Chapter 4
Alright, so I hope everyone is enjoying the tale thus far. Yes, I know it is moving a little slow, but in the midst of the holidays I'm trying to find time to write, I truly am. If you have any questions or concerns with the story, by all means, PLEASE tell me. I'm hoping that the story is entertaining thus far, but without comments it's hard to tell. Anyways, please enjoy the story!
*****
Will Englehorn stood in the bridge of the S.S. Venture, his eyes scanning the newspaper articles. Maybe Ashe and that old man were just playing him for a fool. Maybe this was some sort of scam or con. But what could they want out of it? There had been nothing in the news of an escaped 25-foot-ape so maybe they were simply over-reacting. Then again, it had only been one day.
But what the hell did they even have to do with the island or the ape? It was never explained to him, and he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know. Maybe they were just crazed environmentalists concerned with the animal's welfare. It's farfetched but at least it's real, not dark and mysterious.
"Captain," he heard Hayes call from the doorway.
"Yes?" he answered, his eyes still looking through the papers. His mind wandered to the folded up napkin in his pocket which held Ashe's number. He was still debating their offer.
"Jimmy and I were gonna go into the city and stay with my sister and her family for a few days. She just moved here from Philadelphia, and she wants us over for the holidays," he said.
"And?" Englehorn said, looking up. Ben should have known he wouldn't care about that. What else did he want?
"Well," he started, but he was hesitating, maybe a little strained. "She told me I could bring friends. Lumpy and Choy were going to come Christmas Eve for dinner. You're welcome to join if you're not too busy."
He considered the suggestion, a little surprised that he was invited. But then again, Ben was one of the few men who he considered a brother.
"Thanks," he answered after a long silence. "But I've some things I have to take care of first…"
True, that answer was a load of bull. But what could he say? He wasn't one for the holidays. He never really had been. By the look of Ben's face, it was the answer he was expecting. Then again, it couldn't hurt to offer. With a resigned face, the First Mate left the Captain alone to read the paper.
***
Night had fallen on the city once more. Ashe stood outside the Alhambra Theater, about maybe a block away, watching as the flood of high-class socialites and elitists swarmed the surrounding streets like bees in a hive. She wasn't dressed up like the other women who were covered in silk, furs, and way too much makeup. Then again, she wasn't exactly here to party.
Times Square was a mess, crowds of people dressed in formal attire preparing to see what some have dubbed "The Show of the Century". Signs were lit up in almost every corner of the city. She stared at the marquee above the theater.
Kong: The Eighth Wonder of the World
Yeah, he was a wonder alright. But he's more than these people are capable of handling. If Cunningham was right…and he usually and most irritably was, then tonight's premiere would undoubtedly be the finale as well.
Out of the corner of her eye, Ashe saw Cunningham step out of a taxi and start walking towards her.
"Everything in order?" she asked.
"Naturally," he responded, his hands in his pockets. "Scouts are positioned in and around perimeter. Dragoons are standing by. Everything is prepared."
Ashe couldn't hide the smile.
"You sound so sure of yourself," she noted aloud. "What if the ape doesn't fly the coop…technically speaking? I mean, this whole scene you have played out in your mind…what if it doesn't happen?"
Cunningham seemed to consider the notion for a moment, "Better to be over-prepared than caught unawares."
A mask of irritation expressed a hint of anxiety, and the Englishmen had caught sight of it without much trouble.
"You seem tense, fidgety. What's on your mind?" he asked casually.
Replying with a simple glare, Ashe sighed, "It's been five years since I've been on one of your maniacal assignments. I'm far from thrilled to say the least."
"Don't worry my dear," he said, pulling out his pipe. "I assure you, after this, the Order has agreed not to call on you any longer."
Yeah, she thought. I've heard that before.
He took a hit from his pipe, scanning the crowd intensely before smiling, "Ah, there." He pointed in the crowd. "I suggest you keep an eye on that young man, talk with him if you must."
She followed his gaze, her eyes settling on the form of a tall, slim figure standing solemnly in the midst of the crowd across from the theatre, not but a few yards away from their own position.
"Preston Atwood," Ashe identified. He was identical to his photograph in his file. "Twenty-four. Former law student and Denham's personal assistant. "
"I see you've read at least some of the files," he smiled. "Not bad considering I presented them to you this afternoon."
