Def Leppard? I think not! All music courtesy of Paul Weller... is there anyone cooler than the Modfather?
Humming along fairly tunelessly to Wildwood, Max reached into the clear packet for a handful of green beans just as he heard the sound of a key turning in the door. With knife poised above the chopping board, ready to decapitate the fine strands he looked up and behind him to see the door open and through it shuffle a thoroughly drained Millie.
As she entered, the sight of Max at work by the hob jolted her memory. "Damn," she sighed with frustration, "I forgot Mum's lasagne." She shut the door behind her and for a moment leaned back against it, her head tipped back, eyes closed as she took a deep breath, inhaling the mouth watering aroma filling the room.
"Doesn't matter. I thought I'd cook anyway. What do you think? Thai lime and coconut curry with jasmine rice?"
"I think you are a genius," she opened her eyes and gave him a tired smile, pushing herself away from the door and dumping her oversized bag onto the sofa as she walked towards him. Next to his workstation stood a half full glass of white wine, one of a set given to the pair of them as a joint Christmas present by her parents, a symbol even back then of how he had become embedded into the Brown family. At first Max had been too afraid to even touch the delicate stems, let alone handle them for everyday use, but over the months since, gradually, silently as his own security grew his fears subsided and now no excuse was needed for the glasses to come off their shelf. Millie picked up the glass and took a sip, the cool liquid immediately easing away some of the trauma of the day. "Smells good, you haven't done this before. And you've set the table! What's brought all it on?"
"Nothing," Max proudly held up a Delia Smith for Waitrose recipe card. "Your mother's suggestion at the weekend. I picked up the stuff on the way home this evening. Easy." Millie smiled affectionately and still holding the glass in one hand she ran the other up the back of his neck and into his hair, her fingers gently massaging the nape of his neck. He groaned softly, succumbing to her ministrations, the feeling so exquisite that he yearned for her to never stop except that then the curry would be ruined and they would have to get a takeaway, again. He stilled her hand, linking his fingers through hers and pulling it away. "As good as that is, dinner will be ready in ten, so why don't you have a shower and we can pick this up a bit later?" Her hair which had been tied up all day now fell in random kinks and twists over her shoulders. With his free hand he pushed it back from her face, gently stroking her cheek as he pulled away. Millie nodded, she needed reviving if she was to stay awake long enough to eat and the full force of her power shower was guaranteed to do the job. "Ten minutes," he reiterated as she ambled towards their bedroom.
Closer to fifteen minutes later, Millie reappeared, dressed in the same white shift tunic she had worn when he had proposed a few days earlier, her hair still wet but combed through and sensually tousled. Max frowned at her, the words 'you do something to me' emitting from the ipod speakers had never seemed quite so apt.
"What?" she sat on the tall stool next to where he was spooning out the curry onto rice already heaped in large white bowls and helping herself to another gulp of his wine. "Your ten minutes is always my fifteen. You know that."
"Hmm," he grumped and turned away to get her another glass.
"Oh no, not for me," she protested, "I'll have some of yours." Max rolled his eyes. It was always the same, this way she could pretend that she wasn't drinking. It was just the same with chips. His exasperation however faded when he noticed that she was wearing his ring. Still too big, she toyed with the stones, rotating it round her finger, still not used to it being there. He smiled and leant in to her, delivering a soft kiss to her lips and receiving a gratifying moan in exchange.
"Let's eat."
Despite her objection, Max did pour a glass of wine for Millie while she took the bowls to the table. "What's it like having SOCA in the station?"
Max cringed inwardly, now would be the time to come clean and tell her the truth. He'd been thinking about this since leaving work but hadn't come up with a way of explaining Manson's presence without also declaring his own interest. And even if he could explain that, it didn't help that what had started in his mind as an opportunity to take down Fleischmann was becoming increasingly complicated. The unanswered questions of just who was Nikolai Antonov and the name of Barsukov's boat weighed heavily, he couldn't think of a way to tell Millie these details without causing her worry, and she had enough of that already. He hesitated and made his decision. "Cramped."
"Oh dear. Are they treading on toes? How many have you got?" she asked airily, clipping up her hair.
"Er, two."
Millie swallowed a mouthful of the food. "Mmm, this is delicious! Useful?"
"Might be," Max thought back to his conversation with Manson following the meeting with Barsukov. He and Susie had been only too happy to exploit their Interpol connections to find out more about the mysterious Kiril Barsukov.
"So, what did happen with Barsukov today? You didn't call."
"No, well we didn't get much out of him. Probably not going to be on his Christmas card list either."
"Who went with you?"
