Chapter 74 (Part 4)
He held the telephone receiver in his hand while he waited for a response.
The silence from the other end of the line was filled with the monotonous ticking of the old Victorian Grandfather clock. While he waited, his grip on the receiver weakened and so did his resolve. As if time was eating it away, second by second, with each ticking of the clock, like the chisel eats away the marble with each hit by the hammer on the hands of a sculptor.
"Hello?" A voice was heard from the other end of the line.
Tic-toc, tic-toc, tic-toc.
His heart beat matched the sound of the clock. The words did not come.
"You have reached the New Scotland Yard, how may I help you?"
Tic-toc, tic-toc, tic-toc.
The Duke let the receiver down, in slow motion.
Tic-toc, tic-toc, tic-toc.
The clock was ticking away the time. Bringing him closer to a reckoning he now knew he had left unresolved, had tried to ignore, had tried to bury even, for too long.
He rang the bell that sat on the dining table. He kept looking at the Grandfather clock, its elaborate carved tower, the cold bronze pendulum swinging without mercy.
The decision waited to be taken.
His butler appeared not long after.
"James, I want you to take the night off." The Duke said quietly.
He turned his eyes from the Grandfather clock on his butler's surprised face.
"Excuse me sir?!" He said, wanting to confirm he heard his Master correct.
"I want you to wear your best suit; your top hat; take the Rolls, ask Stewart to drive you, and I want you to go to the Rules, have dinner at my table at my expense, and then spend the night at the Savoy. You can use the suite they have reserved on my name..."
James stood at his spot, feeling his jaw stretching wide open. So much so that he feared it would hit the floor. It was the most unprecedented request he had ever heard coming from the lips of the Duke for all the years that he was under his employment and that was almost all his life.
"But Sir..." He begun to-
Duke cut his butler's question even before it left his mouth.
"James, when I give an order, I expect to be met with a Yes, Sir and nothing more, understood?!" He raised his voice, to match the sound of his hand slapping with force the mahogany table next to him.
The Duke's explosion startled the man who stood by the door, down to the marrow of his bones. His whole behaviour had been so alien, and had changed in such an abrupt way, it made his request even more bizarre. Whatever James may had felt at that point, he kept behind a mask of complete and utter stillness.
"Yes, Sir." He replied with a steady voice, without a hint of questioning his master.
After James' answer, it did not take more than a couple of seconds, for the Duke to close his eyes, lower his head and pinch the bridge of his nose. He felt remorse for having erupted in such a way to the man who grew up with him side by side, never mind of him being his butler.
"I am sorry, James..." He said. His voice was deep and apologetic. "I shouldn't raise my voice to you. I apologise."
It was clear to James that the Duke had been under a great deal of pressure in a short amount of time. From the moment he entered the house and saw that handkerchief. A thousand and one questions were born inside his head but he knew well, they would remain unanswered, perhaps even forever. He daren't open his mouth again however.
The Duke lifted his head. The glint inside his blue eyes, turned his stare intense.
"My order remains. So please, go get yourself ready. You will leave with the car by nine in the evening."
"As you wish, Sir." James replied. This was an order he preferred not to follow, given the freedom of choice, a freedom though he did not have. Without adding anything more, he left the room and the Duke behind.
Richard's stare turned back to the Grandfather's clock, ticking the time away.
And so, here she was. Tied to a bed post, staring at MacDonald's henchman, the body of a ring fighter, pure muscle fibres through and through with the strength of a locomotive. He filled the door frame like a boulder, obscuring the light. A deep sense of dread washed over her, a fear that was yet without shape but still very profound, because whatever hurried plan had been put together by the police, come to think in hindsight, it had gone down the drain.
All she could think of, was Terry. Terry who had voiced his objections, so very clear, a while ago. He had been forced to accept that stupid plan, to help Christian. Terry who must had been next door, probably not knowing...
She opened her mouth, in a moment of impulsive thinking. She could shout his name...
The man in front of her, closed the door behind him with one swift move.
"I wouldn't do that if I was you." He said.
It took him two strides to reach her. He had this deep gravel voice, confessing a life of equal roughness, of endless nights inside bars and gambling dens, chain smoking and heavy drinking. He sounded frightfully calm; enough for Candy to make her realise he had the outmost control of the situation.
He knelt down in front of her. Candy flinched backwards as a reaction. He stopped for a second and looked at her. Τhe darkness in his stare, made the hair at the back of her neck stand up.
"If you stay calm and do as told, you won't be harmed." He said and untied her.
"Where is Tom?" Candy asked the man, once she had her hands freed.
"Tom?"
Candy bit her tongue, realising her mistake. "The man who brought me here."
"Hm!" The man exclaimed, sounding amused. "Your friend... Tom had other business to attend."
"He's not my friend."
"Sounds like a friend enough to be on first name basis, miss."
He stopped her protesting, before she tried to explain further, in an attempt to reduce the effect her careless blunder may have caused of raising any suspicions inside the mind of her captor. He opened a narrow wardrobe inside their small room. Took out a beige coloured raincoat and a brown coloured scarf. He threw them on the bed.
"Wear them." He ordered Candy.
She stood frozen, looking at him.
"Am I not speaking clear enough English for you, miss?"
"Wear them, what for?" Candy asked.
"You make a lot of questions. I said wear them!" He repeated his order with enough force to make her understand she had already taken more liberties than he was willing to allow her of having.
Candy put on the raincoat over her clothes.
"Button up."
She did as she was told, with a mind that run a thousand turns a minute. Options, possibilities, probabilities, consequences...
"The scarf... cover your head, your hair. We're taking another route to London." He said.
