the ropes until her wrists and hands were slick with blood, then she returned her feet to the ground. She lowered her head and closed her eyes again. Taking a deep breath, she slowly began rotating her wrists.