by J. A. Kerr
“Well, it’s a good job one of us did.” Esme smirked.
“How? When?” said Ford, moving to sit up.
“Right from the beginning, Ford, I knew what we were developing was special. I agreed with Guy that everything we designed we would patent and sell to the Braille Club at a fair price, including all your work.”
Ford was quiet. “You clever, clever girl. This day just gets better and better.”
“Yes, you can thank me properly now,” said Esme, her hand reaching up and pulling him towards her.
Chapter 49
The Braille Club, London, One Year On: Every member invited has confirmed attendance. Guy looks bemused; it will be the biggest security operation his staff has encountered. Training and technology are everything. They must blend in effortlessly with the guests but at a Masked Ball that shouldn’t be difficult.
London 2014
Niven
Niven sat down. She had no plans for the rest of the day. Her mind was in turmoil as she ordered another coffee. Her birth mother letter had kept her awake last night. She wasn’t working today, thank God, because a sleepless night was never a good look for anyone, let alone a model. She felt safe when she was inside Harrison’s but remembered the incident outside; someone had taken her picture…someone was watching her, she was sure of it. She fingered her pendant and talisman as the old fear crept up and surrounded her like a dark cloak.
Her mobile buzzed and she saw it was a text from Siena asking when she and Esme were free for lunch. She sent a text saying she would check her diary and let her know as soon as possible. It was the third nice thing to happen to her. They said bad luck came in threes—did that apply to good luck as well?
She noticed the handsome guy sitting nearby. Their eyes met for a second and she smiled. He smiled back and she blushed as her stomach fluttered. That had never happened to her before. Ford had been charming and good-looking, she’d liked him instantly, but this seemed different. She stole another glance and found him looking straight at her. There was something open and friendly about his face that put her at ease. He looked like he worked out too. His suit emphasised his toned body. She looked away, embarrassed, as she realised she was staring at him. Turning her attention to her magazine, she forced herself to read. Her heart was thumping. If she hadn’t felt it do the same last night, she wouldn’t have known it was possible. Thoughts of her Braille session had her body and mind tingling. She could imagine how amazing it would be with someone you desired and cared for, like Siena and Benedict.
She had nothing against Guy; he was lovely, but it had felt awkward with the intimacy involved. Although more relaxed when she discovered it was only the sensory devices that would touch her, it had taken awhile. Wow! What a journey. She had never experienced anything like it. Closing her eyes, she remembered how the sensations had taken her mind and body on a voyage of discovery she wanted to repeat again and again.
She opened them again, disappointed to see the handsome guy was gone. Hearing a voice she recognised, she turned and smiled again. Benedict was deep in conversation with the mystery man and when he saw her, they both walked over and Niven stood up.
“Niven, thank you,” said Benedict cryptically, his eyes opaque and his smile fleeting.
Her cheeks grew hot as she blushed.
Benedict suddenly yelped, his face puzzled until understanding dawned.
“Niven, this is Matt.”
Matt looked at Niven, his smile even wider than before.
“Hi, pleased to meet you, Niven,” he said, eyes twinkling. “Please excuse Ben, he’s rubbish at introductions.”
Niven laughed as Matt gave Benedict a pointed look.
He looked completely unruffled but was smiling. Niven was normally a little intimated by Benedict, but his smile transformed him.
“Are you busy, Niven?” he asked.
“Not really,” she replied.
“That’s such an unusual name,” remarked Matt.
“Yes, my mother’s creation,” said Niven tersely.
“Ah, you don’t like it?” Matt concluded.
“Well, I had little choice but I suppose I’ve gotten used to it,” Niven replied.
Benedict looked at his watch and Matt saw his chance.
“Niven, do you fancy another coffee?” he asked hopefully.
She hesitated, she’d had two already, but found herself nodding.
“Great, why don’t we sit down?” said Matt, looking relieved. He turned to Benedict. “Go to your meeting, I’ll be here; if that’s all right with Niven?”