"Eh, I skimmed them. I try to avoid reading people's personal lives," she admitted. She shot him a short glare. "But then, the term 'personal boundary' isn't exactly in your vocabulary, is it?"
Cunningham did not give a reply, mostly because he could not bring himself to physically acknowledging the fact that the girl had a point. But it wasn't his call. Files were made for 'peoples of interest' for not only the sake of the Order, but due the importance of its duties. He recalled his previous attempts to educate Ashelia on the purpose of keeping records on individuals involved with the affairs of the Order. But it was like talking to a brick wall. He explained to her and countless others who needed a lesson or two on procedure that the Council, an elite few which heads the entire Order, is very strict when it comes to the subject of the Archives.
The Archives, was divided into various facilities throughout the world containing every documentation of past missions and expeditions (both failed and successful). The simplest answer to why commit to such a tedious answer was that history can be the only true navigational source in troubled times. History is the only thing which can teach who we are and why we are the way we are.
"So why is Preston of interest?" she asked finally, lighting a cigarette coolly.
"Because he is the first step of the plan," he explained. "You'll need to gain the trust of the survivors, and this is an opportune moment. Once you go inside-"
"Why would I want to go in?" Ashe opposed. "The whole capture-the-ape-thing was your plan. You go in! It's not my job!"
The Englishman chuckled, "You don't even know what you're job is just yet, Ashelia."
She didn't respond instantly with a witty come-back or sarcastic remark as usual. Mostly because she hadn't really thought of the fact that he was right. But then, what was the point? In all her years of working under Cunningham, he had never given her a single detailed outline of her assignments. He usually just filled in little by little.
Though there was a good explanation for that. The future was never pre-determined. It never has been. Things change and it never fails that plans, when made too far in advance, have an uncanny ability to take an abrupt turn. So the Order was very careful, and planned each move they made like a professional chess master for the sake of a contingency.
And so that brings Ashe back to what her mission might entail. All she was briefed with was the fact that that island was publicly discovered and the Syndicate was back in the game. So far, all her that her orders required that she assist in gathering together the crew of the Venture and relocating the ape to Cunningham's little..well..big preserve and await further instructions. Sure, sounded simple. Then again the most complex of situations usually seem simple at first.
"When does this whole show start anyways?" she asked, changing the subject.
"In about ten minutes," Cunningham said.
"I could just sneak in you know," she said. "I've had plenty of experience."
"Indeed you have," the old man smirked. "But this is not one of your usual pursuits. In time, you'll come to understand why."
Ashe had a feeling it was much better just to leave it at that and she sighed in frustration.
"What's your plan exactly? Are we just gonna wait for the ape to escape or can we not just simply prevent the inevitable hysteria he'll cause once he is loose?"
"Denham won't voluntarily give him up," he argued. "He'll need to entire city of fearful people nipping at his heels before he loosens his grip. The military has already issued a warning to him stating that the animal will be removed from his ownership if anything goes awry. Well, when, I should say, things go awry."
He had a point, she wouldn't lie. When Kong got loose, he'll be choked with lawsuits. Financially and publically he would be ruined. But that was the plan, to leave him nowhere to turn to. That way, the Order could step in, offer him an escape route in return for the ape.
Sure. They could seize Kong without the director's consent. They had the funds and power to do so. But he was a public icon now. If he was mysteriously to disappear, too many questions would be asked. And the Order does not risk questions. Therefore, there was no other option than to appear under the guise of private investors seeking to add to their own preserve. It was a decent enough plan.
Ashe's eyes turned to Preston once more. He stared up at the marquee with such a forlorn gaze; she couldn't help but sense a hint of dread from him.
"Why do you think he came?" she asked Cunningham. "He no longer works for Denham. What would be the point?"
The Englishman shot her a quick glance.
"There are those who are willing to face their own pasts," he answered shortly. "Perhaps you should take some notes."
Ashe simply glared coldly at him without responding. What could she say? It wasn't like he was wrong…
"It's almost time," he said looking at his watch before turning to her. "Go on. Enjoy the show. You know what you're to do?"
As if they hadn't went over her primary objective for this evening nearly half a million times.
