Chapter 31: Rogue Planet
Jack grabbed for one of the chairs and pulled Phryne, who had been busy fishing the lamp from the table, behind the door. A pained hiss reminded him that he had grabbed for the wrong arm. He gulped. There was no time for apologies, but that didn't deminish his sense of guilt!
The man poking his head through the gap, wasn't Rose. His eyes widened in shock at the lack of hostages, but he had barely time to pull a revolver before a hot lamp hit him squarely in the face and an angry knee buried itself into his groin with a sickening sound.
"Remind me to never get onto your bad side, Miss Fisher," Jack whispered, when the man collapsed gurgling to the ground.
"I would have thought you'd learned that lesson a long time ago, Jack," Phryne quipped, stepping over the groaning man, while Jack relieved him from his weapon before following his wife and her bad side into the hallway. He pulled the door shut behind them, turning the key.
"We won't have long until he gets a chance to raise the alarm," Phryne concluded. Jack hummed approval, while inspecting the treasured weapon.
"There are only two shots left."
"I shudder to think where the rest of them ended up," she whispered. Following the wall, they snuck down a long, dark corridor.
"This place seems vaguely familiar," Phryne stated, after they had turned a corner. There was no chance to dig deeper into that thought, however, as voices approached. Breathlessly the detectives ducked into the shadows.
"This imbecile of a judge. How dare he!"
It was Rose's voice, sounding quite upset, bordering on openly outraged. Phryne poked her face around the corner. A second man was whispering excitedly to his boss. The words were inaudible to their freed hostages.
"Get the men together, Gibson, we will head out at dawn," Rose barked, brushing the man off. "But first, I am going to make sure that Robinson doesn't walk anywhere - ever again!"
He retrieved a familiar, golden pistol in the same moment that the Inspector pulled Phryne back into the darkness. Jacob Rose's heavy steps marched past them, down the hall to where they knew he would find nothing but a locked door and a cursing associate. The detectives locked gazes in the shadows. They had only minutes until their escape would be discovered. It was the wrong moment for any slip-ups. And just now Phryne's nose was tickling. She had almost forgotten about her sore throat in the whole drama and of course a runny nose had little impact while a madman shot at you, but Phryne could feel her nostrils getting ready for an outburst.
The man named Gibson still stood in the middle of the hall, fiddling with his revolver, which had, according to his cursing, something stuck. The Lady Detective scraped together all her will-power to not give them away, instead concentrating on her throbbing shoulder. But nevertheless she was losing the battle. Jack noticed her tense grimace and drew the wrong conclusions.
"You all right?"
His whisper was accompanied by ahot hand touching her face, trying to apprehend how bad her state was. Distracted for a brief moment, Phryne lost the 'achoo' echoed off the walls.
Gibson snapped shut the cylinder on his Webley and wandered towards the Detective's hiding place, his tense face belying the casual manner in which he approached.
"Whose there?"
His steps came closer. Mrs. Robinson was pressing herself up against the wall, holding her breath.
"Just me, Gibson."
Phryne's heart skipped a beat. That had been Jack's voice and a split second later, her husband stepped out into the dim light.
"Lil' Jacob said, you'd have work for me?"
The man stared quizzically at Jack for a long moment, obviously wondering if he knew him. Phryne couldn't breath while she waited for him to see through the Inspector's bluff.
"What happened to your face?" he finally asked, inspecting the deep scratch on which there was still blood drying.
"That harlot we tied up before, woke up and hit me. Ring left a nasty mark," Jack grumbled, doing his hardest to not think of who was listening. To his surprise, the man gave him a throaty laugh.
"Hope you broke her arm for that?"
"Lets say, she won't try that again in a hurry!" the Inspector stated with a pained grin.
"Good man," Gibson smirked, patting him on the shoulder, "though you sneeze like a girl."
He laughed again. Jack felt the urge to retch, but right now none of it mattered. If he listened carefully, he could just about hear the silent footsteps edge away.
"So, what's the orders then?" he asked.
Quiet cursing sounding up the hall, interrupted whatever Gibson had wanted to say, causing him to turn his head. Rose was returning! Jack's heart was beating in his throat, as he watched Phryne slip through the door at the other end of the narrow corridor, hopefully into freedom.
"The orders?" he asked again, snapping Gibson out of his thoughts. The man cleared his throat.
"Inform the guys, we are moving out at half past six. And get Wollert to park the cars at the back. I'll take care of the weapons."
"Will do," Jack lied, turning in the dim light and slipped through the closest door, just as Rose marched around the corner. Pulling the door shut behind himself, the DI leaned against the wall, catching his breath and wondering just how to find Phryne in this maze of corridors. Rose barked orders to search for the escaped hostages on the other side of the rescuing door. More voices had assembled in the hall by now.
"And when you find them, shoot them! Sanderson and Banks couldn't give a damn about them, they're worthless!"
Jack's hands clenched into fists beside his body as he stood in the darkness.
"Didn't ya say, ya wanna kill them slowly and painfully, boss?"
There was silence for a long moment, while the man who had spoken wondered if his mistake would cost him his life or only a sharp berating by his 'boss'. Then the insane giggle that Rose had demonstrated earlier, echoed through the basement.
"True." His voice went through a sudden change which Jack also recognised, adopting an icy tone. "But the plan has changed. I won't, however, stop you from shooting them in any painful way you can think of."
Uneasy laughter was the answer.
"Why are you still standing here? Go! Find them!"
