CHAPTER 19

Against James' better judgement, he ran on ahead of his new sister. Vanessa had insisted, and he appreciated they no longer had the luxury of time, the situation red-hot urgent for Nancy.

Unfortunately, he became confused at the location of the Beaumont, and got himself turned around for a few minutes - zero signage hadn't helped. He stopped a passerby who pointed the building out, so ugly James had discounted it as an office block.

He ran to the left and followed the outer wall, until he stumbled upon the front door. He entered quickly through the double doors, and found himself in a scruffy foyer area. A wooden reception desk faced him. On top sat an old style press button phone and an antiquated, leather bound register. No computer, no TV, not even a radio. Two women sat on a threadbare sofa in the back room who hadn't noticed him enter, one giving comfort to the other.

James banged on the desk and shouted, "HELLO!" The two women looked up. He waved his badge at them, but they showed no interest in coming out of the room. He didn't wait and strode through to a passageway, headed to the stairwell. He decided it would be quicker to run up to the second floor than to take the elevator which looked as questionable as the rest of the place.

He climbed the stairs to the next floor and saw room 201. Then he passed through an illegally propped open fire door to find room 202, just to the side with its door wide open. One look and he knew a struggle had taken place - pieces of broken ceramics strewn all over the room, bedclothes half on the floor, and a chair overturned. "When are we gonna catch a BREAK?" He ran around the bed to the window and looked out.

Down below, an ambulance idled with its doors open, and a tall, Red-Headed Man strode toward the back of it, his arm outstretched. James' gaze switched, and he saw feet under the vehicle's door trip awkwardly up the steps, encouraged by both the man's arm and forward motion. James felt confident from the description given previously, he'd found the psychopath. "HEY YOU!" James bellowed through the glass, and banged with his fist. The man didn't look up, apparently didn't hear him.

'Nancy…I'm coming…hang on in there, Drew!'

With a grunt, James turned, hurtled over the chair and sprinted from the room. He passed the fire door, charged the staircase and leapt down them in about three bounds. He turned and dashed through to the reception desk. "HEY!"

The younger women still sat in the back room, but the elder now stood. She looked at James, and meandered into the doorway. "Do you mind not being rude? We've had our fill of rude people today." She crossed her arms obstinately.

"What's the quickest way out the back, to the ambulance?"

The woman glanced at the other woman who started to cry.

James banged his hand down onto the desk to pull her attention back. "TELL ME!"

The woman looked obstinately at him. "Please."

"IDIOT! Tell me NOW or I'll arrest you for obstruction. If Nancy Drew comes to harm on the back of that ambulance, I will hold you both personally responsible. HOW DO I GET OUT THERE?"

At the mention of Nancy's name, the younger woman leapt to her feet. She ran to the door, and pointed urgently to another corridor.

James took off down it and found himself confronted by another door at the end, an emergency exit. Through the dirty window at the top, he saw the side view of the ambulance with its red light flashing. He got to the exit in seconds, crashed through, and out into the cool air.

The vehicle began to edge forward to leave. James launched himself, got a hand on the door handle and yanked. It released too quickly, shoved him backward, and nearly broke his fingers. Something leaning from the other side flew past James as he opened the door. It fell past him to hit the ground with a nauseating thud. James gripped his pained hand, and saw Vanessa lying there, but his attention jerked back as he sensed impending danger. A foot shot out and booted him squarely in the middle of the chest. He stumbled, tripped over Vanessa and fell, but not before he saw Nancy strapped by the wrists to a gurney, and the woman with her.

James gritted his teeth, and looked up to see the Red-Headed Man's expressionless eyes on him. Then the eyes moved unblinking to look at something behind and he lifted a hand to make a gun gesture.

Angry now at being dealt with so easily, James got up and went for the Red-Headed Man again in a last ditch attempt to help Nancy. He ran the few steps to the back of the ambulance and leapt for it, but the psychopath swung his leg and booted him in the shoulder. James went down again.

With a rapacious and ugly grin, the Red-Headed Man pulled the door shut with a slam, and the ambulance rolled off fast, siren blasting and red lights flashing.

"JAMES, STAY DOWN!" someone shouted, it sounded like Mr H.

'Not gonna to be a problem.' James clutched his burning shoulder, and rolled onto his side to catch his breath.

