Greetings. It's been a long week but I think it's time to thank all of you for your input. I really enjoyed reading your thoughts on our lovely couple and their current troubles and look forward to hear more from you in the future ;).

Chapter 18: Asteroid

Meanwhile, across two suburbs, in another church, this one built of red brick, Phryne had risen to her feet as well. Jack took a moment longer to get there. He was feeling dizzy and the thick fog of incense that was spread by an altar server from something looking like an oversized, golden handbag, made him feel nauseous. He also remembered vaguely that Mac had mentioned something about resting. Instead he tried himself on the sporting exercise of keeping up with the Catholics around him, who knelt and rose with an enthusiasm that seemed rather scary from a Protestant's perspective. Finally on his feet, he tried to calm his revolting stomach with deep breaths. Which turned out to be a mistake, considering the fog of burning herbs wafting around him.

"Excuse me."

Pressing a hand to his mouth, he shoved the man beside him out of the way and ran down the middle aisle. Surely that was considered highly unsuitable, but throwing up in the house of the Lord was probably not regarded as overly polite either. The old door gave way with a dark creaking sound and moments later fresh, crisp air greeted him. Jack dragged a deep breath into his lungs. He stepped towards some greenery, bending over and resting a hand against a tree. But nothing happened. Listening carefully to his stomach, the Inspector concluded that it had decided against releasing his breakfast for the time being. People wandered down the street, eyeing him curiously, some doffing their hats at him. Jack pulled himself upright and returned their greeting as cordially as he could manage while continuing to slowly suck cold air into his lungs. He realised what a strange picture he must make for. But the Inspector was unwilling to head back inside. After a long pause he chose to go for a wander around the building - out of the range of curious eyes but staying close enough so Phryne would find him easily should she notice his absence. He shoved his hat back onto his head and strolled around the corner towards the tower. Before he could see it, he heard the argument.

"I want you to fix this!" the man yelled. "I won't be disgraced by a worthless harlot and her bastard child."

Jack was running before the last of the words had reached his ears. Sprinting around the corner, he was met with a picture that caused his nausea to return with full force. The young man was pinning the woman against the wall, a hand wrapped around her throat, threatening to choke her. Tears were streaming down the pale face, but still, she was struggling. Jack gripped the guy by his collar, forcefully hurling him away from the woman, trying not to throw up into the grimacing features in front of him. Right now, he really wished he was not undercover and could drag this bastard down to the Station and let him cool his heels in a cell until he had learned how to treat a woman. A second later the man took a swing at him and Jack reconsidered. While his fist hit the guy's stomach with a satisfying thud and he watched him fold up, he thanked God that he wasn't currently an active police officer.

"This is none of your business," the man gurgled, holding his stomach. He looked like a kid now, Jack realised and he guessed he should have felt sorry for him. But the sight of Natalija, who had slipped down the wall, sitting shivering and ashen on the ground, didn't allow him any sentimentalities of the kind.

"You had better get out, before I forget myself," he said coldly. "And don't you dare ever touch her again!"

"Who do you think you are?" the kid yelled scrambling to his feet and ran for it. Jack stared after him in silence for a long moment then took off his thin coat and wrapped it around the girl's shoulders.

"Are you alright?"

"What do ya think?" she asked, her voice shaking with anger. Jack let himself drop onto the freezing ground beside her. It had a certain sense of deja vu to it.

"My guess is that you are not," he stated carefully, touching her arm in an attempt to comfort. She rubbed her bleeding nose onto her sleeve. Jack realised that he didn't have any tissues to give to her. Most of them were in the wash and the remaining piece in his pocket was Phryne's and already used.

He leaned his head against the cold stone, waiting for his heartbeat to calm down. Hitting people was not his favourite action in the world, yet the rage towards the young man had hardly waned.

"Was that the father?" he asked, after a while of silence. She nodded, barely visible.