The breath stood still inside her throat. This time, she did not ask or make any comment that would make her position more precarious than what it already was. And even if it seemed like an impossible task, she had to try as hard as she could to keep her wits about her. Who knew what terrible fate had already befallen the man who brought there. What mattered right at that moment, was for her to think of a way to let Terry know...
A tremble rose up to her fingers as she was tying to a knot under her chin of the scarf she had covered her hair with.
It could have been a grain of pity, a semblance of warmth the man may have felt for Candy, seeing her how hard she tried to appear calm, even if he knew she was not.
"Train's too risky, we'll take a car for now." He explained all of a sudden. "Now, hurry up!" He said with his teeth clenched, perhaps realising feelings was something he shouldn't have in what he was doing.
For Candy, whether this was a sign from God, or a helping hand from Fate, that little bit of information her captor had shared with her, was enough to make her thinking gears to come into action.
"Please, I need to visit the bathroom before we go. One minute, I won't be long, I swear!" She pleaded.
He pressed his lips. With a nod of his head, he gave her his permission. Without wasting any more time, Candy entered the bathroom. She looked around; her haste reached the point of her moves becoming frantic. Her face glowed with perspiration. Dark circles around her eyes made her stare on the mirror look even more intense and desperate. The large dark purple bruise on her cheek reminded her what had already taken place not too long ago. How had they ended up in this situation? She opened the little cabinet behind the mirror over the sink but there was nothing in it.
"Fuck... think, think, damn it!" She whispered to herself, having her face covered by her hands. She rubbed her cheeks. In a last attempt, she patted her body over her clothes. She stopped when she felt something in her dress pocket. Tears came to her eyes. She would never have expected to feel such euphoria to the point of exhilaration when she looked at the forgotten lipstick she held between her fingers.
"Thank you God!" She whispered once more.
She flushed the toilet and let the water tap run for a while. She then turned off the tap, wiped her hands dry and came out the toilet.
The man stared at her, without saying anything.
Had she been too long? Candy's heartbeat became frantic, spread the panic inside her. Was he about to check the toilet...? He certainly looked as if he was scrutinising her every face gesture and move.
"I am ready..." She said to him, just to distract his mind.
Before he had time to act to his instinct of checking the toilet after she'd been, the whistle of the station manager was heard from the platform.
"Don't you even think of getting away from me." He said to her and opened his jacket to reveal the gun tucked inside the leather holder strapped next to his ribs, under his arm.
She shook her head. She wasn't going to go anywhere. He opened the door of their cabin and peeked outside. The narrow corridor was empty.
"Go in front me..." He said with a quiet voice. "Turn left when you go out."
Candy came out of their cabin. Knowing full well, the moment she'd start walking, she would leave Terry behind... waiting... But time waits for no one. The armed man behind her knew that fact, all too well.
"Move." He whispered to her. He wore his hat low, obscuring his stare from the view of others.
Her body was numb. Following his order, she started walking while it was as if someone else was responsible for her moving. Remorse made her feel sick in the stomach. Her insistence to jump on the front line to help the people she cared about, had landed her and Terry in hot water. A lump stood still in her throat.
They reached the end of the corridor. Her captor stopped her, came in front of her. Opened the door and quickly they walked to another carriage. Caught her hand.
"Look down." She heard his voice barely there.
They walked fast, till they passed one more corridor. He again opened the door. He peered quickly. The platform was full of people coming up on the train carriages.
Like ghosts, they walked out of the train, her hand inside his. Even if she wished to raise her head to check for any of the police men they had arrived with, they walked too fast and she wasn't going to challenge the man who dragged her with hurried steps across the platform. All the while, her distance from Terry and the pain in her chest were growing on equal measures, making it difficult for her to breath. His grip intensified, in the same way as his strides widened.
One thought remained in her mind. The message she wrote with her lipstick on the bathroom's mirror.
"On the road, TG."
She hoped to God, someone would see it.
There was silence in the carriage compartment that was adjacent to the cabin where Candy was. No words were exchanged between Terry and officer McRae, the man who had helped him find Candy on the isle of Barra. Terry had saved her then. Yet, he had agreed on letting Candy play the "bait" for the police to catch MacDonald's man who eventually would confess of his boss's dark plans which involved kidnapping Candy.
By catching one of the most notorious gang leaders of London's underworld, they would free Christian from his grip. His twin brother...
Terry stood between a rock and a hard place and even that was beginning to sound a ridiculous understatement. The distance between the fucking rock and the hard place, where Terry existed at that moment had been reduced to something so insignificant as a crack on the wall. He felt the pressure, just as the heel of his foot had started tapping the floor, counting the level of his anxiety, drop by drop, one heel tap at a time.
"It'll be fine..." Terry heard the police officer say next to him.
He turned and stabbed him with eyes burning with disbelief, anger even.
"I shouldn't have agreed to this." He replied to him. "We're here like sitting fucking ducks while she..."
"Really?" Officer McRae replied, before Terry completed his sentence.
Terry's response had annoyed him. When he stood in the middle of the night, witnessing the young woman's abduction by Tom Duffy... he knew the feeling well
-sitting like a "fucking duck"-
when all he wanted was to spur into action. Take the situation in his hands. But the police officer had obeyed orders and he had to say, it was for the best. Who knew what could have happened if he had tried to stop Duffy there and then.
"Permit me to say that sometimes following orders is the best course of action."
"I didn't follow orders a few hours ago." Terry rebutted.
Officer McRae pressed his lips, not wanting to continue this discussion with Terry. It was certain that they would not agree. Little did Terry know, he had been lucky so far. Barging in that house on the top of the hill with Tom Duffy inside, armed.
He could have died, his wife could have died. What Terry had done in that house had been crazy . Yes, the police officer had excused him. The love Terry had for his wife was obvious, even if, for reasons unknown to officer McRae, he had behaved so irresponsibly before, leaving her on her own in their cottage while he was getting drunk in the pub. If he had been in the cottage from the start, nothing of what they were going through, would have happened in the first place.