"Talk to Preston. Talk to Denham," she recited, counting them off her fingers. "Watch Kong. Make sure that no one is killed, me in particular."
With the lack of a reply, she assumed that he was content with her correlation. More or less, anyways. After a moment, he gave a short nod, "Good luck."
She shifted her gaze to the theatre, the intensity of her gaze reflecting her gut feeling which was compelling her to avoid this all too familiar path. For a split second, she turned her head and found that the old man had disappeared. Ashe rolled her eyes in annoyance before she began to walk towards Denham's former assistant.
***
She felt a bit out of place, but that was a sensation she was all too familiar with. She wore a pair of black slacks with a white blouse and a dark wool petticoat. She was nowhere as dolled up as the rest of the crowd, but she found it a bit unconventional to wear a ball gown in this kind of weather. It was snowing even more lightly than last night now. But the air had a strange, cold chill in it which gnawed at her bones. But it did not deter her in the least as she continued on her way across the street.
Preston Atwood stood solemnly before the entrance of the theatre. He was trying to force himself to move onward and enter, yet he felt far more compelled to just walk away. However, he knew that if he did not face the demons haunting his mind, he would never be free. Every night his dreams were plagued with nightmares from Skull Island. Every night he relived that horrid journey again and again, watching his friends die one by one. He lightly touched the scar on his cheek which was nowhere near fading.
He was jolted out of his thoughts by the presence of a stranger standing beside him, staring straight at him. He did not recognize the woman before him, but by the patient and composed smile on her face it appeared she was no looking at him by mistake.
"Exciting evening, eh?" she said out of the blue.
He blinked, a little confused by her approach.
"P-pardon me?" he replied finally.
"You're Preston, right?" she continued. "You worked for Denham right?"
"Yeah…I-I did, but...how did you…who are you?" he asked, straightening his thin-rimmed glasses.
"My name is Ashe," she introduced herself.
"Oh, well...nice to meet you," he said after a moment of silence. "So, you're here to see the show."
She gave a light shrug, her smile fading, "More or less. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were too. Only…you don't look too sure about it yourself."
Preston tried a small attempt of a modest smile, uncertainty written all over his face.
"I suppose," he sighed.
"Believe me," Ashe said. "I know the feeling. Anyways, you wouldn't happen to know where Denham is at the moment, would you? I need to have a little chat with him. Preferably before the start of the show."
Preston looked at her suspiciously.
"What about?" he asked. But he had a feeling he knew what.
"Nothing too big," she answered innocently. "I'm just a messenger, if you will. I came here on behalf of someone else."
"It's about Kong, right?" he lamented. All she replied with was a slight nod in agreement. "He won't sell it, you know."
Ashe nodded, "Yeah, that's not hard to conceive. But it won't really be his call to make."
"What do you mean?" Preston's eyes narrowed. She smiled softly.
"Long story. You'll see," she concluded. "Don't suppose you could point out where he is?"
"I don't exactly work for him anymore, but…" he said, taking a swift look at his watch," he'll probably be on stage in a few minutes."
Ashe nodded her head, "Hmm…alright. Well, I guess it's time go on in. I'll see you soon."
Before he could reply, she had turned and walked into the crowd of people flooding into the doors. Within seconds he lost all sight of her. Preston was left in the masses confused by her words. What was she after?
Ashe had entered the main lobby, keeping her eyes peeled for any trouble hidden within the bustling flocks of the high-society. Anxious was a word that could hardly describe her particular feeling at the moment. She couldn't shake this tense feeling, like a deep blow to her gut, which told her that this was the beginning of a long hard night.
Ashe decided to walk up the stairs and watch the scene play out from the balcony. Once she had entered the dimly lit theatre, she could see no available seats and so instead she stood in the back, her eyes locked intensely on the stage. Enormous red curtains draped the stage securely. She could see a small orchestra seated just beneath the stage's front, its members preparing.
She doubted she would get the chance to speak with Denham beforehand, but it mattered little in her opinion. There were no words to deter a man like him, so it would be best if she relied on the eminent debacle to convince him of anything. Within moments of her arrival, all light within the theatre had diminished, a single spot light shining upon a lone figure on the stage.
Carl Denham.
