Buying the Virgin

Chapter 102: The Girl Who Was Hunted - Chapter Eighteen

CHARLOTTE

Richard’s whole manner screams of tension.

Francis taps keys. “I’m already on it, Richard.” peering at her laptop screen. “Her phone is showing up

as being in Berkeley Street.”

Richard? She always calls him ‘Mr Haswell’.

“Is that where you and she were shopping?” he asks me.

“Just around the corner, yes.”

“Francis, give the exact location to Ross.” and back to his phone. “Ross, did you catch all that? Yes, go

and find her.” Brow furrowed, he is pale.

“Richard, what’s wrong?” asks my Master.

“Elizabeth was kidnapped once. Ever since then, I’ve always kept an eye on more or less where she

is…. Part of Ross’ job description is to be, essentially, her bodyguard. Charlotte, did anything odd

happen while you were out with her?”

“Um, not odd exactly. There were men looking at her, but they were looking at all the women. I thought

they were just…. well, looking at women.”

“Did you say anything to Elizabeth about it?”

“Er, no.” I gulp, hanging my head. “I should have, shouldn’t I?”

Richard looks at me over his glasses. “You weren’t to know, but for future reference Charlotte, be

suspicious. It comes naturally to you anyway, and it’s a skill you should hone, not damp down.”

“Why was Beth abducted before?” asks my Master. “For ransom?”

“On that occasion, no. It was someone with a grudge against me, but ransom is always a possibility of

course.”

“How did you get her back?”

“Tracked her phone.…”

Richard paces up and down. In less than five minutes, his mobile rings again. “Yes? No…. Oh, God!

Yes, have a look around for anything else, then come back here to the office Ross, if you would.”

He switches off his phone, looking sick. “Elizabeth’s phone was in a refuse bin on Berkeley Street,

along with her bag.”

For a moment he almost sags, looking reduced. Then, swiping hands through his hair, he stands up

straight again. “Francis, call Will Stanton would you. Report Elizabeth as missing.”

My Master is shaking his head, unbelieving. “Richard, is there anything we can do?”

“Charlotte, these men you saw, ‘looking at women’. Do you think you could identify them?”

“Um, I wasn’t really looking at them, but I can try.”

“You weren’t looking?”

Feeling very awkward now, “When some guy you’re not interested in, tries to eye you up, you look the

other way.…”

The office phone rings, Francis answering. “Richard, it’s Will for you.”

He takes the phone. “Hello, Will. Yes, yes that’s right. Within the last two hours. Yes, she was with

friends, Charlotte actually, out shopping. Charlotte’s come back, but Elizabeth didn’t get to her

rendezvous with Ross…… Yes, that’s right. Charlotte’s here. She thinks she saw men looking while

they were out, and that she might recognise the faces. Yes…. I’m sure she would look through the Text property © Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org.

photos if you can bring them here….” He glances over at me, and I nod vigorously. “Yes, thanks. I’ll be

here at the office.”

He passes the phone back to Francis and sits back on the desk edge, head back, breathing deeply

with his eyes closed. My Master and I stand helplessly by. Then Richard stands again, pulling himself

straight. “Sorry about that,” he says. “I’m no good to her if I panic.”

“What would you like me to do?” I ask.

“Will’s sending an officer over with photos of known suspects for ransom, abduction and similar. If you

could take the time to look through them….”

“Yes, of course.”

“Shall I send out for something to eat?” asks Francis.

“Yes please, Francis. It could be a long night.”

“I’ll let Michael know what’s happening.” says my Master. “Don’t want him panicking too.”

Within fifteen minutes, I am sitting in the conference room, once more, scanning faces. This is

becoming a habit.

An hour later I am still there, my Master sitting across from me, occasionally sipping coffee and ….

I freeze over a face. The police officer says, “Recognise him?”

The face is older, more lined, the hair receding and greyer, but…

“Yes, but not from today.”

“Then where?”

“This man was at Blessingmoors. He was one of the staff there when I was a kid.”

