Chapter 26: Wormhole

The door clicked shut behind her, causing the noise to fade into the background. Phryne breathed deeply, flattening herself against the wall. The fight that had broken out after the girl had thrown a half done piece of underwear at her opponents head, had risen above expectations. There must have been quite some hostility lingering in that room, to cause such an eruption of tempers. But it had given the detective enough time to sneak unnoticed into the back rooms. Now Mrs. Robinson stood in a narrow corridor which lead towards several closed doors on the one side and a set of stairs on the other. She glanced in both directions. The offices were likely to be hidden behind those doors. And paperwork might give enough evidence to prove whatever needed proving. She could be in and out within minutes. But her curiosity drew Phryne towards the steps. Paperwork had never really been her world.

There were faint voices trailing up the stairs, mixed with other noises that she couldn't place. So there were people down there, ready to discover her. Her heart drummed in her chest as she snuck down the dark steps one a time. Her heels almost soundlessly moved over the stone. At the foot a big door opened into a massive room. What Phryne spotted inside the hall took her breath away.

Rows of giant copper stills framed both walls, between them at least twenty workers swarmed like bees in the light of lanterns. Blood rushing in her ears, Phryne withdrew into the shadows of a dark corner. So, this wasn't a little grog trade on the side but a massive company. Judging from the turn of the stairs, she was now underneath the factory hall and this room was at least the same size. Phryne snuck closer to one of the tills, wiping a tiny puddle from the floor with two fingers. She sniffed. Gin, no doubt about it. Voices drew nearer, two men passed so close by the copper wall that Phryne, pressed against the metal, could have stuck out her hand to touch them. She didn't dare to breath until they were gone. She needed to get out of here, her instinct told her clearly. But a small group of workers destroyed her plan, as she watched them huddle near the passage that lead upstairs. The exit was blocked. Hastily the Detective's eyes brushed over the room. There was a small door at the other end and wherever it may lead, it was better than staying here in almost clear sight of a dozen workers.

Anyone who ran an operation like this one, probably didn't appreciate spies.

Following the wall, she slowly edged towards her goal. The workers were too absorbed in their various occupations to spot the woman sliding along the back wall. That was, until her foot hit something. For whatever reason the bucket had been standing on the floor, the sound of the metal rolling over concrete before finally smashing into copper, appeared to echo through the room. A dozen heads flew up. Phryne straightened, stared back at the shocked men with glittering eyes. Then she turned and ran for her life.

X

"Would you like to take a seat, Constable?"

"Thank you, Sir."

Hugh took a look at the smugly grinning man who was gesturing to a wooden chair and felt sweat trickle over his brow. He had been rushing to the courthouse after a long, hard interview with Morgan, trying to draw a confession from Stella Campbell.

"You are aware of the importance of this hearing, I trust?" Solicitor Boyd prodded, raiding an eyebrow at the judge that told him clearly, how ill-mannered the late appearance of the Constable was to be considered.

"Very much so, Sir," Hugh heard himself say, setting down his helmet and looking for a familiar face. Dottie smiled even though she felt faint.

"And yet, you did not feel compelled to appear in this courtroom half an hour ago, Constable?"

Hugh's eyes flew up. For a brief moment he had forgotten about the lawyer.

"I fear I was restricted by my duties, Sir."

He raised his chin, holding Dottie's gaze, whose smile turned more sincere.

"Something more important than the decision over the life of a woman, Constable?"

Collins finally looked back at the man.

"I am afraid, Sir, it turned about the lives of many women. One of them currently struggling for her survival in a hospital."

There was murmuring along the rows. Someone giggled faintly, as Boyd pulled out a handkerchief, wiping his forehead. Judge Banks looked on impatiently .

"After we have established the working morale of the Constable, can we continue with the relevant case?" he asked, after Boyd had tampered with his pockets for a while.

"Certainly, your Honour."

He turned.

"Constable Collins, you were involved in the investigation against my client, is that correct?"