He was short, with a strong yet hefty build. His hair was gelled back and he had donned on a very expensive silk tuxedo for the occasion.
"Thank you! Thank you!" he greeted the audience who in turn cheered horrendously loud. Denham seemed to be relishing in the limelight. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I am here to tell you a very strange story. A story so strange, it is beyond belief!"
Boy, he has NO idea…
"But ladies and gentlemen, seeing is believing! And what you're about to see is living proof of our adventure in which seventeen of our own party suffered horrible deaths! They're lives lost in the pursuit of a savage beast, a monstrous aberration of nature!"
He's really laying in on thick, Ashe thought to herself in amusement. She leaned against one of the columns, folding her arms across her chest.
"But even the maddest brute can be tames," Denham continued. "Yes, ladies and gentlemen, as you will see, the beast was no match for the charms of a girl…a girl from New York, who melted his heart, bringing to mind that old Arabian. 'And, lo, the Beast looked upon the face of Beauty, and Beauty stayed his hand…and from that day forward, he was as one dead….'.
The crowd was captivated, the eyes of every single person fixated on the stage in wonder. Denham raised his hand, as a magician preparing to perform would do. But in a way, Ashe supposed he was. He was revealing to the world that there were still mysterious wonders to behold. If only he knew better.
"And now I'm going to show you the greatest thing your eyes have ever beheld. He was a king in the world he knew but he comes to you now…a captive!" he announced, lifting his arms. "Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Kong, the Eighth Wonder of the World."
At once, the music began playing, raising the excitement within the 's eyes scanned the balcony, catching a hint of movement from the doorway. She turned and looked upon the form of Jack Driscoll, the playwright who had also ventured to Skull Island. His gaze was on the stage, but she had a feeling he wasn't here for Kong. Suddenly, the sound of gasps and screams filled the room, causing her to look back to the stage.
The curtains had rose, revealing the figure of the infamous twenty-five foot ape. Well, he was impressive to behold, but Ashe had seen some pretty 'interesting' things in her life…this wouldn't top the list.
However, she couldn't help to notice how pathetic the once majestic creature now seemed, slumped on the stage. Shackled to the stage like a prisoner, Kong seemed unresponsive, almost in a haze as if he were oblivious to his surroundings. His head lolled lazily, and Ashe had a feeling he had been drugged before his debut.
Carl Denham, on the other hand, seemed simply ecstatic. His face could not contain the euphoria he gained from the crowd's reaction.
"Don't be alarmed, ladies and gentlemen," he announced. "It is perfectly safe. These chains are made of chrome steel."
Yeah…that'll hold him alright, Ashe thought sarcastically.
The audience took a moment to regain composure from the sight of the beast before erupting in enormous applause. Denham himself reached out his hand, placing it on Kong's massive arm, as if to demonstrate his control of the situation.
"Observe, if you will, I am touching the beast," he declared. "I am actually laying my hand on the twenty-five foot gorilla."
Kong's foot gave a light twitch, causing Denham to jump back in fright. The audience laughed at the amusing scene, but Ashe simply seemed irritated. This was ridiculous beyond words. The director then signaled the stagehands in the wings to crank the winch connected to Kong's chains causing him to be drawn up to his full height.
Another collective gasp erupted from the spectators.
"And now we have in the auditorium a surprise guest," Denham announced. "The real life hero of this story. The man who hunted down the mighty Kong! The man who risked all to win the freedom of a helpless female…A big hand for Mister Bruce Baxter!"
Ashe looked on in utter disbelief as the actor strode on stage in one of the most comical if not completely preposterous outfits. She had never really been a moviegoer. Sure, some flicks were decent. Charlie Chaplin was amusing. But it was nothing compared to watching it live on theatre. She always found that most of the films were cheesy and too unrealistic.
By the screams and cheering from the crowd of people, Ashe felt perhaps it may have been just her that felt that way. They seemed to relish it. And Baxter was more than willing to acknowledge their applause with a beaming proud smile as she shook Denham's hand, giving him a pat on the back as if they were old pals.
Within seconds, a pounding drumbeat rang out. Denham raised his hand to quiet the audience.
"Ladies and gentlemen, imagine if you will an uncharted island. A forgotten fragment from another time. And clinging to life in this savage place, imagine a people untutored in the ways of the civilized world. A people who have dwelt all their lives in the shadow of fear. In the shadow of….Kong!"
