Chapter 2 - Missing

"So, can you tell me of the last time you saw your son, Emmy?"

"I went to sleep that evening, and he was in Hershel's arms. That's all I remember."

"And what about you, Mr. Layton?"

"I took him for a while after that, then it was getting late, and Flora was due in school the next morning, so we went home. I told the nurse to keep an eye on him while Emmy was sleeping..."

"Where the hell was she?!" Emmy snarled.

"Well, we have yet to question her, but-"

"I'll take over from here, Johnson. You check the security footage to see who took the baby."

"Yes, sir." He got up and left.

Inspector Chelmey sat down before Emmy and the professor. "The nurse in question was stuck in the toilets with diarrhea. We reckon the kidnapper spiked her cup of tea with laxatives, but only the toxicology report will confirm that. But that is very low on our list of priorities at the moment." He sighed heavily and shook his head. "We also have a fair idea of who took your son."

The professor sat forward.

"One Andrea McIntyre was broken out of her cell the night before last-"

"THAT BITCH!"

"Emmy, please!" the professor hissed.

"- and we are fully aware of the vendetta she has held against you for the past couple of years. Do you have any idea what her motive might be, Layton?"

"She has an obsession with him," Emmy said angrily. "She's stark raving mad. She's obsessed with having him to herself."

"I... I also think there is something else, Emmy..."

Emmy looked at him, frowning. "What?"

"On the day you were kidnapped... She said that she knew something about you... And that she would take from you what you took from her, or something..."

"Knew what? What does she know about me that you don't?" Emmy's eyes narrowed.

"Is there anything you need to be telling us, Emmy?" Chelmey asked.

"No," Emmy said sharply. "And I don't know why you're both so keen to pin the blame on me all of a sudden."

"Emmy, no one is blaming anyone yet-"

"Well, maybe if everyone stopped pointing the finger and actually went out to look for my son, he'd be home by now!"

"Emmy, I assure you that we are doing everything we can-"

"But it's not good enough!"

"EMMY!"

Both Emmy and the inspector fell silent and stared at Layton.

"My dear, the police are doing their best, and that is really all they can do. And I wasn't blaming you, Emmy, I was merely telling you both what she said-"

"But why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"I thought it was just an idle threat. I'm sorry, Emmy, but I had other things on my mind that night." He took her hand.

"So, we'll take the crush and her threat as motive," Chelmey nodded, scribbling this down in his notebook. "Right, I'll go and see how they're doing with the security cameras. I'll be in touch, Layton, Emmy." He nodded to them both and left.

The professor sighed heavily as Emmy let go of his hand. She struggled to her feet and approached a nurse.

"Mrs. Layton, why don't you go back to bed-"

"How do I get out of here?"

"Mrs. Layton, please, you're still bleeding and your blood pressure is extremely high-"

"I want to go home! Get me out of here!"

"But-"

"Please, madam, I will ensure that she gets some bed rest. Just get me the forms I have to sign and a wheelchair, please."

"Er... Of course..." she scurried off.

The professor wrapped his arms around Emmy's shoulders. "Come now, dear. You should sit down. You're not well."

"I need to get out there and find him," Emmy choked.

"I'm going to get you home and in bed, then I'll go out and find them. I promise, Emmy." He kissed her forehead.

The nurse arrived back with a wheelchair for Emmy. "I just need you to sign here, sir."

The professor scribbled his signature on the bottom of the form, quickly thanked her and wheeled Emmy out of the ward. They got into the elevator and descended to the ground floor in silence. Just as they headed for the main exit, Bronev rushed forward and steered them in the other direction.

"Blasted press are crowded out the front," he growled as he took the handles of Emmy's wheelchair from Layton. "I think one of the nurses here must have blabbed that the son of 'the Great Professor Layton' is missing." He sighed heavily as the left out the back door.

"This isn't Hershel's fault," Emmy said sternly.

"I know, Emmeline." He gave the professor a sympathetic look. "We can't talk here. Or at Layton's actually - the press are waiting for you there as well. Let's go back to mine." He unlocked his car, opened the door and he and the professor eased Emmy onto her feet and into the back seat.

"Where's Flora?" Emmy asked as Bronev got in and started the car.

"She's staying with Ma and Pa for a while until we get things sorted," the professor replied. "She's better off out of the way of the press. I'd rather they didn't make a spectacle of her too."

Emmy nodded in agreement as she stared absent-mindedly out the window.

The professor looked back and saw her worried expression. He sighed. He desperately wanted to say that everything was going to be alright, but he couldn't bring himself to say it. He didn't know what to do.