"Grace." Millie raised her eyebrows in surprise. "What's that look for?"
"No reason, except that I always took her to be pretty calm in these situations, unless you-"
"I barely said a word," protested Max, "I let her do all the talking. Well, nearly all," he added under Millie's sceptical stare.
"So what did he have to say?"
"Do we have to do this now?" Max lifted his glass hoping without hope that she would let it go.
"Yes, we do. What did he say?"
Max took a fortifying gulp, setting down his glass slowly before replying. "He said that he and Georgie are only acquaintances, he's been using some of Georgie's premises as an office and would like to make it permanent."
"What about Austin?"
"Yeah, he said Austin works for him sometimes but that he hasn't heard from him since Carly went missing."
"Do you believe him?"
"Nah. But right now we've got nothing else to go on," he sighed, "back to the drawing board tomorrow. There must be something we've missed."
"And if not?"
"Then we'll have to get tougher on Georgie."
-oo-
Millie was asleep when Max finally crawled into bed next to her, but it didn't stop him from pulling her body into his, pushing her hair away so that he could nuzzle into her neck. Sleepily she wriggled against him. unconsciously teasing him, goading him into arousal, daring him to wake her. But he didn't dare, she needed to sleep, instead he pulled her closer still and whispered, "I love you."
-ooOoo-
It took a few moments for Carly to register that she was no longer in her filthy cell of a room, the softness of a pillow beneath her cheek being the first clue. Hope rose within her, that perhaps this had all been some kind of hideous dream, that she was in her own bed and the nightmare was over. But, as her eyes slowly focused on the pattern of the bed linen she knew she wasn't at home. In the following moments she became aware of the lightness of her head, the heaviness of her luxuriant hair extensions was gone. She lifted a hand to touch her scalp but found herself unable to make contact, instead clamping it to her mouth to stifle a sob while she remembered what had happened the day before. Gradually she brought the horror under control enough to sit up and survey her new prison. It was definitely more comfortable, in the dim daylight provided by shuttered windows it appeared cleanly decorated and thankfully without the stench of damp or mildew. She sat in the middle of a large bed, made up with cheaply garish linen, but at least it was a proper bed instead of a stained bare mattress on the floor. Suddenly feeling urgency calling from her bladder, she looked around, expecting to find that bucket again but was pleasantly surprised to see a basin and loo through an open doorway. Stiffly she clambered off the bed, staggering over to relieve herself and splash some water on her face. She tried hard to avoid the reflection in the mirror above the basin but it was impossible and her eyes dragged themselves maliciously upwards, as if they were seeking to augment her punishment, or whatever this was. The creature that stared back couldn't be her, it just couldn't be. This thing was ugly, it repulsed her but she stood staring, transfixed.
A noise behind her made Carly spin round clumsily, she put out a hand to steady herself against the door frame but a masked man grabbed it and hauled her out of the bathroom. She couldn't work out if it was the same man, but something seemed different about him. Taller perhaps, certainly stronger.
"Let me go! You bastard! You fucking bastard!" she screamed but he didn't even look back as he dragged her by the wrist with a vice-like grip through the doorway and into another room. The floor was covered in blue plastic sheeting, the only furniture a long trestle table covered in the same blue plastic. Carly blinked, completely disorientated by her new surroundings.
"Hold her!" the man barked with a heavy accent, tossing her at another man who held her upper arms from behind, keeping her immobile. She wanted to struggle, but fear held her still, not even allowing her to scream again when the first man came at her with a cloth gag and stuffed it in her mouth. "On the table! Hold her arm out," the first man instructed, the second man tried to comply but as he loosened his grip she took the opportunity to claw at him, all thought of protecting her manicure gone as she sank her nails into his bare arm.
He gasped audibly as her nails left their long red marks. "Bitch! You're gonna pay for that." He twisted one arm viciously behind her back while clamping the other palm down on the table top, her candy pink and gold flecked fingertips outstretched, his disgusting damp sweaty body pushing into her from behind. It was then that Carly saw what she assumed could only be some sort of meat cleaver at the end of the table, glinting dangerously in the light from the single light bulb dangling above her. The first man picked it up and ran a finger along the blade edge, caressing it lovingly before looking down at her, "you move and I will take off your hand. Is that what you want?"
Carly's breathing became rapid, her hyperventilation making her dizzy, the enormity of what was unfolding was incomprehensible. She shook her head in panic, unable to speak she could only make squeaking noises through the gag, her eyes instead pleading for mercy. But he had none. Brutally pressing down on the back of her hand, he lifted the cleaver and after that Carly Fleischmann once again fell into blackness.
-ooOoo-