Terry remained silent. The thick wooden partition between them and the room where Candy was in, had become the centre of his attention. The one thing he had started feeling hate about.
He could tear it down with his bare hands...
Just like that one time more than ten years ago, himself still being a boy, a mere fifteen years old... On a night as dark as the feathers of the raven, when both his and Candy's lives were changed forever. Once more, back then, a wall stood between them.
They had locked Candy in the punishment room. A room with nothing to envy from those cells located in the dungeons of London Tower.
He spoke to her, while he was outside. He would take care of things. But even trying to help her while being there, trying to be close to her, he could not stop from hating himself, for feeling so helpless.
What the fuck his words were good for? Could the words tear the wall down? Correct the wrong they had accused them for? Punish Eliza for setting them up?
Those small minded nuns had locked Candy in that abomination they called Punishment Room whereas he, the son of a Duke, was kept "locked" inside his luxurious room. That was the consequence he and Candy had to pay for being found together in the stables during the evening. They had responded to Eliza's trap, the fake messages.
Candy was to leave the college the next day. Sister Grey had decided to expel her from St. Paul's. The shame this would bring to her and her guardian... the great Uncle William, the man she had never seen but he had saved her from an unknown, bleak future by adopting her and making her a member of the Ardley family; Candy, the orphan girl who was given the life of the privileged few.
She was despised by her cousins; Eliza, who had no bone in her body that was not evil and devious, and her minion, her brother Neil. Both had been tormenting Candy since the day she set her foot inside the Lakewood mansion, when they had asked for a companion girl for Eliza, a friend she could be playing with.
Never before, being the son of an aristocrat, made Terry feel more ashamed for the privileges he was granted on the name of his father.
"I want to be the one who makes Candy happy..."
He had shouted to Archie and Stair when they had faced him for what had taken place. Archie of course being the furious one, had attacked Terry not only verbally but physically as well, while Stair always being the more mature one, was waiting to hear what Terry had to say. Both boys were smitten with Candy too.
Who could not be smitten with her?
The girl with the sunshine smile, the freckled face and the lush green grass of the American plains inside those big wide eyes of hers. Everyone wished for her happiness. But for Terry, no, it was not enough to wish. He would make sure, he would be the one to actually do it, to make Candy happy.
That same thought, resurrected in his mind at that moment, while yet again a wall stood between them.
"I want to be the one to make her happy."
Whether or not, Terry's firm conviction meant he would ensure Candy's happiness, while he stood by her or walking away from her, right now, it did not matter.
What mattered was to take her out of the situation she... they... had found themselves. The thought kept growing in his mind, kept turning around. From a whisper, it had increased in intensity, it had become practically a shout so loud, everything else had been silenced.
He should take her place.
Perhaps he'd find this brother of his at the end of this.
The whistle of the station manager was heard on the platform outside the carriage. His hands tightened into fists, while resting on top of his thighs. He shut his eyes for a few moments. Pressed his lips tight. The breath came out of his nostrils like the bull's just before charging forward.
"I want to make Candy, happy."
He stood up, without any warning, startling officer McRae. "What the-!"
Terry turned and looked at him.
"I'm going after her. You can follow me if you want, but I'm not staying here. I'm sorry."
Without waiting for a response, he passed by officer McRae, who was sitting closer to the door of their cabin and got out. There was no one in the corridor. Walked a few steps, stopped in front of the cabin where Candy and her captors were supposed to be. There was a gap of an inch or two at the door. His heartbeat accelerated when he pushed the door open. The cabin was empty. Apart from a rope left on top of the bed, nothing else was there. No signs of struggle...
"Candy!" He shouted her name, with the panic burning his chest.
"Damn it, woman!" The words sounded more like a growl as they left his mouth. He looked around and stopped in his tracks when he reached the door to the bathroom. His breath trembled. He turned the door knob.
Her writing on the mirror in bright red lipstick.
On the road, T.G.
There, it dawned to him. MacDonald's man was more clever than they had cared to think about. He had no plan of getting back to London by train. Was Tom Duffy even with them? Who knew... He left the room and run with the same speed a match carves a path of fire, when it is lit and thrown on a line of gasoline.
He had no time to waste. He had to reach them before... Officer McRae already in the corridor stopped him.
"They are getting on a car, damn it!" Terry shouted. "You can follow me, but I'm not stopping. Not for you or any God damn police force in the world."
He had already left the officer behind with his words hanging still on the air inside the carriage. He opened the carriage door. His eyes scanned the crowd. He couldn't see...
In another life time, on another train that was on the move, he was the one getting away from her. This time, she was. With all the air he had in his lungs, he shouted her name.
Desperate, urgent.
Stopped every move happening on the platform. A sea of faces turned towards his way.
Candy felt her hand crashed inside her captor's hand when she heard Terry's voice. She could hardly follow him, without losing her footing and falling down. They started running. The scarf over her hair loosened.
A gust of wind.
A scarf floating in the air.
Her blond hair.
Like the light beamed from a lighthouse in the darkness, in the middle of a storm, it caught Terry's stare. He run as if he'd been an arrow fired by a bow.
"Don't look back, you're dead, lass." Candy heard the man. They were out in the street. Turned to a narrow alley close to the train station. They were in reach to the parked car.
"Stop!"
Candy whispered Terry's name. She had not heard his voice as grave and serious as he had sounded right then.
The man turned. He faced Terry. The silence held inside its fist the stares from both men, while they sized each other up. To Candy, it felt like an eternity. Her heart palpitated inside her throat.
It had been her fault. Everything...
"Take me.." Terry said before the man opened his mouth.
