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Angels of Etain Angels of Etain © 2016 by Anna NaMaus. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any written, electronic, recording, or photocopying without written permission of the publisher or author. The exception would be in the case of brief quotations embodied in the critical articles or reviews and pages where permission is specifically granted by the publisher or author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Book One Sam *** Sunday 29th August 2010 *** The room was dark, really dark. No windows broke up the solidity of the walls to let light in from the outside, there wasn't even a crack of light showing under the door. In fact, there wasn't a door under which a crack could exist. Unseen in the total darkness a metal cage sits on the floor, taking up nearly three quarters of the space. A narrow walkway around the edge of the room is the only part of the room not occupied by the cage. In one corner of the cage there is a single, slightly stained, mattress. The young man who lies on the mattress is beginning to stir. *** Sam opened his eyes into a complete and total darkness. This was the first time that he had ever been in a room with no light at all. Normally, even when it's really dark there is a little bit of light. Sometimes it comes from the moon and stars, sometimes it is man made but this room had absolutely none and no matter how hard Sam strained he was unable to make out even the simplest of shapes. Sitting up he could feel a cheap mattress beneath him but no sheets and no pillows. Beyond the mattress his roving hand encountered nothing but a hard wooden floor. It was clear to the boy that there was no bedstead, the mattress sat directly on the floor. A further movement away from the bed and even the wooden floor dropped away, by just an inch or so, exposing a cold, hard tubular construction. Leaving the safety of his mattress Sam edged further across the space, carefully feeling his way forwards with his hand. It was about five inches beyond the first tube that his hand encountered a second, and five more beyond that a third. Changing his angle Sam followed the path of this third bar going to what he believed to be the end of the room at which he had laid his head. After just a few feet the bar was crossed by a second rectangular bar with a third tubular bar rising upwards at a ninety degree angle. Sam's heart sank, it wasn't hard to work out that he was in some sort of a cage. The question he had to ask himself was 'Why?' Sam's thoughts went back to the man that he had met outside of the night club. He had been so angry with his cousin last night that he had stormed out into the night leaving all of his friends behind. As he had sat on the ground outside, all alone, a man had walked over and asked him if he was alright. Normally Sam would, probably, have told the stranger to move on but his anger made him careless and he soon found himself unloading all of his problems onto the man. The stranger, who identified himself simply as Jon, turned out to be an excellent listener and Sam found himself strangely drawn into a feeling of trust. After sitting outside for a while, and with a slight drizzle beginning to fall, Jon had suggested that they go back into the club but Sam was still reluctant to face his friends, especially Debbie and his damned cousin, Andy. So instead they decided to find a different place to have a drink and calm the younger man down. That place turned out to be some sort of private club nearby that Sam had never come across before. It was one of those places where you had to ring a bell and wait while a gorilla of a doorman inspects you through a little slot in the door. Inside the club was very dark, very dingy and very, very quiet. From what Sam could see there were no more than a dozen patrons in the place. Jon settled the young man into a large leather chair and went to get them both a drink returning shortly with two steaming mugs of sweet tea. Sam meanwhile was drinking in his surroundings, it was almost a satirical representation of an old fashioned Gentleman's club, right down to the leather chairs and stuffed stags head mounted on the wall. "Here drink this," said Jon as he handed over one of the mugs. For the first time since they had met Sam was able to see his rescuers face, Jon having shed his hood now that he was inside. The man was, putting it kindly, a well-worn person. His face sported a long scar that ran from brow to chin around the outside of his left eye and seemed to bunch as it crossed the wrinkles on his forehead. His hair was jet black, cut short and greased until it seemed to be a single black piece glued to his head. His eyes were blue and while they weren't unkind neither were they as warm and friendly as Sam had anticipated. He sat and drank deeply from his mug of coffee and very soon could feel himself relaxing. He knew that Jon was talking to him but it was getting harder and harder to follow what the older man was saying. Slowly Sam felt his eyes begin to grow heavy and he found that he was having trouble keeping his head up. Rapidly, relaxed was turning into exhausted and it was only a matter of minutes before Sam's unconscious body had slumped down in his chair. *** After a couple of false starts a strip light in the ceiling of the room slowly flickered into life casting a dim glow across the cage and