The officer checks the reference and taps it into his laptop. “He’s an identified trafficker. And he’s also

known to be in this area now. We’ve been keeping an eye on him, but could never pin a conviction on

him….” He taps more keys.

“…. he has a number of known associates…” He keeps tapping.

Both Richard and my Master are bending behind over me, watching over my shoulder. The officer

swings his laptop to me. “Could you look through those, please. See if any of them look familiar.”

I click through half a dozen faces, then….” That’s one of them. One of the men I saw today.”

My Master straightens up. “Fuck!”

Richard drops a hand on my shoulder. “Charlotte, I’m sorry. It looks as though they took Elizabeth by

mistake. They were after you. They abducted the wrong woman.”

He turns to Michael. “Get her out of here, out of the City. Take her back to your mountain place. No-

one’s going to fall across that by accident. She should be safe there.”

“Hang on.” I protest. “I don’t want to hide away. I should be helping here. And Beth’s my friend too.”

My Master swings a long finger in my direction. “Go with Michael. We have things to do here, and I’ll

work better when I’m not worrying about what’s happening to you. If you’re with Michael, I know you’re

safe.”

“I’m not some kid to be packed off to bed. And I looked after myself quite nicely long before I ever met

you.”

“Charlotte. I’m not arguing. You’re going. Michael….”

Michael takes me by the wrist, pulling me towards him. “Are you going to come without arguing? Or do

I have to sling you over my shoulder and carry you out? Believe me, in this case, I will.”

There is no way I can physically resist Michael. What choice do I have?

Reluctantly, I gather my dignity and leave with him. But I don’t have to like it. As we drive up the steep

mountain road, narrow and bending, I stare out of the passenger window, unspeaking.

“Are you going to keep that up all day?” he asks. “There’s no point sulking at me just because you don’t

like the realities.

“And how would you feel in my situation?”

“It hardly matters. I’m not in your situation. He rubs my thigh with his non-driving hand. “Come on. I

know you’re not happy about it, but James really will cope better without you there. So will Richard. So,

why don’t you make the best of a bad job and at least try to cheer up?”

He’s right of course. And I shouldn’t take it out on him….

I paint on a smile and turn it on Michael, full power, total dazzle.

He grins. “That’s my girl…. Hey, how do you feel about picking out a Christmas tree from the woods at

the back? We can at least get the place looking good.”

“Great idea.”

*****

Several hours later, our kitchen/lounge/living space smells pleasantly of pine and resin. The chosen

tree did not put up much resistance in the face of Michael’s axe, and now it has succumbed to my

efforts to trim it up for Christmas.

We have no real decorations, and Michael refuses point blank to even consider going to buy any, so I

have trawled through old cupboards, draws and hidey-holes in the hotel to see if I could find anything

that would pass for Christmas decor. The result is odd, but colourful, as Michael, suddenly revealing a

talent for origami, has shown me how to make stars and birds by folding paper. Using brightly coloured

pages from old magazines has produced stars and birds the like of which nature never saw, but on our

tree, they look great.

“No candles,” he says. After all the work I’ve put in here, I don’t want to accidentally set light to the

place now.”

*****

MICHAEL

Sitting by the kitchen range that evening, its heat warding off the bitter cold of the December night, I

watch Charlotte, happily making more paper birds, like some little girl at school.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“As though you’re trying to work something out…”

“Perhaps because I am trying to work something out.”

She says nothing, simply gives me a questioning look, but her ‘pretty and innocent’ mask fades to her

‘feral’ face; that expression that says, this is who she is, and to hell with anyone who doesn’t like it.

And James thinks she’s a sub….

“I’m trying to join the dots…. make sense of you.”

Now she looks surprised. “Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“I don’t follow.” Suddenly, she looks worried. “You’re not annoyed with me about something, are you?”

In my driest voice, “No more than usual.”

She grins. “What then?”

“It’s hard to put into words. I saw you, earlier, back in the offices, facing off me, James and Richard,

over something you feel strongly about….” I point a finger at her…. “And by the way, I’m not fooled by

your apparent surrender.…”