by Matt Drabble
Charlotte twisted and prepared herself as best she could for the impact, but the surface of the rippling water was as hard as concrete and the cold of the ocean threatened to overwhelm her. She fought hard to keep her calm, instinctively knowing that Parker would be in trouble.
She relaxed, refusing to panic as she sank ever deeper. As her descent slowed she began to kick hard towards the surface and the fading light. Firmly catching hold of her breathing, she tried to pace her kicking legs.
When she surfaced she opened her eyes and hurriedly scanned the deep dark water for Parker. Her heart fluttered when she couldn’t spot him, and her lungs began to whine in protest, but she refused to listen to their complaints.
Suddenly she caught a glimpse of a long, thick shadow below her. Fighting every instinct in her body, she turned and swam deeper, her arms outstretched and fingers grasping for purchase.
Her fingertips brushed a manmade material and she grabbed it, lost it and grabbed it again more firmly. Angling her body upwards, she kicked harder. The weight threatened to drag her down, but with single-minded determination born of loss and grief and hate, she found her iron will, kicking harder again as she mined her own private vaults for every last ounce of strength.
Slowly, interminably slowly she rose to the surface with what she could only pray was not a dead weight in her hands. The water began to clear and become lighter as her head began to fog. With her last reserves she stretched and reached for the sunlight.
And then she was free, coughing and spluttering as she gulped clean fresh air into her exhausted lungs. With horror she realised that Parker’s head was still submerged. She pulled it out of the water, but his eyes were closed and she could not feel him breathing. She turned and looked desperately for the shore. Above her she could see the cliff and the gap where they emerged from the tunnel. It looked sickeningly high from below and had to be at least fifty feet above the water. Her stomach rolled with thoughts of how they were both not dead.
Fortune favoured her for once, for despite the height from which they had fallen and the strong tidal pull, they hadn’t gone too far away from land. Trying frantically to ignore her screaming muscles, she held Parker’s head in the crook of her arm and swam side-stroke for the shore.
When her feet hit the rocky pebbles on the beach inlet she heaved Parker up and out of the water, anxiously searching her brain for life saving techniques. She dredged up a vague recollection and turned his head to one side to allow water to drain out, but when she checked his chest she found that he was not breathing. She fought against the rising tide of panic and remembered to squeeze his nose as she blew into his mouth four times as strongly as she could. She placed her ear close to his mouth and prayed for his soft breath to tickle, but there was nothing. Still fighting her panic, she placed her interlocked fingers on his chest and pushed down firmly four times in a hard steady motion. She repeated the breathing process, blowing until her cheeks bulged with the effort. Please, she thought, please, as she pounded his chest harder and harder.
‘Goddamn you,’ she muttered under her breath as she pumped. ‘Breathe dammit, breathe!’ she screamed as she thumped his chest as hard as she could.
Parker coughed and spluttered, his mouth opened and he vomited a foul stream of water. His body jerked and heaved as his system struggled to purge the intruding salt water from his lungs. His chest began to hitch and heave as slowly his breathing returned.
Hardly breathing herself, Charlotte watched his deathly pale face turn to her. ‘What’d I miss?’ he said, gazing into her eyes.
It was as far as he got before she smothered his face with kisses and tears.
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Travis sat on the rocks watching the waves lap innocently at his feet, waves that earlier had threatened to take his life. Charlotte stood about ten feet away with her back to him and he had no idea what to say to her. Her actions seemed to have shocked her as much as they shocked him. He thought of the way she had cried after lifting herself off his prone body, and his cheeks flushed at the thought of his blood returning to sensitive areas. Amy had been gone for over two years now, but he was only here because of her, and he had to keep moving forward because of her also.
He stood up on shaky legs and decided it was high time they got moving again. In the best tradition of the British, he decided to deal with the awkwardness in the best way possible – by ignoring it.
‘So how do we get out of here?’ he asked casually to the back of Charlotte’s head.
