Page 59 of Disgrace

On the street, I draw in a deep breath that does nothing to calm my volatile emotions. I lean against the railings and open my phone to check for any news. There is nothing. Will is standing silently to one side, and Leon is staring at the window display of the gallery above the bar.

“She was here.” Will confirms but all I can do is nod. My phone buzzes, and I swipe to take Daniel’s call.

“Peitra boarded a flight to Auckland at six this evening. She is due to stop in Singapore, and I have contacted the local authorities to make sure she is put on the first flight back. But that is still thirteen hours until you will get to speak to her and double that before she lands back in the UK and you can see her face to face.”

“It might not be the best idea if I see her face to face.” I grit out through my locked jaw. “Thanks though.”

“Don’t mention it. I will have Patrick alert the airports. Can you send over your most recent picture?” I let out a bitter laugh that hurts like a bitch.

“Not the most recent no, but I do have one I can send. I’ll ping it over now.”

“Good.” He pauses and the silence is heavy. “We’ll find her, Jason.” His confidence goes some way to alleviating my worry, but it crashes once more with our next exchange. “What about her phone do you have a tracker on that?”

“It’s switched off or broken. Either way, it’s not working.” I look up to the sky and silently pray. Without any other information that is all I have.

“Ah…” His silence speaks volumes. It is a big ass haystack of a world and my little needle is out there somewhere. “We’ll find her, Jason.” His assertion is absolute as he ends the call.

I turn and lean on the railings next to Leon, his eyes are fixed on the intricate glass sculpture in the window. The door to the gallery jingles open with the sound of the bells hanging above in an old fashion cast iron loop. An elderly gentleman fumbles with his keys in the lock. He turns to face us and tips his felt hat.

“My display seems to be working well at least. If only that would lead to a sale or two.” He chuckles to himself and stands for a moment next to Leon, gazing at the display as we all are. “I did try and tempt a beautiful young lady earlier, she seemed to be just as enamoured as you gentlemen. But sadly no luck, just another window shopper.” He turns to walk away and Leon nudges me sharply in the ribs.

“Give me your phone.” He doesn’t wait but snatches it from my hand and pushes into the man’s face. The older man stumbles back a little but straighten and adjusts his glasses.

“Did she look like this?” Leon urges impatiently. The old man raises a bushy silver brow and chuckles.

“Well she did when she entered the bar.” He leans in to whisper. “But she looked rather the worse for wear when she left. If you know what I mean.” He taps his nose conspiratorially

“Whatdo youmean?” I snap, startling him. He looks shocked at my sudden change in demeanour.

“Oh, forgive me. I meant no offence.” His cheeks pink beneath his thick, grey beard, and he looks embarrassed.

“None taken, but please explain what you meant.” I soften my voice. The last thing I need is him thinkingI’mthe dangerous person in this scenario.

“She had to be helped into the taxi. Well she was more carried actually come to think of it. Her head was terribly floppy. I just assumed she’s overindulged in the vino department.” He is about to chuckle again but one look in my eye and he wisely closes his mouth.

“And you didn’t think that strange…You didn’t think she might be in some sort of trouble?” Each word is spoken through an ever tightening jaw.

“Oh, you don’t need to worry, she was with the owner. A terribly nice man, very well spoken.” The old man waves his hand dismissively.

“His name?” My fingers are curled so tight I can feel the trickle of something warm as my nails puncture the skin of my palm.

“Mr Brookes-Hamilton, Richard to his friends.” The old man puffs his chest out with pride that he obviously considers himself in that honoured category.

“You didn’t happen to hear where they were going, did you?” My chest is tight and winded at the same time.

“I believe he said St Pancreas to the driver.” The old man’s eyes widen when they notice the slow drops of blood from my clenched fist.

“Fuck!” I curse to myself.

“Is that a problem?” Will steps up to me.

“We contacted the airports and docks but I doubt Daniel thought about the train. St Pancreas is the international station. If he gets her on a train she could end up in any number of European countries. Fuck!” I shout out to anyone in a five mile radius.

“Really sir, language.” The old man glowers at me. “Richard Brookes-Hamilton is a respectable gentleman. I am sure you are mistaken with your concern for the young lady.” His tone drips with disdain at my reaction to his ‘friend’.

“Language! There is not language to accurately do Richard Brookes whatever-his-name-is justice but let me try. He is theworstof men,sir.”I can feel myself lose my tentative grip on my manners. “Just because he can pronounce his vowels like Prince Charles doesn’t negate the fact that he is an abusive rapist, low life piece of shit.” I snarl. “And now that fucking cunt has my girlfriend.”

Ow, fuck my head, no my stomach…legs. I draw in a breath and cry out. No definitely my chest hurts the most because it is torture just to breathe. I squint to open my eyes, the room is painfully bright but I am just going to add that to my never ending list of agonies. The bright striplight overhead makes it hard to focus but it’s been like that every time I have started to regain consciousness. This time a least I feel more cognisant, lesshighbut more nauseous. I am lying flat on a hard surface a few feet from the floor by the look of it. I try to sit up, but I have absolutely no strength. I peer down my body and can see several thick leather straps securing me to the bed. I can see the edge of my panties but I can’t make out that I am wearing much more. The bindings cross my body at my shoulders, breasts, hips, thighs and ankles. The surface I am lying on feels like a slab of glass encrusted concrete against my skin but I am going to assume it’s supposed to be a bed. I have certainly used it as such but I don’t know for how long.

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