"Terry, no!" Candy shouted, her voice echoed against the walls of the buildings around them.
Terry ignored her. While MacDonald's henchman was all ears. Intrigued as he was by the bravery or the stupidity of the man in front of him, whichever way it may have been, he felt compelled to listen.
"I am the son of the Duke of Grandchester." Terry said next.
Candy gasped in disbelief. Hearing Terry using his name, after all that time...
"Bullshit." The man replied.
"Believe me or not, you get in that car without me, and you make the biggest mistake of your life. I'm worth a lot more than her. Richard Grandchester will pay a fortune to have me back. She is not worth half of what I'm worth for your boss. Leave her be and I'll come with you."
MacDonald's man could not believe in his ears. This wasn't a lie. If it was, it was perhaps the stupidest lie, he had ever heard. This crazy man would have been marching to a certain death the moment they'd reach Charles MacDonald lair, if what he said wasn't true.
"You're that crazy son-of-a-bitch at the pub..." He said between his teeth, all of a sudden.
"Yes..." Terry replied.
He recognised this guy being one of the men who had beat him up on that evening at the Blind Beggar, where in an alcohol poisoned haze, Terry had challenged MacDonald. He had carried a death wish, after he had attacked Candy in her own house.
Candy stood dumbfounded, realising they already knew each other.
"We beat you up to a pulp that day..." He said.
"I still have the scar." Terry replied. "Let her come forward and I'm coming with. Your boss will be happy to see me."
"My boss should have blown your brains that day..." The man said.
He looked at Candy, who could not make heads or tails of the exchange of words between the two men. Words of death and blown brains, scared the hell out of her.
She had been so wrapped up in her own drama, her burden, her own secret. And then having confessed her love to Terry... everything that followed, the short lived bliss, the fatal blow with the letter after, she never had the time nor the mind to ask of Terry, to explain about the stitches on his brow she helped him take out.
"Your boss is lucky that he didn't." Terry said back to the man. "Let her go."
The man weighed quickly everything in his mind. He couldn't take both. Indeed, Terry sounded a much better catch for Charles. He had been persuaded. Gave a nod with his head to Candy to move.
"Go." He said to her.
She stood frozen, not being able to move. There was no way she'd let Terry leave with Charles MacDonald's hitman.
"Freckles... please." Terry asked her.
Tears streamed down her eyes, warm tears carrying her fear, anguish of having to let him go. Her feet reluctantly moved, while Terry approached the man, who had reached for his gun, wanting to be ready.
"Don't do any fancy moves, both of you." He said.
Candy disregarded his order. Run and grabbed Terry. Wrapped her arms around him. Terry pulled her back. Brushed her tears from her cheeks. "Let me do this." He whispered to her.
"Drop the gun down!" A voice was heard at the top of the alley street.
Everyone froze on their place. "You're been surrounded."
The intensity of the voice of the Police Constable James Barrach was amplified inside that narrow alley street, as himself and a group of policemen appeared from behind the hitman. They had all come out of a disused door of the train station that was hidden behind some wooden crates.
Another group of policemen showed up from the front, led by Officer McRae.
Terry, Candy and the man who was about to cause an untold damage to their lives, were surrounded indeed, while a large number of gun barrels were pointing towards them.
"Leave the gun down and put your arms up."
Candy felt Terry's arms wrapping around her, slowly pulling her at the back.
"Be very still." He whispered to her.
Both of them stared at the man and then at the police officers. The tension was so thick, it slowed time down and everyone's moves felt as if they had been in slow motion.
However, the man was not stupid, nor did he wish to die. If he played his cards right, he could come out of this, with the minimum damage possible. Even if he thought for a split second to direct his gun towards Terry who had hugged Candy and was trying to take her out of the firing line by placing his body in front on her, he'd achieve nothing. He'd be most probably dead in the second after or hanged as a murderer.
He bent his knees and knelt down, without breaking eye contact with James Barrach. Then he raised his body up, straightened his posture and put his arms up. Seconds later, a number of policemen run towards him.
The standoff came to an end. Terry and Candy were safe. And perhaps, with a bit of good luck, Christian could come out of this, in one piece. The breath of relief they both took right there, would have stayed in their minds for a long while after the images would faint with time.
The wind had picked up a little, just as the daylight was dying on the late July sky over London.
It whispered through the leaves on the trees; grazed the bright green grass and harvested the fragrance of the summer gardens, honeysuckles, jasmines and gardenias. It ruffled Christian's hair, entered his lungs as he breathed.
He stood at his hiding spot, across the road from the Grandchester mansion with his blue grey stare fixed on the Duke's residence. Like another Hamlet, he had been dressed all in black, exactly like Terry had done at the theatre for all those nights in London.
Christian's last act however, was not made pretend. It was real, very real; precariously standing upon the edge of a dangerous precipice, dark and slippery, ready to welcome his fall into the dark depths below it. That understanding weighed down on him. He stood so completely still, only the gentle rising of his chest could tell him apart from a statue.
He was waiting for Billy, to come back from his surveillance.
He had done that same routine, many times over, most times with the intoxicating alertness the adrenaline inside his body had caused; the tingling sensation on his fingertips; that heightened state of all of his senses and yet, this time, it was different.
It spelled the end of his life as he knew it. Even if a new life, in all hope, would unfold in front of him after this, he could not dismiss the fact that the decision he took was forced, and the road he had embarked upon was going towards one direction only. There was no side road. There was no going back.
Rose appeared in his mind, in the darkness behind his closed eyes. She must had been at isle of Barra still. The fact that McDonald had sent someone at Barra, just to keep Christian inside his closed fist, had shaken him greatly, enough for him to change his plan and go ahead with the burglary for real. Surely the thug who kept his eye on them, would not make a move. Or so Christian hoped. He would kill MacDonald with his bare hands if his man had touched a hair from Rose.
