Michael stepped onto the elevator. He held his hand out.
"What happened?" he asked as he helped her to her feet.
"Do you have your gun?" Olga's teeth chattered while she asked him the question.
"Of course." He patted his waist. "Now, tell me what happened. You're pale and look scared to death." He led her out of the elevator and over to the counter where he was posted during his time on duty.
"There's someone up there." She pointed toward the ceiling.
"No. I told you. It's only me and you here today. That's it. No one else has signed in today."
"I don't know if he signed in or not, but there's a man up there who was stalking me."
"St down and tell me what's going on. I tell you, the building was empty until you got here. Empty except for me. There's no one here."
"Please call the police. You have to go search for this man. He's dressed in black and even has on a ski mask. I tell you, he was after me. He tried to get on the elevator with me."
"I don't know what's come over you, but I'll call the police if that's what you want me to do, Miss Quinn." Michael picked up the receiver. "Are you sure? If I make a false report, we'll both be in trouble."
"Call them. There's a man up there, I tell you." She nodded at the front door. "Is that the only way in and out?"
"Yes, except for the emergency exits which are alarmed. No alarms have gone off. I've been here since six a.m. and the bloke before me didn't report any unusual activity." He dialed the police and spoke to a dispatcher.
"Okay. They're on their way. We'll sit here and fill out an incident report while we wait." He dug around in a drawer and pulled out a sheaf of forms. He took a pen from the cup of them on top of the desk.
"Keep your hand near your gun in case the guy comes down." Olga took the pen and began to fill out the form.
In a few minutes, a couple of patrol cars pulled in front of the building. Michael let them in and filled them in on the situation.
One of the men approached Olga. "Ma'am. We'd like you to step outside and into one of the patrol cars so we can search the building. What floor were you on at the time?"
"I was on three, but he could be anywhere by now."
"Thank you, ma'am." He took her by the arm, "come on let's get you to a safe place."
Once outside, Olga was escorted to a squad car and another officer sat with her and interviewed her.
In less than half an hour, the officers along with Michael came out. Olga got out of the car.
"Sorry, ma'am. No one inside other than you and the security man."
"He's right, Olga. We didn't see anything." Michael shook his head.
"I'm not crazy. You're all looking at me like I'm bonkers. I swear there was a man there. I'm not lying."
"I think you're on edge because of all the recent murders. There's no shame in being a bit skittish," the policeman said.
"I am not skittish. I know what I saw."
"We have your statement and we'll keep the report on file but that's all we can do since the building was empty. You understand, right?"
"I understand. I'm thinking this person found a hiding spot you missed because I know he's in there." Olga wanted to grab the cop by the shirt collar and shake him but she restrained herself. She was a scientist and not used to being treated like a child. Gritting her teeth to prevent herself from saying something she might regret, she held out her hand. "Thanks for checking. I'm sorry you didn't find him, but I disagree that the building is empty."
"If you're right -- and I'm not agreeing you are -- he'll get hungry sooner or later and have to come out. He'll be gone by Monday. You need to go home and rest for the weekend and all will be well when you come in next week." The policeman shook her hand and then Michael's.
Olga watched him as he left and barely resisted lashing out at the man for his patronizing attitude. When he was gone, Michael shrugged his shoulders. "I guess I'm going back inside to finish my shift. I'll see you later."
"Thanks, Michael. I'll finish the incident report on Monday. I think I want to go home now."
"Do you want me to call you a cab? Are you afraid to go home alone?"
"No. I'm okay. Since, according to the cops, there is no guy, I should be safe, right?" Her laugh was more of a choking sound than anything else.
"Try to have a good evening, Miss Quinn." Michael pulled her into an awkward hug that made her want to cry.
She disengaged herself from him and headed to the tube station.
Chapter Nineteen
"All destinies are not alike."
