Chapter 28: Event Horizon
Phryne had lost her breath when the lights of the "Glasshouse Hotel" finally appeared in the distance. The gaslamps didn't do much to illuminate the red brick covering the lower half and even less for the dark green upper storey. But Phryne remembered the impressive building. It had been were her father had drunk most nights. The thought of finding Jack in there caused her to shudder, but even more it frightened her that she might not. For all she knew, Carter might have finished off the job that the Brownings had begun a year ago and Jack's body was already swimming in the Yarra. The detective's feet flew faster over the cobbles as cold fear threatened to suffocate her. How could the two of them have managed to be so utterly stupid?
Just yesterday they had laughed dutifully about the strange coincidence of Carter's appearance in their neighbourhood as well as Jack's place of work. And yet, they had been too distracted to give it much thought while crying over soup pots and arguing about Natalija. If Jack didn't survive her thoughtlessness, Phryne realised with sudden clarity, she would never forgive herself.
Panting, she slammed against the closed door, grabbing for the handle.
"Miss, you can't... Miss!"
She shook off the man who had grabbed for her.
"Has anyone here seen Jack Turner?!" she yelled over the loud chatter that increased at the appearance of a woman in their midst. A giant rose, walking towards her and Phryne's hand automatically sought her pistol.
"He's been here with us," Miller said, while the owner approached from the other direction.
"You really can't be in here, Ma'am," the short man with the glasses stated, but Phryne ignored him.
"Where is he now?" she asked the giant, who looked suddenly incredibly shy.
"He was quite drunk, Ma'am, and Cromms took him out on the fresh air. Haven't seen them since," Miller explained. Phryne nodded, turning, while still ignoring the staff excitedly chattering at her.
Jack drunk? She had never seen him drunk before. Maybe there was a simple explanation and he was on his way home already, helped along by a co-worker. Blindly, she stumbled down the dark street behind the busy hotel, trying to catch her breath, when her eyes fell on something white against the dark cobbles. Phryne crouched down and picked up a used handkerchief. "P.F." was stitched into the corner, in Dot's fine hand.
"Jack?" she yelled in the vain hope that he was still here, throwing up his guts into a gutter somewhere. She turned, but silence and darkness swallowed every movement.
"Lovely of you to join us, Miss Fisher!" a rough voice said. Then something wet and smelly was pressed over her face. Phryne didn't think, everything she did was pure instinct. Her heel hit a shin while her nails bit hard into the hairy arm trying to clamp her against a male body. She spun, twisting the man's arm but encountered a fist hitting her against the jaw causing her to see stars, and a knee finding her stomach. She gurgled as a second set of arms grabbed for her, but managed to desperately bury her teeth into the hand. A pained scream sounded through the night, while she fished for her gun.
Strong fingers wrapped around her wrist, sqeezing painfully hardbefore she could get a proper grip. The golden metal slid over the cobbles and vanished into the darkness. Phryne was panicking now, she aimed for a groin but struck only a thigh in the struggle of limbs. The cloth was pressed over her face again while she managed a second kick, this time succeeding. Cursing, the man went to the ground, but the one behind her held on tightly, clamping her arms to her chest.
This had happened to Jack, she suddenly knew. It fuelled her anger. Wildly gasping for air, she hit the attacker into the chin with her shoulder but merely caused him to lose his balance, taking her down with himself. They rolled over the ground in a near comical mess of arms and legs. Jack's face appeared in front of Phryne's eyes, as she struggled. If she lost this fight she couldn't go searching for him. And Jane. Who would tell her?
Phryne felt her head go light, as the vapours invaded her brain. Trying to rip the cloth from her face, she ended on her back, the man's heavy body pinning her down, cold cobbles underneath her, the stars high above turning into blurry dots of light. 'We are all lying in the gutters', crossed her mind. It was the last thing she thought before darkness fell.
X
"Michael Carter?" Sanderson asked. Eddie nodded.
"He start'd workin' at Willersons, the day after Jack Turner did and there was that rumour that he was involved with some nasty people and spying on us. Those guys sometimes show their faces and then disappear again. So, when I realised that he was also living beside Jack and Phryne, I worked it out."
To his surprise, the Commissioner grinned.
"I believe, you have gotten a hold of the wrong end of the stick, Mr. Wenbrock. Mr. Carter is working for Melbourne's Police Force. Our man was keeping an eye on the Robinsons during their assignment in Collingwood. Sadly he has also disappeared," he added with a frown, before fixing his glasses.
"Disappeared?" Eddie parroted.
"Mr. Carter was entrusted with informing the Robinsons of a court hearing this afternoon," Sanderson explained. "It passed without either of them attending."
Eddie Wenbrock gulped.
"So, how certain are ya that he is your man, Sir?"
The Chief Commissioner traded a confused look with Hugh Collins, who had been silent for most of the interview.