‘There’s a path up there.’ She pointed, playing along. ‘That was where we were supposed to come out.’
Travis noted the now familiar reproachful tone in her voice and deduced that things were definitely on the road back to normal. ‘Can we make it around the cliff at this level?’
‘Maybe, but we’ll have to swim in places. The tide is coming in.’
Travis shuddered at the very thought of going back into the water.
She turned for the first time and stared hard at him, a slight smile on her face. ‘We can always climb fifty feet up a sheer rock face.’
Definitely back to normal, he thought to himself. ‘All right, all right, we’ll swim,’ he said, groaning at the thought.
Twenty minutes later they emerged on a long stretch of mainly deserted beach, a sandy expanse that would be packed during the summer months. There were a few people in the distance and the echo of dogs barking playfully floated on the soft breeze.
‘This way,’ Charlotte ordered as she marched up towards the main road.
Travis couldn’t help thinking that she was over compensating for her earlier loss of control and exposure of emotion, so he tagged along willingly, following her towards a stretch of car park beyond the sand. Hurriedly scanning for unlocked vehicles, he found a camper van with clothes hanging out to dry along a suspended nylon line. With a quick look to make sure that they were unobserved, he grabbed a pair of men’s shorts and a hooded top and a matching set for Charlotte. The clothes looked to be a little too small for him and a little too big for her, but stealers couldn’t be choosers. They swiftly changed into the dry outfits and headed out to the main road, where through an aching head he did a quick translation of the many signposts.
‘La Gare,’ he read. ‘Station. A train is just what we need. Three kilometres the sign says. That’s just under two miles. Come on,’ he said, nodding to Charlotte, and they started out in earnest and in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.
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Chris Taylor hurried along the busy city street. The weather was grey and damp, and he felt a kinship with the elements.
Normally he didn’t like to venture far from his large and lavish home. He had spent a great deal of time and considerable expense to make sure he had everything he could want under his own roof.
The world beyond his borders was cold and empty and offered little of interest to him. He had his beautiful wife, he had his computers, and an enormous fully stocked fridge at all times. He had a battery of gadgets and toys to play with; he had a mountain of work that he loved, and the love of a good woman.
His busy mind would often wander around the edges of thoughts best kept chained in the basement, so to curb them he always tried to keep as occupied as possible. He knew there would come a day of reckoning for his actions; all he could hope for was that it was still far in the future.
He turned the last corner on the street where he lived. The houses were all the size of mansions and his was the largest on the row.
He had no idea why he had chosen today to stroll far from his seclusion, but his head had been bursting with jagged thoughts and he had to gain a little distance from himself and his material trappings in order to think clearly.
His wife was a stunningly beautiful creature who was far and away above his station. In the beginning, he could not have hoped to even hold a conversation with her without outside help, let alone entice her into marriage. He did love her desperately, and this had rapidly gr
own beyond her physical looks. He had discovered that beneath her flawless profile she had many hidden depths of compassion and kindness. If only he could be sure that she would leave with him, then he may have tried to flee. He had enough funds tucked away safely to maintain them for the rest of their lives and he was confident that his falsified documents would stand up to scrutiny.
If only he could be sure that Janey would come with him.
He was still pondering what options he had open to him, and to just what depths her feelings for him ran, when a large car pulled up alongside him. The people carrier’s long side door slid open and hard hands reached out and effortlessly snatched up his heavy bulk.
Before he could open his mouth to scream, a thick cloth was pressed across his mouth and nose and harsh chemicals filled his lungs. His vision faded as the thick fog of unconsciousness enveloped his senses, and he barely had time to think of Janey before his world went black.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
NOT SUCH A SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY
The hike to the railway station was a silent one. Travis felt the emotional tentacles they had extended to each other had been heightened by the extreme circumstances of their escape, but now that they were safely on terra firma, they retreated once more into their respective dark shadows.
