Chapter Two
Catherine found a moderately priced hotel, got a room, and freshened up a bit. Pacing in her hotel room, she began to make plans. First, she phoned Joe and apologized for not getting Peter’s files when she was there and asked him to send copies to her by messenger. With any luck, Benny would be the messenger, and she could question him about what had happened. Next, she was going to meet with Elliot Burch, then she meant to go Below and see what condition the tunnels had been left in. She knew from thumbing through the telephone book that the charismatic young architect was back in business, and from her talk with the desk clerk that he was even more important than he had been before her abduction. If anyone had the influence to help her, it was he, and he would have no qualms about transacting a little shady business. He knew the right people to see. She was counting on that.
Benny was absolutely no help whatsoever. One day the tunnels were alive with activity and the next eerily silent, everything left as if waiting for the community to return. He didn’t know who had alerted the authorities. Before Benny left, she asked him to be ready to take messages for her. She didn’t want to trust these important papers to just anyone and, as he was a helper, in a sense, could be relied upon to take extra care. With a cheerful, "Sure, Miss Chandler," he agreed and breezed out the door.
She called Joe again and asked him to prepare Elliot for her visit. She didn’t want to see the same turmoil as she had witnessed this afternoon.
Nevertheless, when Elliot’s secretary announced her, he was across the room in a flash, hugging her with abandon. "I didn’t believe him at first," he remarked as he gazed raptly at her. "I thought it was some kind of con that someone was pulling, but you’re alive; you’re really alive."
She was surprised to see tears trembling on the ends of his eyelashes. "Oh Elliot, I’m so sorry, but there was nothing I could do. The authorities thought it best that I remain dead."
Giving her a weak smile, he gruffly brushed the wetness from his eyes. "It may have been best for you, but it was very hard on those of us who loved you. But you would have been killed if it had leaked out. You have no idea how glad I am that you weren’t. Your supposed death left a huge, black hole in my heart."
Catherine sadly left his arms. "I know how you feel. I have the same black hole in my heart." The wounded look in her eyes broke his heart. Angrily wiping at the threatening tears in her eyes, she said, "The man I love and our son has been taken and imprisoned. I don’t know where they are and . . . and I came to . . . to you for help." She lost her battle and rested her wet face on his chest and gave herself over to deep, racking sobs, the kind of weeping that tears a person apart. Something she had needed to do since she had found the sealed tunnel threshold.
Tenderly he held her, not trying to stop the healing tears that were dampening the front of his shirt. Slowly the weeping dwindled into a few hiccups, and she looked up at him gratefully. "Will you help me find the man I love and our son?"
He visibly flinched but stoically agreed with a slight squeeze of her shoulders. "Sure, Cathy, I’ll help all I can."
"Thanks, Elliot," she gave him a watery smile and slumped into the nearest chair.
"Now, some questions. Do you know where they are?" She shook her head. "Does anyone know?"
"I don’t think so; I don’t know."
"That’s not much help, Cathy."
"I know, but I’ll tell you what I do know. There was . . ." Tears started to roll down her cheeks again. She gulped them back and continued, "There was a community that had created a different world in the tunnels." She gained strength as she told him of the people who had become her family. "It was founded by a man we call Father. And I don’t know where he is either. It’s a wonderful place filled with love and peace."
"Hey, I remember that. The officials said it was a commune and that they were abusing the children. And using drugs."
Rigid with fury, she bit off, "That’s a damn lie. There’s not a word of truth to it."
"Maybe they changed during the time you were gone," he suggested, settling behind his desk.
"Knowing them as I do, I can say categorically that they never would. Peter Alcott was there bringing them antibiotics and anaesthetics. He kept their hospital stocked with the necessary drugs for years. He’s one of Father’s oldest friends."
"If I remember correctly, he was sent to prison for dealing drugs."
"Yes, and we need to get him out. He might know where Vincent and my son are."
Elliot’s head snapped up when he heard his rival’s name. "Vincent. I heard that name from Diana." He could not tell her how he had met Vincent and almost betrayed him.
"Diana Bennett? Do you know where she is?"
"Yeah, she’s in prison, too, for killing Gabriel."
"He deserved it," Catherine said flatly, staring out the window wall into a now partly cloudy early evening, not really seeing it.
"Yeah, but I guess she shot him in cold blood. I think she did it for Vincent."
Catherine swivelled around to stare at him. She knew what he was implying. It changed nothing. "I need to find my family. They might know what happened to Father."