African Proverb
Monday morning came sooner than Olga wanted. She'd gone directly home from the office building on Saturday afternoon and holed up in her flat the rest of the weekend. She decided not to risk another encounter with the mystery man. Disturbed that the cops couldn't find anyone in the place spooked her so badly that she couldn't bring herself to venture out. She did call for Chinese food to be brought to her on Sunday night, but she was even leery of the deliveryman.
She dressed with care, picking out her favorite red dress with the flirty little ruffle under the waist. She pulled on some black tights and a pair of black suede boots. One thing she enjoyed about being in England was that she could wear boots for more of the year than in Texas. She wanted to look her best when she went in to talk to her boss about the security scare on Saturday. Nothing like looking competent to be treated as such.
A little sad that Gina seemed to be ignoring her since she never called back, Olga left her flat rehearsing in her mind what she would say to her friend when she saw her. Be nice or be mad? Or throttle her for being a pain in the neck for pouting all weekend?
She dashed in the door of the building. The guard on duty inspected her badge. "Miss Quinn?"
"Yeah?" She tucked her hair behind her ear. "Did you need something?"
"Michael said you took home an incident report to fill out. Did you bring it back?"
"Sure." Olga reached in her tote and pulled out the crumpled paper. "Sorry it got bent."
"It's all right. I'm glad you have it. He shouldn't have let you leave without finishing it." The man took the sheet from her hand.
"Sorry. I sure wouldn't want him to get in trouble."
The elevator door opened. Olga's boss stepped off. He came to a stop as soon as he saw her. "Thank God you're here. I've been looking for you."
"What's going on?" Olga met him halfway between the security desk and the bank of elevators.
"Have you seen Gina?"
"No, why? Is she late?"
"She's been missing since Friday night sometime."
"What?" Olga staggered and almost fell into the wall.
"She hasn't called you? You haven't heard from her at all?"
"No. What's going on?"
"Let's go in my office and talk. I know the two of you are close and, when the detective inspector came in this morning to tell me, I told him you were the only one I knew of that spent time with her off the clock. I was hoping you knew where she is." He led Olga onto the elevator and pushed the button to the ninth floor.
Olga's whole body shook again. Here she was leaving increasingly exasperated messages on Gina's voicemail and she was in some kind of trouble or danger. What kind of friend am I?
When they arrived at Mr. Gibbons' office, he showed her in. She went over to the dark brown micro-suede couch and sat. She twisted her hands together.
He took the seat across from her. He reached over and took her hands in his. "Do you know anything about where she might be? Her roommate said she went out with some friends on Friday night but wasn't sure who. Was it you?"
"Yeah. Well, no, not initially. I had a date and later ran into her and some others at the Retro Disco."
"Damn. That place again." Mr. Gibbons sprung from his chair and paced the room. "What is it about that club? All these women getting killed--"
Olga's gasp cut him off mid-sentence. He strode back over to the couch. H
e sat beside her. "Sorry. I didn't mean to imply Gina is dead."
"But she could be. It's very likely that she is, isn't it?" Olga put her head in her hands and wept.
"Let's not jump to conclusions. Tell me what you know and I'll call the detective inspector to let him know. He'll probably want to interview you." He placed a palm on her back.
She looked up, tears still flowing.
"Let me get you a shot of whiskey." He walked over to the mini bar and pulled out a lowball glass. He poured a shot into the glass and came back to hand it to her.
"Thanks." She took the drink and gulped it. She bent double as it went down. "Wow. That burns."
"You'll feel better in a minute."
"What right do I have to feel better? My best, and pretty much my only, friend in the whole United Kingdom is abducted, maybe dead, and all I did all weekend was call her mobile phone and fuss at her for not calling me back." Olga burst into tears and sobbed, "Good God, she could've been being tortured while I berated her on the phone. What the hell kind of friend am I?"
