THOUGH IT WERE TEN THOUSAND MILES
By Joan Stephens

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 Chapter Nine

 

All the long way back to a threshold near her loft, Mary’s light chatter kept all thoughts of Vincent and Catherine settled uneasily in the back of Diana’s mind.  Once she was safely ensconced in front of her computer, everything she had learned tonight nearly overwhelmed her.  Miserable, she laid her head on the desk, fighting a losing battle to squash the feelings of loss and despair that she felt.  The intensity of her emotions shocked her: the envy and jealousy she felt toward Catherine and the possessive love and desire she felt for Vincent. Restless from the fiery sentiments raging through her, she jumped to her feet and began pacing around the large combination living room/ kitchen.  Deciding to get ready for bed even though she thought that sleep would elude her, she entered her bedroom.  After changing, she faced herself in the full-length mirror that hung on her closet door and started to debate with herself: a device she used often when stumped with one of her cases.  “You haven’t even met him, for god’s sake, and you think you are in love with him?  Come on, Diana, how ridiculous is that?” the image in the mirror asked her.

 

She replied, “I met him in my dreams and you know my dreams are usually true.”

 

“Sure, but that was before you knew who he was or who he was in love with.  My god, Diana, they have some kind of bond.  You can’t fight that,” her mirror image stated.

 

“I’m strong,” she countered, “I have some empathic powers, myself.  I could fight her.  I could win.”

 

“But do you really want to hurt him by taking away the woman he loves and his child?” the image  softly questioned.

 

“My love could heal the pain and I could give him children,” she tried to convince herself.

 

“Ah, but what if it is not only a bonding of the heart but a bonding of the soul?  Would you tear his soul apart to satisfy your desires?”

 

Abruptly, she threw her head back and let out a groan of frustration.  She had led herself right into the trap she knew was there.  Shaking her head at the thought of what she was contemplating, she hoped she was a better person than that.  Without even thinking it through, she knew that he could love only once in his life, and Catherine was that woman.  Diana  would try her best to rejoice in his good fortune and to return his lover and their child to him, but could she be in the company of either Vincent or Catherine without giving away her feelings?  “Well, Diana,” she said aloud, “you’ve always been able to control your emotions.  Now let’s see how well you do when it really matters.”  She had a feeling that her determination would soon be put to the test. 

 

Going back to her computer, she returned to the immediate problem of finding out who the mysterious person was behind the book and the disappearances.  For several hours she followed one trail after another only to run into a firewall or have the trail peter out.  Whoever had set up this paper trail was a master, and she was just not good enough to follow it.  She needed someone with a lot more knowledge about computers than she had.  Finally, she climbed into bed and it was as she feared, she didn’t fall asleep until the wee hours of the night. 

 

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

A complete copy of the decoded book had finally arrived.  Most of the elite of New York was mentioned, most prominently Malloy-Davis and Norton Hanover Trust plus a lot of names and money but not the name he wanted.  There was one name mentioned over and over, that of a Jonathan Pope.  Still he was only an agent for the mysterious Mr. G as he had begun to call him.

 

Joe picked up the phone, “Andrea?  Get me Elliot Burch.  Thanks.”  With the handset placed between his shoulder and left ear, he played with a rubber band as he was wont to do while waiting. 

 

Finally there was a click and Elliot’s voice, “Joe?”

 

“Elliot.”  He had decided it was time for the three of them to meet.  “Can you meet me at Diana Bennett’s tonight?”

 

“Sure, Joe, what’s up?”

 

“Bring all you have and meet me there at eight tonight.  It’s time we got together on this.” 

 

“Eight.  I’ll be there.”

 

“Oh,” Joe had a sudden thought, “do you know where she lives?”

 

“Yeah, I do.  I always know where my adversaries live.  Except for one,” he added grimly.

 

Thoughtfully, Joe replaced the handset.  It was going to be tough skirting around the issue of Vincent.  Damn Father, anyway, but he had given his word, and he would keep it come hell or high water.  If his feelings were right, things were coming to a head, and he would meet Vincent soon.  He called Diana to make arrangements for that evening.  With that completed, he started in on the mountain of work piled on his desk.

