THOUGH IT WERE TEN THOUSAND MILES
By Joan Stephens

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Chapter Eight

 

Diana was busy trying to untangle the contradictory strands of Catherine’s life.  That’s what she did.  She worked from the victim’s point of view, looking for the circumstances in the victim’s life that led to the crime.  She investigated every aspect of Catherine’s life: her family, there was none that Diana could find, her friends but she had withdrawn from most of them since she had been attacked, her job, and her sudden unexplained disappearances especially the ten days after her attack.  After sifting through the missing woman’s life, she concluded that at the core of Catherine Chandler’s life was a powerful secret, and that she led a second life unknown to her friends and coworkers.  Whatever that secret was, it held the clue to the whole problem of her disappearance.

 

Before searching Catherine’s apartment, she interviewed her closest friends, Jenny Aronson and Nancy Tucker, hoping to get a handle on this most secretive of women.  They both told her how the attack and the ten missing days had changed their friend.  Before that she had been frivolous: interested in fashion, parties, spending money and having fun but vaguely dissatisfied with her life.  There had been a fundamental change in attitude and the way she lived her life after the attack.  She left her father’s law firm to work in the DA’s office and dropped most of her friends and acquaintances, keeping only those friends who meant a great deal to her.  She became secretive and private.  Both women knew there was a man in the young woman’s life but only Nancy knew his name: Vincent.  Jenny hesitated to tell the auburn-haired detective of her dreams, but when asked if she knew anything about him at all, took a deep breath, and saying that these were only her dreams, she told Diana about the caves and the lions she saw in them that surrounded Cathy.  Somehow they seemed to be directly connected with Catherine and the man she loved.  These revelations left the young detective more than a little confused.  Catherine Chandler’s life was becoming quirkier by the moment.

 

That night was the beginning of a series of dreams about a leonine man searching for something.  Diana wondered if Jenny’s dreams of Catherine and lions were influencing her dreams.  The man with the leonine face seemed to plead with the young detective to help him find a precious jewel that he had lost.  The dreams unfolded like a TV series.  Each dream was a complete finished episode, and as she dreamed them, she and the man grew closer; soon they were good friends.  Each time they thought that they were close to finding the jewel, something would prevent them from the discovery.  She would awaken with the sounds of his heartbroken sobbing still sounding in her ears.  

 

                                                        *****************

Next, Diana searched Moreno’s apartment.  She still found it difficult to believe that John was on the take.  There was still no sign of him anywhere; she had checked with the airlines, cruise ships, even gone so far as to check with the bus companies, but he had not left by any of those methods.  His car was missing so he could very well have driven out of Manhattan, but she had a hunch that when he was found it would be in New York City.  Like Catherine, he had disappeared without a trace, but unlike her Diana fully expected his body to surface any day.  Searching his apartment, she found several bankbooks with money in them and a few cryptic notes signed G–.  Moreno had a small fortune in those bankbooks, but his only big expenditure had been a small yacht that he used almost every weekend in good weather.  His office produced nothing of consequence, but when she opened his safe deposit box, she found a list of unrelated numbers that turned out to be Swiss bank accounts.  How much he had in them would be difficult to find out, but she could only assume that it was a rather large amount.  Moreno had been extremely effective in keeping his criminal life separate from his public life.

 

                                                           *************** 

Catherine Chandler’s apartment was beautiful, reflecting her privileged station in society.  Yet, she had turned her back on that privilege.  Diana discovered that her prized possessions were books, mementoes from her work, and handmade objects from children.  The young detective went through everything the missing woman owned.  Forgive me, Catherine, but it’s something I have to do, she thought as she opened a trunk that she had found in the back of the bedroom closet.  Inside, she found a white owl mask; an old doll; and photographs of Catherine’s parents, both of which were deceased; and the usual mementos kept by a sentimental woman: high school and college yearbooks, prom dance cards.  She was beginning to get a sense of what a complex woman Catherine was, but the most telling information was the paucity of references to a lover.  She did find a few books signed with the name: Vincent.  This was the man Jenny and Nancy had told her about, but there were no photos of them together at the beach, at Christmas or any other holiday for that matter.  Why were there no pictures?  Why did he seem to be a secret?  On her desk was a framed invitation made by children and signed by him that invited her to a musical recital some place below: a  framed invitation but no picture.  This was a mystery the young detective fully intended to solve and the words--some place below--kept echoing in her mind.  The only place below was the basement.

 

Searching the basement thoroughly, she discovered a door behind some boxes in Catherine’s storage room.  The door opened into the tunnels that she remembered ran under the city for hundreds of miles.  Could this be the below that Vincent meant?  What was down there?  Why would he need to be hidden?  It was time to talk to Joe.