"Used to be a charmer, believe it or not," she said, as if she needed to explain herself. Jack didn't answer. Young men in his personal experience had a certain tendency towards nastiness, when it came to women. Natalija seemed lost in her own thoughts.

"Wants me to get rid of it."

Jack glanced at her.

"And you are thinking about it?" he enquired, his voice unreadable. She shrugged.

"What choice do I have?"

The Inspector couldn't answer that. Staring at her cold legs sticking out under the thin skirt, he could only guess the poverty she lived in. And bringing up a child without a marriage was a social stigma, hardly a woman would take on herself willingly. It was impossible to tell her to have the child.

He was much more familiar with backyard abortions than he wanted to be. Few of the doctors and midwives who relieved women of their little troubles in their bathrooms or on their kitchen tables could give a damn about their fate. They just cared about the money the desperate women managed to scrape together. And the law had truly no way of stopping them. Where else would the women go? The law, damning them for their misery, just trapped them in the hands of their butchers. Jack felt his hands ball into fists. He probably could save a hundred lives in his career, but Detective Inspector Robinson would never be able fix this problem. He was just a servant of the laws. Even the ones he hated.

He glanced at the woman, who had stopped shivering or sobbing. Even the bleeding seemed to subside due to pure willpower. But maybe Jack Robinson could achieve, what the Inspector had no chance to do. At least for Natalija he could change the grim world. He would have to talk to Phryne. And convince the girl not to do anything silly until he had found a solution. Carefully, Jack peeled himself from his chilly spot on the ground, stretching out his hand to help her up. Natalija looked at him, defiance glittering in her eyes. But she also seemed to consider if she could trust him or not. Then she took his hand. The Inspector smiled.

"Don't worry, we will-"

There were steps behind him. Someone was running towards them and Jack turned, barely dodging a flying fist the second time in ten minutes. He held onto the angry man's wrist tightly.

"So it's you! I didn't believe it when they said old Wenderson caught ya two together!"

Eddie stared with disgust from Jack, who was still holding on to him, to Natalija, who at present pulled herself to her feet. Then he ripped himself away from the Inspector's grip.

"Didn't think ya wer' such a cad, Turner! Ya have a lovely wife too, ya bloody coward."

He spat at Jack's feet, who was slowly catching up on the accusations and lifted his hands in defiance.

"Listen, Wenbrock, I have nothing to do with Miss Nowak's condition. We only just met yesterday."

The other man glared angrily at him, getting right into his face.

"I'm sure it was the Holy Spirit then!"

"I am certain Father Bradbury would appreciate your deep faith, Eddie," a sweet voice behind them said. Both men turned to stare at Phryne, who looked highly amused.

"May I ask what this little argument is about, before we get to the second round?" she asked. Eddie visibly retreated, swallowing hard. Punching a coward, who got a girl into the family way and then wouldn't own up to it, was the one thing. Telling his wife was quite another.

"You may," Jack answered, smiling. "Mr. Wenbrock here is convinced that I took part in the activities related to getting Miss Nowak into the pudding club, while in fact I have just scared the real culprit away, who thought it necessary to threaten her behind the church."

Eddie Wenbrock looked startled.

"You... I mean... who?"

Jack shrugged.

"I didn't recognise the young man. I only just moved here and would therefore be hard pressed to have already built up a large aquaintance. You might want to ask Natalija."

He turned. But the space behind him was decidedly empty. The girl had disappeared into thin air.

X

Jane chewed on her piece of toast, staring miserably at Mr. Butler, who was enthralled in 'a quick look through the paper'. A fly hummed closer, settled beside a drop of jam. The girl watched on as it moved around, finally sinking it's mouthpiece into the red liquid.

"Do you believe, they will be back soon?"

The newspaper sank. Jane noticed that Mr. Butler looked a little pale around the edges, but maybe it was just her imagination.

"I'm sure they will," he smiled thinly, folding up the paper and laying it onto a chair beside him. Jane's curious eyes followed this motion.

"I do apologise, Miss Jane. I got rather distracted. Would you like more tea?"

