Mastering the Virgin Box Set Five: A BDSM Ménage Erotic Romance novel Chapter 42

James

“You know Charlotte, those charts and plans you assembled of the underground systems are going to be useful to more than just City architects and engineers. When Beth was first held, they kept her underground somewhere. An old subway station they think. I've given duplicates of your plans and files to Will Stanton for the police to run a full search of the area.”

She considers my words, chewing at a thumbnail….

I’ve got to break that habit in her….

…. Now’s not the time….

“They weren't entirely accurate, Master. That's why it took me so long to get back.”

“What were the differences?”

“Some routes were sealed up where I didn't expect. Others had entrances that weren't on any of the records I had.”

“New entrances would you say?”

“Could be.” She picks at a bit of remaining hangnail. “Yes. Now I think about it.”

“Modern work not on any of the official plans? Could be our traffickers at work. Charlotte, I think Will Stanton would like to discuss this with you. What you saw down there. Do you have any problem with that?”

Her eyes glint. “No, of course not. Anything I can do to help.”

*****

The Present

He whistles through his teeth, a tuneless noise that serves to give him a little comfort in these uncomfortable surroundings.

Officer Phil Cardelli, Rookie, is not technically alone. His partner searches along an adjacent passage, following routes marked out on a plan, laminated against the filth all around. The plan is detailed and complicated, overlaying sewers, subways and city service tunnels of all kinds.

Periodically, they call each other, maintaining contact. But right now, he feels….

What’s the right word?

Yeah…. Spooked….

Never thought when I signed up that police patrol included sewers….

He passes muck and debris, rat droppings and occasional skeletons. A dead cat, bloated and semi-decayed, eyes obscenely open, bobs in the water.

He feels better thinking of it as water.

The heavy rubber waders reach up to his waist, suspended on braces which dig into his shoulders. The work is dark, stinking and deeply unpleasant.

The place, frankly, gives him the creeps.

And what’s the damn point?

“Hey, Phil!” His partner’s voice echoes down the dark and dripping passage.

“What?”

“I’ve found something.”

…. where they come from….

But the main discovery is a door.

The door is new, along with the frame it is set in. Heavyweight steel, cemented into an old vaulted arch and unpleasantly slimy in the dank air, it blocks the tunnel. A heavy-duty lock drives thick steel bars deeply into the surrounding stone. This door is designed only to be opened from one side.

Cardelli and Quinn watch as the techie with oxy-acetylene kit arrives, dons mask and gauntlets. As he turns to his work, his voice drips Irish sarcasm. “Well now, you’ll not be watching this unless you want to be burning holes in yer eyeballs.”

The two turn away as the flame sparks up.

“Crap! It’s the Commissioner.”

“What’s he doing down here? You don’t get the brass in a place like this.”

They slump to attention, but Stanton waves them back. “How long?” he asks the cutter.

“It’ll take as long as it takes.”

A thin glowing line traces an outline of the lock, leaving strings of light dancing across the vision of anyone glancing that way.

“There she goes,” Flicking off the gas, he puts down his torch. He swings a lump hammer up against a rough circle of plate with a clang. Another blow, and the bars loosen and slide from their sockets, falling with an echoing clatter to the floor.

Light shines through the hole, dim and dour, but light nonetheless. Murmurs and muttered voices carry through.

Stanton stoops, stares through and curses. “Holy crap.”

*****