"Olga. Stop. You didn't know. Beating yourself up or making yourself sick over this is not going to help. I'm going to the outer office to call the detective inspector. You take all the time you need to get yourself together. I'll be back in a minute." He nodded over at the liquor cabinet. "Help yourself to more whiskey if you think it'll help you get calm. But don't get drunk."
"I won't. I don't plan to have any more." She raised her shaking hands to her face. "What are they doing to try to find her?"
"I'll be right back. We'll ask the inspector when he gets here." He left the room.
Olga glanced around at her surroundings. The place was pretty opulent. "Poor Gina. I wonder where she is. I hope she's not in pain, wherever she may be."
She racked her brain trying to recreate the last conversation and what happened as she and Gabe walked in the opposite direction of Waterloo station. No good. Gina was fine and on her way home the last Olga knew.
*****
Gabe's day started early. He rose, slipped on some dance pants and got in a quick workout before dressing to go to the radio station, his only job now. He'd had a long discussion with Jacob on Saturday after Olga left. He'd gone over to the club and resigned. It was time for him to live his life again and not hide from himself by working two jobs. Olga may have pitied him but, by God, she sure got his attention. It was time to start over. Clean slate and all that.
On his way to the radio station, he decided to take a detour and head over to the West End. He hailed a hack and had the man drive him to the Royal Opera House on Bow Street in Covent Garden. He paid the cabbie and, using his cane, made his way to the door of the building where he'd spent so much time as a kid and teenager.
He opened the glass doors and stepped inside.
"Can I help you?" The question came from a woman who he could tell was sitting at the reception desk. He still remembered the layout.
"Is Madame Vronsky in?"
"Shall I tell her who's asking?"
"Gabriel Swicord."
He heard her dial an extension. She spoke into the phone and in a moment, a woman who he remembered always held her body erect in a stiff posture, came through the door. She came toward him with her hands extended. She took both his in a warm embrace with her own. "Gabriel. What brings you here? It's been such a long time." Her rich Russian accent sounded like honey to his parched soul.
"Madame, I've had a thought and want to discuss it with you. Do you have a few minutes to chat?"
"I always have time for one of my favorite pupils even though he abandoned us right when he was poised for greatness." She led him across the room. "Come on into the studio. I have a class going on and I've left them alone too long, I'm afraid."
They entered the practice studio where he'd spent so much time before his father forced him out of the dance life. As soon as he went in, he felt again the excitement and joy he'd always had in the place. He also smelled rosin and a lot of sweat. Yes, this place was home. A home he'd missed more than he ever knew until this moment when he reentered the room.
"I can see the wheels turning, Gabriel. You've missed us, haven't you?"
"I have indeed, Madame, and that's why I'm here."
"I'll be right back." Madame Vronsky clapped her hands together. "Look sharp, ladies. I may have left for a moment but you didn't have permission to slack off. Let's get that mazurka whipped into shape. Agatha, you start and the rest of you take your places."
The girls in the room moved into their positions and Madame Vronsky turned to Gabe. "Now that they're keeping their muscles warm, tell me what this idea you had is all about." She tapped her stick against her leg. "Ignore my old stick here. You're past the age where I needed to use it on you to make sure your legs were turned out correctly."
"Why did you think I was paying attention to your stick?"
"Don't try to fool me, Gabriel Swicord, I saw you wince when I tapped it."
"You're right. I can't help it. It's like Pavlov's dogs and the bell. We have it ingrained in us that when Madame pulls out her stick we're in for some posture lessons." Gabe laughed and then continued, "That's what I want to talk to you about."
"What? Your posture?"
"No. I've been thinking about how much I miss the ballet. I have a small studio in my flat but I miss the people, the camaraderie and the shows. I want to come back."
"Come back to the ballet?"
Gabe could hear the incredulity in his former ballet mistresses' voice. He said, "Not to perform. I know I can't do that since I couldn't be as accurate as I need to be to partner someone, nor could I solo since I couldn't see my mark on stage, but I think I can offer something to the younger generation as a ballet master."