Elliot punched a button on his large, stylish black walnut desk and spoke, "Kiley, will you get Manning’s detective agency for me? I’ve got a job for them. Then get me the attorney, Sam Darrow."
"Yes, sir," the bodiless voice answered.
When he looked up at her, Catherine asked, "Do you know who betrayed them?"
"Betrayed? That’s a very strong word, Cathy, but there was a rumor that it was a man, Pope, who had taken over the reins of Gabriel’s floundering empire."
Her mouth pursed with distaste, she replied, "Pope was Gabriel’s right-hand man. He is as cold and ruthless as Gabriel. Every time I saw him, he would give me a cold, fish-eyed stare. It makes me shudder just to think of him."
"Well, you don’t have to worry about him anymore, either. Joe got a conviction against him for racketeering just last year," Elliot said with relish.
"Good. I hope he’s in for a good, long time. While the lawyer is working on Peter’s case, I would like you to find a Private Investigator to help me find my family."
"I thought you were an only child."
"I am. That crazy commune is my family," she said rather bitterly, angry that anyone could mistake the tunnel world for a commune. "It’s Vincent’s family and now it’s mine."
Elliot thoughtfully absorbed what she had said, accepting what she said as true although it was another nail in the coffin of his hopes. He thought how they could use all the help they cold get, so he asked, "What about Diana?"
"Do we need her?"
"She’s damn good, Cathy. We could use her." He told her the story he had pieced together about Diana’s efforts to help Vincent find his son.
"But will she be willing to work with me, knowing that I’m alive and will come between her and Vincent?"
"If she can’t, we’ll let her rot in jail."
"No, Elliot, I can’t do that. For what she did for Vincent, she deserves to be free. I’ll ask Joe to send you her files also. Maybe we can find a loophole or a technicality in their trials."
"I don’t know what it is about this guy that both of you would go to any lengths to protect him."
"You have to know him to appreciate him."
"And that’s all it takes, huh?" She shrugged and smiled at him. "Ok," he continued, "I’ll get the best lawyer I can find on their cases."
"Money is no barrier, Elliot. Whatever it takes."
"I didn’t think it was." He smiled tightly at her. The phone rang and Elliot simply told the caller to come right over. "Dale Jordan will be here in a few minutes. He was a partner with the best P.I. that I ever met, Cleon Manning, who was another person killed by Gabriel in an attempt to shut me up. Jordan took over, although Cleon’s wife owns the largest share of the agency. She knew that he would have wanted it that way. And he’s almost as good as Cleon." At her questioning look, he said, "I’ll tell you all about it some day."
Kiley ushered in a tall, thin, surprisingly young looking man into the office. Elliot made the introductions. In spite of his innocuous appearance, Jordan had a sharp, analytical mind. Asking for names and details, he jotted down Catherine’s answers. "I’ll put my best operative on this case, Elliot," he said, snapping the notebook shut and depositing his pen in his shirt pocket.
"Remember, money is no object. We need to find these people."
The private detective shook hands with Elliot and, nodding to Catherine, hurriedly left.
Kiley buzzed again, "I have Mr. Darrow on the line, sir."
"Thanks," Elliot gave Cathy a thumbs up. The man Elliot was speaking with was a well-known and expensive defense lawyer named Sam Darrow who was a very distant relative of Clarence Darrow and shamelessly traded on that fact. He really didn’t want to get involved in a simple case of drug dealing, but when he heard that he would also be looking into the case of Diana Bennett, a detective convicted of shooting a noted felon, he changed his mind and named an exorbitant fee. Needless to say, he was shocked when Elliot accepted his price without a second thought
"When Kiley comes in in the morning," Elliot said, "I’ll have her send copies of both files to you. Get started right away. For what we are paying you, we expect results."
Darrow readily agreed and said he would get back to them when he had something.
Pleased with himself, Elliot held the phone in his hand, looking at Catherine with a wide grin plastered on his handsome face. "Make your call to Joe, Cathy, Darrow’s accepted. Have the files delivered here." He asked Kiley to order dinner for them. Neither one of them wanted to waste the time by going to a restaurant.
With a "Good Night, Mr. Burch," Kiley let the waiter in with the dinner. After a healthy tip, he left with a broad smile on his ruddy face.
While eating, Elliot said, "We got sidetracked when you were telling me about the tunnel world and Vincent, Cathy. Is there more?"