 

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

Elliot arrived at Diana’s building just as Joe was alighting from a taxi cab.  Together they entered the building and then the old freight elevator.  Diana was waiting for them when they stepped into her loft.

 

“Hi, Diana,” they chorused.

 

“Come on in.  Coffee?” she offered.

 

“That sounds great,” Elliot said, “It’s a cool, damp night out there.”

 

“Yeah, I sure could use a cup,” Joe added.

 

Diana steered them to the kitchen table after relieving them of their coats.  “Let’s sit at the kitchen table.  There’s more room.”

 

There were yellow legal notepads and pencils on the table plus cups that were soon steaming with hot coffee.  They sat down and spread what evidence they had on the table.

 

Warming his hands on the cup of coffee, Joe asked, “Diana, did you get your decoded copy of the book?”

 

She nodded.  “It was downloaded this morning.  I haven’t had much time to read it.”

 

“Ok, let’s start with the warehouse.  What have you got so far?”  Joe leaned back in his chair, sipping at his coffee.

 

Shaking her head in frustration, she answered, “It’s one of the most twisted paper trails I’ve ever encountered.  I had to get help.  So far we keep running into a brick wall named Pope.”

 

“Pope!” Elliot exclaimed, “we keep running into him in the book, also.  But there is someone bigger behind him.”

 

“I know.  God,” Joe exploded, “we need a break of some kind.”

 

“I thought that the warehouse would give us some information.  How did you find out about it?” Elliot asked.

 

With a quick glance at Diana, Joe replied, “Uh–someone sent me a note.”

 

“Anonymous tip, huh?” Elliot assumed.

 

“You could say that,” Joe cautiously answered. 

 

Diana quickly changed the subject.  “I’ve been through Cathy’s life with a fine tooth comb.  She had a secret that she told no one,”

 

“It has something to do with the tunnels beneath the city,” Elliot added firmly.  “I know because she took me through them like she was strolling home.  Maybe we should investigate there.”

 

“I think it would be a waste of time,” Diana said.  “She’s up here, not down there.”

 

“I still think it’s a good idea,” he said stubbornly.

 

Catching Diana’s eye, Joe shook his head then said, “Look, people, let’s get back to the issue at hand.”

 

“Ok, Joe,” Elliot agreed, “all we have left is the book.  A lot of good that has done us.  We ran into the Pope road block again.”

 

“Is there any information on this Pope?”

 

“No, he’s just a name.  Maybe we need to start leaning on the big boys in the city,” Diana answered.

 

“Nah.  They’d just tie us up in court until Cathy’s body showed up or the case was relegated to the unsolved file,” Joe replied.

 

Throwing his pencil on the table, he shoved his chair back.  “We’ve been on this case for almost six months, and we’re not nearer a solution now than we were then.”  Pacing back and forth, he cried, “God, I can’t even trust my own people.  I don’t know who is on his payroll.  It’s the same with the police.  I don’t know who to trust.”  He plopped down into his chair and took his head in his hands.

 

“I know what you mean, Joe,” Elliot commiserated with him.  “He got to a lot of my people, too.  I ended up trusting only Manning, you, and Diana.”

 

“Well, moaning about it won’t get us anywhere,” Diana retorted.  “Let’s go back over what we have and see if we’ve missed anything.”

 

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

Before Joe went home that night, he decided to see Father.

 

“What is it, Joe?”  They were in Father’s chamber, and he indicated that Joe should sit down.

 

Joe shook his head.  “Can’t stay long.  It’s Elliot, Father, his curiosity about the tunnels is growing.  He’s talking about searching them.  I think we should tell him before he brings a lot of people down here.  People you don’t want to meet.”

 

Heaving a great sigh, Father said, “You may be right, but he has caused us more trouble than anyone else.”

 

“He didn’t know that he was doing that; he’s changed.  He’s a different man: more caring, more careful of those around him.  Cathy changed him, made him a better man.”

