"Can I at least know your name? If you're going to kill me, I'd like to know who you are. And where we're going," Jennifer said, trying to ignore the fact that there was a man with a gun shepherding her through the streets of London.
"Just keep moving, Miss Edwards," the man said, nudging her forward.
She needed to figure out what to do. There had to be something. But she'd never been in a situation like this. Sure, there was a certain amount of risk and potential danger to being a reporter at times. Jennifer had been threatened while chasing a story before. This was very different, though. And she had no idea what on earth she was being threatened for!
Jennifer just kept walking. The man pulled or pushed her one way or another to get her to turn down other streets, but soon enough, she realized where they were going.
"The Tower of London, Miss Edwards," he announced. "Traitors' Gate."
An ominous place to be with a man who might kill her. And the man said just that, too. He had a gun and if she didn't behave, it might go off.
They approached a man with glasses and a bowler hat and an umbrella, looking terribly English. "Mr. Thompson, this is Miss Edwards," the man with the gun introduced.
"Ah yes. The young lady with the nose for news. So lovely, too. I'm Charles Thompson."
Suddenly it all became clear to Jennifer. Charles Thompson was in the motor business and surely wanted to see Kingsford Motors fail, and he was going to do anything he could to keep Jonathan and Hart Industries from rescuing Mr. Thompson's rivals.
And this madman revealed that he was after a knighthood for his efforts. The bastard was deranged.
Jennifer was led by Mr. Thompson to the Bloody Tower, which was a rather inauspicious. The sign said it was closed for restoration, but that didn't seem to stop Mr. Thompson. He regaled her with stories of beheadings in the tower. Jennifer knew most of this and was really trying not to think about it. But it seemed best to keep him talking and in a friendly sort of mood. If she kept quiet, maybe she could think of something.
Only her mind was terrifyingly empty. She was barely able to keep herself walking. Her legs felt like jelly, she was so afraid. She was going to die in this tower, just like Lady Jane Grey and all the rest.
"Bowlly," Mr. Thompson called.
The man with the gun came hurrying over like a dog coming to heel.
"Jonathan Hart," Mr. Thompson said. "Lady in distress, hmm?"
Jennifer whirled around, now seeing the plan even more clearly. She was bait for Jonathan. They wanted him to come after her so they could lure him into a trap!
Oh no, oh Jonathan! If she could only manage to escape, to contact him somehow and warn him. After all, he had to save Kingsford Motors, and if he got distracted coming to save her…come to think of it, she didn't even know if he would come to save her. He seemed pretty daring and heroic based on how he'd reacted to them being shot at by this Bowlly, but he'd only met her yesterday! She wanted to believe that maybe he loved her like she loved him, even after just one day. She wanted to believe that he'd rescue her. She just didn't know.
Bowlly went rushing off, and Mr. Thompson took Jennifer inside the Bloody Tower. They went up a winding stone staircase. Around and around and around. Jennifer was starting to get lightheaded. That was probably the dizziness and the panic welling up inside her. She was actually grateful when Mr. Thompson directed her to sit down in a stiff wooden chair in the middle of the room.
He started pacing around the room, still waxing on about history. "Did you know, Sir Walter Raleigh was confined here for thirteen years before…" He made a gesture and a noise to show the beheading.
Jennifer was not a weak-willed woman. She'd never fainted before in her life. But she thought she might now. There wasn't anything she could do, just sit here and listen to this man who was obviously getting ready to kill her. If Jonathan didn't show up, she was going to die. Even if he did show up, she might still die. And either way, it was probably going to make everything worse anyway!
She didn't know how much time had passed when footsteps sounded on the stairs. Mr. Thompson turned and greeted his hired gun. "Ah, gentle Mr. Bowlly. I take it you managed to deliver the message without shooting anyone?"
"It's all done," Bowlly replied simply.
Mr. Thompson went on to praise Bowlly for a job well done until a shadow appeared behind the man. Jennifer gasped.
Growing up in a place that was foggy all the time, Jonathan Hart probably shouldn't have minded the wind and wet of London at all times of year. But still being a bit damp from being thrown into the damn Thames made him even more miserable than he otherwise would have been.
But all that mattered was making sure Jennifer was safe. This all came down to something about Kingsford Motors and Jonathan's intentions to bail them out, but whoever was behind all this sabotage had taken Jennifer. Taken her away from him.
After swimming out of the freezing brown river, Jonathan had called Max to have him take the phone off the hook so no one could call to deliver any message. And thank goodness his money still worked even when wet so he could get a cab back to the Ritz. He paid double to get there as fast as possible.
Max was a little horrified to see him drenched and shaking and sneezing when he finally arrived back at the hotel room.
"Mr. H, is it raining?"
"Only on me, Max. Only on me," Jonathan quipped. God, there must be something wrong with him, making jokes at a time like this. But that was nothing new for Jonathan. He was a little bit insane like that sometimes.
Max followed him through the hallway. "Mr. H, I've kept the phone off the hook, but why?"