Dancing onstage to the sound of the drum was a line of people dressed in getups even more bizarre than Baxter's. They appeared to have jumped out from some elaborate safari film straight from the backlot. Ashe supposed they were to represent Skull Island's natives. They surrounded Kong, continuing to dance synchronized to the drumbeats as the beast simply looked on in the distance.
"He was right," she heard Preston's voice nearby, but he was speaking Jack who had looked back at him.
"About there still being some mystery left in the world," he continued sadly. His eyes were fixated on Carl. "And we can all have a piece of it. For the price of an admission ticket."
"That's the thing you come to learn about Carl," Driscoll said solemnly. "His unfailing ability to destroy the things he loves.
Ashe's attention turned back to the stage where Denham once again caught the attention of all the theatergoers.
"Please remain calm, ladies and gentlemen, for we have now come to the exciting climax of this savage ritual!" he exclaimed. "The sacrifice of a beautiful young girl!"
Applause and shouts of excitement rumbled throughout the auditorium, but she couldn't help but envy the people for their ignorance. Ashe herself knew what to expect in reality, but these people were just getting the friendly, edited version.
Every light within the theater dimmed as the drumbeat increased rapidly, and the 'natives' all fell to their knees in a worship of ecstasy before Kong. A platform beneath the stage had begun to rise, and the audience grew quiet.
"Behold her terror as she is offered up to the mighty Kong! A big hand folks for the bravest girl I ever met!" Denham said. "Miss Ann Darrow!"
Everyone, including Ashe, stared with fierce intensity as the platform continued to rise. Slowly, the small figure of a woman appeared on the stage before the ape, her head lowered with her blond hair in her face. She was clothed in a silk white gown and had her hands bound to a wooden alter with her back facing the audience.
For a moment, just a moment, Kong seemed to come to life. A small flicker of light awoke in his eyes, like a small ember of hope. The young woman, who Ashe assumed was Ann Darrow, stared back up and the ape gave a small grunt mingled with confusion and fury. He wasn't human, of course…but there was something in the way that ape could express his emotions that Ashe couldn't help but to notice. One thing being that he was not exactly a happy camper. It took a moment but then she understood why. The woman below was not Ann Darrow.
Kong's anger seemed to mount with each passing second as he let out a roar. The woman below, whoever she was, screamed in the most absurdly unconvincing tone. But that only seemed to piss the ape off even more, and Ashe couldn't help but empathize with him on that notion.
Photographers then rushed the stage, the lights of their cameras flashing unfailingly like a strobe light. Kong continued to roar in agitation while Denham signaled for Baxter to join him. One of the photographers called out.
"Come on, Denham! How about one with you and the big monkey?"
Ashe didn't pay too much attention to what was being said between Denham and the reporters. Her eyes were locked on Kong, keeping in mind his rage was continuing to build as he began to struggle against his steel bindings. He let out another deep howl, which thundered through the auditorium with the sound intensity of a bomb. She couldn't help but feel the very ground quake from his fury.
"Let him roar!" Denham smiled, seemingly unaffected by the mounting tension. "It makes a swell picture!"
Kong continued to struggle against the chains and Ashe couldn't help but feel this situation was about to take a dramatic turn. Much similar to that of a volcano, just seconds before the eruption.
"We have to get these people out of here," Ashe heard Driscoll say.
Give Kong about thirty more seconds, she thought to herself. He'll have it cleared for you.
She watched with a blank expression as the ape continued to tug at the chains. Amidst the roars and shouts of reporters, an earsplitting scream pierced the air. Well, at least the actress was more convincing, considering she wasn't really acting out terror anymore. Finally, Kong broke one of the manacles, allowing one of his hands to be free.
But for some strange reason, the audience continued to applaud, thinking this was still all part of the show. Little by little, Ashe watched as Jack and Preston continue to try and get people out of the theater. Most remained in their seats, but there were a few who began to become a little startled, thinking that something actually was wrong.
Turning to Denham, Ashe found it remarkable that unlike other men, he looked upon Kong not with fear or remorse. He stared at the creature in awe, like a young child would. With one of his shackles broken, it didn't take long for the ape to tear from the other. The press began to slowly back away, snapping pictures as they did so. Kong tried to shield his eyes from the flashes, letting out another roar in anger.