"Please explain your meaning," he finally urged.
"Well, your man, Sir, didn't mention with a word that either of them should've been at the court today. In fact, he's been workin' along Jack all afternoon and then draggin' him to a bloody pub."
Both men watched on as the Commissioner took his glasses of his nose and started rubbing at them in a hectic manner. Eddie seemed to remember something else.
"She also gave me a message for ya. Phryne. I mean Mrs. Robinson. She said to tell ya that 'it's Gabler's'." Wenbrock explained, sweating. There was silence for a long moment.
Then, with sudden resolve, Sanderson jumped to his feet.
"What are you waiting for, Collins? Get the men ready, we have a raid to carry out."
He turned to rush out the door himself behind the obedient Constable, but seemed to remember something in the very last minute.
"Thank you, Mr. Wenbrock. Would you mind doing me a favour?"
X
With a groan Inspector Robinson came to. His head was pounding, his mouth dry. He was sitting in a chair, which was not the obvious position for an unconscious man and a silent hint that whoever had put him there, was not overly interested in his well-being. The other indications were his wrists that were firmly tied behind his back. Jack pulled on his bounds as familiar terror flooded his senses. It was a nightmare, it had to be.
"Ahh, Inspector. I am assuming you are experiencing a sense of deja vu in this moment," a voice smiled. A young man stepped out of the shadows. "I am actually very pleased how well everything worked. You even brought a fever along, which was very considerate of you."
Out of blurry eyes, Jack squinted at the man who was half covered in darkness. He was young, handsome. And the Inspector had never seen him before, he was certain.
"Who are you?" he asked, his voice cracking.
"Ah, that is a very interesting question, isn't it?" the man smiled. Jack's hands balled to fists behind his back, bumping against something soft that he couldn't place.
"Would you care to answer it?" he asked as calmly as he could manage.
"My name is Jacob Rose," the young man smiled, sitting down on the edge of a table opposite Jack's chair. "Which probably will bring little to mind at this stage, but I'll make certain that you will never forget my name again, Inspector. In the rather short time that you have left to remember it, that is."
Jack attempted to fight back his panic and ignore the threat. The name woke some long suppressed memory.
"You are Mrs. Browning's brother?" he asked.
The young man who, he was certain, hardly grew hair on his chest yet, grinned and jumped of the table edge.
"Very good, Inspector. Half-brother, to be exact. As you felt compelled to yell out into the world, our father was not actually Elaine's. But those are just details." He stepped closer. "You are trying to kill my big sister and I will not let that happen, Inspector Robinson."
"Is that why you kidnapped me?" Jack ground out, right before the gangster's aftershave brought on a coughing attack. When he looked up again, wheezing, the kid had tipped his head as if in thought.
"Partly. And partly, because it seemed fun. Don't you think, Inspector?"
He stood, stretching out his arms, smiling proudly, as if he had done a great magic trick.
"You and I will have a little replay of events. With maybe one small difference."
He leaned in, causing Jack to gasp for air that was not saturated with the overwhelming cloud of perfume.
"This time, Miss Fisher won't come for you."
He laughed while Jack ripped on his bounds, a new wave of horror threatening to swallow him up.
"Where is she?!"
The man climbed happily back onto his table, without giving any answer.
"What have you done to Phryne, you bastard?!"
Jack could hear the panic in his own voice. He couldn't breath, his head felt light. Suddenly, there was movement behind him; soft, warm fingers wrapped around his trembling hands.
"I'm here, Jack," a quiet voice rasped. "I'm right here."
Jacob jumped to his feet, giggling about his cruel joke, while the Inspector collapsed into his chair, feeling that he might pass out by the mixture of fear and sheer relief. His fingers knotted around Phryne's, as if he was never going to let go again.
"She's right here," Jacob Rose parroted, still laughing, then suddenly stopped and turned dead serious. "And the three of us will have some fun now."
X
Mac rang off and returned to the parlour, where Mr. Butler was currently distributing tea between the waiting people crowding every seat.
"So, still nothin'?" Bert asked, draining his cup and extending it again.
The Doctor shook her head.
"Hazel will speak to Jack's family and see if anyone has heard from them. But I am guessing that the chances are slim."
With a sigh she sank into an armchair and grabbed for her tea cup. Of course it was highly unlikely. Phryne and Jack would be much more compelled to contact anyone in this room or at City South than either of their relatives if they had gotten themselves into trouble. Mac was tired to her core. It had been a long couple of days. But sleep was not something she could even think of until Phryne and Jack were back. Why did her friends always insist on playing with fire?
Mac looked at Jane, who was wrapped up in a blanket, with her head on Dot's lap and stifled a yawn. No, sleep was not important right now. She flinched when a hand touched her shoulder.
"Would you like me to prepare a guest room for you, Doctor?" Mr. Butler's gentle voice asked.
"You seem, if you will allow me to say, to be in desperate need of rest."