Emmy was in a similar predicament. She had no idea what to do or feel. She wanted to cry, but couldn't get the tears out. She wanted to say something to her shocked husband, but didn't know what. All she knew was that she didn't want to be in her uncle's car on her way to his house. She wanted to be out on the streets, looking in every known corner and direction for her baby. But she was just so tired...

She didn't even notice them pulling into the driveway of her old home, a large flat in the heart on London. It was only when her uncle reached back and placed his hand on hers that she looked up.

"Come along, Emmeline," he said gently. "It's alright. Celeste is here waiting for you. She wants you to talk." He got out of the car, handed the professor the key to the front door and went to help Emmy out of the car. "I know you're scared, darling, and you must be so tired. I'm going to take you straight up to bed..." He wrapped his arms around her and gently eased her out of the car. Emmy closed her eyes and leaned on her uncle, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

"Uncle Leon..."

"I know..." He guided her into the house and they started up the stairs.

"I want my baby back."

Emmy could hear the professor and Celeste follow them up the stairs and into her old bedroom. Bronev guided Emmy over to the bed and she climbed into it, not bothering to take off her shoes. Bronev wrapped his arms around her again and turned to Celeste.

"Is there anything she can take to help her to sleep?"

"I need to go... I have to find him..."

"No, Emmy," the professor said. "You need to rest. You're tired and in pain. Get some sleep."

Celeste rummaged through her bag and pulled out a box of pills. "These are the fastest-acting pills I can give you at the moment. I'll write you a prescription so you can get more as you need them. You too, Hershel."

The professor nodded silently. He sat on the bed beside Emmy and placed his hand on her forehead, sighing heavily.

"You should eat something, Emmy, you hardly touched your breakfast."

"What about Alfendi?"

"I'm going to go out and look for him," the professor said firmly, getting up again. Celeste blocked his path.

"Hershel, I know that you're worried, but be rational. The police and Scotland Yard are doing everything they can-"

"The more eyes that are out there looking for Alfendi the better," the professor said sternly, edging around Celeste. "I'll be back." He left.

Bronev sat on the bed beside Emmy and sighed, stroking her hair. He looked down at her to see tears running down her cheeks.

"Emmeline..."

"He thinks it's my fault..."

"No, Emmy," Celeste shook her head. "None of this is your fault."

"She... She said she knew something about me... Hershel told me..."

"McIntyre?" Celeste asked.

Bronev nodded. "I was there. But Layton and I thought she was just bluffing..."

"Hershel is suspicious of me now," Emmy said, wiping her eyes. "He thinks I'm hiding something..."

"What else could you possibly have hidden from him?" Bronev snarled. "He knows everything about Aleksander and Targent. You've been through enough, he knows everything you've suffered through and put up with, as if there could possibly be anything else."

"No, we told him everything," Emmy agreed.

"McIntyre was probably trying to turn you against him," Celeste said. "And it's probably working too. Though, that's not surprising, given all the circumstances..."

"If he loves Emmeline, he wouldn't distrust her," Bronev scoffed.

"After everything I kept from him before, he has good reason to," Emmy pointed out sourly.

"Well, none of that really matters at the moment," Celeste said, placing a hand on Emmy's shoulder. "You should try to sleep before that pill kicks in." She beckoned Bronev to follow her out of the room. "And try not to worry, Emmeline. Everything will be alright soon." They left.

Emmy sighed deeply and let her tears flow again. She had never been this scared before. She had never felt so weak and useless. She closed her eyes and began to cry. She didn't know what the professor thought she was keeping from him or why he was so suspicious of her. And yet, deep inside, she felt partly responsible for what was happening...

"Excuse me, sir, I was wondering if you've seen-"

"Sorry, sir, not now!"

"So sorry to bother you, madam, but-"

"Sorry!"

"Sir-"

"Out of my way!"

"Madam, have you seen a lady with dark hair carrying a newborn baby in her arms in this vicinity last night, or perhaps this morning?"

"Erm... Do you have a photograph of her?"

The professor shook his head.

"Sorry, love, can't help you."

The same old responses, all day long, exasperated the professor no end. For hours and hours on end now, the professor had been searching and asking around for information on Andrea and Alfendi, but all his efforts had been in vain. No one had seen anything of the sort, and Scotland Yard hadn't been in contact yet. He had no leads whatsoever, Alfendi had been missing for almost twenty-four hours now, and the professor was losing his mind with worry. He didn't know how long he would be able to keep his composure. The professor swore that if one more person said sorry to him he was going to punch them.

On a normal day, the professor would have mentally scolded himself rather heavily for even thinking such a thing, but right now he didn't care about being a gentleman. All he cared about was getting a lead, even a possibility of one, a glimmer of hope that he could at least bring home to his terrified wife.