 

“But how will he feel about Vincent?  That Catherine loves him?  There may be jealousy.”

 

“There may be but Elliot knows that he has no chance with her.  She’s made that perfectly clear.”

 

“I will need the approval of the council.  I will give you the answer tomorrow.  This is the most dangerous decision we have ever had to make.  I hope it is the right one.”

 

“Me too, Father, me too.”

 

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

In the dark of an early October moonless night, Vincent had crossed into New Jersey near Stroudsburg, PA, crossing over the Delaware River on a railroad bridge.  By hoarding the food Julia had given him, it had been unnecessary for him to scavenge for food.  She was quite a lady to trust him as she had.  He could easily have been an axe murderer, but she had Max, and he was a good judge of character.  Vincent thought of her often as he traveled toward the east.

 

Arriving just before dawn at the #4 eastbound exit ramp to I-80, Vincent waited tensely in the underbrush surrounding a Sunoco truck stop.  Lying in the tall weeds as close to the parking lot as he could get, he scrutinized each truck entering the parking lot, hoping to find one he could hide in as it traveled east.  The closer he came to New York City the more densely populated the area became and the more danger he faced.  He didn’t dare to make a move until the dead of night which shortened his traveling time considerably.

 

A North American long distance moving van pulled into the parking lot; it’s headlights almost catching Vincent before he dropped back down into the grass.  It pulled up and stopped close to where he  was lying.  The driver stepped stiffly down from the cab–it had been a long haul–and, walking around the vehicle, had checked the tires, the brakes, and opened the doors to the van to have a look-see at the cargo.  As he pulled the doors open, his business band radio came to life.  His dispatcher was hailing him.  Hurriedly he hastened to the cab, neglecting to close the rear doors; after all, he could see them from where he stood.  Leaning against the tractor steps, he answered, “Hey, Tony, I’m at the #4 exit, eastbound I-80, should be in NYC late tomorrow night.”

 

“You’re making good time,” Tony’s approving voice came clearly over the radio.

 

“Yeah, but don’t call me for awhile.  I’m going to grab a bite of breakfast and get some sack time; I’ll be in Stamford at the right time though.  Never been late yet.  You can tell the Henderson’s I’ll be there at ten tomorrow morning.”

 

“Ok, George, I’ll do that.  Give me a holler when you’re ready to leave.”

 

“10-4 that.”

 

“Nighty night, Georgie,” the radio went silent after a chuckle from Tony.

 

George snickered himself, that Tony, always good for a laugh.  He hung up the mike, then checked his cargo, making sure that everything was riding all right.  He closed the back doors, neglecting to lock them, and ambled, whistling, to the Country Kitchen restaurant for a late night snack.

 

With his exceptional hearing, Vincent had heard the conversation and realized that luck was on his side.  This van was going all the way into the city.  All he needed to do was to get inside the it and hide behind something, and he would have a safe ride into New York.  Thankfully, the driver had parked on the edge of the parking lot, away from the noise and bustle of the truck stop.  From what Vincent had heard, he planned on sleeping in the sleeper behind and above the seats.  While George was talking with Tony, Vincent had slipped into the trailer.  He waited, breath abated, for the sound of George or someone shouting that they had seen him sneak into the back.  There was none.  He let out the pent up breath he held and looked for a good hiding place.  Way in the front of the van behind boxes and other furniture, he found a long plastic-covered sofa.  Oh, it looked so inviting and he hadn’t slept on anything soft for so long.  He couldn’t wait and stretched out on it but was unable to go to sleep.  He couldn’t relax until he heard George end his conversation, come back, close the doors after a cursory look around the van interior, and lock them.  Vincent heard George amble toward the Country Kitchen and then his return, whistling tunelessly both times. George entered the cab and climbed into the sleeper.  After much muttering and flopping around,  he finally quieted down and was soon softly snoring.  At last, Vincent relaxed.  He would worry about getting out of the locked van tomorrow.  His last thought was of Catherine as he fell into a deep, restful sleep; the first one he had had since he left Julia.