 

She called him and asked him to meet her at her loft.  She had gone over all the evidence.  The code book might have been the initial reason for the kidnapping, but there was another reason for the young woman’s continued disappearance.  Diana didn’t believe she was dead but was being held somewhere for some reason that she had not figured out yet.

 

                                                            *************** 

Elliot was in deep financial trouble.  Since the fire and the lawsuits stemming from it, the stock in his company had plummeted.  It was selling for less than its original selling price.  People he had trusted and known for years were bailing out.  Instead of losing heart, it just made him mad.  He had inherited his father’s nasty stubborn streak, and, by god, he could play hardball, too.  Walker was instructed to salvage what he could and to file for bankruptcy.

 

He had decided to get rip-roaring drunk and was sitting at his desk, staring at the brandy bottle and glass when Manning walked in.  His news put Elliot’s proposed drunk on the back burner.  Mason had cracked the code.

 

“How much longer do you think it will take to decipher the entire book?” Elliot asked, basking in the first good news he had in days.

 

“A few days, I guess,” Manning answered, smiling at Elliot’s obvious pleasure in the news he had been given as he lowered himself into the chair next the desk.

 

“Well, that’s not soon enough.  I’m going to file for bankruptcy, Cleon.  I hate to do it, but I have no choice.”

 

“Not to worry,” Cleon insisted.  “I’ll have Mason transfer the final material to my office computer.”

 

“Thanks, Cleon,” Elliot shook his head at the man’s generosity, knowing that he could just as easily have dropped the case for lack of payment.  “I’ll find some way to pay you back.  I’m down but I’m not out.”

 

“I know you’re good for it; I trust you.  You’ve always played fair and square with me, Elliot; I figure I owe you for all the business that you’ve thrown my way.  Let’s call it even, shall we?”

 

“If that’s the way you want it, we’re even.  You’re a good man, Cleon, and I count you as one of my few friends.”  Elliot fought and won the battle to keep the tears out of his eyes.   

 

Leaning back in his chair, Cleon scowled as he commented, “This guy is very powerful, isn’t he?  Maybe you should quit while you still can.”

 

Elliot climbed to his feet and walked around to the front of his desk.  Sitting on the edge of the desk and clasping his hands together, he stared thoughtfully at them and then at his good friend, “I can’t do that,” he said.  “I won’t let him drive me out of business.  I’ll fight him every step of the way.  He’ll have to kill me to get me to quit.”

 

Cleon gazed at him with a speculative gleam in his eyes.  “You’ve heard about Moreno, haven’t you?” he asked.

 

Elliot accepted his words as the warning they were, only this warning was from a friendly source who genuinely cared about what could happen to him, and the emotion he felt was close to the love he would have felt for a brother if he had ever had one.  “Yeah,” he whispered, “disappeared like Cathy Chandler.”  He rose from his perch on the edge of the desk, and clapping Cleon warmly on the shoulder, said, “But Joe Maxwell’s been made acting DA.  They couldn’t have picked a better man.  It’s a good choice.  He’s honest and decent, though we don’t often see eye to eye, and he can’t be bought.”

 

                                                              *************

 

The phone was ringing as Joe walked into his office.  Picking up the handset, he listened for a few minutes then said, “Yeah.  Sure I’ll talk to him.”

 

“Elliot.  What’s up?  Any good news?  I sure could use some.”

 

“Mason cracked the code,” Elliot said.

 

All the air seemed to whoosh out of Joe as he sagged against the edge of his desk.  “That’s the best news I’ve heard in a long time.  How long until it’s done?”

 

Cradling the telephone between his ear and shoulder, Joe shrugged out of his jacket and sat down, swiveling around to look out at a suddenly brighter September day even though the clouds were beginning to gather indicating another summer storm.

 

Elliot answered, “A couple of days.  I have to file bankruptcy, Joe.  I’m flat broke.  This person, whoever he is, has really done a number on me.”

 

Joe shook his head in sympathy. “God, Elliot, I’m so sorry.  Is there anything I can do?”

 

“No, I still have my apartment.  The rent’s paid for a year.  I’ll come back, Joe, bigger and better.  Wiser, too.  Any news on Cathy yet?”

 

“Not yet.  I’m to see Diana this evening.  I might postpone it until the deciphering is done.  We could all meet and compare notes.  I’ll let you know.”

 

“Ok.  See you later.”

 

“Yeah,” Joe answered.  There was a click as Elliot hung up.  Thoughtfully, Joe replaced the handset into the cradle.  Now, maybe, they could find out who was behind all of this.

