Chapter 14- Loose Ends
It was dark and smelled damp, the floor was covered in water or some other liquid and every time Raoul tried to sit up his hands slipped in it and he landed flat on his face. The blood, which had dried to his face and neck, had begun to crust off and his back ached badly. He could barely see anything but there was a small amount of light coming from above him through what looked like a ceiling made of bars. Raoul wasn't a fool and it didn't take him long to realise that he was in a prison of some description and that he was alone without a clue as to Christine's well being or her whereabouts.
He wasn't tied up but that didn't matter, he barely had the strength to stand let alone to attempt an escape. And how could he possibly escape when he could hardly see his hands in front of his face, let alone a door or a hatch. He hadn't remembered much after Christine had run from the lobby, much to his pride. She had of course been chased but the man who had followed came back after only a few minutes empty handed. Raoul remembered the relief he had immediately felt when he realised that she had somehow managed to run faster. The next thing he remembered was a sharp pain in the back of his head and then waking up in the pit he was lying in now.
He wondered if they would try to find Christine and whether or not they would kill him.
What had he done?
Robert didn't know what he had seen and wasn't sure that he wanted to find out. He had sat all night nursing his head in the front office, in the pitch black so that no one would see him. His throat was dry and the whiskey was barely touching it as he sipped from the bottle and stared into space.
It had been just after three in the morning when he had seen the masked man leap down the stairs and run from the building, he had scared Robert half to death. After his pulse had returned to a normal speed he had swigged harder on the whiskey and trembled in the corner of the office, on the floor, trying to decide what he should do about the madman in his apartment.
At four the madman had returned but he wasn't alone. In his arms he had what looked like a woman, or at least the long hair suggested a woman. The problem was that this woman was not moving. Robert had managed to bring himself to his feet, even through his fear, and watch through the window in the office door. No, she was definitely not moving, she certainly didn't look like she was breathing and Robert was sure that there was blood on her cheek.
At this point he regressed to his previous mode of drinking whiskey and dithering in the corner, at least the door was locked and he was safe for now. There was really only one thing he could do and that was to wait for the lunatic to return and slip out to notify the police of what he had seen. Then the police would protect him, and the Phantom or whoever he was, would never be able to kill another innocent person again.