Within moments the people began to rise from their seats, finally coming to their senses and seeing that this was no longer a part of the show. Fearing for their lives, crowds rushes from their seats to the doors in panic. Now free from his bondage, Kong placed his sights on the actress still trapped to the alter and shrieking uncontrollably. Ashe could do little but watch as he snatched her up, staring at her in confusion before throwing her aside like a rag doll.
Despite the flux of panic-stricken pedestrians, Ashe remained still, continuing to lean against the column. She saw the ape look up at the balcony, but noticed how his eyes were locked on Jack, who returned the gaze with intense fear. Instantly, the ape leaped from the stage, using the boxes overseeing the theater to climb to the balcony with fluid and dexterous movement with seemingly effortless capability.
Driscoll had already began his retreat outside, but Kong was hard on his heels. The beast charged forward in pursuit and nearly trampled Ashe had she not sidestepped quickly. She watched as he demolished the walls in a single lunge.
Her face still lacking much expression, she took a look at the watch on her wrist.
"Hmm," she mused aloud. "That didn't take long."
Her attention turned back to Carl Denham, who stood on the stage in utter shock. Ashe sighed, sticking her hands in the pocket of her coat as she made her way down the stairs. It was now time to pay Denham a visit.
***
Carl Denham sat disheveled on what remained of the stage, which was now cleared except for the debris. His solemn gaze stared off distantly while people rushed the scene to help those injured. The press had already left with the intent of following Kong and his path of destruction. At first, Ashe felt disdain for a man whom she felt was willing to destroy what little magic remained in the world for the sake of his profits. But now, looking at him with that pathetic, defeated countenance upon his face, she could feel little more than pity.
"Been a rough night?" she said aloud from the end of the stage. Denham did not so much as acknowledge her words, just kept staring forward.
"Hey," she chuckled. "At least this gives the city an excuse to redecorate. Personally I think new seats wouldn't be a bad idea."
Again she was met with silence. So much for her attempt at humor.
"It's over," Denham professed in sorrow. "I'm finished. He'll be dead before dawn."
"Not necessarily," she chimed in. He looked up at her, his eyes heavy with sadness and confusion.
"What makes you so sure?" he asked.
"Because I have the unfortunate blessing of being in the loop," she answered. "Kong will live. I know people who will make that happen. I came here to speak with you."
Carl sighed, looking back at the destroyed theatre, "About what?"
"I was sent here to inform you that once Kong is captured, he will be removed from your possession," she said quietly. He looked to her in disbelief and started to open his mouth in protest but Ashe raised her hand to silence him.
"I wouldn't bother telling me otherwise," she stated. "Once he is captured, a lot of fingers will be pointed at you for all the trouble. You'll be charged with lawsuits through which you will undoubtedly become bankrupt if not imprisoned. In exchange for legal pardons and your financial debts to be paid, you will hand over Kong to a man named Jamison Cunningham."
She handed him a small piece of paper scribbled with Cunningham's number. She'd let him handle the director. She heard movement behind her and turned to see the Mayor, Chief of Police, and various other unpleasant fellows charging straight for Denham. She turned back to the director and smiled.
"If you have any questions, call that number," she advised, before turning away and walking out of the theatre.
***
Ashe had returned to her little apartment above the bakery after her visit to the theater. She was in no mood to watch Kong destroy half of the city. Besides, the Order had everything under control. She was sitting in the living room, listening to the radio while standing before her easel, paintbrush in hand. She was clothed in a much more comfortable nightgown with a soft silk robe tied around her waist. Her black hair hung in a loose ponytail, paint smudges on her hands, arms, and face. It was nearly seven in the morning, but she wasn't even that tired.
She was painting the portrait of a wolf, a silvery white wolf. It was standing in the snow near a lighthouse. She was lost in thought, painting in peace when she was jolted out of the wanderings of her mind with a ring on the telephone.
"Hello?" she said in the phone, continuing to paint.
"We have him," she heard Cunningham's voice on the other end. "No thanks to you."
Ashe smirked, "What did you want me to do? Get a banana and cardboard box and hope he falls for it?"