 

                                                         *****************

 

Father, William, Pascal, as well as Cullen and Mouse were seated around the large council table that was covered with plans and maps of the tunnels.

 

“See.  Right here.  Hot springs.  Get pipes, pumps, gizmos, thingies.  Have hot water,” Mouse said excitedly.

 

“Yes, yes, I see that,” Father agreed.  “It would be quite an undertaking.”

 

“Mouse, you come up with the darndest ideas.”  Cullen cuffed him on the back to take the sting out of his words.

 

“We can do it,” Mouse declared.  “Vincent will help when back.”

 

“Well, I for one could use some hot water.  Kitchens are notoriously greasy,” William added.

 

Father was strangely quiet, staring off into space.  “Father?” Pascal asked.  “Are you all right?”

 

Father shook his head and brought himself back to the discussion.  “I was thinking of Vincent, wondering where he is, if he is all right.”

 

“I think something would have shown up in the papers or on TV.  After all, the Helpers have been alerted to be on the lookout for anything odd or out of the ordinary,” Pascal reassured him.

 

“I know.  Vincent is on his way home but it is taking so long . . . Now, where were we?  Tell us, Mouse, how you would lay these pipes.”

 

An hour later, Father was storing the maps and plans away when Lana, one of the more adventurous of the children, ran into the common Room.  “Father!  Father!” she cried excitedly, “I know a man who saw Catherine taken away and Vincent shot.”  Breathlessly, she flew down the stairs so excited that she stood in front of him, hopping from one foot to another.

 

He bent down to her.  “Now, slowly, tell me what you have found out.”

 

She took a deep breath and began, “I know this old man, Harry, who lives in one of the old warehouses on Harbor St.  I was visiting him today and I was telling him about Catherine and Vincent.  He said that he had seen a woman taken out of a warehouse and hustled into a car and a man he described that sounded like Vincent being shot in the head.  It scared him and he hid in his box.  When he looked out, Vincent was gone.  I’m the first person he has told about this.”

 

“Can you take someone to see this man?”  Barely able to contain his excitement, Father thought of whom he could send with her.  She nodded vigorously.  “I think I”ll send John with you,” he continued.  “He can move faster than I.  Run and tell Pascal to send out a message for John to meet me here.”  Lana was gone before he had finished.

 

                                                         *************** 

Lana and John had been gone for more than two hours.  Unable to sit still, Father was up and down: first, sitting restlessly in his chair, then up and pacing.  Even the pain in his hip could not force him to be still.  At last, John returned.  “Where is Lana?” Father asked.

 

“She decided to stay with Harry.”

 

“Well?” Father asked rather abruptly, not able to contain himself any further.

 

“It’s the real thing, Father.  He showed me which warehouse they were in.  I went through it and found a chair with straps, some needles and syringes.  One of the doors had been broken off and dented from bullets.  I even found some spots of blood.  It all fits what Vincent told you.”

 

“Did you get a street address?”

 

“No, I couldn’t find one, but it’s on the south corner of Harbor and Brandt.”  

 

“Well, I’m sure Joe Maxwell can find that out.  Thank you, John.”  Father was almost euphoric with relief.  At last, they had learned something new.

 

“Vincent is my friend, too, Father.”

 

                                                           ************** 

Working through lunch, Joe looked up as Sammie, the sandwich man, came humming into the office.  He seemed particularly happy, and cheerfully waved a sandwich under Joe’s nose.  “Got a special today, Joe.  Want it?”

 

“Yeah, sure.  Why not,” Joe grumped.  Leaning back in his chair, he held out his hand.  “Give it here.”

 

Sammie leaned against the door frame as he waited to see if there was to be an answer.  When Joe unwrapped the sandwich, he found a message from Jacob that read, “Have found warehouse where Catherine was first held.  It’s on the south corner of Harbor and Brandt.  Could not get an address.  Would you?  Please let me know what you find out.”  It was signed: Father.

 

“Thanks, Sam,” he said as he quickly scribbled a note.  “Give this to Jacob for me.  Ok?” 

 

“Sure thing, Joe,” Sammie said, taking the note that Joe held out to him.  

 

“Hey, Sammie, just a minute.  Does everyone call Jacob Father?”

 

“Most everyone I know does.  Some of his oldest friends call him Jacob.”

 

“Ok, thanks.”  Joe shooed him out of his office, and Sammie hurried out to hawk his wares to the rest of the office before taking the note to Father.

 

Hmm, everyone called him Father.  Joe decided that he wanted to call him Father, also.  His father was dead, and it would be nice to have a father figure to look up to.  But he was in a quandary.  He suspected that the office was compromised.  That there was no one he could trust in the office to trace the ownership of the warehouse, and that he would have to use someone outside the office.  Diana’s name immediately popped into his mind; he decided to keep the meeting with her.

