For a moment Charlie didn't know if it was day or night when he woke. Without a window it was impossible to say. Reaching for the bedside lamp he squinted at his watch. Past ten in the morning.
Charlie blinked.
After the little scare in the middle of the night when someone tried to get into his room he had slept through like a log. The fact the bed was much more comfortable than the cot in the cells might've had something to do with it. Or it was just exhaustion.
Yawning, Charlie sat up in bed, stretching slowly then cringing as several bruises let themselves know. Remembering last night, he turned to look at the door in a ridiculous fear that somehow someone managed to get inside in the middle of the night.
The door was still closed.
He could hear some noise at the other side though; voices.
Charlie froze for a second then shook it off. He was a cop for goodness sake. True, his situation wasn't the safest, but... so far they needed him.
Still a bit tentative, Charlie walked towards the door, putting his ear on it, hoping to figure out what the voices were talking about. Who they were.
He recognized Ben's voice, telling someone to get lost. A door closed with a slam. There was a rapid knock on Charlie's door and he stepped back, startled.
Not even five second later Charlie could hear the rattle of keys being ruffled through. If he had to have the door open, he would very well do so himself.
"One sec," he called out, voice thick from sleep and sounding more gruff than usual. He unlocked the door and pulled it open. It was stupid, but he felt actual relief upon seeing Ben was alone. Though once he poked his head out to look into the hall, he could hear footsteps above. That meant they weren't alone in the house.
"Hey. Slept well?" Ben asked with a smirk, then raised an eyebrow as his eyes spotted Charlie's scarce attire. Despite the situation, Charlie blushed. Hell, this was hardly his style.
"Yeah... if I ignore the half freezing to death," he grumbled more to make a point than that it was true. "I will need some clothes-" he started but didn't go any further. Ben just nodded and handed Charlie a bag. Charlie took it automatically, a bit dumbfounded he haven't noticed it in the first place. Then he frowned.
It was his own damn backpack.
"Wait... how?"
Another shrug.
"You won't have to worry about the motel either. You have been signed out."
Ben looked as if they did him a favour.
Charlie's jaw clenched and he realized by the end of this assignment he would probably need some dental work.
"Thanks," he said, taking a peek into the bag. The bastards must've checked the whole motel room. He was suddenly happy that he decided to get rid of all the files and numbers that might've given him up. Though now the only place all of that was stored was in his head. Better not get it knocked off his shoulders then.
"What now?" he asked, looking at Ben curiously. For the first time Ben seemed a bit unsure.
"I dunno, man. Enjoy the rest until the next one? I just filled up the kitchen. If you want, I can bring some books next time, but that's about as far as I can go. Oh, and you better keep in shape. I heard the next one will be a dozy."
That didn't make Charlie feel any better.
"So I am locked up in here? All day?"
Ben nodded, looking almost sorry. That wouldn't do.
"Come on, can't I go upstairs? Take a bit of fresh air?"
Ben raised an eyebrow as if asking if Charlie thought he was stupid. Charlie sighed, letting the idea go for a moment.
"What's with the other dude?"
"What do you mean?"
"Someone was trying to get into my room last night. I'd like to know if I should worry about that."
Ben shrugged.
"Worry about what you want. The kid... has his moods. I'd keep away from him, but... if you want to risk getting a knife in the back, suit yourself. Have a nice chat."
Charlie frowned. Was the man serious? The smirk he gave him at the end wasn't filling Charlie with confidence.
"You're all jerks," he muttered under his breath and decided that he would have to figure things out for himself. After all, it seemed he would have some time to kill.
Ben ignored him after this and headed back upstairs. Charlie wanted to ask more questions, but it didn't seem to be the right time. Someone was upstairs and if it was one of the guys that got him there, Charlie actually preferred not to see them today. If they'd came downstairs, he would have to show how unimpressed he was by this new arrangement. With Kenneth's temper, that might just get him a few more bruises to nurse.
Charlie retreated back to his room, once again locking the door. He decided that until he knew who his flatmate was, he would be cautious. He threw the bag on the bed and went through it sparsely. Not much to find. It was filled with his clothes, a half-read noir novel he bought on his way there at the station. No other personal items. Charlie noted that whoever packed his bag 'forgot' to add his ID, wallet and the knife he had hidden at the bottom of the bag for case of need. His shaving kit and toiletries were there though and Charlie wondered if he should take a shave.