From the lack of a reply, she surmised that he was less the amused.
"How did the hunt go?" she asked finally.
"Fairly well," he admitted. "The death toll wasn't as high as it was feared to be. He was easier to capture while he protected Miss Darrow."
"Hold it," Ashe stopped him. "The actress? She was with him?"
"Indeed," he answered. "She found him in the city during his rampage. We cornered them atop the Empire State Building."
"Oh really?" she said. "And how did you manage to coax him down?"
"Persuasion," he replied. "Once he was in a safe distance from the girl, we hurled at least five nets on him weighted down with a few tons. During the struggle we were able to shoot enough sedatives in him to damn nearly kill him. He was bound too tightly to the roof to fall off luckily, otherwise the landing would have crushed him."
Ashe couldn't help but to find that tale a bit far-fetched.
"Killing him would have been easier," she noted. "And less complicated."
"It wasn't easy, of course," Cunningham admitted. "But it was right. As soon as possible, you'll need to get in touch with Englehorn. Arrange a time to departure."
Without so much as a goodbye, he hung up. Ashe sighed, setting down the telephone as she leaned back against the counter for a moment. Taking a break from her art, she thought back over the evening. She looked outside her window, seeing the rays of light peek through the frost-covered glass.
A knock at the door downstairs got her attention. It was downstairs, so it was a little faint. Maybe she was hearing things. She sighed, putting down her brush and palette while she made her way down the stairs.
Looking through the glass doors of the bakery, Ashe was surprised to see Englehorn staring back at her.
She took a step forward, unlocking the door and opening it.
"How did you know where I lived?" she asked curiously.
"Joe told me," he admitted, and by the tone of his voice and the look of his face, Ashe could see he had not slept a wink.
"My phone works," she pointed out.
"I know…" he admitted, "But some things are better spoken of in person."
A small draft from outside blew through the door, sending a chill down Ashe's spine. She wrapped her robe around her tightly as she opened the door for Englehorn.
"Alright," she said. "Come in."
He took a moment before accepting the offer. She closed the door behind her before walking to the back counter and fixing some coffee.
"Want some?" she offered. He waited a second before realizing what she said and nodded in agreement.
Silence fell between them as she brewed the coffee, occasionally glancing back at him with interest. Why had he come all the way out here? The phone works just fine. Strangely enough, she realized she didn't feel as annoyed by the intrusion as she would have with anyone else. Peculiar.
"So…" she said finally, feeling the silence lasted too long. She poured them each a mug of coffee before sitting beside him at the counter.
"What now?" he asked, taking off his hat and setting it down on the counter.
"I guess…that's up to you," she replied quietly.
He nodded, letting out a sigh that told Ashe he was expecting that answer.
"You knew this would happen. All along," he contemplated aloud.
"Technically my boss did," she admitted, taking a sip of her coffee. "But it was bound to happen sooner or later."
He didn't say anything for a moment, so Ashe continued.
"I was wondering something…" she began. He looked to her. "Why did you agree to it? You must have heard the stories of that place. What would compel you to go?"
Englehorn seemed to consider the question before choosing an answer.
"Honestly, I never really believed it existed," he answered. "The original destination was Singapore. He didn't notify me of a change in course until after we left port."
"You're the captain, correct?" she pointed out. "You could have refused."
Englehorn took did not reply, simply drinking his coffee. Ashe studied him for a moment before drawing a rational conclusion.
"But he offered you more money," she concluded. A small frown grew on the Captain's face.
"Yes," he said simply. She could see in his eyes an ounce of regret at the accusation.
Ashe leaned forward on the counter, her hands cupping the steaming mug as she mused with a soft, yet sad smile.
"Money: There's nothing in the world so demoralizing as money," she sighed. Englehorn gave her an inquisitive glance and she chuckled. "Sophocles. From Antigone. Written so long ago…but still so very true even to this day."
"You know, I never really thought we would find it," he said finally. "I figured after a week or so, he'd just give up. Then, the arrest warrant came through and I decided to divert to Rangoon. That's when…when we found it."
For a moment, she pondered his words until she spoke, "Yeah…it's funny, really. I never really gave anyone credit at finding it. At least, not intentionally."