 

                                                         *************** 

The days passed slowly; Autumn was in the air, the leaves beginning to turn color even though the days were still fairly warm.  At night, when she walked in the garden, feeling close to Vincent, she wore a shawl to keep the cool night air out.

 

This particular evening she stayed in the garden until it was quite dark, watching the stars gleam dully through the city haze.  It gave her a false sense of freedom to walk in the open garden, but she needed what little freedom she could find.  As she entered her room, she turned on the TV and caught the last part of a story about an accident somewhere in Pennsylvania involving four young men and a young woman who were aided by a giant hairy man.  He had singlehandedly lifted a car off one of the young men.  Catherine finally breathed again, realizing that she had been holding her breath.  Vincent was in Pennsylvania.  Her feelings were true.  She wondered fearfully what Gabriel would do now.  Vincent was getting closer every day, and the danger was increasing exponentially the closer he came to the city.  Gabriel would do something, of that she was certain.  “Be careful, my love, be careful,” was her fervent prayer.

 

                                                          **************** 

Seated at Diana’s table with steaming cups of coffee in front of them, Joe said, “Diana, before we get started, I have something else I want you to do.”

 

“Now, wait a minute, Joe, I told you only one case at a time.  As it is, I’m stretched pretty thin working on both Cathy and Moreno’s cases,” she protested.

 

Raising his hand, he stopped her tirade.  “This pertains to Cathy’s case.  Father sent me information about a warehouse where we believe Cathy was first held.”

 

“Who’s Father?” she asked, curious about his slip.  It hadn’t missed her observation that he looked very uncomfortable when he realized that he had used a name.

 

“Never mind, he’s just a man I know, that’s not important.  I got the address today.  1900 Harbor Street on the corner of Brandt.  I want you to trace the ownership of that building.  Oh, and Elliot‘s man has decoded the book.  I should get a copy any day.  I’ll make sure he sends you a copy too.”

 

Doodling on the yellow legal pad in front of her, Diana commented, “We’re making progress, but we still don’t know who’s behind this.” 

 

“I know.”  Joe threw his hands up in frustration.  “Maybe the book will tell us.”

 

“And, maybe, the ownership of the warehouse will tell us,” she added.  “Want another cup, Joe?”  She rose and went to the kitchen.

 

“Please.  Have you learned anything new?”

 

She returned with the coffee pot and filled their cups then set the pot on the table between them.  “Let’s start with Moreno first.  He’s dead,” she flatly stated.

 

“How do you know that?”

 

Dropping into her investigative mode, she looked at him confidently.   “I went through his apartment and the garage below.  He was running.  He took just a few things, and he met his killer in the garage.  I found a small drop of blood where he had parked his car and had it analyzed.  It was Moreno’s.  Like I said, he’s dead.  I’ll stake my reputation on it.  I found nothing in his apartment, office, or safety deposit box that would lead me to the person who was paying him, but he has several Swiss bank accounts.”

 

Joe whistled and shook his head at that piece of information.

 

Diana continued, “But I did find out that the man’s name begins with a G.  Whoever he is, he’s the best at hiding his tracks that I’ve ever seen; I wonder if we’ll ever find him.”

 

“We’ve got to,” Joe flared, “to find Cathy.”

 

“I know,” Diana reached over and patted his hand in consolation.  She took a sip of her coffee.  “As for Cathy.  How well did you know her?”

 

“Not as well as I would have liked.  We don’t run in the same circles, you know.”    He didn’t know it, but she had figured out long ago that his concern for Cathy was more than that of a brother.  He loved her.

 

“Neither does she, apparently, anymore.  After those ten missing days, she completely changed her life.  From then on whatever she did she did because she believed it to be right, not just for appearances.  The approval of society meant nothing to her.  Something or someone happened to her that altered her outlook.”

 

“Yeah, she lived life on her own terms, all right.”

 

“Was there anyone special in her life?”

 

“Other than Elliot Burch, she never mentioned anyone by name.”

 

“No one named Vincent?”

 

He was skirting the truth but he had made a promise.  “No.  I never heard her use that name.”  It wasn’t really a lie; he had never heard her use Vincent’s name.

 

Diana wasn’t fooled by Joe’s little white lie, he definitely knew more than he was telling her, but she would not push him.  He might clam up completely.  “Joe, I believe Vincent is the reason she changed her life.  For some reason it had to be kept a secret.”  She got the reaction she expected as Joe uncomfortably agreed.

 

“There is one more thing I have to investigate.  She had a handmade invitation to a music recital, and she was to meet Vincent at the threshold Below.  There are miles of tunnels under the city, and the basement of her building opens into them.  I’m going down there tomorrow.”