Footsteps thundered by him - his father's legs and those of the three Hardy men trying to catch up to the ambulance. Frank howled, picked up a brick and hurled it, sending it flying. His sure throwing arm flung it with a crash into the window of the ambulance, but the vehicle didn't slow down, didn't veer off course, just sped up. Frank dropped into a crouch and roared. James now knew who the mocking gun gesture had been aimed at…Frank.

The person who James thought had been forced onto the vehicle hadn't been Nancy, but Vanessa. Vanessa must have interrupted them, tried to intervene. "Van?" James said, finally able to move again. He crawled to her. She wasn't breathing right, her skin a strange color. He went straight for her coat to loosen her top button, "Van, breath!"

Imploringly, she weakly reached for his hands and redirected them to her throat and scarf, then fell away and she didn't move any more, her eyes shut.

Her breaths were gasping, labored and erratic...and she'd turned an even unhealthier color. "VAN?" He tried to move her scarf, but found he couldn't budge it. He ran his fingers around the material to find it tightly knotted in place, cutting into her throat, slowly asphyxiating her. He went for the knot, but couldn't get his fingers into the loops. Her lips were blue as she wheezed - horrifyingly he wasn't making progress with opening up her airway. He gripped her hands and yelled, "I NEED HELP HERE!"

Con dropped down next to him followed by Joe. "What's happening? What's wrong with her?"

"The scarf, he's tied it around her throat. I need a blade, can't get it off. QUICK! GO NOW!"

Joe sped away.

Con's hand came in to try and loosen the scarf, but his big hands were hopeless with such a tight knot, his strength didn't help this time. "Van, hold on. Help's coming, Joe's coming." He sought out his pocket, retracted a key and attempted to use the serrated edge to cut through the fabric. "I can't do it!" The silk proved too strong and slippery, Con's cutting action wasn't even fraying it, Vanessa coming to more harm than the fabric. "It's not working…DAMMIT...JOE!"

James watched Joe run to Frank and Fenton. "Knife!" Joe blurted, and thrust his hand into his brother's pocket. He ran back, and James saw he had a Swiss army tool from which Joe pulled a blade. He crouched next to Vanessa, went for the scarf and hacked away until the strands parted, and were clear of her throat. He cut her neck in the process - blood welled up, but Vanessa didn't respond to the pain of the knife slash.

"DAD!" Joe yelled desperately, and tipped her head back to aid her breathing. "For God's sake, DAD! C'mon Babes."

Fenton dropped to place his cheek against Vanessa's mouth, feeling for signs of life, fingers on her neck. They crouched there in silence to give him time until he sat back and sighed. "She's alive, she's breathing. Her color's coming back." He looked at his fingers, at the blood he'd gotten on himself. He cringed, rubbed it off on his jeans and inspected the shallow cut.

"I never should have left her," James said.

They heard Frank's phone ring and turned to see him access the screen. From his reaction, it wasn't good news. He didn't throw the phone but he had plenty to say which wasn't anything his mother would wish to hear.

"We can't stay here," Con said. "We're easy prey."

Joe began to argue. "She needs to go to a hosp—"

"You know we can't!" Fenton interrupted. "We need to get off the streets; Con's right we'll be picked off it's too dangerous. I'm sorry, Joe." He stood and looked at his partner. "Let's get out of here."

Frank joined them. He looked as pale and haunted as Vanessa. He knelt down and touched her face gently. "Joe, Mrs Holliday used to be a nurse, she'll know what to do."

"Is here anything you haven't thought of, Bro?" Joe snapped bitterly.

Frank stood quickly. "Yeah. How to get Nan away from a psychopath. How to stop you getting killed. How to stop this!" Frank turned away. "I'm sorry Joe; I promised I'd keep Vanessa safe, I'm really sorry." He raked through his hair, screamed and staggered away.

Joe grimaced. His hand reached out to Frank, but didn't quite touch before his fingers retracted.

"Help me get Van up." Con said to Fenton. "We need to move."

They lifted Vanessa between them and settled her into Con's sure arms. Fenton moved to grab Frank's arm to guide him, and turned and headed swiftly for the cars, certain Joe would follow.

-o0o-

Fenton phoned ahead to warn Mrs Holliday they were on their way with a casualty, so as soon as they pulled up, she ushered them inside the house. She hurried Con through to the dining room, where the table had been cleared. She'd also put a blanket down, and a folded sheet onto one of the chairs. On the side, she'd placed various first aid meds and bandages.