 

The gentle sway of the moving van in motion lulled Vincent into a long sleep.  When the trucker started the engine and slowly moved onto the outside lane of eastbound I-80, Vincent never moved a muscle.  Vincent’s time sense told him it was late afternoon, when he finally awoke.  He badly needed to relieve himself, and after searching, not really expecting to find anything, he found a discarded supersized soft drink cup with a cap.  When he was through, he thanked the lazy individual who had left it, and settling back onto the sofa, he thought about what he would do once he was in the city.  First, he must get to the tunnels and home, rest for a day, then rescue Catherine.  He had no illusions about how hard this would be.  One man, even one as strong as he, was no match for a small army, and that was what Gabriel had.  His friends would want to help but could he involve them in what would be a life or death struggle?  He would wait and see.  If he must die, he wanted it to be in the arms of the only woman he would ever love.

 

He prowled around looking for a way to break open the locked doors.  In amongst a set of tools, he found a strong looking crowbar.  He regretted that he would ruin the doors of the van, but he regretted many things that he had done on this journey.  However, he knew he would do them again to find his way back to Catherine.

 

For dinner he finished the last of the food that Julia had given him.  Taking a swig of cool water from his canteen, he settled on the floor and leaned against the van wall.  Suddenly the sound of the tires changed as the moving van slowed and pulled off the road and came to a stop.  Leaving the truck running, George slammed the cab door and walked to the trailer doors, unlocked them, then took another  cursory look at the cargo.  Whistling through his teeth, he closed and locked the doors then moved away.  After what Vincent estimated to be an hour, George returned, let out a prodigious belch as he settled between the wheel and seat, flipped the wipers on high, and put the truck into gear.  It must be raining, Vincent thought. 

 

Vincent thought surely they must have crossed over the George Washington Bridge by now and   began to attack the back doors.  Soon he had them pried far enough apart for him to squeeze out at the next stop.  Looking through the hole he had made, he could see that they were in the city.  Finally, George stopped for a red light at a main intersection near the GWB.  Vincent jumped out and, much to the astonishment of the woman cabdriver, landed on the hood of the yellow cab stopped behind the truck.  All she saw was a flash of golden, long hair and what she thought was a face resembling that of a lion.  She shook her head, disbelieving what she had seen.  He was just a traveler, probably seeking a better life.  As he ran into the dark, she heard someone shout, “There he is!”  Two men, running as fast as they could, were chasing him.  As quick as he moved the woman thought it unlikely that they would even come close to catching him.  She wished him luck as she looked up at the stoplight only to see the green turn to red.  Damn, she hit the steering wheel with her hand, that’s what you get when you don’t pay attention to what you’re doing, and wouldn’t you know it, the all day light rain began to come down in buckets.  With a sigh, she flipped the wipers on high and settled back to await the next green light.  As she did a line from a poem she had memorized as a child popped into her mind, “Ships that pass in the night.”  How appropriate she thought.  The light tuned green and she sped into the rainy darkness.

 

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

It was getting harder to act as if she knew nothing of Vincent.  Gabriel was still unaware of the depth of their bond, and she intended to keep it that way.  All her concentration went into acting as normal as possible.  Even with Martha, she was very guarded.  As much as Martha hated Gabriel, Catherine could not fully trust her.

 

She wasn’t sleeping well.  Worry and anticipation made it difficult to sleep the night through.  Many hours were spent talking to the baby.  She was sure he was listening because he would become quiet when she talked to him.  She often wondered, if she and Vincent had developed a bond with the baby, would Gabriel be able to turn him into the twisted psychopath that he was.  Somehow, she felt he would fail.  The child was Vincent’s and the conditioning he was receiving now while in the womb would set him on a path that Gabriel could not alter.  Her son would be a force for good, like his father.

 

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

The very individual Catherine was thinking of sat watching her on the monitor.  She was restless which made him wonder how much she knew of Vincent.  Did she know he was near?  Surely she had heard the news broadcasts, but she had not changed her routine one iota.  In the mornings she arose, had breakfast, dressed, wrote in her journal, worked with Martha on the days she came and played chess, then she had lunch–sometimes with Martha–studied most of the afternoon and then had dinner, spent time in the garden, and the rest of the evening reading, knitting, rarely paying any attention to the TV.  If she was acting, she was a consummate actress.