 

In a bind, Joe didn’t want to seem too interested in stopping her, but still he tried to gently dissuade her, “Is that really necessary?”

 

“Yes, maybe I’ll find Vincent.”  Her eyes glowed with excitement.

 

“And maybe not.  There are a lot of people living in the tunnels and some of them are pretty bad characters.  I don’t think you should take the chance.”

 

Emphatically, she informed him, “Well, I’m going anyway.  I’ve got to satisfy my curiosity.”

 

She wondered if she should tell him about her dreams of the leonine man then decided that she didn’t want anyone to know about them.  She couldn’t be sure that they were even related to Cathy’s kidnapping.  Anyway, they were her dreams; no one else needed to know about them, but they  haunted her, calling her to sleep more than she ever had.  There was a constant battle between her desire to sleep and dream, and her drive to solve the mystery of Cathy’s disappearance.  Silently she laughed at her foolishness, for she thought she could easily fall in love with this strange dream man and his quest.  She had always thought of herself as a levelheaded pragmatist and couldn’t help taking a step back and looking at herself with astonishment.  Would she still be dreaming of him in a year from now?  She hoped she would; then again, she hoped she wouldn’t.  She lived either in her dreams or in the real world.

 

                                                        ***************

 

Gabriel was having dinner with two important drug lords who were there to discuss a mutual defense pact.

 

The room was large with mirrored walls and painted ceiling.  Priceless paintings hung everywhere.  A large hand woven antique rug covered the floor that gleamed from frequent polishing.  The table, which was covered with a snow-white Irish linen tablecloth, could easily have seated twenty people, but Gabriel and his guests sat at one end dining from dinnerware lightly painted with flowers and rimmed in gold.  Eighteen carat solid gold flatware added to the luxury.  It was elegance to impress.  Elegance without soul, and it was wasted on the two unappreciative men sitting at the table with Gabriel.  They wouldn’t have known solid gold from gold-plated.  Gabriel was holding forth on some point of difference when Pope entered.  Bending over to whisper into his master’s ear, he said, “May I speak with you privately, sir?”

 

Gabriel nodded, rising from his chair.  “Excuse me, gentlemen,” he said with a touch of sarcasm, “I’ll be right back.”  Following Pope into the hall, he demanded, “What is so important that you take me away from my guests?”

 

“Vincent, sir.  You wanted me to inform you of any news about him.  I think he is in Pennsylvania.  There’s a large hairy man who rescued five young people from an automobile accident.  I’m sure it is him.”

 

“I am too.  Pennsylvania,” he shook his head in reluctant admiration.  “He’s made it that far and eluded our associates.  What a worthy opponent he is.  I look forward to our final confrontation.  His defeat will be all the sweeter for all the effort he has made to return to his woman.  Increase the number of men we have watching the tunnels and bridges.  We can’t make it too easy for him.  But first get Snow for me.”

 

“Yes sir, I’ll see to it,” Pope said and turned to go.

 

After Pope left, Gabriel stood there for a few minutes contemplating his adversary.  He had no doubt he would defeat him.  He always won, but he did enjoy playing with fire, taking the risk, and finally squashing his opponents like bugs, forcing them to admit that he was their better.  Smiling coldly, he returned to his dinner and guests.

 

                                                         **************

 

Diana returned to the basement of Catherine’s apartment building with chalk, compass, pencil, notepad, flashlight, and gun.  She was thoroughly prepared for whatever she would meet in the tunnels beneath her adopted city.  Entering the tunnels through the door in Catherine’s storage room, she marked the wall with numbers as she proceeded through them.  As she continued her descent into the depths, she wrote a heading in the notebook for every number she wrote on the wall.  Her notes contained the direction and compass reading of each tunnel she entered.  It seemed the farther she went, the more tapping she heard on the pipes that ran along the wall of the tunnels. 

 

As she turned into another tunnel, she was suddenly surrounded by a group of men and women who eyed her suspiciously.  An older man detached himself from the group and limped up to her.  “Who are you?  What are you doing here?” he asked, not unkindly, for he had an idea who she was.  Joe had sent a message saying that the woman detective was determined to explore the tunnels.

 

“I’m Diana Bennett.  I work for Joe Maxwell, and I’m looking for someone named Vincent,” she answered, gazing around at these strangely dressed people.

 

There was a stirring and murmuring in the crowd.  The older man waved them quiet.  “Why are you looking for Vincent?”

 

“I think he might hold the clue to Catherine Chandler’s disappearance.”