The road, curving ever upward, was long and empty and Travis hadn’t seen a single car along their trek. A taxi would have been a good idea. He took out the mobile phone from his pocket and was relieved to find after a cursory inspection that the obviously expensive model given to him by Vargas had survived the fall and the swim. On closer inspection he found that it had exceptional qualities which enabled it to withstand total immersion in water. The bad news, however, was that the small screen was showing no reception bars and he could not make a call to summon a taxi.
However, to compensate, the views were spectacular and the ocean rippled a sparkling blue beneath them.
They were just passing a public telephone booth that stood lonely in the rural surroundings, when it burst into life. The shrill ringing shattered the peaceful air and Travis stopped. He had no reason in the world to think the call was for him, and yet he knew that it was.
‘What are you doing?’ Charlotte asked impatiently.
‘It’s him.’
‘Who?’
‘Him,’ he repeated.
‘Vargas?’ The colour drained from her face.
Travis had no need to answer; he walked nervously towards the ringing telephone, picked up the handset with a trembling hand and said, ‘Vargas?’
‘Ah, Mr Parker, so glad you are still alive and kicking,’ Vargas said, chuckling with good humour.
‘What do you want, Vargas?’
‘Just a little update, Mr Parker. You are on my clock after all.’
Travis motioned Charlotte to let her know that it was indeed his mysterious benefactor. ‘I’m done, Vargas,’ he said wearily.
Vargas laughed, his good mood seemingly unaffected by the news. ‘Oh I don’t think so, Mr Parker.’
‘Well that’s not really your decision to make, now is it?’ Travis said. ‘If you want a refund for the money you’ve already given me, you’ll just have to go ahead and sue me for it.’
‘And how is the lovely Ms Goode?’ Vargas continued as though Travis hadn’t even spoken. ‘Are you enjoying your little vacation? A little honeymoon at the seaside?’
Travis gripped the handset with rapidly whitening knuckles. ‘What do you want from me, Vargas?’
‘I want you to do your job, Mr Parker. Nothing more and nothing less.’
Travis felt his headache pounding harder than before. He had taken a simple job with the idea of keeping a long lost promise to Amy. But now he had come perilously close to joining her in the afterlife and all because Vargas wanted a painting that appeared to be steeped in myth and legend.
‘Well then, I quit,’ he said with a heavy heart, knowing it would be the second time he had failed her.
Vargas laughed. ‘Oh Mr Parker, you really do put a smile on my face, you really do,’ he said, still chuckling. ‘Tell me, how does she taste? Are her lips as soft as they look?’
Travis was stunned by the sudden switch in the conversation. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Ms Goode. She really is a delicate flower, is she not? I’ve often wondered myself what she would be like between satin sheets – all that raw anger and aggression. Would she bite? Would she scream? Would you like me to make her scream, Mr Parker?’
‘Now you wait a goddamn minute, Vargas.’ Travis’s voice was low and hard. ‘Are you threatening her? Are you threatening me?’
‘I am a man who is used to getting what he wants, Mr Parker. One way or another.’
‘Screw you, Vargas!’ Travis shouted with rage in his heart.
Vargas laughed. ‘Now that’s more like it, Mr Parker. Hold onto that anger. It will serve you well, I promise.’ The phone line sounded crystal clear, as though Vargas was only feet away.
‘Where are you?’ Travis asked, his mind suddenly kicking in against his clouding fury.
‘I am everywhere, Mr Parker, and I know everything.’
‘I can’t walk away from whatever this is, can I?’
‘Now you’re getting it. This is a long road and I’m afraid those first steps you took so willingly are now set in stone. Finish the job, Mr Parker. If not for your sake, do it for Amy, or do it for the lovely Charlotte and if not for them then do it for the poor unfortunate Mr Taylor.’
‘Chris? What about Chris? What did you do with him?’