His hand ran over his cheek, feeling the stubble. At first it irritated him to no ends, but he was aware that freshly shaven he looked just too goody-goody. The stubble had given him some bite, even if it was just for show. He looked into the small mirror in the kit and noted the bruise on his right cheek, the split lip. Nah. It wouldn't do any good to shave at this point. It would just make him look like a beaten up puppy.
Grimacing at his own thoughts Charlie threw the mirror back into his bag along with the shaving kit. He wasn't presenting the police force right now. He didn't have to be clean shaven. But... he would definitely prefer to be clean clothed. He grabbed some fresh shirt and pants along with a toothbrush and headed for the bathroom. He hesitated only momentarily, locking the room behind himself. He really didn't fancy finding someone inside after a shower.
Charlie had spent half a day just lounging around. He took a shower, made himself some food and even exercised as much as it was possible. Of course he went through the whole basement, except for the only locked room hiding it's mysterious occupant. Charlie could hear the occasional sound of movement from that room, and around lunch time there was a repetitive sound that sent shivers down his spine. It sounded as if someone was throwing a knife at the wall. Repeatedly. Charlie hoped the occupant was just playing darts, but combined with what Ben had told him, Charlie worried that wasn't the truth.
He wasn't too keen on meeting the person, but... he was there for a reason. And it seemed the guy was in a similar predicament to his own. If that was true, Charlie felt obliged to help. Who knew, maybe it was an ally that could help him in return. Or serve as another witness, if this case got in front of a judge.
After lunch time passed without any visitors or barely even a movement heard from upstairs, Charlie was getting bored. Boredom led to worry, because all his mind could think about was the dreadful prospects if he didn't find a way to contact Johnson. Charlie didn't try to kid himself. He knew his chance at winning fights was more about luck than skill, especially if the stakes were getting higher and the opponents stronger.
When he felt as if his lunch wasn't going to sit well with him due to the worry that caused his stomach to tighten, Charlie started pacing his room. He had to make some plan. There were two things he could do today. Find out who was his flatmate and try to establish some friendship. Or at least figure out if he should be keeping an eye on one more person that might have a temper... and a knife.
Second issue was Johnson. Charlie needed a phone. There was none in the basement of course, but... he was pretty sure he heard a familiar ringing tone about two hours earlier coming from upstairs. Which meant he needed to get out of the basement, undetected and use the phone. His best chance was during the night, when hopefully Ben would be asleep. Now Charlie only needed to find out if he was able to pick the lock without being noticed.
Easier said than done.
Charlie didn't have any lock picking set, but a short perusal of the kitchen and the drawers helped him to come up with some paperclips. Charlie spent a bit of time adjusting the clips to his satisfaction. He was glad that one of his first courses in Sydney was focused on lock picking techniques, but he would be lying if he said that one taught him what to do. No. Most of Charlie's knowledge came from Blake. The man loved to play detective and for that he sometimes needed to get into locked rooms. During one of the more harrowing cases, Charlie caught him trying to get into the apartment of a suspect. Charlie of course gave Blake a scolding look and entered the apartment brandishing a key from the building owner, but... next evening, with the suspect safely locked away and the case closed, Charlie had asked Blake about it.
"Did you really think you could get in with a bobby pin?" Charlie wondered as they were sitting on the couch, Charlie drinking a cold beer while Blake was sipping his favourite whiskey. Blake looked up and gave Charlie one of his patented smiles.
"Why, of course I could. Nothing hard about it, Charlie."
Charlie frowned. He knew from academy that lock picks and thieves could open just about anything with proper tools, but he didn't expect the Doctor to be handy with a bobby pin.
"What can I say. Surgeon hands," Blake added, seeing the doubt on his face.
"How many doors have you opened that way, Doc?"
Blake's eyebrows rose.
"Now that would be a bit incriminating information, Charlie, don't you think?" he winked and took a sip. Jean had chuckled from her seat, shooting Blake an amused look from her knitting.
Charlie rolled his eyes that time, but the debate had continued until Charlie managed to convince Blake that he wanted to see it or he didn't believe it.
Blake was always up to prove a point and so he gave Charlie a proper lock picking lesson, demonstrating his skill on the lock to his mother's study. By the time Jean finished knitting the scarf, Blake drank his third glass and Charlie was on his second beer, he managed to actually open the lock himself several times. Charlie wasn't sure what felt better. Hearing the click of the lock opening or seeing the proud look on Blake's face.