 

The murmurings increased until the old man commanded, “Hush.  Be still.”  A sudden smile creased his disapproving face and he offered.  “Come with me, Miss Bennett, I think I can answer some of your questions.  William, Pascal, stay with me.  The rest of you go about your business.  I will let you know what happens . . . Oh yes, someone tell Mary to meet us in the Common Room.”

 

“I will, Father,” a pretty young blond said.

 

“Thank you, Rebecca.”  He shooed the remainder of the crowd back to their various pursuits. 

 

“Joe mentioned someone named Father.”

 

“Yes, I know Joe.  This way, Miss Bennett.”

 

During the long indirect route to where they lived--she was certain that they wanted to confuse her and they succeeded–she looked closely at each of the men.  The leader, Father, was in his late sixties, early seventies, still robust but with a pronounced limp.  William was a very large man with silver blond hair and a big, booming voice.  Pascal was short with balding brown hair and carried a metal pipe.  As a weapon or not, she didn’t know but would soon find out.  William and Pascal carried lanterns; Father used a cane.  The farther they proceeded, the greater her curiosity grew.  Soon they were passing through tunnels that had living quarters branching off them.  There were more and more people who eyed her curiously.  Finally, they came to a large chamber that had a spiral staircase at one end and a small metal staircase at the other.  A deep shelf ran along one wall of the chamber.  An enormous desk sat in one corner and a large octagonal table with eight mismatched chairs was placed close to the spiral stairs.  Everywhere there were books: on shelves, on chairs, stacked on the floor, on any available flat surface.

 

An elderly, gray-haired woman with a kind face and dressed in cast off incongruous clothing was waiting for them.  This must be Mary.  She hurried up to Father, asking excitedly, “What is it, Father?”

 

“Mary, this is Diana Bennett.  She works for Joe Maxwell.”

 

“Oh, you’re searching for Catherine and Vincent,” she cried.  “Welcome, my dear, welcome,” she greeted the young detective enthusiastically.  She took Diana by the hand and pulled her to the table.  “Sit down, sit down.  Let me get you a cup of tea.”  As she bustled away on her errand, she asked, “Father, William, Pascal?”

 

They all nodded as they settled into their chairs.  “Catherine and Vincent?” Diana asked.  “Joe didn’t tell me that Vincent was missing, also.”

 

“Yes,” Father answered, “I’m sorry but he couldn’t.  Vincent is my son.  He has been missing since Catherine was kidnapped.”

 

“Why couldn’t he tell me?”  This case was becoming weirder and weirder by the hour.

 

“He made a promise and I will ask you to make the same promise before we continue.  You must promise not to reveal anything that you learn here.  Our safety depends on it.”  He hoped he had judged this young woman right.  He was going on Joe’s recommendation.  When she told Joe that she was determined to search Below, he had sent a note to Father telling him of her intentions and that she could be trusted.  Father trusted that Joe was right.

 

Her answer was not immediately forthcoming; she studied her hands for a few long seconds then raised her eyes to Father’s.  “I can only promise that if what I learn has no bearing on the case; I will keep my silence.  Is that sufficient?”

 

Father glanced at both William and Pascal.  As members of the council, they had a say in the matter. William shrugged his shoulders, leaving the decision up to Father, and Pascal murmured, “We need her, Father.”

 

Taking his cue from their reactions, Father nodded, “Yes, that will be sufficient,“ and he smiled at

her for the first time.

 

“Thank you,” she said, squaring her shoulders, “Now, could Catherine and Vincent be off somewhere together?”

 

Mary returned and, smiling happily at the young woman, she set a cup of steaming hot tea before her.  Then settling into her own chair, she parceled out the remaining cups of tea, the tray she placed in the middle of the table with a full pot of hot tea.

 

“They would never leave without telling us,” Pascal insisted, appalled that anyone would even suggest such a thing.

 

“We’ve done everything we can to find them,” William said, “but our resources are limited.”

 

“But why would Vincent be missing, too.”  Diana couldn’t see the connection between Catherine and Vincent both being missing.

 

After taking a healthy draft of his rapidly cooling tea, Father placed his cup on the table.  “He went to rescue her.  You see, Miss Bennett . . .”

 

“Call me Diana,” she interjected.

 

“Thank you.  You may call me Father or Jacob, whichever you prefer.  You see, Diana, they share a bond that lets them know what the other feels.  He knew she was afraid and in trouble.”

 

“What reason would anyone have to keep them alive all this time?”

 

“Catherine is pregnant,” Mary answered.

 

“Why is that important–unless there is something special about this child?”

 

“Vincent is the one that’s special,” Pascal said.

 

Oh, how he wished he could keep Vincent’s specialness out of this conversation, but Father knew that that was as impossibility.  “Yes, my son is special, Diana.  Joe knows already.  Maybe you should know also.  Come with me.”