At least he was in the right mind to send Graham with her. If he had played his cards right and hadn't let his temper ruin his chances, perhaps they were a couple by now...
Christian could do nothing over the fact he had come second in Rose's heart, of having been the "substitute" all along. He hadn't harboured bad feelings, even after that explosive rivalry that took place between the two men. When he realised what was the true story between Rose and Graham... She may had swore her love for Christian too, and perhaps she had come to love both men, but Christian would never had settled for second.
He lit a cigarette, and took a long drag. A faint smile was drawn on his lips as he exhaled the smoke out. He thought of her, her infectious smile, the warmth of her kisses on his face, the light inside her eyes, bright and undying as he gazed at them while they were both lying down on the Grandchester meadows.
It was hard to believe it was only a few months ago. That memory felt as if it was a lifetime away, when the faint thought for a change had started taking shape, inside his mind and heart. According to her, everything was possible. He may had been the man in her life who had freed her from the pain the past had caused her, but she had been the one who made him think of his life too, in a profound way. Wanting change.
He had imagined that change much different back then.
Now nearing the end, it was the change he had tried to bring in his life that kept him going, even if he knew he was playing his life on a game of dice.
Alice's message was kept inside his hand. After he had left Charles' house, he had realised she had slipped it inside his jacket's pocket. The scene Alice had played in front of him had been an act. A ruse just to pass him that note.
Part of him felt guilty for misjudging her. Part of him felt confused, intrigued even of the strong feelings that woman was able to incite inside him. A lot had happened between them, and if he was honest with himself, he should have had a greater control over his actions with her.
"Beware of the wolf's plans, Chris."
He had no doubt of who that wolf was...
He had to take his chances. As said, there was only one direction. He took one last drag and crushed the cigarette on the ground. Heard a familiar whistle further down from where he was standing. Soon Billy came into view.
"Well?" Christian asked Billy when he reached him.
"Duke's left 'bout an hour ago, as planned."
"Anything out of line?"
"Nope, he was all suited up and inside his fancy Rolls, on his way to join his posh mates."
"Did you follow...?" Christian kept ticking the questions he had in mind.
His stare was still fixed to the big mansion in the distance, slowly disappearing into the descending darkness, left behind by the setting sun. Soon it would be time for him to move on.
"Yes, I did. His Royal Highness stopped at the Rules..." Billy said with a hoity toity air in his voice.
He never held those bloody toffs in high regard. Christian didn't commend.
"You used to hang out to that place with your rich mates too...didn't ya?" Billy added.
"And your point being...?" Christian asked him.
Billy's tone had started to annoy him. He did not need crap at that moment, coming from Billy out of all people. How Christian had chosen to live his life, whether or not he mingled with the rich and famous, or the poor and destitute, getting to know the criminals who slipped like shadows, lost within the narrow streets of London.
No, he definitely didn't need Billy's criticising.
"No more high life after that..." Billy raised his brows with a condescending look across his face.
Christian pulled Billy from the collars of his jacket and slammed him against the tree behind him.
"Listen very carefully, you bastard. You never listened!" He accused him with his teeth clenched.
He had it coming for some time now, as far as Christian was concerned. Despite them working together again, and Christian trying to act he'd be ok with him, he hadn't forgotten. It was Billy who had brought him in front of that asshole, MacDonald, who was pulling his strings now and made him dance to his tune.
Billy pushed him back. No, he was having none of Christian's anger, either. It was the time to speak his mind, just this one time. He feared for the worst.
"No! It is YOU who never listened, you pretentious prick! You had no place between us, Chris. No place! Bloody fucking Raven, an' all that shit! We didn't need any saving by you! Just 'cause you was dumped by a rich broad, decided to rob them all, playing your bloody posh kid game, you sold your fucking soul! MacDonald has you on his sights and I can't save you, you Fuck!"
Christian stood a few steps away. Eyes blazing, feeling the sting from the bitter tears of hurt anger; he was ready to charge on Billy, like a wounded animal.
"I didn't hear you protest when I was handing you the goods all that time, Billy. Caring about me. Save me the bullshit. You forget, you was the one who handed me to MacDonald."
"You think I had a choice?! Do you?!" Billy reacted.
"Everyone has a choice..." Christian muttered with a dry voice.
"And yours was to fuck your life, just because you were sold like cattle to the Blakes..."
Those last words, felt like the knife Alice had plunged into him, and pushed Christian off the edge, he so desperately was holding from. His fist landed on his companion's face with force.
Billy's head swung sideways. He wobbled for a few steps, trying to find his balance. When he stopped, he brushed his lips with his hand. They had blood on them. He looked up at Christian. In the darkness that had slowly descended around them, anger sparkled inside his stare that was made out of steel.
"I'm sorry...I shouldn't..." He heard the regret in Billy's voice. He had pushed Christian too far, without having the intention.
"I don't know what came over me, Chris... I am truly sorry." He apologised once more in earnest.
"But before you go, let me tell you one thing, friend." He said to the young man.
Fate had thrown him in front of Billy that night at the pub, when within their drunken stupor, they had become unlikely companions in what had started as a game in their minds and soon had turned the Raven into the stuff urban legends were made from.
"When we meet, you give me the loot, and you disappear Chris. You leave London for a very long time, change face, change name, everything." Billy said with an alien passion in his voice, while he had come close to Christian and had grabbed him by his shoulders, their stares locked.
"There's a man on Barra following Rose and Terry." Christian said back to Billy. "I need to know they are ok. I can't just disappear, Billy."
"Charlie won't hurt them. He is just playing you to get you where he wanted, man!" Billy said to Christian. "The boss doesn't like to be bested by anyone Chris, let alone a posh kid the likes of you, a painter for fuck's sake... don't matter whether you were the fucking Raven, that made it worse, you know?"