Caught off guard, she merely shrugged her acceptance.
“It’s my fault,” Matt explained. “I’m early, I forgot Ben said he had a meeting.”
Although Niven had heard Matt say it earlier, it took a moment to process that Ben was in fact Benedict.
“How long have you known each other?” she asked curiously.
“Since uni, but he’s a rubbish friend, he never keeps in touch, so it’s a good job our work keeps us together.” He laughed.
“It’s terrible what they’ve both been through,” said Niven quietly, thinking of Siena.
Matt’s easy smile disappeared, his face changed and twisted into a look of unbearable anguish. “They were so lucky. If Ben and Guy hadn’t found her…” his voice trailed off.
Niven instinctively put her hand over Matt’s as she watched his chest heave for several minutes as he composed himself.
“Sorry, still gets to me,” he apologised, squeezing her hand.
Niven found his touch comforting. Confused, she wondered what was happening to her. She stared at his hand on hers as panic spread through her. Now it was her chest heaving up and down as she sat gasping for breath.
“What’s wrong? Did something upset you?” he asked perceptively.
She stared at him unable to speak as thoughts of Toby consumed her, but it was the warmth of his hand that calmed her.
“No, it’s nothing,” she whispered.
He squeezed her fingers again. The coffee arrived, breaking the spell, and Matt released her hand. She felt bereft and took a sip of coffee as she tried to gather her thoughts. She had revealed more today than she dared to admit to herself. Sensing his stare, she slowly lifted her gaze to meet his. Warmth flooded through her and she gave him a wobbly smile. He pulled his chair closer and she leant in. They sat like that for the next hour talking about everything and nothing. Such was their absorption in each other neither of them heard Matt’s phone ring or the passage of time. They ordered more drinks as the lounge filled up all around them.
“Matt!” said Guy. They both turned to find Guy standing beside them.
“Benedict has been calling you, is something wrong?” asked Guy worriedly.
“No…sorry, I didn’t hear my phone,” said Matt, flustered. He dug for his phone in his jacket pocket and dialled.
“Hi, sorry, no everything’s fine. Yes, I’ll come now.”
He turned to Niven. “Can you wait? I’ll only be twenty minutes and we could have lunch if you want?”
Niven dreamily agreed to wait, her mind a pleasant fuzz of warmth. She settled back down on the comfortable couch and stared off into space. She listened to the other models talking about their boyfriends with little interest but now their words came back to her: drop dead gorgeous, dreamboat, eye candy, and hunk.
All these terms described Matt perfectly and now she wished she’d paid more attention. She thought hard, trying to remember what they had said, what they had done. Still deep in thought when Matt returned, she glowed with pleasure as he sat next to her. Lunch passed in a blur of laughter and conversation. They were still there several hours later and ordered drinks from the bar.
***
Toby
Toby was back at his post at the start of a new day, better equipped this time. He could stay as long as necessary. When he saw Niven step out of the cab and enter the building, he’d almost dropped his binoculars. Caught by surprise, he
couldn’t believe his luck. Fumbling for the camera, the pictures he’d shot were not his best. Had she received his letter? Had she read it? He wondered why she was back, jealous of anything she paid attention to. He’d not seen Harrison leave yet. In between monitoring the arrivals and departures at Harrison’s, he read about Josef Fritzl, and how he had kept his own daughter imprisoned for twenty-four years.
Toby found the story inspirational until Fritzl had been discovered. One of the children falling sick gave him away. It was food for thought for Toby. He would not make that mistake himself. Birth control was essential; Toby didn’t want to share Niven with anyone, least of all a screaming brat. The idea made him angry, nothing must get in the way, and she was his and his alone. He had condoms…and once she was on the contraception pill, things would be perfect. He would grind the pill down and put it in her water; she would drink it eventually if she wanted to live, and if she didn’t, then she would die slowly, her choice.