The girl agreed, her eyes still glued to the paper that seemed magically forgotten, while the servant got to his feet and refilled both their cups. His hands were unsteady and some of the pale amber liquid hit the saucer. Jane looked at him quizzically. She fished for the newspaper while he had his back turned.

"I don't think that is a terribly good idea, Miss," Tobias Butler protested, but Jane was already reading the article. After a moment she looked up.

"It says here that new evidence has surfaced, claiming that Elaine Browning was a victim of an elaborate scheme to bring down her father and brother-in-law."

She stared at Mr. Butler in question.

"I thought she kidnapped Jack!"

Tobias sighed, sitting back down.

"So it seems. I didn't attend the search myself but I have no reason to doubt the word of your mother. And the Inspector was wounded and very ill."

"Did you see him?" Jane asked, grasping for straws. She didn't want to believe the nonsense written in a newspaper, but there was a tiny niggling voice that insisted that there must be some truth to it. Her teacher, Mrs. Lesley always said, that where there was smoke there had to be fire.

"Not while he was in a really bad state," Mr. Butler recalled. "He was brought to hospital and then recovered from the worst in the Commissioner's house, if I recall correctly. Miss Fisher stayed there for three days. Dorothy tells me, she refused to sleep."

Mr. Butler wore a frown clouding his features. He remembered how useless he had felt. It had been his responsibility to keep Miss Fisher's house intact in her absence - that was what he was employed for. Yet he couldn't manage to shake the feeling that he should have been there with them, offered his support rather than polished tables and sorted cabinets.

"So you never saw him yourself?" Jane asked.

"I saw him after he had recovered. He was pale as a ghost, but determined to bring down the Brownings. Miss Fisher had stirred up the whole city at this stage."

Tobias smiled fondly. Jane couldn't help but join in.

"They succeeded in the end," he continued. "But the Inspector collapsed during the arrest."

Jane, who had just lifted her cup to her lips in relief, let it sink again.

"They brought him here. I helped Dorothy clean his blood off the suit."

There was silence for a long moment.

"So, it is all true then?" Jane asked. "Mrs. Browning would have let Jack die?"

Mr. Butler had finished his breakfast and rose.

"I cannot speak for the investigation, Miss, and whether or not it was Mrs. Browning who took the Inspector hostage or killed her husband. But I consider the Inspector a very thorough police officer. If he concluded that it was her, I am inclined to believe that and I would recommend that you do as well."

He turned to find the girl chewing on her lip, then, with some resolve push the newspaper away from herself, knocking over a jar of strawberry jam in the process. A confused fly rose into the air, humming angrily. Hastily, Jane picked up the glass, before it could spread its red liquid over the table. Her thoughts were spinning.

Of course, there was no doubt in her mind about Jack's word. Neither was there the slightest worry that Mr. Butler hadn't picked up on the truth. But then, neither of her parents had ever talked about the whole encounter. What Jane knew, she knew from stories that were told to her by friends at school, from Dot's hints that it had led to the Inspector surrendering to his love for Miss Fisher.

But even the maid would avoid questions on the subject. Silence was spread over the whole kidnapping, as if it had never happened. And now here were a bunch of journalists actually claiming just that. Jane really wished at present that she could just ask her parents frankly, in unavoidable terms, for the truth. Then they would have to share it, wouldn't they?

"Miss?" Tobias Butler asked gently. Jane looked up at him with huge eyes. "Don't doubt them," he said, pressing her hand briefly, before remembering his status. She shook her head slowly, a hint of tears glittering in her eyes.

"I don't," she said stiffly, getting to her feet. Maybe sometimes smoke was just smoke.

X

The house was an inconspicious gray facade in the middle of many others. Nell knocked at the door and after a long moment it was opened by a woman in a shimmering red dress that seemed a somewhat strange contrast to the bleakness of the exterior.

"Oh, you! I thought dear Charly might be early for once."

