Mastering the Virgin Box Set Five: A BDSM Ménage Erotic Romance novel Chapter 32

James

Richard is already here, his face smudged with smoke but talking into a phone as he looks up. Will Stanton directs operations with a team armed and wearing helmets and flak jackets.

Michael scowls as he sees the Police Commissioner.

Of course, it was Will who planted the idea in Charlotte’s mind in the first place of her acting as bait….

It’s likely to be a while before those two are friends.

Michael heads across to talk to Richard.

High above, helicopters are buzzing the building, the top floors. Straining to look up, I walk slowly backwards, trying to get the angle to see what is happening.

Where is she?

The sky spits needles of sleet and repeatedly I have to wipe my eyes to see. As it is, sharp points of ice nip at my upturned face; a bleak contrast to the heated stink of the air in the stairwell. Despite the bitter gnawing of the winter, I welcome the cold.

I can’t see what’s happening at the penthouse level. I keep reversing away from the building, ignoring the growing cramp in my neck. Abruptly I find myself backed into the cordon, almost falling backwards over the rope as police mill around, keeping gawpers at bay.

What is it about crowds that makes people stupid?

“Hey, that's Alexanders…!”

“Catch him quick. Get a comment….”

I turn to find a microphone thrust into my face, a nasal voice making demands. “Mr Alexanders, as a director of the Haswell Corporation, who do you believe is responsible for this outrage? What have you to say about these terrible events?”

“Fuck off and get out of my way.” I brush the fool to one side, ignoring his spluttered protests as I return my attention to the rescue effort going on hundreds of feet above me.

“Get back. Get back….” Police push the moronic reporter back to a safe distance.

Straining my vision to pick out the detail, way up, I see a doll-sized figure being winched away from the rooftop and into one of the choppers. A minute later, and another follows.

Is that them?

Is she safe?

The clenching in my gut, visceral and nauseous, begs that it be so, but from so far away, I simply cannot be sure it was Beth and my Green-Eyes I have seen. My breathing is short and shallow. Deliberately, I take a couple of deep breaths, filling my lungs, trying to clear my head and the smog around my thinking.

The choppers are sweeping away across the City. As I watch them, something else dawns on me. Something missing.

Where are they all?

It's an office building. There should be people leaning out of windows. Crying for help. Waving arms. Screaming.

There is no-one

In the background, I hear the reporter again.

“…. In the wake of what is rumoured to be a terrorist attack on the central headquarter of the Haswell Corporation, our informed sources are saying that terrible tragedy has been averted. On this Christmas day, the hundreds of employees and visitors who would normally be expected to be working in the offices are at home celebrating the season.…”

Christmas Day?

How did that happen?

“James….” A voice calling, shouting my name.

I turn to see Richard, pushing through the crowd, waving a phone in the air and smiling broadly. “James…. They’ve got them. They’re safe.”

It’s an odd thing, relief from stress. One might think the relief would be instant, the knowledge enough to give joy, ease the mind….

My breath shudders and I squeeze my eyes closed, fighting against the pricking behind the lids. A little light-headed, I bend, resting hands on knees for a moment.

Something touches my arm and startled, I look up…. Richard, his hand cupping my elbow.

“You alright?”

“I will be, now.”

“Hey, you!” Richard shouts to a man in white cook’s overalls setting up a mobile burger stand….

Where the fuck did that come from…?