"With all due respect and not to hurt your feelings, but how can you do that, Gabriel? Since you've lost your vision, how could you run a class? How would you know if the students are performing the way they should?"
"I can see some. Not a lot, I admit. I can see shapes and can distinguish some light versus dark. I started to teach someone some ballroom steps and then it came to me that my gift was the ballet and I should use that for something. To mentor the young. To give my life purpose so, to speak."
"You threw that gift away, Gabriel, when you walked out of this studio to become a firefighter of all things."
"Don't be angry with me still after all these years. Haven't I paid a big enough price?"
"I'm sorry," Madame Vronsky patted his arm. "The day you left was one of the saddest of my life and the day I heard about your injury was the second saddest."
"Same here, except the other way around. I didn't want to leave. At all. It was my father's pressure. I'm more sorry than you'll ever know."
"Let's see what you have, young man."
"Huh?" Gabe shook his head in confusion.
"Run this class. Right now. Show me how you would teach this group of young ladies."
"I'm hardly dressed to run a class." Gabe indicated his jeans and pullover.
"A true ballet master could dance even in those dungarees." Madame Vronsky swatted his calf with her stick.
Instead of responding, Gabe went up on one foot and performed a spin. He then did a tour jeté. When he landed, the girls in the class clapped. Gabe turned around and growled at them. "Did anyone tell you to stop your exercises?"
They all stood still.
Gabe walked -- more like stalked -- over to the group. "Since you stopped without Madame's permission, let's do some barré work."
He lined them up at the barré and proceeded to run them through several repetitions of various movements.
When they were nice and sweaty, he invited them to sit in front of the mirrored wall. He pointed at the first one in line. "Have you ever done a pas de deux?"
"No, sir."
Gabe held his hand out to her and she stepped forward. He addressed the class. "I'm going to show you a few simple moves for a pas de deux. Then each of you will get a chan
ce to do them with me, so pay attention."
He stood behind the young woman and placed his hand on her waist. He showed her a couple of steps and a lift. Then they ran through it again. Gabe then had each girl do the simple dance with him.
Once the last young lady in class was finished with the run through, Gabe turned to Madame Vronsky who dismissed the group. The class left the room chatting excitedly.
"So?"
"I have to take back something I said earlier, Gabriel."
"What's that?" Gabe leaned on the mirror with his arms crossed.
"I think you could come back to the ballet and perform. You should consider that instead of the teaching."
"I'm flattered that you said that, Madame, but it wasn't necessary to lie to me. I want to teach. Will you let me?"
"I'm not in the habit of lying, Gabriel." She swatted his legs with her stick. "And if you're going to be ballet master here, you better stop with the slouching on my mirrors. It does not set a good example to the students."
"Really? You're going to let me teach?"
"I am. You handled that quite well." She held her hand out to shake his. "Three days a week?"
"Mornings? I have the radio show in the afternoons."
"Mornings it is. Tomorrow? Seven a.m?"
"I'll be here."
"And Gabe?" She patted his arm. "Think about performing. We could work it out for your mark to be somehow findable for you. It's a shame not to share your gift with an audience."
"Thank you, Madame. It means a lot that you still believe that."
"Young man, I don't merely believe it. It's the God's truth. Now get out of here and come back tomorrow dressed appropriately for class."
Gabe laughed on his way out. The old bat hadn't changed a bit. She was still a dragon on the outside and a marshmallow on the inside. She only thought she had him fooled.
Chapter Twenty
"A peacemaker often receives wounds."
African Proverb
After her meeting with Detective Inspector Benjamin Carlyle, Olga decided she needed some coffee. She didn't want the space program's cafeteria coffee, either. She swore that stuff had to be made of moon rocks or some other gunk from outer space since it sure didn't taste like anything else she'd ever had during her time on Earth. It was so dark, thick and nasty looking, she was always afraid it would mug her in a dark alley.
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