Nell laughed, as if her friend had told a great joke, then turned to her sister and Hugh, who felt like he had slipped out of the frying pan and into the fire by leaving St. Ignatius to come here.

"Bell, this is my little sister Dot and her husband Hugh Collins."

Dutifully friendly greetings were exchanged after which they followed the woman into the house. It wasn't quite what Dorothy had expected. It looked comfortable and normal, even though there were a few more women hanging about eyeing the intruders with suspicion. Mrs. Collins had niggled Nell enough for her to explain that yes, her friend was also a prostitute, organised with a few other women into a private little circle, hiding in a respectable area. So far, they were left alone by people who claimed ownership over them, but it was probably only a matter of time. They were led into a kitchen in the back of the house and offered drinks, which they refused, while the woman in the red dress brewed herself some tea.

"So, what brings you here?" Bell finally asked, as if she had only just thought of the question. 'Lola's' relatives weren't exactly how she had imagined them. She knew that her friend was from a respectable Catholic family, yet the blushing woman in her Sunday dress and the young man donning a very proper suit looked so strangely out of place, that she wanted to laugh. She was also incredibly curious.

"They are looking for Valerie," Nell explained quietly. A pair of perfectly shaped eyebrows rose.

"For what reason? You know that Val doesn't wanna go back. Nobody will drag her back to that imbecile of a husband."

"What did he do to her?" Dorothy heard herself ask. Two heads flew about. "I mean, you act like he is a terrible man, but she aborted his child, didn't she?"

Bell leaned against the kitchen counter, locking her arms over her chest. Nell frowned, then chose that it was time to explain.

"Valerie's husband Ted is a drunkard, can't hold down a job. They used to live in an abominable cottage over in Fitzroy."

She was cut off by Bell.

"And she told him, that she wouldn't have his child, until they could afford not to starve themselves. Yet he wouldn't leave her alone. Forced himself on her." She all but spat the last sentence. "And then started hitting her when she went to take care of the problem."

Both Dot and Hugh stayed silent.

"How could she afford that?" Dot asked after a while. She remembered Alice telling her that the abortion had cost her not only almost her life but also all of her savings.

"I helped her," Bell said, lifting her chin. "She sat over there on that table crying two month ago. I gave her money and an address."

"And she very nearly died!" Hugh said. Three pairs of eyes flew around. They had almost forgotten about him standing there. "It's in the files. She broke down in Brunswick Street April second, was rushed to the hospital and just barely survived."

Bell stared at him, her eyes going small, then she turned to Nell.

"You brought a bloody copper into my house!?"

Her friend shrugged.

"Calm down, he's just Hugh."

"He's a copper! Do I have to tell you what they do to us?!" Her blonde hair trembled in anger, her voice holding a hint of hysteria.

"Well, you might have noticed that he hasn't arrested you yet," Nell pointed out sharply. "He doesn't care about what kind of business you are running here. He's looking for the people who butchered Valerie. There was a kid found in Yarra Park yesterday. Looks like she wasn't quite as lucky."

Bell went quiet, suspiciously eyeing Hugh, who attempted to look as unthreatening as possible.

"All right," she finally said, pulling her arms tighter around herself, as if trying to get warm. Without another word, she walked out of the kitchen, three people scrambling to follow her, led them past an abundance of doors down a gloomy hall. At the far end, she stopped and knocked.

"Valerie? There are some people here to see you."

Dot and Hugh shared a look, then stared at Nell. She shook her head.

"She's a seamstress. Just staying here."

That was all the explanation they were going to get, they realised, when a hesitant hand opened the door. The woman standing in front of them, was taller than any of them, with long blonde hair drawn up into an old-fashioned do. She had been probably rather pretty if she had bothered to wear any make-up. As it was, her face seemed a little boring and completely naked. Dot felt the urge to cover Hugh's eyes. While the prostitutes out there in their silk and feathers, were not something she was worried about, this was an intimate look at a woman in a way he couldn't see on the street.