 

The doctor’s voice from the doorway brought him from his contemplation of the woman of his son. 

 

“You sent for me, sir?”

 

“Come in, doctor.  How are the Chandler woman and the child doing?”

 

Entering, the doctor stopped and stood in front of Gabriel’s desk.  He wouldn’t sit down unless told to do so.  “Ms Chandler is in excellent health as is the child.  His heart rate is a steady 80 beats per minute.”

 

Gabriel rested his chin on his clasped hands, leaning his elbows on the desk and gazed piercingly at the nervous man, glorying in the sense of power he felt over this poor excuse of a man.  “How long until the birth?”

 

Fidgeting under the intense gaze, the doctor cleared his throat before answering.  “As you know, this is not a normal pregnancy.  The birth could come at any time.  I can’t be sure when.”

 

“Monitor her closely,” Gabriel coldly ordered.  “I want to leave as soon as the child is born.”

 

Swallowing noisily, the doctor accepted his orders.  “Yes sir.”

 

Gabriel waved him away and turned back to the monitor.  Chandler was standing in the open French doors, gazing out at the moon.  She spent many evenings standing there.  He had no doubt that she was thinking of his adversary at the time.  It wouldn’t be long now.  He almost regretted what he would do.

 

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

Vincent had seen the startled look on the woman’s face and didn’t know if it was because of his appearance or because he had landed on her car, probably a little of both.  He heard the men running behind him.  The deeper darkness of an alley loomed into his sight, and he turned quickly into it.  He had no doubt that the men were Gabriel’s minions; he would have known that he had escaped and would be looking for him.  Spying an open basement door, he dove through and quickly closed it.  The sound of running feet pounded past the closed door and farther into the dark and by now dank alley.  Thoroughly searching the dusty, cobweb covered basement, he found an opening into the tunnels.  Entering the tunnel, he paused to make sure the entrance was once again hidden.  Then following his unfailing sense of direction, he hurried toward home.  Soon he heard the rumbling of subway trains, and following the sound, he came out on the far end of a subway platform.  As soon as the train stopped, he clambered up to the roof of the car that had stopped just past him and rode it until he reached Grand Central Station.  He knew exactly where he was now and would be home soon.

 

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

He was in the city.  “Oh God, keep him safe until he reaches home,” she prayed.  There was much running and shouting and the number of her guards was increased again.  Someone must have seen him in the city and reported to Gabriel.  She thought that Vincent would go to the home tunnels first to rest and gain strength–she could feel how tired he was–then he would come for her.  She felt his intense desire to be with her and realized that she would have to be very careful now.  There must be a way to defend herself, but she was so large and ungainly that she decided that she wouldn’t be very effective, but all her senses were heightened and she would try.  Her fighting spirit was rising to the challenge.

 

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

“Father, Father,” Geoffrey rushed into the library.  “Did you hear?  Vincent’s in the Grand Central tunnels.  John has seen him.”

 

For once, the old man had not heard the message on the pipes.  He must get his hearing checked; he’d been missing too many messages lately, or maybe it was because his mind was fixed on Vincent and Catherine.  “Thank god,” Father whispered as he sank down into his chair.  “Thank god, he’s home safely.”

 

Grinning from ear to ear, Geoffrey dashed off to tell as many others as he could, delighted to be the bearer of such happy news.

 

The news was traveling back and forth on the pipes and everyone knew by now.  Father sat waiting impatiently until he heard the sound of voices coming down the hall: happy, excited voices, questioning voices.  He hobbled to stand at the bottom of the small staircase.

 

He could hear Vincent’s soft, beautiful voice occasionally answer.  The crowd burst into the chamber.  Looking at Father, triumphantly, from the top of the stairs, Vincent said, “I’m home, Father; I made it.”

