Vincent's shoulders bumped against the hard rock walls. He stared at the darkness which laid ahead of him. His mind was blank, but his heart hammered against his ribs. Catherine would succeed. He kept repeating the words in his mind. She would bring this man to justice and all would be well again. Still, the thought of being apart, even for a while, seemed unbearable.
"Ah," Father said as Vincent entered his chamber. "Vincent."
He put aside the book he was reading and took off his glasses.
"How was Catherine?"
"Upset."
The agitated tone in his voice put a frown on Father's face.
"The man who attacked her friend is still at large?" he guessed.
"Worse," Vincent snapped. "The police suspect me. They are watching Catherine."
Father shook his head in disbelief.
"How did this happen? I thought you were careful."
"We were."
Vincent started pacing the room.
"Don't worry, Father. No one knows who I am."
His voice darkened.
"What I am. "
He folded his fingers. His thick, sharp fingernails pierced the back of his hand.
"Their suspicion is triggered by the fact that they know nothing about me. They believe I am a hired assassin and Catherine merely my means to an end. She cannot see me until this is over. She will not jeopardize what we have built here."
Brusquely he paused. Thick strands of gingery hair flew into his eyes as he gazed upon Father.
"I must speak with Mary. Do you know where she is?"
Father folded his glasses.
"She took the children to the river. Why do you need her?"
Vincent ignored the question, turned around and stormed out the chamber.
He could hear the children chatter as he came closer.
"Look! There's one!" a boy called out.
"Well spotted," Mary encouraged him. "Can you tell me what kind of fish it is?"
The boy hovered over the rocks, gazing into the water.
"I only caught a glimpse," he sighed. "It was fast."
"What do we know about the movement of fish?" Mary continued, addressing the children who were gathered around her.
Vincent gently interrupted: "Mary …"
She turned around and frowned when she saw the worried look on this face.
"… I need to speak with you in private. It won't take long."
"Alright," she calmly agreed. "I suppose the children can stay by themselves for a few minutes."
A little girl called out: "Can we continue reading The Little White Horse later, Vincent?"
Vincent did his best to hide his restlessness.
"Perhaps."
Mary followed him to an empty cave nearby.
"What is it?" she asked. "You seem unsettled."
He took a deep breath and looked at her.
"When you took Denise above," he started, "you met a man, someone you knew from your old life."
A sadness came over Mary. Her voice dropped:
"He's done something, hasn't he? I knew it when I saw him talk to Catherine. It was in his posture. He was taunting her."
"Who is he?"
Mary took a seat in a niche.
"He's a boy I knew when I lived above," she explained. "He lived in our street. His parents were …"
She searched for the right words.
"… I believe his mother was an exotic dancer. I never met his father."
"He was left to himself," Vincent understood.
Mary nodded. A silver string of hair danced around her ear.
"He used to bring me things," she continued, "small things. Vegetables from the garden. Flowers he had picked down the road. I read to him. He didn't know how to, you see. His parents didn't let him go to school. I felt so bad for him. He was such a bright boy."
"You taught him," Vincent guessed.
"Yes. I was happy with the company. You know I couldn't have any children of my own. Mike was like a son to me."
"What happened?" Vincent asked and his face distorted in confusion.
"He grew up."
Gently Mary touched her cheekbone, but the tears had not yet fallen.
"He became obsessed with making a name for himself. I continued to support him right until I found out he was selling drugs at the local school. Some of those children were just eight years old."
Mary sighed.
"I couldn't be a part of it," she continued. "He was ruining innocent children's lives. I had to do something."
"You turned him in to the police?"
"I tried to talk to him," Mary explained, "but he had lost all empathy, all reason. What other choice did I have?"
She looked at Vincent.
"He was still in juvenal detention when I moved below. What has he done?"
Vincent leaned against the cold rocks.
"He leads some sort of criminal gang," he answered. "He tried to have Catherine's friend killed."
Slowly Mary came closer. She narrowed her eyes.
"This man is still alive?"
"Yes."
She grabbed his arm.
"Then he must take great care," she insisted. "Mike never leaves his work unfinished."