He was feeling happy. He might have found the ideal place for Niven; he was seeing it later today. It would mean leaving his surveillance duties but it couldn’t be helped. He needed to find somewhere remote but central and the place he was interested in was a tiny recording studio. It was the sound proofing that interested him the most. It was tucked away at the end of a farm road, a glorified garage but perfect for his purposes. The guy renting it had said he’d converted it for his son who was mad on drumming because the noise was driving him and his wife mad.
His plan was slowly coming together. He had thought about getting ether—his idol Fritzl used that too. If it was good enough for Fritzl it was good enough for him but he realised it was too unstable and opted for chloroform instead. Difficult to acquire but he used his contacts.
He purchased restraints, some masks, a whip, and several other interesting objects that he had read about and was dying to try out; they looked nasty but so much fun. The internet provided so much information. It was staggering how many options he had. He had read many abduction stories, told from both angles, but it was the more unusual that caught his interest. He particularly liked the case where the victim’s tongue had been cut out. No screaming, no talking, and no pleading. There were other cases where feet and hands had been removed. You couldn’t run without feet and you couldn’t fight without hands. Toby mulled it over…he must consider what would work best for him.
He was almost ready to send off the next letter. This would set up a meeting with Niven. Of course, she would never get to her destination. He would see to that, but he needed her away from her flat, and the camera above her door that recorded her comings and goings. He regretted his appearance on the tape. It had been stupid, but he wasn’t identifiable. It could easily be explained away as a prank. He wanted the police to review the film and see nothing amiss. He read all about forensics. The smallest of things could tie you to a crime scene; from the fibres of your clothes to the hairs on your head. He couldn’t risk his DNA being found in Niven’s flat, not with his record—best not to contaminate it in the first place. Toby smiled, feeling relaxed and calm. Distracted by his thoughts of Niven, he didn’t notice the car with Siena, the twins, and her parents leave the underground carpark.
After an hour passed, he looked at his watch and realised it was time to go. He’d invested in a Sat Nav, having gotten lost so many times. Punching in the postcode, he set off; glad of the directions…he’d never have found the place otherwise. Instructed to follow the road until he came to a dead end, he was relieved to see another car. He shook hands with the man who’d got out when he saw Toby approaching. After introductions, Mr. Tyler opened the door to the studio. There wasn’t much to see, a partition had been erected with a toilet and shower room in one corner and a tiny kitchen in the other. It consisted of a piece of worktop with a sink, a kettle, and a toaster. A fridge sat next to the worktop with a microwave on top.
Toby was wearing a beanie hat with fake tattoos and fake piercings through his nose, lip, and ears. He wore brown coloured contacts in his eyes and his normally blond hair had been dyed jet black. The black eyeliner and lipstick completed his transformation to Emo.
“Sorry it’s so dark,” Mr. Tyler apologised. “My boy covered all the windows, he didn’t want distractions.”
Toby nodded, trying to hide his excitement.
“Yeah, he called it singing, but with all that screaming, it sounded like he was being murdered,” he joked.
Toby just smiled, this was getting better and better.
“Are you a musician yourself?” asked Mr. Tyler.
“Yes,” said Toby, not elaborating.
“I’ll show you around,” said Mr. Tyler cheerfully.
“He’d crash here for a few days at a time. That’s why I put in the storage heater and a water supply,” said Mr. Tyler.
“Your son doesn’t use it now?” asked Toby.
“Nope, he lives in Manchester with his partner and baby. My wife wanted to move nearer to them so we’ve sold up. Got a good offer and I grabbed it. They are completely renovating the farmhouse but I held onto the studio; thought it might come in handy.”
“Where is the farmhouse?” said Toby, worried about its proximity.
“About two miles south of here, my boy had a trail bike, took a shortcut through the lanes. I know it seems isolated but you get used to it.”
Toby breathed out, relieved.
