Buying The Virgin Part 1-3

Chapter 112: The Girl Who Was Hunted - Chapter Twenty-Eight

MICHAEL

Richard pauses, obviously thinking. “Do you think we want the police in on this?”

“We should have them available,” I say. “But if the area is suddenly flooded with police vehicles, someone’s going to start asking how they know to look there. If Charlotte still has her tracers, we don’t want them being taken away from her.”

“Fair point. I’ll have a word with Will and ask him to keep any police presence discreet for the moment.”

*****

I drive at a crazy speed, following James’ navigation from the previous path of the tracers. We pass the spot where Charlotte’s assorted signals separated, where we now know that she was taken from her car; where her phone was destroyed, and her bag thrown away. We pass by, still pursuing the more recent trail.

“This is where we lost the signal,” says James. Haswell says nothing, his face grim.

“You think we should just circle first?” I ask. “Try different areas to try to catch the signal?”

“Yes. You just drive. I’ll keep an eye on the trace... Wait! There... it’s back again….”

“Which way?”

I slam onto the gas. After only half a minute, James again. “Damn! It’s off again…”

“Perhaps taking her out of a car and into a building?”

“Seems plausible.”

“Did you see enough to get us there?”

“I think so, yes. Certainly, we can get closer. Keep driving. We’re losing the light.”

*****

CHARLOTTE

The truck rattles to a halt, and the engine stops.

Are we here?

The door opens, from the outside I notice, and my guard thumbs me out.

It is still daylight, and we have pulled up in woodland, at the end of a broken mud track, much ridged and rutted. Only tough, overland vehicles would be able to reach here. There is a long, low, block-built shed. Overhung by trees, the shed would not be very visible from the air.

The roof’s made of corrugated

remaining tracers will almost certainly not escape the building, so I have only a few seconds out of doors for them to transmit

shadow of the metal roofing, and my Masters will no longer be able to find me. All the while, I glance furtively around, looking for any detail that

Is she here…?

in

fingers biting into the muscle as he drags me indoors. Without word or ceremony, I am marched through a main central room, then pushed through a side door, staggering to keep my balance as I am thrust inside. The door

room is small and cheerless, with no furnishings barring a bucket in one corner, and

And Beth is here….

I’ve found you….

piled in a corner on the floor, her face is tear-streaked, eyes red and swollen, her hair an unkempt red tangle around

She looks utterly lost.

are

into tears again. Her

too much. She needs to keep

any help, it was me they

me. “You? I thought they must be

“They’re connected to the

“It’s awful here. There’s things living in the

imprisoned by traffickers, and she’s

Convenient though….

what it’s like when it gets out of control. I always use more of these

her hair into braids, winding it up and pinning it with the combs.

*****

cell door opens, and a gun jerks down at us, where Beth and I sit on the floor. “You

stand, then help Beth up as she struggles

she ill? Or

are trooped into

and I meet a face I know; a face from the past, a face that once looked over teenagers as though

fair-haired, although silvering, his features sharp, well defined, he would be a handsome man were it not for the twist of cruelty

he examines me from all

“You know me?”

“Yes. You’re Lawrence Klempner.”

do not remember him. He stares down at me, pursing his lips. His voice

Of me?

that come

a lot better looking than you were then. Useful that.” he says. “But I do

My stomach churns.

my

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