The men scrambled away and Jack tried to melt into the wall, as some stormed past him through the door with flickering lamps. He silently prayed that Phryne had found a save hiding place by now and wouldn't do anything silly.
Soon he was alone again. Feeling his way along the rough brick, he followed the shadows into the unknown. The Inspector was painfully aware that he needed to find his wife. Her injured shoulder would make it hard for her to fight and God only knew what the blood loss would do to her. As he shivered in the cold breeze rushing through the dark tunnel, the Inspector begged to any heavenly power listening, that he would reach her before anyone else did.
X
"So, what are we gonna do?" Cec asked the question everybody was thinking. Blurry eyes stared at him.
"I'm not certain what we can do," Mr. Butler allowed himself to admit. "Trust my word, Cecil, I would not waste another minute, if I did."
"We can't just sit here all night, doin' nothin'," Bert grumbled.
The women mumbled agreement.
"I am going to telephone the station and see if Hugh knows anything," Dot explained, leaving.
Silence fell once again over the waiting, pondering people. Finally, Eddie rose.
"I'll have to go home and see if my daughter's asleep," he said apologetically.
Bert opened his mouth to say something nasty, but Cec talked right over him.
"We'll drive you, mate. No problem."
His friend glared at the man, but didn't say a word.
"I'll join you and see if I can find any hints at the cottage. I know the police have been searching, but they could have missed something," Mac explained. "Knowing them they probably have," she added grumpily.
Jane jumped to her feet.
"I'll come," she explained eagerly, burning to leave the house.
"Do you think that's wise, Miss Jane?" Mr. Butler asked from where he was collecting dirty cups.
"I don't care for wise, Mr. B. We have to try at least, to find them," Jane decided, already grabbing for her coat. It was quickly agreed upon that everybody was to join and so when Dorothy finally rang off, she was confronted with a group of already dressed people swarming the entrance hall.
"Any news from the coppers?" Bert asked, before she had a chance to utter a word.
"Inspector Morgan is still interviewing the man they found at Gabler's," Dot explained, looking embarrassed. "Hugh wasn't in, I only got a hold of Constable Jones. He said there was not a single man is at the Station but him and Inspector Morgan."
"Useless crowd they are," Bert mumbled, happy to have his prejudice confirmed. But even he was worried.
"They are probably out there looking," Dot protested weakly. Hugh wouldn't let his beloved Inspector down. Impossible. But what could he be doing? Did they have a lead that Jones had neglected to tell her about? Mrs. Collins inspected her watch, a Christmas present from Miss Fisher, and yawned. It was almost three in the morning and she could feel the long day in every fibre of her body. She imagined that even her baby was tired.
'I'm sorry, little one, but this is important. I can not explain to you just how important it is,' she thought really hard, hoping to find a telepathic connection with her bub. Mr. Butler helped her into her coat, and they stepped out into the night.
"Shouldn't somebody stay to wait by the telephone or something?" she asked, just when she was about to lock the door behind them.
"Whose gonna phone then?" Bert asked, turning increasingly grumpy, as he usually did when he had been up for too long. An elbow hit him between the ribs.
"I gather it is unlikely that the Robinsons are going to telephone us from captivity," Mr. Butler stated calmly, turning the key. "And the kidnappers have already stated their request to the police."
"Can we get on our way now? Preferably before I freeze to death," Mac yawned, wrapping her coat tighter around herself.
Dot glanced at Jane, suppressing the urge to ask her to stay and go to bed. Of course she wouldn't. She was Mrs. Phryne's daughter after all.
"Of course," she finally said, locking eyes with Mr. Butler, who laid a calming hand on her shoulder. Everything would be fine, it said. Mr. Butler's fingers had never before been this bad at lying.
X
Phryne stumbled half-blind through the darkness. Where was Jack? She hadn't heard him follow her, only Rose's cursing and screaming outside in the hall. But at least he hadn't sounded like he had recaptured her husband. What a stupid move of Jack to just walk out and start talking! She had wanted to kill him for so much bold dumbness - or even rather Gibson. At least hit him over the head with something hard and heavy. Admittedly, he had been holding on to a weapon and there hadn't been much to hit him with.
But Phryne refused to let reason deter her rage at Jack. Nevertheless, she had obeyed the handsigns behind his back to disappear, while he'd been distracting their opponent. Like a good little wife in dire need of his protection, she'd succumbed to his wishes.
Panting, Phryne stopped, leaning against the wall and holding her burning shoulder. All right, maybe she wasn't in best fighting condition. But that didn't give Jack any right to just decide that his life was meaningless. Rose had almost caught him and what that meant, she knew much better than she had any desire to. The man wouldn't even hesitate. He considered Inspector Robinson the murderer of his sister and therefore he deserved no mercy in his eyes. Phryne could almost understand that. Almost. If it hadn't been for the fact that Elaine had tried to kill Jack first! And almost succeeded!
There were the sounds of heavy boots on floorboards somewhere nearby, the idea of a light flickering in the distance. Here, the darkness was so dense that there wasn't even room for shadows. Phryne closed her eyes and listened to the rhythm of the feet. They weren't Jack's. Which meant that she'd have to leave. Peeling her hand, sticky with warm fluids, from her shoulder, Phryne stumbled again into the blackness, hoping that she didn't walk in circles. She cursed when her toes hit something hard. Breathlessly she halted, listened. But nobody seemed to have witnessed her angry outburst. Carefully she felt towards the offending step. It was the bottom of a flight of stairs, her wandering hands confirmed as they found a railing. Leaving a trail of blood behind, Phryne Robinson climbed out of the basement and into an unknown future.