At the time he didn't think he would be using that as anything other than a party trick. After all, cops hardly needed to pick locks. They either got the key or kicked the door down. Subtlety was not much of a requirement in the police force.
Right now though Charlie needed to be subtle and careful. Which meant he would have to wait till late night to even attempt anything. Still, he wanted to take a look and familiarize himself with the lock and his surroundings. He had a feeling he would have to try and do it mostly in darkness, which would complicate things.
Early in the evening, Charlie casually stepped out of his room and headed for the stairs. He noted somehow happily that they were concrete and thus didn't pose a danger in form of squeaking or making any other noise that could give him away. After careful perusal, Charlie concluded that the lock on the door was a simple one and he should be able to pick it without trouble. Getting out and about in the house might be a bigger issue, he thought as he heard footsteps and voices on the other side of the door. He recognized Kenneth's voice hollering, though he couldn't make out the words. When the footsteps sounded to be coming closer, Charlie quickly retreated back to his room. The paper clips lay hidden under his mattress.
Whatever Kenneth wanted obviously didn't involve Charlie though as the man never came down. But it worried him that he didn't know how many people were upstairs at a given moment. He wondered if he should even try to risk anything before the second fight. So far he wasn't in any obvious danger and outside of a pitiful description of the house where he was kept all he could tell Johnson was Ben's name and description. Maybe he would leave the escape attempts for when he actually had something to share, Charlie thought, then froze.
He heard a door open and someone walking in front of his room. Then the slam of the bathroom door. His flatmate was up and about. Charlie decided it was time he introduced himself.
Charlie threw a wistful look towards his bag. He would have preferred to have something he could possibly use for defence if the meeting went wrong. Then he realized it was stupid. He let Ben and Kenneth get into his head. After all, the guy seemed to be as much a prisoner as himself. Charlie doubted his first instinct would be to attack. Making up his mind, Charlie stepped outside of his room and headed towards the kitchen. He could maybe put on a kettle and make some tea. As good a reason as any to start a conversation.
He poured water and turned on the flame then settled down to wait. There was a sound of flushing and running water. The kettle started to whistle. Charlie poured the water into his cup and turned around just in time to see a figure trying to sneak back to his room unnoticed.
"Hey," Charlie called out, putting the kettle down. The figure stopped, shoulders tensing. "Uh... hello?" Charlie said, trying to sound unthreatening. The man slowly turned around.
Charlie blinked.
A boy. This was no man. The wiry figure belonged to a boy that couldn't have been more then nineteen, maybe less. He was wearing a long-sleeved shirt and sweatpants, hair ruffled and unkempt. His eyes were sunken and something about him just sit wrong with Charlie. The look in those eyes. It was wild and twitchy.
"What?" the boy snapped, jutting out his chin threateningly.
Charlie instinctively raised his hands in the signal of peace.
"Nothing. I just... wanted to introduce myself. I'm Charlie," he said, then held out a hand. He kept his tone easy and even managed to give a slight smile. He was trying to appear as unthreatening as possible. For God's sake... what was a kid doing here?
The boy frowned at the hand and it was clear he didn't trust him. But his posture eased a bit.
"Caleb," he muttered with a nod, pushing his own hands deep inside his pockets, pointedly ignoring the offered handshake.
Charlie put his own hand down, the smile still not leaving his face.
"Nice to meet you," he said.
Caleb shot him a look of disbelief.
"Uh yeah. Sorry. Probably not a situation in which you want to meet anyone." Charlie realized he was babbling and shook his head. Damn. He was expecting some pumped up guy ready to tear his head off. Not a strung out teenager who reminded him of one of his kid brothers. "Do you want some tea?"
The kid... Caleb, Charlie corrected himself, gave a half shrug. He stayed in place until Charlie turned back to the kettle preparing another cup. He heard the shuffle of the chair behind and forced down the urge to spin around. He wasn't usually this twitchy, but the last few days made him... careful. And hearing a stranger moving behind him made the hair on the back of his neck stand at attention.
Still, he managed to appear unbothered and put the second cup in front of Caleb, settling down in the chair opposite.
Caleb took a sniff of the liquid, grimaced, then took a sip.
Charlie tried not to look at him, or at least not to be too obvious about his perusal of the kid. Was he a teenager? Was he dangerous? Was he ill?