A small nod of encouragement from Dottie. Jane's hand got almost squished between her sweaty palms.

"Yes, I was, Sir."

"And you have also been working with Detective Inspector Robinson for some years, Constable?"

"Three, Sir."

Constable Collins had now time to screen the rows of faces for the Inspector and his wife while he answered the basic questions about his position and his work with Jack Robinson. They weren't there, he realised after a long moment. A look at his wife caused him to understand. Hugh's stomach clenched. The Inspector was supposed to be here. Something had happened!

"When did you notice his disappearance?" Boyd asked through the fog.

"When the Inspector was meant to attend work and he didn't come."

"Is this a common occurrence?"

Hugh shook his head.

"Never. Inspector Robinson is very reliable."

"Is he?" Boyd faked surprise, pacing the courtroom. "I am informed that he missed several weeks of duty just earlier this year."

Hugh snapped out of his spinning thoughts to look at the thin, sweaty face of the Solicitor. So he wanted to play that game then? He glanced at Dottie, who had placed her second hand over her belly. A strange calmness came to him.

"Inspector Robinson missed some working time. That is correct." Hugh rushed on, when he realised that the Solicitor was about to say something: "He was stabbed in the leg while protecting a victim from a notorious killer, Sir."

Boyd looked annoyed and withdrew once again.

"And even from his sickbed he solved another case," Hugh added proudly. There had not really been any beds involved and the wound had been mostly healed by the time, but that wasn't any of Boyd's concern.

"That sounds like the Inspector is quite the hero," the man smiled faintly. It looked more like a nervous grimace. He turned his back, making clear that that hadn't been a question, but Hugh had his mouth already open. His voice swept clearly to the furthest corner of the room.

"I do not believe in heroes, Mr. Boyd, as I am a police officer and not a little boy. But if there is any man in the world who I admire, it would have to be Inspector Robinson."

Hugh bit his lip, wondering if he had said something wrong. There were tears in Dot's eyes that he hadn't apprehended. A strange expression had come into the solicitor's features. He saw his chance.

"He is very dear to you, Constable?"

Hugh nodded, silently.

"He is almost like a father," he heard himself say, before he could stop himself. "A big brother, possibly."

Shock and embarrassment took over Hugh's brain. The thought had crossed his mind in the past, yet he had never intended to blurt it out across a court room.

"The Inspector was also the best man at your wedding, I am informed?" Boyd pressed on.

"He was so kind as to take the burden upon himself, when my best men was bound to bed with a fever."

That hadn't gone quite the way the Solicitor had hoped.

"And he is very good in his job? A strong mentor? Considering he is often mentioned in the papers, I would assume, also a great policeman?"

"That is correct."

Hugh straightened his back. This was easier than he had thought.

"And yet, this strong man who is perfectly good at his chosen occupation, a war hero, a man of honour and loyalty – was kidnapped and nobody missed him until the time he was meant to appear for duty?"

Collins gaped at the Solicitor as if he had been slapped.

"He had only been taken the night before," he ground out, when the first shock settled. Dot chewed on her lip, expecting the man to next blurt out the Inspector's divorce but was almost surprised when he took a different route.

"So, let me recount the events," Boyd smirked. "This very strong man was easily kidnapped by this rather fragile woman you see over there. And nobody realised he was gone for several hours? When you went for a man hunt across the city?"

Hugh looked at Elaine Browning for the first time in the hearing. Her beauty had suffered visibly from a year in gaol, but he remembered her cold face that didn't seem to have a care in the world, with a dying man in her basement and a husband, murdered by her own hands, barely buried. Now she looked at him with her dark eyes deep in their caves. He felt hot anger returning.

"He was shot!" he all but yelled. "And I rather hope that you are aware of that fact!"

Boyd smiled once again, like a snake would smile at a mouse.

"Of course, Constable. Thank you."

Hugh realised that he had been dismissed. But suddenly he knew that he wasn't going to go anywhere.

He rose to his feet.