“I’d like to test the soundproofing,” he said. “Can you shout as loud as you can with the door open and again with it closed?”
“No problem,” said Mr. Tyler.
Toby was pleased, nothing could be heard when the door was closed.
“I’ve got a few viewers,” Mr. Tyler lied.
Toby didn’t take the bait. He could smell a deal, if he handled it correctly.
“I’ll be in touch if I’m interested, Mr. Tyler,” he said curtly, seeing the disappointment register on the owner’s face.
Yes, he’d let him sweat it out for a couple of days before he offered him a deal, cash in hand, for six months’ rental. That should give him time to find something more permanent. He turned, eager to be in his car and back to work. He must follow Benedict Harrison to his home tonight, and he didn’t want to miss him. Nick Waters was getting impatient, he wanted more…he always did.
Toby stretched out his cramped muscles. He was still anxious that he might have missed something important while away from his post. Thoughts of Niven crowded his mind, he was so close to having her and it took all his self-control to carry on with the job at hand. He would follow Benedict Harrison—that was non-negotiable. Checking his camera, he would fill it with his findings and get Nick Waters off his back. Keeping those cheques arriving was paramount. He would have a dependant soon and he needed the money.
He thought about the false trail he would give to the police, it would have to be convincing. People disappeared all the time, but not famous models…he must leave it looking like a breakdown of some description. Niven must be painted as unstable, withdrawn, and unpredictable. He knew already from watching her she led a fairly solitary existence, a loner. It would be easy to feed the press the story of a troubled girl looking to escape. Her birth mother offering her the chance to disappear. He’d already typed up a letter of resignation for her agency. Her flat, he assumed, was rented. Once he had Niven, he’d take care of everything.
It was all coming together. He would lure Niven into his trap and when she awoke…she would be imprisoned in the studio. Licking his lips, he trembled at the thought of her completely at his mercy. He had so much in store for her. He’d been patient, and good things come to those who wait. It wouldn’t be much longer. He was snapped out of his reverie by the roller shutter of the underground carpark slowly opening. Swinging his binoculars towards the opening, his heart leapt when he saw the Porsche Cayenne roll out onto the road. He quickly started his car and eased out behind it as it passed. As he glanced in his rear mirror he froze. Was that Niven outside the club with a man? When he
looked again, however, she was gone. Heart thumping, he tried to concentrate while something primal gnawed in the pit of his stomach. The Porsche was easy to follow and the heavy traffic made it simple to blend in. When he saw the car pause at the electric gates, he drove on looking for somewhere to park up. Cursing, he realised he would have to park quite a distance to avoid detection. The image of Niven kept flashing through his mind. She was smiling, her head turned towards the male who stood with his back to Toby. There seemed to be an intimacy…that had Toby’s senses on red alert. He wanted to abandon what he was doing and rush to Niven’s flat but made himself leave the car and jog back to the house the Porsche had entered.
Dressed in running gear, he didn’t look out of place. As soon as it was safe to do so, he took his camera out and started snapping but his agitation was mounting. He got as close as he dared but could see the house was protected. Light sensor units were clearly visible, and he was sure that CCTV would be in operation. He picked up his camera and looked through the lens. However, instead of seeing the house in front of him, he saw Niven, half turned with a smile on her face, but the smile wasn’t for him. A white hot anger gripped him. He lowered the camera and withdrew, giving in to his need to get to Niven’s flat. He drove recklessly, forgetting his low profile approach as he eventually turned into Niven’s street.
He stopped the car and looked up—her flat was in darkness. Everything went cold inside him. He saw her leaving the club, so where the fuck was she? There could only be one answer. She was with him, and now he was a dead man…in fact they both were.
***
Niven
Niven couldn’t verbalise what she was feeling, she just knew she was happy. When Matt suggested they watch a movie at his place she quickly agreed. His flat was contemporary but homely, and after he had shown her around they settled on the large L-shaped sofa.