All those questions ran through his head as he took in the pale taunt skin. The long-sleeved shirt seemed a bit strange too, though seeing the kid latch onto the warm cup with both hands Charlie surmised he might just feel chilled. That was until he noted the slight shaking of said hands and the way Caleb's eyes seemed to jump from one place to another, barely focusing on anything.
Charlie took a sip of his own tea, trying to moisten his suddenly dry throat. He was pretty sure that if he had reached out and rolled up Caleb's sleeves he would find track marks.
Charlie didn't know what kind of operation was Douglas running. He could somehow understand the fight club aspect of it, but why would anyone want to be holding hostage a possibly drug addicted kid?
Charlie had a myriad of questions popping into his mind, but he was aware of the standoffish vibe Caleb was giving off.
"How old are you?" he asked instead. For some reason he just couldn't handle the thought that he was locked up with a kid. That would change all their plans.
Caleb looked up at him from behind the cup, his eyes turning into a glare.
"What do you care?"
Charlie wasn't sure how to respond so he shrugged.
"Am old enough," Caleb uttered.
"For what? Fighting in a cage like an animal?" Charlie couldn't stop himself.
Caleb's eyes glinted dangerously and a wild smirk appeared on his face that made Charlie remember Ben's warning.
"Old enough to take care of myself, whatever way necessary."
Obviously it was enough conversation for the moment. Caleb stood, leaving the half empty cup to rattle against the table, some of the tea sloshing out.
"Stay out of my way, would you?" he hissed, then headed to his room.
Charlie stayed rooted on the seat, not even entertaining the thought of following. His hand clutched the cup as his eyes followed the retreating form.
Charlie felt confused and out of place more than before. On one hand, he worried about the idea of a kid being held here as prisoner, obviously dependent on some illegal substances. On the other hand... Caleb didn't seems to be a kid anymore. The look he gave Charlie, the hissed warning... it all sent shivers of danger down his spine. Caleb's eyes showed it all. He had survived some though shit and he was far from a child. It remained to be seen whether he needed to be rescued or not.
Charlie ran a hand through his hair and let out a shaky breath. This meeting didn't go as well as he hoped. What was worse, neither he nor Johnson were counting on another person being held hostage. This could go wrong in so many ways and Charlie had no clue how to proceed.
Would Caleb be of help or would he be a risk?
Charlie shook his head. He didn't have enough information. Which meant he would have to operate as if Caleb was a threat, at least where his own attempts at getting to a phone were concerned. If the years in the force taught him anything it was not to trust an addict, especially not when someone else held his supply of drugs.
For now, Charlie decided to proceed according to his plan. He would just have to make sure that Caleb wouldn't get involved and mess it up for him.
Charlie should have realized that things never turn out exactly as one planned. His plan to try and get the door open was pretty much thwarted that day. Most of the day he could hear footsteps above. The door opened around eight and as Charlie carefully peeked out of his room, he saw Ben entering Caleb's room. He didn't stay long, most likely just dropped something off, Charlie realized when he saw Ben's pocket less packed upon exit.
Charlie really hoped his suspicions weren't based on truth, though he knew it was a small chance.
Ben seemed to be heading back up the stairs when Charlie opened his door fully and stepped out.
"Hey, can I ask you something?"
Ben stopped and turned, eyebrows raised as if to say 'You already did'. Still, he gave a short nod.
"Why the hell are you keeping that kid here?" Charlie asked, trying not to show how angry he was but most likely failing.
Ben sighed.
"Trust me, Caleb hasn't been a kid for quite some time."
Charlie frowned.
"Well, he sure as hell looks like one."
Ben shrugged.
"Looks can be deceiving. And if I were you... I'd be careful around him."
That was maybe the third time Charlie heard that warning. It didn't sit well with him.
"Why?"
Ben gave him a look, as if considering whether he should even bother to answer. In the end he just shrugged.
"Short fuse, is all. But if you want to get into a beef with him, be my guest. Try to keep the bloodshed to the kitchen though. I hate to clean blood from the carpet."
Charlie rolled his eyes. So much for Ben being the most sane of them all.
"Any other questions?"
"Yeah. When can I leave this fine establishment?"
Ben chuckled.
"Soon mate, soon. Next fight is in two days."
Well, that was more information than Charlie expected to get. Two days. Plenty of time to figure out a way to contact Johnson.
That was what he thought as Ben left him alone in the hallway. It was few hours later when Charlie slowly sneaked up the stairs and settled at the door. He had no light, nothing to lead him really. The only source of light he allowed for himself was to turn on the light in the bathroom and leave the door open to a small slit, and that was only so he could find his room again. It didn't reach the bottom of the stairs, never mind the top.