Christian didn't respond. Instead he turned once more his eyes towards the mansion. At those leafy suburbs of London, the day's residual warmth had caused the ground moisture to rise up and turn into a night fog , like a a ghostly veil it hovered low on the ground.
"You really pushed Charlie's buttons, Chris." Billy said and lit a cigarette.
Christian would have to leave soon.
"And that trick you played, taking Alice away, hiding her..." He let the sentence unfinished, floating between them like the night fog.
"Nothing goes on between me and Alice." Christian stopped Billy before he said anything else.
"I didn't say anything!" Billy protested.
"Yeah, right! Just leave it, Billy ok?! Jesus Christ, listing all my errors now?! Fucking hell, man! Just make sure she's ok, will you..."
"I thought you hated her guts!" Billy took a drag from the cigarette he had between his fingers.
He smiled. He wasn't stupid even if Christian denied of any situation having taken place between him and Alice.
"Well, I don't... she's MacDonald's chess piece as much as you and I are." Christian replied, already sounding eager to stop this conversation.
"She's also MacDonald's broad..." Billy added.
"That too..."
"Especially that..."
"Well good for her, Billy! Just keep your opinions for yourself and do what I'm asking you for once, alright?!"
Billy threw the finished cigarette on the ground and stomped it with his foot. They both walked back in the cemetery, in silence. Nothing else was heard around them while they walked through the cemetery path, apart from the crushed earth beneath their footsteps.
The gas lamps had just about been lit. The light turned the fog into milky coloured ribbons, the long, slender fingers of an ancient powerful forest witch, having her eyes cast upon those two dark, lone figures walking through the old graves.
Billy was following Christian. Whatever questions he may had about Christian's plan, he kept for himself for the time being.
Till they reached the so called Egyptian Avenue, a long corridor of some of the most imposing mausoleums at the Highgate cemetery. Christian turned to his companion. "This is where we part, Billy."
"Here?!" The man asked.
Christian was not going to reveal the secret passage to Billy. It was enough for only him to enter. He had no wish for any other criminal to have a go to break into the Grandchester mansion.
"Yes." Christian replied. "You'll turn the other way when I tell you. The less you know, the better for everyone."
"OK, whatever you say, Chris."
"We do our usual routine..." Christian put the final plan in place. "Keep hidden, check for anything unexpected. When I return, I whistle before I come out... you whistle back if all's good, alright..?"
Billy nodded. They gave hands.
"Be careful, man." Billy said to Christian.
He tried to hide how anxious he felt, more than the usual adrenaline he felt before a break-in , despite having done this many times before with Christian.
"Don't worry about me, Billy. Take care of Alice... and do me a favour. Let that detective, Shaw... let him know that Rose is with Graham at the isle of Barra, ok? I really don't trust MacDonald, Billy. I won't be able to live with myself if they get hurt because of me... Promise me that."
Christian's voice intensified at the end. It was evident how important this was to him.
"I will, don't worry, mate, I promise! Nothing will happen to them." Billy said back.
"OK, then. I'm off. Turn your back to me now, and stay like so for the next fifteen minutes. Keep safe." Christian said.
He sounded so business like. He started walking away.
"It was nice as long as it lasted..." He said all of a sudden.
Just loud enough for Billy to hear. The man didn't turn, but Christian could hear of the smile in his reply.
"Indeed it was, mate, indeed it was..."
Christian turned back and continued walking.
He reached the entrance of the Grandchester mausoleum. The air that greeted him was colder inside it, smelled of damp earth. It was pitch black by then. On the side, there was the fire torch he had used before. He picked it up and lit it, before he placed it inside a torch holder on the wall. He pushed the floor stone, to reveal once again the passage that would lead him to the tunnel he'd walk all the way to the Duke's residence.
He took the flaming torch with him and with careful steps he came down the narrow stairs. Before he continued, he made sure to pull the stone over the passage once again.
He finally stood inside the tunnel. It felt as if the earth would swallow him whole, when he peered down into the darkness that lay beyond the reach of the torch light. He started walking. Without realising it, he had shoved his free hand inside the pocket of his jacket. He felt Alice's message.
"Beware of the wolf's plans, Chris."
He took a long breath.
He could feel every single step of his, as he became closer to a reckoning he had no idea whether he'd come out alive or not. But he felt calm. This time, he would blame no one for his fate. It was his hand that had been on the steering wheel.
The ashtray on Charlie's desk was overflowing with crushed cigarette butts. It was quarter to ten in the evening already, and Alice had spent the entire time, since her boyfriend left the house, locked in his study after their meeting with Christian and Billy had ended.
"I'll deal with you later." He had said to her before he left her.
The sound of the key turning inside the lock told her more than his actual words. She was Charlie's prisoner...
The minutes were ticking away and she kept at the desperate edge of the present. Each minute reminding her of the end that was coming closer. Charles had bested them, both herself and Christian. Even if she had left a message inside his pocket as a very last attempt to warn him, it gave her no relief, no reassurance about anything.
She had heard of Charles speaking with someone early in the morning.
"Be at the pub by ten..."
It was almost time. She closed her eyes shut. The hours she had spent alone in Charlie's study, she had spent walking back and forth, like a caged animal.
Thinking. Thinking. Thinking.
Of her, of Christian, of Charles. How could she help, what could she do...
She kept watching the clock on the wall. The time was running through her fingers. She took solace in taking the bourbon from the drinks cabinet, pouring herself in a glass, a couple of fingers at time. She could hold her drink. Sometimes, in between the drink and the tobacco, she found she could focus better. But as much as she could concentrate on the problem in hand, she could think of no solution.