"A lot more." She picked up her story with her attack and the ten days she spent Below in the tunnel world. Leaving out the part about Vincent’s descent into madness and the particulars of the conception of their child, she told him all she knew about the tunnels and of her abduction by Gabriel.
He cocked his head to the side and favored her with knowing grin. "Do you realize that when you speak of the Tunnels or Below those words are capitalized?"
"No," she chuckled, "but it shows how very important they are to me." She stifled a yawn with the back of her hand and wearied beyond belief, she hauled herself to her feet. "Thanks, Elliot. At least, we’ve made a start. I’m exhausted. I’m going to my hotel and crawl into bed."
"You can stay here. I can get your bags for you." Elliot offered.
She shook her head. "No, thanks. I’ve paid for the room, and I intend to use it. I’ll see you tomorrow morning."
Well, he had tried. He buzzed for his driver and instructed him to take her to her hotel.
In her hotel room, Catherine leaned tiredly against the door. "Please be well, my love, and take care of our baby." She pushed herself erect, and shedding all but her underclothes, she climbed into bed, instantly asleep.
*
The jangling of the telephone pulled her from a pleasant dream. She dreamt that she had found Vincent and the baby, Jacob, and was having a picnic with then in the park on a bright, sunshiny day. It was strange that she had given him Father’s name, but on reflection she thought that Vincent might well have given that name to him. She fought to stay in the dream, but the insistent ringing shattered the dream. Grumbling, she snatched the handset off the cradle and barked, "What?"
Elliot’s disgustingly cheerful voice crooned, "Well, and a good morning to you too."
"Do you have to be so bright and cheery this early in the morning?" she grumbled, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she sat up and leaned back against the headboard of the bed.
"It’s eleven, Cathy," he informed her with the patience of Job.
"It is?" Oh god, she had slept for almost thirteen hours.
"Yes, it is and when are you going to get your skinny little . . . Ah . . . When will you get here?"
"As soon as I take a shower and get dressed."
"Now that I’d like to see," he retorted with a raunchy snicker.
"Ha! Don’t hold your breath," she countered. He was trying so hard to keep their relationship on a strictly friendship level, and she appreciated it more than he knew.
"Seriously, I’ll have the limo at your doorstep in half an hour."
"Ok, thanks, Elliot." She hung up and headed for the shower.
Elliot’s limo pulled up just as she came through the revolving glass doors. Her grinning ally was waiting in his office for her with a cup of coffee in one hand and a cheese Danish in the other.
"Oh, thank you," she mumbled around her first bite of the delicacy. "Umm. That’s good," she commented.
"I have a baker who makes these just for me," he bragged.
"I might have known," she laughed. Her laughter stilled, she seemed to be holding a debate with herself. Her eyes shifted from grey to green as contradictory thoughts beset her. He watched her silently, waiting for her to tell him her decision. With a single, abrupt nod of her head, she looked him square in the eyes, and it struck him how strongly this decision affected her.
"I’ve trusted you with the story of the tunnel world and of Vincent. I trust you to keep what you have learned a secret that you wouldn’t even tell your lover." He started to reply that he didn’t have a lover when she cut him off, "Would you like to accompany me on a little fact finding expedition?"
Her trust meant more to him than her love, and he would not betray that trust ever again. "Sure, where and when?"
Not answering his question, she asked one of her own, "Is the old Beaumont still standing?"
"As far as I know, it is." He had wondered when she arrived why she was wearing jeans, a sweater, and sneakers. Now he was about to learn why.
"Are you going like that?" she asked, a twinkle in her eyes. "You’ll ruin a perfectly good suit if you do."
"Give me five minutes," he declared and dashed into his private bathroom and dressing room.
"We’ll need powerful flashlights, extra batteries, water, a compass in case I get lost, a gun for each of us as we don’t know what’s down there now, and a jacket." She ticked off the items they would need as he changed, to jeans and a sweatshirt.
"We’re going to the tunnels," he guessed, emerging from the dressing room with a jacket for each of them.
"Yes, I’ve got to find out if they are still usable."
Handing her the jacket, he took her to the maintenance department for the flashlights, then to security for the guns. On the way to the Beaumont, he bought a compass and water bottles at a department store, filling the bottles in the men’s room. Tony dropped them off in front of the old run-down building. He had offered to go with them but was turned down. With a grimace of unease, he watched them enter then returned to the garage. He hoped that Elliot and the woman knew what they were doing.