Masters And Lovers 1-4 novel Chapter 110

Michael

Christ!

Trying to ignore the pounding under my ribs, I tap off my phone, hastily dropping it into my lap and slapping both hands on the wheel as I pass a police car.

At least he knows…

James can look after himself, at least for a while.

Charlotte…

How far away am I?

At least an hour…

Shit!

I’m trying to get my foot down on the pedal but I’m moving through traffic.

The blue light drops away behind me and I fumble for my phone again, trying to tap in Charlotte’s number.

A horn blares and I swerve. The pounding in my chest turns to a bang and my fingertips tingle.

And before I can try again, the screen flashes and Ben’s ringtone plays.

That’s all I need…

Fumbling, I tap to connect. “Ben, whatever it is, I can’t.”

His voice is surly. “I called to talk to you but it’s too much trouble is it?”

“Ben, gimme a break. I’ve got an emergency on my hands. This isn’t the time.”

“What?” His voice perks, the tone changing completely. “What emergency? What’s wrong, Bro?”

“Klempner’s out.”

“Klempner? The maniac from Blessingmoors?”

“Yes, him. And the timing’s too much of a coincidence. He’s got to be after Charlotte and her mother. She’s not answering her phone. They don’t know. I’m trying to get to them, but I’m caught in traffic.”

“Mike, where are you? And where are they?”

“In the city center somewhere. Went shopping. I’m an hour away. My meeting ran late…”

“Whoa! Slow down. Stop panicking. I’m in town myself. I’ll go find them. Where in the centre? D’you know where they were headed?”

“James says they were going to Francesca’s. You know… the tearooms.”

“On my way. I’m on my way. I’ll call you back.”

”Thanks, Ben. I owe you one.”

“No, you don’t, Bro. I’ll always look out for you. You know that.”

He rings off.

Foot hard down, ignoring the horns blaring at me as I squeal through traffic, dodging from one lane to the next, then back again, I race to find my Charlotte.

*****

James

Down… Along the corridor to the end room… My playroom.

My mouth quirks as I consider the likely reaction of strangers entering here: racks, restraints, a spanking horse, the four-poster at the end… Not a place one brags about in public, for all the pleasure I have had there with my friend and my Jade-Eyes.

But this room holds another secret.

Making my way to a rack affixed to the stone wall, I press at what is apparently a knot in the timber. With a quiet click, the rack swings and opens to reveal the entrance beyond.

I’d always hoped we would never need to use it, but right now, Michael’s tunnel represents my only hope of safety. Stepping inside, I pull the door quietly closed behind me and breathe…

I have time now. No-one will find this entrance without a very careful search, and even then would probably need to know what they were looking for. And no-one does.

The only person outside our Triad who knows of its existence is Richard. I told him because there was always a small chance that if Klempner arose again to make trouble, Beth might somehow become entangled. And Richard is utterly trustworthy. If any person feels anything like the love and affection that Michael and I do for Charlotte, it is Richard. He would never betray her secret.

Part of me wants to panic; to run in stupid circles shouting that the sky is falling. But Michael is right. The best thing I can do right now for Charlotte is to get myself to safety. We can take it from there.

I make my way along the passage, ducking here and there where the roof dips. Wires trail where Michael had started on installing lighting, but not yet completed the work. No matter. I light my way with my mobile, first passing through the stonework of the house foundations, then through earthen walls shored up with timbers.

The sound of banging reverberates down. I pause, looking upward towards the source of the sound.

Forcing entry?

The shriek of splintered wood and metal screams through, followed by a crash. A fine trickle of dust filters from the roof timbers and hastily I lower my face before I get an eyeful.

They’re in…

I keep moving.

The passage widens a little at one point to make space for a stack of sealed plastic crates. Despite the emergency, I smile to myself.

‘Peering at the labels on the crates… Charlotte.’… ‘Michael.’… I pick another one: ‘James.’

Rummaging inside I find walking boots, thick socks, outdoor clothing, and lightweight waterproofs…

Of course, a man who once escaped gunmen by running naked into the snow would think of these things…

Quickly I change into the boots and socks and pull on a heavy woolen sweater. It’s cool outside, but not freezing or raining, so I stash the waterproof jacket and trousers into a rucksack hanging from a nail.