Another silence fell between them, each listening to the still of the empty café versus the waking city life outside. At last, she gave a small sigh and looked at him.
"You shouldn't beat yourself up, you know," Ashe insisted quietly.
"About what exactly?" he wondered aloud in a dejected tone. "Looking back, it's a pretty long list."
Ashe smiled softly, "Mistakes are human. You sweat the small stuff too much and you fail to see the greater scheme of things."
"Meaning what?" he contested.
"Meaning that no matter who we are, we're going to do stupid stuff," she answered. "It may not sound stupid at the time, but if it did than it's less likely we would have done it. Regardless, we do these stupid things."
"If this is a way of trying to make me feel better…" he started.
"It's not," she cut him off. "It's just a way to help you to get over it. I'm not saying you should disregard regret altogether. That's usually the only motivation people have in not repeating mistakes. All I'm saying is…just accept it. Yeah, you screwed up. You brought a temperamental ape to a city that's not exactly renowned for its mannerisms. "
She could see by his expression that her motivational talks needed a little perfecting, but it's not like she had a lot of practice.
"Look," Ashe sighed, "someone told me once that when we hit rock bottom…the only place we can go is up."
"Who told you that?" he asked.
Ashe thought for a second, and then shrugged, "Don't remember."
Finishing his mug of coffee, Englehorn was quiet once more before he gave a heavy sigh as if defeated.
"When does your employer want to leave?" he questioned.
Ashe stood up, taking both of their empty mugs to a sink behind the counter.
"It's up to you," she admitted. "Probably after the holidays, or at least in enough time to settle out paperwork."
The answer seemed sufficient to him, for he didn't seem to object. Ashe leaned against the counter, her arms folded across her chest with her eyes downcast. She looked up for a moment and caught Englehorn's eyes studying her. Not her face, but her hands. He looked up and caught her staring straight at him. He turned away, in what Ashe thought for a moment was embarrassment.
"What were you looking at?" she asked him. There wasn't a hint of anger or discomfort in her voice.
"You're a painter," he indicated, indicating her hands. She looked down and smiled. True, her hands were covered with dried paint.
"You were up all night," he also noted. Ashe studied him curiously. He was observant, more so than most of the people she had come across in the past. She nodded.
"Yeah," she agreed. "Couldn't sleep. What's your excuse?"
They heard sirens outside in the streets a few blocks away, probably on route to repair the damages of last night's fiasco. Well, when he didn't answer she chose not to push it. It wasn't hard to guess anyways.
"What do you need before you're ready for departure?" she asked, changing the subject.
Englehorn ran his hand through his hair wearily as he considered, "I need repairs to the ship. More men. Enough money to convince those who survived to return."
Ashe shook her head, "You're men are loyal. They trust you enough so they'll return. As for the repairs, I'll have my employer send some workers this morning to the docks to get started. Everything will be fixed in three days. As for the money, you'll be reimbursed fully for your services."
It wasn't so much what she said as how she said it that made Englehorn narrow his eyes suspiciously, "Just like that?"
"Just like that," she echoed in agreement.
"What's the catch?"
"You have to carry an oversized ape," Ashe answered, taking a seat on the back counter.
He chuckled, "There's always more to it than that."
"Usually, yes," she returned the smile, blowing some loose bangs out of her face. "But I give you my word, once we arrive in Africa, you and your men are free to leave. With your money of course."
Englehorn frowned, putting his hat back on as he stood up.
"I'm not doing this for the money," he confessed.
Shooting him a sideways glance, Ashe cocked her head to the side with a small smirk on her face, "Oh really? I find that hard to believe."
"That's understandable," he sighed. He walked towards the door and started to turn the handle. Stopping, he turned. "So, next Sunday? That gives us a full week. We set sail at nine that morning. Is that agreeable?"
She considered the day before ultimately shrugging, "Yeah, that's fine. Cunningham will give you a call shortly for the arrangements about your ship."
Englehorn nodded before opening the door and leaving without saying a word. Ashe watched him walk around the corner out of sight, but she remained still on the counter. She pulled the ponytail-holder out and ran her fingers through her hair in exhaustion. She wasn't sure why, but she felt vulnerable near Englehorn. Like he could see straight through her. But who knows? Maybe it was just her imagination.