"Who are you?" Valerie asked, in a warm, low voice.

Hugh opened his mouth to say something, but was hit with an elbow into the ribs.

"They are family," Nell explained, after a moments pause.

"We would like to talk to you, if we could," Hugh said, catching Dot's elbow on the second attempt to bruise his ribcage. The woman shared a look with Bell, who nodded, then let them into her room.

The two prostitutes stayed outside in the hall. They felt they had done their duty.

"Tell me, is that the Hugh Collins? The one that trapped the 'Butcher'?" Bell asked after a while of silence. Nell thought this over for a moment, then grinned.

"The very one."

"Handsome," hummed Bell under her breath.

"Also, a complete gentleman! And very much devoted to my sister!" Nell said, a little sharper than intended. Her friend looked at her, a knowing smirk around her bright lips.

"So you went at it with your brother-in-law then? And your sister was fine with that? I wouldn't have thought her quite this liberal."

"Pretended," Nell set her straight, locking her arms over her chest. "And don't underestimate Dot."

Staring at the wooden door that hid her family from her eyes, Nell realised that while the truth might be sometimes a little too complicated to explain, she was actually quite proud of her little sister.

X

"I don't know," the old man said. He seemed to have shrunk within the last half hour. "She didn't come home from church. I thought she'd gone with a friend. She does that sometimes."

Jack wondered for a moment, if he should ask Natalija Nowak's grandfather if he knew who the young man had been. Maybe he had an idea. But then, he couldn't imagine that the kid knew anything much about her. Or cared for that matter.

"There must be something ya know, Ron. C'mon, think!" Eddie Wenbrock insisted.

"Why ya need to speak to her so badly, Eddie? Can't it wait till tomorrow? It's not like ya've been ever in a hurry before," the white haired man grumbled, pulling himself onto his walking stick.

Wenbrock stared at him, his mouth open.

"Ya didn't think, that I'd not recognise your writing, did ya, son? Natalija might be silly enough to miss what's going on, but I've known ya since ya went barely to my knees."

Wenbrock gulped, raking a hand through his hair.

"That is all terribly interesting," Phryne cut into the conversation, "but we got to find your granddaughter. Is there nothing that could help us?"

Mr. Nowak looked at the Lady Detective as if he just noticed her for the first time.

"Her things are lying over there." He pointed at a tiny desk in the corner. "Maybe she's written something in her calender. She keeps one, the silly girl, as if there was anything that she needed to remember, other than goin' to work and shoppin'... and attendin' church," he added on afterthought.

Jack was there with three steps. There was a small, paper bound diary that he opened. Little drawings covered most of the pages and tiny, hard to read writing. Natalija seemed to note a little more than appointments into the book and Jack wondered if it was right to read what was private after all. But he also felt that he needed to find her. If she had run scared from their argument, she might be in trouble.

He looked down at Phryne who was happily riffling through the contents of the only drawer, obviously a lot less concerned with confidentiality than he. In fact, Phryne had found exactly what she was looking for. A whole bunch of white envelopes, similar to the one she had found the night before. She slipped one into her bag with neither of the three men watching.

"Nothing in here," she exclaimed happily.

Jack flipped through the pages that were filled with emotions and dreams. He felt like he was poking at Natalijas deepest thoughts with a stick, but nevertheless he pushed on, his eyes flying over the pages, hoping that it would bring him closer to her whereabouts.

There were detailed recollections of her meetings with the man, who she simply called F, her pink dreams, slowly turning into a nightmare. But there was also something else, he realised, something between the lines that he couldn't quite put his fingers on. He turned another page, oblivious to Eddie, who stared at him from a safe distance, as if he was scared the diary might burn him.

"Anything?" he asked. Jack shook his head, when something fluttered from the book. Phryne's fingers were faster. She picked up the small piece of paper, reading.

"It's an address," she said after a pause. "Of a Nurse Stella Campbell."

Behind her back, Eddie Wenbrock paled.