 

Joyously opening his arms, the aged father replied, “Yes, my son, you did.”

 

Vincent took the three steps in a bound and was gathered into Father’s waiting arms.

 

“I’ve been so worried.  Let me look at you.”  Brushing back Vincent’s shaggy hair, he stepped back and looked at his son with a physician’s appraising eye.  The man he saw was much thinner, honed to a finer edge, stronger, but he also saw an unkempt, poorly clothed, hungry, and tired man.  As the community pressed closer around the two men, the tunnel patriarch said, “Step back, people, please.  Let him breathe.  I know you are happy to see him, but right now he needs food and rest.  Go about your business.  You can see him later after he has eaten and rested.” 

 

Reluctantly, they obeyed.  Mouse was the last to leave.  “Happy you’re back,” he chirped.

 

“Thank you, Mouse.  It is good to be home again.”  Vincent squeezed the younger man’s shoulder with affection.

 

With the community gone, Father could tend to Vincent’s cuts and bruises.  Just as he finished, Mary entered followed by William.  “We thought you might be hungry,” Mary said.  Each of them carried a tray loaded with food.

 

“Yes, thank you, I am starved, but this is enough for a small army,” Vincent said with a happy grin.

 

“Never mind,” William offered, “you just eat what you want.”

 

Vincent, usually a fastidious eater, attacked the food as if he hadn’t eaten for a week.

 

“Go along, you two, I need to talk with Vincent,” Father said.  Turning to the busily eating man, he asked, “What of Catherine?  Where is she?”

 

“Catherine is well but in terrible danger,” Vincent answered.  “She is being held by a monster named Gabriel.  He wants our child.”

 

“My god, Vincent, no!!  Do you know where she is?”

 

“I don’t know the address but I can find her.”

 

“We have tried so hard to find her, but everywhere we turned we were blocked.  We were frustrated at every turn.”

 

“We?” Vincent asked around a mouthful of food.

 

“Yes, much has changed since you’ve been gone.  Tell me what happened to the two of you. Then I’ll tell you what has happened here.”

 

Placing his knife and fork on an empty plate, Vincent was amazed at the amount of food he had eaten.  He settled back into his large, comfortable chair and related the story of their capture, the cage, the house in Washington with a cage in the basement, his escape, the people who helped him his adventures, and how he finally made it home.

 

Shaking his head, Father marveled, “Vincent, you are amazing.  Another man might have given up, quit.”

 

Thinking that Father surely must know where his strength came from, Vincent told him, “Catherine needs me.  She has been my strength throughout this entire ordeal.  Now, tell me about these changes.”

 

“First, let me tell you that I know about Gabriel from Joe Maxwell.”  Vincent started to say something but Father hushed him with a wave of the hand.  “Let me tell you how I met Joe.”  Then Father told him of the meetings with Joe, the search for them, about Diana, how Lana found the warehouse, and finally, about Elliot.

 

“Elliot?  You’re thinking of telling him about us?  Is that safe?”

 

Father shrugged.  “I don’t know.  Joe seems to think that he is a changed man that Catherine has made a better man of him.”

 

Nodding, slowly, Vincent agreed, “She could do that, but can you trust him?  What will he do when he meets me?”

 

Frustrated, Father replied, “I don’t know, Vincent.  No one can predict the reactions of a man like Elliot.  Joe says that Elliot is ready to search the tunnels, to find the truth.  I am afraid we have no choice.  We can’t let harm come to innocent people.”

 

“Catherine said he was capable of great good, and that he has never been challenged to do what is right.  Maybe now is the time to do so,” the younger man said thoughtfully.  “I believe the matter has been taken out of our hands.”

 

“Yes, I’m afraid so.  We need to meet with Joe, Diana, and Elliot, of course.  I'll send a note to Joe immediately to inform him that you have returned.  Now, you need to rest before we can even begin to plan.”

 

While Vincent slept, Father sent the singularly most significant message that he had ever sent.  When it was on its way, he thought, There, it is done.  The die is cast.  We sink or swim on Joe’s estimation of Elliot Burch.  God help us.