She was there, locked, left alone; surrendering to her fate, wishing perhaps Charles would not act upon his threats. He, like a general had gone to the Blind Beggar, at his headquarters in the basement, from where she imagined him moving people around, giving them orders. Ending or sparing lives with one word of his. And Christian? He must had been miles away by then, in a mission with an unknown end. If only she could help him. The wish had become like a mantra. It burned her inside. She had fallen hard for him. Hard, desperate, the kind of love you lose your mind over it. Capable of losing everything, your dignity, your logic, your life...
Dusk time, it came and found Alice, in a near amok state. Fuelled by the alcohol that run in her veins, she had proceeded of turning Charles' study, upside down. Searching for anything that could help her. Drawers were left open, papers were thrown on the floor, no sofa cushion was left unturned and searched under it. Looking, looking, looking for anything. A set of keys to open the door perhaps, a knife to defend herself. Begging for the housekeeper to let her out, had fallen in deaf ears.
Just when she was near to the point of self-combusting by the fierceness of her actions, the panicked anguish of watching the clock getting closer to ten...
A drawer, she noticed unopened at the centre of the desk. A thin, long drawer, she... How the hell she had not noticed it before?! It was locked when she tried to open it. But there was nothing that could stay secret for Alice at that moment. She knew a lot of tricks to open locked drawers. The key lock was small, too small to try and open with a letter opener. She tried with a hair pin she had pinned her hair with.
In between a string of curses flying from her lips while trying to steady her trembling fingers, at last... the drawer opened and she froze when the hidden contents were revealed in front of her eyes. There was a Colt 1911 revolver with a cartridge full of bullets. She knew that gun, even if she had not fired a single shot.
Charles had showed her how to use one. He had found it arousing for his woman to handle guns. In Alice, he had found more than just another woman who satisfied him in bed. He had considered them both made of the same cloth cut, having similar lives, similar background while growing up, showing the same hardness and ambition, naked and raw ambition, to show the world they weren't people they could be laughed at, pitied or underestimated.
Up to a point, Charles had not been wrong for Alice. She wanted a lot of the things he wanted to. She didn't flinch to violence either. In fights, she would not back down. She would attack before she'd get attacked. But never to the point of killing someone. For their world, this had been a drawback. If you weren't willing to kill, you'd be eventually killed. Perhaps that was why she had kept by MacDonald's side for as long as she had.
But with Christian... his presence in her life had spelled the beginning of the end for her relationship to MacDonald. She took the gun and shoved it in the inside pocket of her blazer. She was still in the same pinstripe suit she was wearing when they had met with Christian and Billy.
Before she went to the locked door of the study, she pulled the cord of the telephone, off from its socket, cutting out all possible communication. She then started banging against the door with her fists. Shouting at the top of her lungs.
"Open this bloody door, or else I will open all the windows and I'll scream murder, till I'm blue in the face." She shouted. "If you don't want the good neighbourhood to start talking about your master, open the door NOW!"
Alice was making already a ruckus, even with the windows closed. It was nearing night time. The sun had already set and the moon was up on the sky in the semi darkness. A thin veil of fog was enveloping London once more.
The housekeeper could do nothing else but open the door. She came face to face with the dark barrel of the Colt revolver, and the cold stare from Alice.
Cold and resolute; she would not hesitate to use the gun when she gave the order.
"Unlock the front door and let me out, Beth..." She said slowly to the woman who said nothing back but hurried towards the door. Took the keys from the chain they were hanging by her skirt, and opened the door.
"Give me the keys!" She said with the same unwavering voice.
"Please Miss Alice, don't do anything stupid." The housekeeper whispered as she handed her the keys.
"I cannot promise you that Beth." She said back with a hard voice and a smile which held a threat in them so tangible and real, it was enough to make the hairs on the back of Beth's neck to stand up.
"I'm afraid, I'll lock you in, for now." Those were the last words from Alice. She closed the door and locked it, leaving the poor old woman in pure anguish of what Alice's plans may be.
She shoved the gun back into the jacket's pocket. Hailed the first taxi that came her way and was on her way.
"Bling Beggar, driver and step on it." She ordered the driver.
From the time she stepped out of the taxi, to the moment she arrived in front of the door at the basement of the Blind Beggar, it was all in a haze in Alice's mind.
"Hello boys." She said with a hoarse voice to the two thugs who were standing by the door. "Is Charlie in?" She asked.
The whiskey shots she had consumed made it so easy for her to flip the switch. Put on the sexy, the sultry, her feminine tricks. Her come-to-bed stare, batting eyelashes, moist, red stained lips. The white poplin shirt unbuttoned down her neck. She could smell her heavy perfume warmed up by the heat of her body and so did they.
The thugs looked at each other. They shared the same thought; How lucky their boss was to have this woman in his bed. Hot and ready as she was. They bet, she couldn't wait... He had asked not to be bothered but... would they say no to Alice?
"He's here..." One of them said to her.
She moistened her bottom lip with her tongue and looked up towards him when she thanked him. Nothing confessed the frenzied heartbeat inside her chest, of what she was about to do.
Frank Jones and Jack Scott had arrived on time at the Blind Beggar, right before ten in the evening, all according to Charlie's orders. They had been trying to join the Elephant boys for quite some time but gaining the trust of a tight-knit gang and its leader was a game of patience, rather than anything else. What they knew, however was, when you became an Elephant boy, Charlie would not let you or your family in a lurch. Give the man your loyalty, and you or your family would need not to worry about anything.
The two men were ready to give their lives to the "Wag" MacDonald, the most famous of all the gang leaders in London. After months of doing menial tasks for the boss, keeping a cool head in their shoulders, following orders without question or complaint, it felt like the time had come for them to prove themselves and become fully fledged members of the Elephant boys.