"Good. Why? Because I have a feeling that Kingsford Motors…someone is trying to put them out of business and any minute, someone's gonna call on that phone and ask me to sign the papers, and if I don't, they're gonna hurt Jennifer," he explained, tearing off his sopping wet coat and practically hopping in place to try and warm up.
"Hurt Jennifer? But what's Miss Edwards got to do with that?" Max asked.
"If they don't call, they can't deliver the message," Jonathan told him, now removing his suit jacket.
Max frowned in confusion. "I thought you didn't like her."
"I do like her," Jonathan said vehemently. "I do like her!" He more than liked her. He loved her. He would move hell and earth to get her back and keep her safe and make her happy for the rest of their damn lives. "Now," he instructed Max, "keep the phone off the hook. And you stay up here and watch the suite. I'm gonna go downstairs and keep my eye on the lobby, okay?"
"Okay, but first, dry yourself off," Max insisted.
Jonathan sneezed and agreed. He grabbed the first clothes he could find and went into the bathroom to strip off his wet clothes, dry himself quickly with one of the fluffy white hotel towels, and got himself dressed again in fresh clothes. He shouted for Max to get him some shoes since these were more than a little waterlogged. Jonathan brushed his wet hair as neatly as he could manage and came out to find Max holding a pair of loafers. "Thanks," he answered. And two seconds later, he was ready to head out.
"Good luck, Mr. H," Max called.
With a smooth motion, Jonathan put on his dark blazer to cover up the red pinstriped shirt and red and black striped tie he'd unknowingly put on with gray slacks. He turned to Max and said, "I'm gonna get her back, Max. I'm not letting anything happen to her."
Max's brow raised in surprise. "Yeah?"
Jonathan nodded resolutely. "Yeah."
And with that, he hurried down to the lobby. There was a spot on the grand staircase that gave him a good view of everything, and he stood there to oversee things. He had a feeling that man who'd chased them through London and threw him in the river might be coming by.
Sure enough, Jonathan only had to wait about ten minutes or so until that very man came into the Ritz and went right up to the front desk. He wrote a note, gave it to the clerk, and left the hotel.
Jonathan raced down and took the note that was meant for him. He barely looked at it as he rushed out to follow the man who'd written it. Wherever that man was going, Jennifer was sure to be there.
"Follow that car," Jonathan instructed the cab driver when he saw the man get back into that blue car that had chased them around. He drummed his fingers on the seat, anxious as they went down various London streets. The blue car pulled over and parked, and Jonathan had the cab pull over. He paid extra for the trouble.
To Jonathan's surprise, the man was going to the Tower of London. Specifically, to the Bloody Tower, which was supposedly closed. With a quick glance around, he followed inside and up a hundred stone steps as quietly as he could manage.
Jonathan hid out of sight as he eavesdropped on two men's voices. He couldn't see or hear Jennifer, but he needed to find out if she was there and if she wasn't, he needed to find out what they'd done with her.
He snuck through the corridors and around the corner, hoping to have the element of surprise.
"Bowlly!" one man cried out in surprise when Jonathan appeared.
But Jonathan didn't wait for anyone to react. He saw Jennifer sitting there, seemingly fine, and he attacked. Jonathan kicked the gun out of the man's hand and threw a few good punches in revenge for what had happened at the river.
While they tussled, Jonathan was vaguely aware that Jennifer had picked up the gun and was threatening the other man. "Okay Charlie boy, I think you've had it," she said in a silly English accent, making a decapitation noise. And at a time like this. She was absolutely insane. As insane as Jonathan was, clearly. She was perfect.
Jonathan threw another might punch and clipped the man—Bowlly—right on the jaw. "Ow," he groaned. He tried not to hit bone as a rule.
Bowlly came right back, unfortunately, tackling Jonathan down and punching him in the face. Dammit, that hurt!
They continued fighting out on the landing until Jonathan finally got the upper hand and knocked Bowlly out, sending him tumbling over the staircase. "You gotta watch that last step. It's murder," Jonathan said, panting to catch his breath. Once again, jokes at a time like this.
Jonathan rushed back into the room where Jennifer held the other man at gunpoint.
"Are you alright?" he asked worriedly.
"I'm fine, are you alright?" she asked in return.
He came over to take the gun from her and leaned in to kiss her, grateful she was alive. "I'm fine. Oh thank god," he murmured, kissing her again.
"If you don't mind!"
They pulled apart to look at the man with the bowler hat glaring at them. "Who are you?" Jonathan asked.
"That's Charles Thompson, and he and Mr. Bowlly have been working very hard to ruin you and Kingsford Motors," Jennifer answered, not letting Mr. Thompson get a word in edgewise.
Jonathan growled slightly. "I had a feeling it was something like that. Jennifer, go call the police. I'll keep an eye on Thompson and Bowlly until they get here."
She gave him a swift kiss on the cheek before hurrying out of the Bloody Tower to get help.