 

Rising together, Diana followed the aged patriarch through the tunnels.  Instead of taking her to the large, double doors that Vincent could open with ease, he led her to the back entrance that opened into one of the hugest caverns she had ever seen.  The burning torch he had taken from a sconce set in the wall beside the single door was sufficient enough to light their way through the stygian darkness to a flight of the stairs that led to a small balcony.  Faintly she could see a set of tapestries hanging on the wall next to another small door.  At the foot of the stairs was a full length painting of Catherine in the arms of a half man/half beast.  There in the painting, holding the woman he obviously adored was the man she had been dreaming about nightly since the day she had searched Cathy’s apartment, the man she suddenly realized who had captured her heart.  She had thought that she had made him up out of whole cloth, but now she knew why she had dreamt of him.  He was Cathy’s Vincent.  

 

Misunderstanding her gasp of recognition, Father explained,  “My son may not look human but he is the most human of anyone I know.  He and Catherine are going to have a child and only a human male can impregnate a human female.”

 

Reeling from the discovery that the man she had been dreaming about was the man whose name was written in a book in Catherine’s apartment, Father’s unintelligible words came at her from a great distance.  Her heart had shattered at the instant she realized that the man she had fallen in love with–even if she thought him only a dream–was the man who loved Catherine.  And it was her duty to reunite the two lovers.  How ironic.  Floating lost and forlorn in her own little world, she realized with a pang that it might always be--her own little world.  She had found and lost love in the same moment.  “Diana? . . . Are you all right?”  The older man’s concern penetrated the fog of painful reality that surrounded her.

 

Pulling herself together, she nodded. “Yes, I’m fine, just a little startled and amazed, that’s all.”

 

“Vincent does that to people,” he chuckled.

 

Then she did what she always did when confronted by a painful situation; she fell back on her investigative skills and banished all thought, for the time being, of Vincent as her dream man and returned to the problem at hand.  Catherine Chandler was carrying his child.  This must be the reason that she was still being held and hadn’t been killed.  Somehow her abductor knew about Vincent and possibly wanted the child.  “How long have they known each other?”  Could it be possible that she could become Catherine’s rival for Vincent’s affections?  Diana wasn’t above fighting for someone she loved.  She had never given her heart wholly to any man, and now when she had, he was unavailable.  It wasn’t fair, but then life had never been fair.

 

“A little over three years.”

 

“Was that when she was missing for ten days?”  Her faint hope was becoming even more faint.

 

“Yes, it was love at first sight, and they have been bonded ever since.  Needless to say, I was quite unhappy, furious even, that he had brought her here.  But nothing could keep them apart.  I have come to believe that they were destined for each other.”

 

“This bond, can you explain it to me?”  Her hope was almost gone.

 

“Not really.  I don’t understand it any more than Vincent does.  He has always been empathic, but with Catherine, it is very strong, and I do believe that it is growing stronger in her.”

 

“When precisely did they disappear?”  Back to basics was her thought.  Keep everything on a professional level, then maybe she could get through this without breaking down.

 

“Catherine went Above on April 2^nd to visit Joe and run some errands, and Vincent left to rescue her about five days later,” he answered, gently running his fingers over the painted faces.

 

Diana ached to run her fingers over Vincent’s strangely beautiful face but instead stared into the love filled blue eyes, imagining that he was looking at her.  She wondered now if his empathic powers were so strong that he could invade a receptive mind’s dreams.  Over time the dreams had changed from his cries for help, to where they worked together, then to where she was falling in love with him–her own wishful thinking–while he was still looking for something or someone.  And now she knew the name of that someone.  She had found a man she could love only to lose him before she had even met him.  She would carry the picture of the two lovers with her for the rest of her life.  Why hadn’t she made the connection before?  Now that she knew of their involvement, it was clearly obvious.  She had let her own desires and emotions blind her to the obvious; she had broken her most sacred rule.

 

“The artist caught their deep love for each other,” she painfully stated.  “It’s in the way she leans into him and the way he holds her.”

 

“Yes, it’s truly a beautiful thing to see: their love for each other.  I think I can safely say that the only thing they fear is the loss of the other.”

 

Unable to say anything, Diana simply nodded.

 

“I don’t know if you know this, but we think he is in Pennsylvania.  From what we can piece together, somehow he ended up in Indiana.  He’s been trying to get home to Catherine all this time.  The last word we have of him was when he cared for those five young people in the car wreck.”

 

“That was him?”

 

“Yes,” Father nodded proudly.

 

“Then he’s not really missing.”