"I am perfectly fine," Mac lied, accepting a refill of her cup, "but thank you". The butler smiled. What the doctor really wanted was a glass of whisky. The fact that it hadn't already magically appeared in the servant's hands, however, told her that it wasn't a good idea. She might need her senses tonight.
Under quiet whispers Mr. Butler retreated towards the kitchen to retrieve some more biscuits, when the knock sounded. Silence fell, breathes were held. Jane pulled herself into a sitting position. But the male voice greeting Mr. Butler at the door, wasn't Jacks. Seconds later a tall, skinny man stepped into the living room, twisting his hat in his hands.
Eddie wasn't sure if to be more intimidated by the five pairs of eyes staring at him or the parlour itself.
"Bloody hell," it escaped him, before he could stop himself. "No wonder, Phryne looks out of place there."
When nobody seemed able to greet Wenbrock, Cec rose, offering him his armchair.
"You talked to Sanderson, mate?" Bert asked while the man accepted a cup from Mr. Butler's hands.
"I did. Scary man," Eddie stated, looking at Jane who was examining him out of big blue eyes without saying a word.
"Can say that aloud," the Cabbie grumbled, while Cec placed himself on the edge of the piano stool.
"Asked me to come over here and tell ya what's goin' on though," Eddie added, refusing an offered biscuit.
"Are you intending to do so?" Mac asked, not without sarcasm. Eddie looked at the woman, nodding slowly. She looked like death walking, but also very angry. A friend of Phryne's, if he would have to guess. He thought of his old friend, storming out into the night to search for her husband.
"I'm afraid they're in trouble," he said quietly. "The Brownings are gettin' their revenge."
A teacup burst on the floorboards.
"I apologize," Mr. Butler muttered, crouching down to clean up. Dot was beside him a second later, picking up the shards of porcelain in a hectic manner. Mac watched them with dull eyes.
"What do you mean?" Jane urged. "The Brownings are in prison aren't they?"
Eddie kneaded his hat on his lap.
"I'm afraid not all of them."
A half-swallowed curse sounded from the floor, where Dot had cut her thumb on a shard. A drop of blood splashed onto the white remainders of the cup. But nobody looked at her. Eddie gulped. His day really wasn't improving.
X
With a heavy and very final thud the door fell into it's lock. It was incredibly solid looking, Mrs. Robinson found. The two chairs standing back to back, were only dimly lit by the flickering light.
"What are you doing here?" she heard the Inspector whisper.
Phryne kept trying to reach the most stubborn knot she had ever encountered, before answering.
"The same as you, Jack. I seem to be tied to a chair."
She was aware that she was snapping. Being kidnapped and at the mercy of a madman seemed a rather good excuse for that. Also, she suffered a pounding headache, probably caused by the drugs she had inhaled. The Lady Detective wondered half-heartedly how long she had been out before Jack's panicked voice had woken her. The darkness seeping through the one, boarded-up window didn't help her sense of time.
Behind her back, she could feel Jack fiercely struggling against his bounds. Right now she really wished she could see him, touch him. The terror was coming in waves off him and her own throat was growing tight. He had felt it all before and Phryne suspected that the sense of being trapped in his worst nightmare, overruled even Rose's open threats to kill them both. The Inspector had been in many dangerous situations in his life, but this was different. This was Jack losing the battle against himself.
"We need to get out of here," he panted. Phryne turned her head far enough to be able to get a glimpse of his face in the faint light.
"Jack."
He didn't answer, just ripped on the ropes in senseless fear.
"Jack! Stop!"
The Inspector flinched, but paused in his violent struggle against his fate. Phryne realised that she had yelled at him. Her fingers let go of the knot they'd been working on and fished for his powerless hands, trapped between the backs of their chairs.
"Please stop," she repeated quietly.
"We are going to die," he said, matter-of-factly. But his wife knew him well enough to hear the fear that was taking his breath away. It was scaring her more than Rose ever could.
"I have no intention of the kind," Phryne stated with all the certainty she could muster. "And neither do you!"
There was silence for a long moment. Then a formerly limp hand moved, grasping for hers - the rescuing rock in Jack's stormy sea. His laboured breathing slowed while she was rubbing calming circles on what she assumed to be the back of his hand.
"I'm sorry," he finally uttered with surprising calmness. Phryne smiled to herself. Rose's plan hadn't worked. He'd thought he could eliminate her by locking her up with Jack, but really he had just given her an advantage – She didn't have to search for her Inspector this time.
"Don't mention it," she quipped. "Now, how do we get out of here?"
"I'm afraid that my ability at tying knots has found its equal," Jack stated after a long moment of fiddling with Phryne's rope.
The door flew open before his wife had a chance to make a cheeky comment about last night's adventure on the kitchen counter. Rose stepped into the room. The weapon glittering in his hand seemed awfully familiar.