Con gently laid Vanessa down on the blanket, and stood away to let Mrs Holliday look at her as the others crowded around the table.

Mrs Holliday looked at Vanessa's raw neck. "Poor baby. He even left finger marks!" She began to pull open Vanessa's coat but paused and looked at them gawping. "Everyone out!" she ordered. Her hands flapped as she chased them away, but grabbed Joe's arm. "Not you, Joseph, I need your assistance." She pushed James out the room as the last man standing. "Your sister needs her privacy," Mrs Holliday insisted firmly. "Help me get her coat and top off, Joseph." The door shut.

The remaining men turned away from the barred door, and moved slowly to the living room.

Frank went and sat down in his usual winged armchair. He stared at the flames, thinking hard, his elbows on his knees and his fingers over his mouth.

Con gazed thoughtfully at Frank for a few seconds, then started to talk. "The Red-Headed Man hates you Frank. In fact, it's gone beyond hatred and slipped into the territory of fixation. To strangle someone like that, it's a personal and egotistical way of going about killing - face-to-face and hands on. He's letting you know - showing you - what he's capable of, what he's prepared to do to us, to get at you. It's not like shooting someone - detached and focussed, getting a job done. The gunman who came after Fen and me, and probably tried to kill James and Joe? It's not the same perpetrator."

Frank's eyes swivelled to Con.

"I doubt this is so much about Pandora for him now, but more about revenge. You humiliated the original Posse and they're dead, killed in the prison where you put them—"

"What are you talking about?" James interrupted from the doorway with Fenton. "What do you mean they're dead?"

Con half turned. "I'll fill you in later, James" He returned to Frank, "Where Nancy's concerned she…what I mean to say, Junior, is…erm, if the Red-Headed Man's prepared to—" Con glanced helplessly back at Fenton.

Fenton took Con's uncomfortable delivery as his cue and stepped further into the room, "What Con's trying to say, but is finding difficult, is if this man believes you have a strong emotional connection to Nancy, he'll do worse to her than Vanessa. I suspect he'll send photographs or video footage. I don't want to be cruel, Son, but that's the crux of it and you need to prepare yourself. He's a psychopath, a sadist, and this is a game for him. He's enjoying tormenting and making you squirm and he won't stop. He won't kill Nancy quickly either, he'll use her like a toy."

Frank's expressionless response proved impossible to read, especially as his fingers hid half his face.

"Arthur Gray's right, we need to destroy Pandora, but we need to prioritize getting Nancy out. Usually, I'd advise involving Ezra and his squad, but we'd end up in a bureaucratic quagmire. They'd say we're too personally involved, and pull us out…definitely slow us down."

Frank finally pulled his fingers back to reveal his face and broke his silence, "The problem is we don't know where they've taken Nan. He could be doing anything to her right now."

Fenton nodded grimly.

"And I stupidly reacted so strongly to her being taken the Red-Headed Man's under no illusion Nan means a lot to me."

"A human reaction, Son, and why you're not a psychopath." Fenton held his palm out. "Do you want me to take your cell so you don't have to see what might be sent to you?"

Frank pulled the phone out of his pocket, and balanced it in his hand. "It's too late, they already sent me pictures."

"What? But you didn't say—"

"Outside the Beaumont while you were busy with Vanessa, they sent two pictures - one of Nancy, and one of Vanessa." He let the explanation hang in the air, keyed in his password, and offered the cell to his dad. "Don't show them to Joe."

James' weight shifted.

"Don't look, James." Frank said firmly, and sat upright to lean back. "I need to think." His head disappeared into the confines of the chair, and he returned his gaze to the fire with his hand pressed to the side of his face.

Fenton flicked between the two images, his face growing redder and redder. He weaved away and staggered to and fro before slumping onto the sofa by the window.

"Fen?" Con asked, and waited while Fenton worked his tongue around his mouth.

He gave up trying to find his voice, and simply offered the phone to Con to see for himself.

Con accepted it, stared at the ceiling, took a deep breath and looked. His pupils expanded. "Son of a…BITCH!" he spat ferociously. He switched to the next picture and reacted just as hard.

"Dad?" James asked.

He turned angry eyes on his son. "You're not seeing them, don't even ask...GODDAMN HIM!" Con turned to Fenton ferociously. "I'm keeping this phone. You're not seeing any more pictures."