All he needed was for someone to point him in the right direction.

A hushed argument from two teens who passed him caught his attention and pulled him out of his thoughts. The professor listened carefully.

"... We can't just stroll though that alley, mate. That's gang turf. 'Ave you any idea what they'll do to us?"

"Well, someone 'as to show 'em that they can't just do as they please..."

"They bloody well can, they know everythin' what goes on 'round 'ere, they 'ang 'round that place every bloody day..."

The professor nodded. Despite how unsavoury the gang seemed, they spent a lot of time in the area and could provide valuable information... The professor nodded and placed one hand in his pocket and the other on the brim of his top hat. He began to approach the gang.

"Excuse me."

The gang stopped chatting and turned to the professor. The ringleader, a stockily-built Hispanic, stood up tall and approached the professor menacingly.

"What?"

"I'm so sorry to bother you on such a fine evening-"

"You better be." he cracked his knuckles.

"I wondered if you had seen a woman with dark hair with a small baby around last night or this morning."

The young man sneered, "And even if I 'ad, why would I tell you?"

"I beg your-"

"Wha's in it for me?"

Anger began to rise inside Layton like a snake being charmed. "Please, sir, this woman has taken my son. She has kidnapped him, and my wife and I are going out of our minds-"

"She pretty?"

The professor frowned. "Pardon?"

"You're wife. She a good-lookin' girl?"

"And why would that concern you?"

"Well, maybe I know somethin' 'bout this lady," the man continued. "Per'aps if your girl were to... Pay us a visit, of sorts, maybe we could share what we know with you." He raised an eyebrow.

The professor felt his anger levels increase. He shook his head.

The man laughed. "Wha's the ma'er? You think when she gets a taste o' Tariq she won' like you no more?"

The other men laughed roughly.

The professor snapped. He grabbed Tariq roughly by the front of his shirt and slammed him up against the wall. But this had no effect on the man. He laughed harder.

"Oh, big mistake, Top Hat. Big mistake." He looked around.

The professor followed his gaze to see that he was surrounded by the gang, all of whom were pointing knives at him.

The professor met Tariq's eyes again. "Do I look like I'm in any fit state to care about your childish games?"

Tariq laughed cruelly. "Childish?"

"Tell me what you know! Tell me where my son is!"

Tariq laughed harder as the gang closed in around them.

"WHERE IS MY SON?!"

"OI!"

Everyone stopped and turned to the newest speaker. Superintendent Clamp Grosky stood before them, gun in hand.

"Drop your weapons and back away immediately," he warned, turning to each gang member in turn. They dropped their knives, each gaze fixated on the gun.

"Back off," Grosky warned, "Or I'll be forced to open fire."

The professor let go of Tariq and he backed off towards his gang. Grosky then placed his gun back in the rest inside his suit jacket.

"Now go, before I place you all under arrest."

"Oi, copper, I'll 'ave you know 'e was the one threatenin' us-"

"Go, and we'll say no more about it."

The gang exchanged glances. "You best watch yourself, Top 'at." Tariq cocked his head towards the alley and headed off, his gang of thugs following suit.

Grosky suddenly grabbed Layton roughly by the arm and dragged him down the street. "What on earth were you thinking, Layton?"

"They said that they knew something," the professor snarled. "I had to know-"

"Nine times out of ten, they know nothing and are simply blackmailing people to get drugs, or money, or women... They're self-centered scoundrels."

The professor sighed heavily.

"I thought you were smarter than this, Layton. Much smarter..."

"No."

Grosky gave Layton a shove. "What? 'Course you are! The Great Professor Layton! You've solved more puzzles than I've had hot dinners, and how many holes have you gotten me out of now?"

"And yet, when it comes down to it, I can't even look after my own wife and son," the professor said miserably, sitting on a nearby bench.

Grosky looked at the professor sympathetically and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Look, Layton. Look at me, now. We will catch this fiend. And we will get your boy back. As I've said, you gotten me out of one hole after another, and now it's Scotland Yard's turn to do the same."

The professor sighed again.

"We will assign a team to the search for the boy, and trust me, we will not rest until the child is safe. You and Emmy have been so good to me over the years, and now it's payback time. And you never know; I might not be the only one to think this. How many people have you helped in the past?"

The professor looked up.

"I bet you, if we made this public, and if you and Emmy made a statement to the press, we could let everyone know what has happened and I'm sure they'd be more than willing to help. You can never have too many eyes out."

The professor nodded.

"We will get the boy back," Grosky vowed. "I swear on my life."