MICHAELI'm driving like an idiot, racing to reach Charlotte, Mitch and Kirstie.Why's Charlotte not answering her phone?And I'm hoping that the answer is the happy one; that she's simply distracted, talking; enjoying herself and not paying attention. Or that she has the ringer turned off. Or...My head swirls...James said Francesca's tea rooms...Already, it's nearly dark.What time do they stay open until?Friday. Late night. Probably until 9pm.My mobile screen flashes, the vibe making the dashboard rattle as the phone dances over the vinyl. It's Ben.On loudspeaker, "Ben? Where are you?""Almost there. Just letting you know, I'm pulling into the car park now, so we might lose the signal. I'll be in touch as soon as I know anything."And I return to champing and cursing at the traffic holding me trapped.James...I check my phone. No call. No message.I check my watch. He's had plenty of time to reach the shelter.Should I call him?Is he hurt?

JAMESMy phone rings. Richard's avatar flashes up. Klempner glances at it then passes it to me. "Answer it. Put it on loudspeaker."I talk quickly. "Richard, before you say anything, Klempner's here."There's a silence, then. "James, are you being held hostage? Has he...?""I'm not hurt if that's what you're asking, but no, I'm not exactly on top of the situation. He's listening to what we say." I cast a glance to Klempner, but he simply raises brows, folding his arms and sitting back."Have you spoken to Charlotte?" I ask.Richard pauses. "No, I've not spoken to her. I got hold of Michael, some while ago, but I couldn't get through to her. She wasn't answering her phone."So, who...?"Someone's warned her. Or so it seems. She's vanished, along with her mother and Kirstie. Is Beth okay?"Another short silence. "Yes, Elizabeth is safely out of the way."Klempner snorts, then speaking loudly, "I'm not interested in your cringing wife, Haswell."Richard's voice is au

Michael doesn't react well. "James are you kidding me? You want Klempner to have both of us prisoner?""I'm not a prisoner. And he's as interested in finding the women as we are. Where are you?"He yells over the line. "Fuck you, Klempner. If you think I'm playing along with this charade, you're crazy. You've got a gun at his head or something for him to be talking like this."And the line cuts.I slam my mobile down. "Fuck!"Klempner's voice remains bland, his eyes fixed on the road as he drives. "Any suggestions?"But before I can reply, my phone goes into overdrive, flashing and vibrating, crawling over the dash.Klempner looks askance. "That supposed to be the latest ring-tone?""No." I snatch up the phone, peering in at the display. "That's Kirstie raising the alarm. And if I'm getting this, then so's everyone else."Klempner looks alarmed. "Who's 'everyone else'?"Do I tell him?The truth but not the whole truth..."Haswell, Michael, Ryan...""Who's Ryan

CHARLOTTEMy head bangs and with every movement, every vibration, every swerve, the throbbing pulses through from some epicentre, I think where I banged my skull as I fell. My knees too, feel stiff and heated. As I try to shift into a more comfortable position, pain stabs up from one ankle.I can barely move. I'm lying on my side, one cheek flat down.My baby...Something soft, maybe a towel, sandy and hairy, presses against my face, smelling of seaweed and wet dog. I keep having to blink as with every jog of the car, grains of sand dislodge against my eyes.From somewhere, I hear classic small-dog yapping. Excitement?Or worry?Scruffy...My mouth is taped, very securely, the adhesive pulling and tearing at the softer skin of my lips as I try to work my jaw. My feet are bound; my wrists too, behind my back and too tightly. My hands went numb long ago and my fingers feel bloated.My Master ties, binds or restrains me regularly, but it never feels like this.If I don

Hunkering down by us, he says, "It's good to see you again, Mitch." She's trembling violently and I'm watching both the blade in his hand and Klempner himself; his movements, his tone, his body-language. But there's no threat there, no sense of ill-intent.He crouches close by her, offers the blade to the tape binding her hands, then hesitates. "I'm doing this now," he says, "because I know you won't let me after you're freed."Leaning over, he kisses her forehead, cups a swollen cheek with his free hand. He holds the position for a second, then squats back, raises the blade again and saws through the layers of tape; first her wrists, then her ankles.He reaches for the tape over her face, but she recoils as his hand comes close. He blinks then backs off. "You do it," he says, passing me the knife, handle first. He rises, takes out the gun again and returns to watching the doors.It takes only seconds to ungag Mitch and, one eye on Klempner, she shakes blood into her fingers an