He took a few minutes just kneeling there on the last step, ear pushed against the door. Listening.
It was midnight and he was hoping the house would be quiet. He was paying attention and couldn't hear any sounds for the last hour or so, either from Caleb's room or from upstairs. Though if anyone was on the first floor, Charlie wouldn't be able to tell. Trying to get out at this time was a risk, Charlie was acutely aware of that.
Several more minutes passed in silence and Charlie found the courage to try and work on the door. In the darkness and trying to make as little noise as possible it was a seemingly impossible task. He first had to feel blindly for the lock, then slowly insert one of the paper clips.
After some struggle he managed to insert the second one too and he just started to tinker with it, when he heard a slam of a door. Charlie froze. Was that a car engine? Did someone arrive or was Ben leaving?
He stopped what he was doing and just listened.
Voices.
Kenneth was back... and if the tone was any indication, he was drunk. Charlie cursed and quickly withdrew the paperclips. The last thing he wanted was to be caught by the man in such a position. He was sure a kick down the stairs would be the least of his worries.
Deciding that tonight it would be just too much of a risk, Charlie ventured back to his room and settled for the night. This time sleep didn't come so easily as the previous night. His thoughts were troubled by Caleb. His face turned into the faces of Charlie's younger brothers. He woke up several times to the terrible image of one of his brothers lost in some dirty alley, shooting up drugs. Lost and alone.
He wondered if there was a mother or a sibling looking for Caleb. He wondered when this case blew up if anyone would find out what went wrong.
Two days. Charlie was starting to suffer from cabin fever. He had yet to manage to open the damned door. If it wasn't Kenneth hanging around the house - and Charlie wondered if the man was actually living there - then it was Caleb, going to the bathroom or roaming the kitchen for a midnight snack. Charlie swore the boy was doing it just to piss him off, or trying to give him a heart attack. Twice Charlie heard movement from Caleb's room and just about managed to rush down the stairs to the bathroom himself. Third time he was already kneeling by the door when Caleb's door opened. Charlie froze in place. He managed to put the tools into his pocket at least, but there was no way he could pass by Caleb unnoticed. So he decided for the next best thing. He sat down on the top stair, leaning his back against the door, unmoving. If Caleb had asked, he would tell him he was listening, trying to figure a way out.
But Caleb didn't ask. It was already past midnight after all and the boy moved towards the kitchen in darkness, the only light coming from his room. Charlie had decided after the first night that it will be safer to try the lock in total darkness.
Charlie held his breath, not moving a muscle. He could hear the sound of the fridge opening then slamming shut. A minute later the sliver of light coming from Caleb's room vanished as the door closed.
Charlie let out a sigh, willing his heart to calm down.
It was ridiculous. Caleb should be trying to get out just as much as him, if not more. He was, after all, held like a prisoner too. Yet, the boy seemed strangely content.
Charlie had tried to talk to him several more times after their first meeting. Caleb wasn't much of a talker, but Charlie supposed he wouldn't be either, under circumstances. Still, he managed to get a few sentences out of him. He learned that Caleb was indeed nineteen years old. That it was Kenneth who grabbed him after a pub brawl. What took Charlie by surprise was the fact Caleb was taken in a different town, almost fifty kilometres away. Charlie didn't know if it was a pattern assuring that their fighters weren't known in the town, or if it was just a one off. If it was a pattern, that was a problem. It meant they had absolutely no idea how many people might've gone missing or become victims to this scheme.
When Charlie asked Caleb if he doesn't worry about his family missing him, Caleb grimaced.
"I have no family to miss. I spent the last year on the street. This," he waved around, "is a better home than I ever had."
And that concluded Charlie's attempt at getting Caleb's help with anything. The boy would rather fight in a ring, risking injury or death, over ending up on the street. Charlie couldn't even fault him for that really. What it meant though was the fact Caleb posed a threat. After all, if he was happy about this arrangement, he wouldn't want anyone to jeopardize it.
Charlie decided that maybe it would be better if he changed his plan.
According to Ben, the next fight was supposed to happen tonight. Maybe Charlie would get a chance to get to a phone, or at least get a better look at the house and their location during the transport. As long as he came out a winner, he was still on track with the plan. He wasn't sure what happened to losers and he didn't want to find out.