"Why?"

"Because you're Carson's friend and Frank's father. If anyone's gonna see photos or videos of Nancy it'll be me. They'll be no more photos of Van, she's not leaving this house, no matter what anyone thinks about us playing to our strengths. I've seen a lot of things in my time as a cop. I can detach myself mentally from it. At least better than you'll be able to."

"Are you forgetting I used to be a cop too?" Fenton reminded him.

"Not like me, so I keep the phone. It's where my strength lies."

Fenton conceded with a nod. "We shouldn't even be having this conversation," he muttered. "This is beyond anything I've ever faced."

"Not for me," Con said. "We need to capture or kill this man because he won't stop. Preferably, he needs to be put down." He gave the photo one last fume-filled look, made what could only be described as a snarl, and shoved the phone into his top pocket. "I dunno how you're tolerating this, Frank."

James responded to his father's anger. "I never should have left Van, I should have been quicker," he said for about the umpteenth time since he'd discovered Vanessa in her distressed state. "I got lost, got confused. I couldn't find the place. I got delayed. I failed her and Nancy."

"Stop blaming yourself," Con said. "None of us were gonna get there in time. Vanessa delayed their departure but not for long enough. Out of all of us, you had the best shot at reaching Drew and you nearly did."

Fenton nodded and plucked at his eyebrow. "You didn't know Vanessa would come across the ambulance and that madman. None of us could plan for such a risk. And if you had got there, there were at least two men who took her, and one of those is a psychopathic murderer. You couldn't have fought them off."

"I could have tried."

"You did! But if you'd got their earlier, we'd have found you and Vanessa both dead. You were lucky you pulled on the door. You saved Vanessa's life by a quirk of fate. Trust me, I've seen the photo, the psychopath had no intention of letting her live. If you had got in his way, he wouldn't have let you live either."

"I shouldn't have left her." James repeated and moved into the chair opposite Frank. Obviously, he didn't appreciate what they'd said to him, the blame still flamed hotter in his belly than the fire now warming his legs. He went to speak to Frank but caught himself.

Fenton rose from the couch at the same time to go to his son, having seen the same thing as James, however, he stalled his approach when he saw James reach and put his hand on Frank's leg.

"Hey buddy," James said gently. They hadn't noticed how upset Frank had become, or rather, he hadn't let them see by burying himself into the backrest of the chair. Frank shook his head quickly although he didn't reject James' physical contact.

Proud of his son, Con envied how naturally James used tactile and empathic compassion he himself struggled with.

Fenton went back to the sofa, apparently happy to let James deal with it.

"Can I do anything?" James asked, but Frank remained silent. So instead James didn't speak for a while, and waited for Frank to compose himself. "C'mon Frank, what are you thinking?" he finally said. "You've got your plan face on."

"Ah, well there's the rub, James, the only way I can think to salvage anything from this is to turn myself over to them in exchange for Nancy. It worked before; I can make it work again."

Fenton gritted his teeth and rose up off the sofa to take the few steps between him and his son. He pulled Frank forcibly up onto his feet by the elbow, and pointed into his face. "NO! NOT an option. You're not sacrificing yourself this time."

Frank pulled his arm free. "Dad, I'm out of alternatives! This thing, this whole situation's because of me. If anyone dies, it'll be me, not an innocent girl—" he pulled his palms to his heart, "Not MY innocent girl!"

Fenton took his son by the shoulders. "The guilt for this lies at Arthur Gray's feet and the damn Network, not you and not James! If it hadn't been for that damn man swimming about in your heads, Nancy would have run to us days ago."

"Dad, we're dealing with the reality of what's happening right now. I'm stronger than Nancy. Physically stronger. If I exchange myself I would have a greater chance of fighting my way free. Nancy doesn't stand a chance! I'm tough, trained for situations like this. I can offer myself as bait with you guys as back up."

Fenton's voice rose, "I know the culpability's burning you up but it doesn't mean you're expendable!" On word 'expendable' he delivered an audible crack to Frank's left shoulder with the back of his fist. Fenton's exasperation at trying to make Frank appreciate, rather than understand, his point of view - mixed with seeing those pictures - had tipped him over the edge.

The hit wasn't violent, but it had been solid enough to make Frank look slowly down at the hand, and just as slowly back up into his Dad's face.