"You're Honour, would you mind me finishing a recount of the events as I saw them happen?"

Judge Banks looked surprised as a pair of big eyes begged him for help. This was certainly not the standard procedure. But after a moment he nodded.

"I do not see what should prevail us from hearing the truth, Constable Collins. If you would like to return to your seat, Mr. Boyd."

The lawyer looked shocked.

"But, your Honour, this is not-"

"I am quite aware of the protocol, Mr. Boyd. But this is a hearing, not a trial and as such I am taking the liberty of listening to the Constable."

Grumbling, the Solicitor returned to his client. They whispered for a while. Hugh locked eyes with his wife, who nodded. They had kept the secret for long enough.

Then he closed his eyes, brought back pictures that he had tried to forget ever since the day in the last autumn. His voice was calmer than he felt when he finally spoke.

"We were investigating the sudden death of Victor Browning and had ventured into the murder of a young man, who had allegedly been shot by the deceased five months earlier. Neither of us was aware at the time that we ventured too close to a well-kept secret of the Browning Family. As things stood, Inspector Robinson didn't think he had made any headway at all. A misconception that he almost paid for with his life...

X

Phryne was certain that her heartbeat could be heard across the small cellar she was hiding in. Crouching behind one of the huge barrels lining the walls, she listened to the steps coming closer then run past the open door. She pressed further into the shadows, wrapping her hands around the wooden board she had found on the floor. Right now, she really wished Jack would come running through the door wielding his gun, but that was highly unlikely even if he should manage to storm Gabler's without collapsing.

She needed to get home, pack him up and make their way to Sanderson as fast as possible. Nothing was safe anymore. How stupid of her to get caught! If only she had taken her weapon, but the golden pistol was lying innocently between her belongings in the cottage. Steps drew nearer again, this time stopping. Phryne held her breath.

"She can't have gone far. Probably hidin' somewhere," she heard, while the men ventured into the room. There were only three of them. She could probably... Phryne darted out of her hiding place, just before they had reached her, throwing up her knee and causing the closest one to collapse gurgling to the ground, then kicking a second against the shin and hitting the third with the plank before making a run for it.

The maze of corridors down here seemed endless. The men behind her had gathered their wits and were coming after her. A door appeared at some distance with faint light falling through the gap. But there were also the outlines of two figures in the direction she was running in. She recognised them instantly - the guard and his dog. Phryne wasn't scared of the man, he wasn't as young as he had once been and she could probably overwhelm him easily. But she did have a healthy respect for an angry dog. But there was no time to stop or think and she just propelled herself towards them.

"Down here!" she heard voices yell. The dog had spotted her, resolving to bark at the woman in a mad dash down the hall, while her owner had stopped to glance into the darkness.

"Sorry," Phryne panted, hitting the old man over the head, before he had had so much as a chance to realise that he was in danger. The bitch bared her teeth, growling lowly. She obviously didn't appreciate her owner being attacked.

"I'm sorry," Mrs. Robinson whispered again, chasing past the animal, who angrily leaped at her, catching her by the sleeve. For a long moment, Phryne had the heavy weight of a dog dangling off her arm, before the fabric ripped, dropping the bitch heavily on the ground. Bessie yelped. Phryne pressed her lips together and darted on while men gathered behind her in the dark tunnel. She reached the door, panting and was blinded a second later by the light. The sun was setting behind the houses, turning the sky into an ocean of flames. It would have been beautiful, hadn't there been the horde of angry workers on Phryne's heels. She darted along the factory wall. Voices grew louder. It was knock-off time. Women and men, chattering, laughing, shouting, streamed from every hole of Gabler's. Phryne ducked between the other women, let the flow of bodies take her in and carry her out of the gates. Confused men searched through the workers, but the Private Detective had disappeared.

It took several minutes and a few streets before Phryne dared to break away from her co-workers and fly down the road in the direction of their cottage. She needed to get to Jack. One of the men had been Terry Willis. Their cover was blown beyond repair. They were in danger!