‘There are more players on the board here than just me,’ Vargas sniggered. ‘Two sides to every story and all that. I’m afraid that your Mr Taylor got careless and has been taken into the hands of another interested party.’
‘Who? Who’s taken my friend?’
‘Oh, I believe you’ve already met him at the Shady Oaks Retirement Home. A Dr Gabriel Lochay.’
‘What the hell does he have to with any of this?’
‘The good doctor wants the painting for himself, Mr Parker, and I’m afraid he is unlikely to ask as nicely as I am.’
‘For Christ’s sake, Vargas, I’m sick and tired of your riddles. Just give me some straight answers for once!’
‘Ah, now where would be the fun in that?’
Even over the phone Travis sensed the smugness on Vargas’s face. He felt trapped in a corner with no way to turn other than to keep moving forward, one foot in front of the other, and one step at a time.
‘Will they hurt him?’ he asked, thinking of his friend and how he had dragged him into all this.
‘Not yet, Mr Parker. At least as far as I know.’
‘I need money,’ Travis said, shaking his head at the futility of his efforts to swim against the tide.
‘I assumed as much. When you get to the station there will be two tickets waiting for you, First Class, of course. Only the best for my favourite employees.’
‘What are you, Vargas?’
‘As far as you are concerned, Mr Parker, I am God.’ His voice was suddenly deadly serious. ‘And never forget that I know everything.’
Travis looked over at Charlotte. Her face was a picture of concern and desperation. He knew that their fates were intertwined and that there would be no turning around now. He had started out with just one monkey on his back, but now it would appear that he had several ...
Vargas interrupted his thoughts. ‘How did it feel, Mr Parker? When you looked death square in the eye at that quaint little B&B, two dead men sprawled out before you?’
‘I thought you said that as far as I was concerned, you were God?’
‘I am.’
‘Then you should know,’ Travis said with satisfaction as he hung up the phone.
‘What did he have to say,’ Charlotte asked with eyes filled with apprehension.
‘Oh, about what you’d expect.’
‘You shouldn’t listen to him,’ she said with a pleading tone in her v
oice. ‘Everything about that man is a lie.’
‘He told me that a friend of mine has been taken.’
‘Taken? Oh, I’m sorry.’
‘He also said that I don’t have a choice anymore, that I can’t walk away from this even if I wanted to.’
‘Maybe that’s one thing that’s not a lie.’
‘Come on,’ he said, carrying on walking. ‘We have a train to catch, but at least its First Class … apparently.’
‘Great.’ She rolled her eyes.
‘You know, back on the beach …’ He paused, and waited until she looked at him. ‘I don’t want you to be awkward about it.’
She turned and walked away.
‘Charlotte, it’s okay!’
She walked faster.
‘You don’t need to be embarrassed. It was … it was an extreme situation,’ he said, feeling his cheeks burn.
‘It’s not okay,’ she whispered without turning around. ‘I can’t afford to lose control here. Not now. Not after all this time. Not when I’ve waited so long …’ Her voice was wet with tears. ‘I made a promise to my father and to my mother. They were taken from me and from each other by Hugo Montague. That painting is the source of all my pain and countless others’ pain. I can’t allow it to continue and I can’t allow anyone to stop me. Not you, not Vargas,’ she said, panting through her tears. ‘I can’t, Parker, I just can’t …’
Travis went to her. He wrapped his arms around her and held her shivering frame. She fought against his intrusion and tried to push his comfort away. But he could be strong when he had to be; he had been strong for Amy before she died, but afterwards his strength had failed. It was time he found his strength again. He needed it; Amy’s memory needed it, Charlotte needed it, and now Chris needed it too. He had to be strong for all of them and to spite Vargas; just the thought of the man filled him with white hot anger. His feelings for his new partner were complicated, but he had no room in his heart for love – not now, not when there was work to be done.
‘We’ll be strong together,’ he whispered through her thick red hair. ‘We’ll be strong enough together.’