 

“Yes and no.  We know approximately where he is, but we think the person who took Catherine took him, too.”

 

“That’s more than possible, Father,” she agreed.

 

“Father, Joe is here to see you,” Pascal said, entering the Great Hall.    

 

With a smile on his face that quickly faded when he saw Diana, Joe entered behind Pascal.  “Well, I see you found your way here.”  He turned to Father, “I tried to keep her from coming down.”

 

“That’s all right, Joe, you’re a fairly good judge of character, and I think we can trust Diana.  I don’t know what else we could have done.”

 

“I would never betray your world.  I will keep your secret.  Nothing I’ve learned today would serve to solve the mystery of Catherine’s whereabouts.”

 

Joe walked up to the painting.  “Beautiful, isn’t it?”  When Diana breathed a fervent ‘yes,’ Joe looked at her sharply seeing the softness in her eyes.  Uh oh, he thought, hope that’s not what I think it is.  “I remember when she was having so much trouble with Kristopher Gentian.  Did he ever meet Vincent?” he asked Father.

 

“Only when they found his paintings,” Father replied.  “But this painting was done at least a year before Gentian died.”

 

“Then how can you explain this?” Diana asked.

 

Father shook his head.  “I can’t.  It’s another mystery surrounding Vincent and Catherine.  Come, I want another cup of tea.  We can talk further in the Library.”

 

On the way back Diana said, “Why didn’t you tell me, Joe?  It would have saved me a lot of time.”

 

“You told me not to interfere, that you worked alone.  Anyway, I didn’t think you’d find them.”

 

“I’m good, Joe.  I always find what I’m looking for.”

 

“Well . . . yeah . . . I didn’t think it was necessary.”

 

“Not necessary!  They live here.  This is their home.”

 

“I made a promise, all right!” he said in a fierce half-whisper.  “I couldn’t tell you without Father’s permission.  You’ve made the same promise, right?”

 

She nodded.

 

“I keep my promises no matter how hard it is.”

 

“You’re right, Joe.  I keep mine too.  I’m sorry.”

 

                                                               ************* 

William had returned to his kitchen, Pascal to his pipes, Mary was the only one waiting for them.  “Mary, does William have any more of those delicious cookies he made this afternoon?” Father asked as he settled with difficultly into his chair at the head of the table.

 

“I don’t know.  I’ll go and see,” Mary answered, heading toward the entryway. 

 

“Please do.  Thank you.”  Courteously, he waved Diana and Joe to seats at the table.  “Sit down, Diana, Joe.  Is there anything new on Catherine’s kidnapping?”

 

“The decoder Elliot hired has broken the code.  I expect a full copy in a few days.  Diana’s attempting to solve the ownership mystery of the warehouse you found.”

 

“I haven’t gotten very far.  I had just started, but I wanted to solve the mystery of ‘Below’ first,” Diana interjected.

 

“So far Elliot has found nothing that will help us discover the person behind all this,” Joe commented, brightening as Mary entered with a tray heaped with cookies and hot tea and another pitcher.

 

“These are some of William’s special cookies.  They’re fresh from the oven.  And I thought that you might be getting a little tired of tea, so I brought some freshly brewed coffee too.”

 

Joe had a cookie in each hand as soon as Mary had placed the plate on the table.  “Thanks, Mary, I could really use some coffee now.”  Noticing Diana’s raised eyebrows, he asked, “What?”  She nodded at his cookie filled hands.  “Hey, I don’t get many home-baked goods, especially cookies,” he informed her, and his eyes widened as he took a bite.  “Wow!  Are these things delicious!  My compliments to the cook.”

 

“I’ll be sure to tell him that, William likes all the praise he can get,” Mary said, smiling.

 

Diana needed desperately to be alone.  Standing up, she said, “Listen, guys, I’ve got to get back.  I need to get started on this paper trail of the warehouse,” and, leaning over to Father, she added, “Thanks for trusting me.  I won’t let you down.”

 

“You are welcome here any time, Diana.”  Father smiled and squeezed her hand.

 

As Mary took the young woman’s arm, she said, “I’ll guide you out.”

 

“I’ll call you later,” Joe called after Diana.  It was time that he bought up the subject of Elliot Burch.  “Father, what about Elliot?”  He reached over and grabbed another cookie from the plate.  “Don’t you think he should be taken in on this secret?”

 

Father shook his head, unconvinced.  “I don’t know.  I don’t quite trust him enough yet.  He has caused us so much trouble.”

 

“I know.  It’s hard for me to completely trust him myself.  The only reason I brought him into the case is that Cathy trusted him; beside, he loves her too.”

 

“Well, let’s wait awhile longer.  When the time is right, we’ll tell him.”