Frank had met with Charles in the morning of that day. The boss had asked him personally to come and see him. He said there was a "job" for his and his pal... An important one... Something they would have to do no matter what. But there would be not going back after that.
"I have to warn you." Charles had said.
But he also reassured Frank, the rewards would be enviable, life changing.
Charles MacDonald was in need for a "right" hand, a second-in-command sort of speak. Frank could be the one. And Jack, he could have a similar position.
"Be at the pub by ten." He had said to him.
So they had arrived. Waited for a few minutes before Charles came to the room. He seemed to be in high spirits. Smiling wide, rubbing his hands together. A clear sign, his affairs were doing well.
"I am glad to see you both here, boys." He said to the two men who was standing in front of him.
Charles stood behind his desk. Took a slim cigar out of the cigar box and lit it. Took a few puffs to make sure it was properly lit and with one eye half closed and a raised brow, he stared at them through the heavy smoke.
"So, about the task... I will need both of you to come with me very soon. We'll take a ride to the Highgate Cemetery. There will be two guys I want you to meet and take care of. Billy Pike-"
"Billy... Billy?" Jack asked sounding surprised.
Charles took one more drag from his cigar. "Yes, Billy, Billy. My left-hand guy sort of speak..."
The two men looked at each other. Was boss doing a reshuffling of his top men... ? They kept silent.
"And... another guy, you may know him by his alias..."
"Who's that boss?" Frank asked.
Charles scratched his forehead, taking his time, playing almost like a theatre in front of those guys. He needed to rattle them a little, since this job was going to be their first serious job for Charles. He had to make sure they were up for whatever he would going to ask them. So he created a suspense, kept the dramatic pauses, taking his time, smoking his cigar.
"The Raven." He finally said to them.
Witnessing of their eyes having turned into four full moons lit by the utter surprise Raven's name caused to them, he came closer. Fixed them both with a nail-like stare.
"Is there anything wrong, boys?" He asked them.
The door opened.
The three men turned towards it. Charles looking particularly annoyed, angry even. He had asked his men outside, not to let anyone...
"Alice!" He exclaimed.
"Hello Charles." She said with a voice so calm, she surprised even herself, because the tremble that coursed through her body, she could just about control it. She closed the door behind her, before Charles had the time to reach the guys who stood outside.
"What the fuck-" His sentence was left unfinished. The smoke of the cigar held between his fingers snaked up to the ceiling.
She lost no time, and yet all felt like slow motion. Pulled the gun from the inside pocket. Aimed to the man who had been her lover, her mentor, her partner...
"I'm sorry Charles, I can't let you do it."
She pulled the trigger.
A flash of light,
the familiar sound of the Colt firing-
She felt the kick of the gun going through her arm and her body but she stood still, on her feet, eyes feverish, mad.
Frank and Jack were standing, spectators to the most unexpected and crazy scene. But the bullet hit Charles just below the left collarbone. He fell backwards with a grunt, clutching the left side of his chest. Like a blossoming flower in scarlet red, the warm blood started spreading on his white shirt.
"Damn you, Alice!" He groaned. "Get her!" He shouted to the men.
There was a panicked commotion in the room. The door burst open straight away. Charles' men who were standing outside came in. Alice stood frozen like a statue. The gun still hanging like a dead flower from her hand. Tears streaming down her cheeks. Her breath was coming out laboured.
Frank reached Charles. "Call a doctor, someone!" He shouted.
Jack and the men from outside got hold of Alice but she didn't struggle. They took the gun from her hand. She didn't pay any attention. She had her eyes fixed on Charles. Someone brought a towel and pressed down to his wound. He stood on his feet. He made a gesture with his hand to the men to leave him alone. He had seen worse. His breathing came out hard from his nostrils. With a face white looking like ghost and eyes bloodshot like hot coals, he walked towards her. He stopped in front of her.
Even before she uttered the words, of what she felt, he read it in the way she looked back at him.
Hate...
All consuming, burning hate... shimmered inside her hazelnut eyes.
However, the sound of her voice, a viper's hissing, hit him harder, hurt him more than the bullet that pierced his shoulder. He raised his blood stained right hand and hit her hard across her face. Blood run from her nostrils when she turned to face him again.
"You brought that to yourself, Charles..." She said with a defiant smirk. "You do what you plan, I'll be your curse."
He gritted his teeth. Stood right in front of her, no space between them. Towered over her. Grabbed her by her hair, pulled her head back and looked deep inside her eyes, that showed no fear. He closed his left hand into a tight first. The blood was dripping down from his knuckles. He had loved her. One word from her... and he would have forgiven her. But she had acted in front of everyone. He couldn't back down. He couldn't show weakness.
A murderous smile appeared on his face. He bared his teeth to her, ready to attack her like a wolf going for the exposed jugular. "My naive, beautiful Alice... Not only I'll go ahead with my plan, but when I'm back, you'll wish you never met me..." He used his words carefully, examining every little muscle twitch on her face, seeking hard of the satisfaction to see her fear, remorse... The more defiant she looked, the worse he was turning.
Someone knocked on the door. It was a doctor they pulled from upstairs while he was having a drink with his friends. He came in, looking stressed, even more so, once he saw everyone that was in the room, quickly realising what took place. Charles turned his back to Alice who was held still by Charles' men. He sat down on his chair. Received the first aid from the doctor who managed to stop the bleeding. He bandaged his wound but he advised the gang leader to have someone see his wound, to remove the bullet before an infection took place. But Charles had a pressing matter, before he could see to his wound. And that was his trip with the two men to Highgate cemetery.
"Keep her here and not let her out of your sight." He ordered the men who were left behind. Then with a nod of his head, Charles, Frank and Jack left without any more time to waste.
The time was getting close to eleven.