banishing the shadows to the corners. Sam blinked against the brightness and began to assess his surroundings. As he had feared he was indeed being held prisoner in a large metal cage. Beyond the bars of the cage were four windowless, bare brick walls. The floor was made of brick as well with the ceiling constructed from wooden boards. Access to the room, which Sam assumed to be some sort of cellar or basement, was through a trapdoor in the ceiling. Sam could only guess that a ladder would be lowered from above as there was no apparent way of reaching the exit from inside the cellar. The cage itself was constructed from thick metal bars on all six sides of the cube, each bar protruded beyond the frame of the cube by a couple of inches. The door to the cage was set into the far wall of the construction, nearest to the trapdoor. It was built from the same tubular bars as the rest of the cage and both the hinges and locking mechanism were hidden within the bars of the wall. In fact, the only visible signs of the doors very existence were two cross beams at the top and bottom of the entryway and tiny cracks running around the two bars that marked the sides. Knowing that it was pointless Sam felt obliged to try and break out of the cage through the door. He hit the bars with all his strength but, try as he might Sam was unable to make the bars move. That left Sam with the far easier task of investigating the rather minimalist furnishings. Apart from his bed the only other features in the room were the light in the ceiling and a small metal toilet in the corner of the cage. *** It felt like hours, although it almost certainly wasn't, between Sam waking up and the hatch in the roof of the room swinging open. As Sam had predicted, a ladder was lowered into the room. A young man wearing a brightly coloured pair of shorts and an orange t-shirt scrambled down the ladder before reaching up to receive a tray of food lowered by unseen persons above. When he turned to face the cage, Sam was able to assess him properly for the first time. The boy, who called himself Jamie, looked about fourteen years old, but he later assured Sam that he was actually eighteen. His golden blonde hair fell across his shoulders and was beautifully clean and conditioned. His eyes were a deep blue, more importantly as far as Sam was concerned is that they appeared to be friendly. Jamie approached the cage nervously, "Hi, I'm Jamie and I'm responsible for looking after you as long as you are in here. Now I know you have got no idea what's going on but I need you to walk to the back of the cage away from the door while I put your food in, okay?" "Okay?" snapped Sam, "No it is not okay. None of this is okay. As a matter of fact, it is the very opposite of okay it is," he paused in his anger trying to come up with the right words. All he could manage was, "it is very much un-okay." "Alright, but please calm down," Jamie tried again, "nobody here wants to hurt you. All I want to do is give you some food and a drink and try and make as comfortable." "Well all I want is for you to take your food and shove it as far up your arse as possible. You will get no cooperation from me so don't even ask," he shouted so that the unseen people in the room above could also hear him. "You'll get nothing, do you hear me. I don't know who you are or what you think you're going to achieve but you can just shove it right up your arse." With that he walked right up to the door of the cage and stood there, glaring at the unfortunate Jamie. The young man looked back, a sadness in his eyes before he returned up the ladder, taking the food with him. The ladder was raised up and the hatchway closed leaving Sam alone. A few seconds later the lights went out. *** Monday 30th August 2010 *** Once again, Sam had no idea how long it took but to him it seemed like a very long time for the lights to come back on, and it was, although not as long as it felt. The truth was that it took roughly a whole day before, finally, the strip light began to flicker again. By this time Sam's throat was feeling dry and sore and the cage smelt of urine, much more than his usual bedroom smell. It really didn't help that the toilet couldn't be flushed from inside the cage. Instead it seemed to be on some form of timer and flushed every two hours. All through the night, at least Sam assumed it was night because he was sleeping, he was constantly being woken up by the sounds of gushing water. Of course it was impossible to really know what was night and what was day when he was living in almost permanent darkness. When the light came on, presumably to coincide with the arrival of morning, a very tired Sam guessed he that would soon be getting a visitor. So, summoning all of the saliva that he could muster, which was sadly not much, he tried his best to wet the inside of his mouth and pulled himself to his feet. Sure enough, after a while, the trapdoor lifted and the ladder came down Sam walked towards the door of his cage and prepared to face whoever should come down from above. He could tell even before he saw his face that it was the young looking Jamie, just based on the very colourful clothing emerging from the trapdoor. As had happened last time Jamie climbed down the ladder and then reached back up to grab the tray of food. "Can you back away from the door please?" he asked as he faced the prisoner for a second time. Sam shook his head, "Nope. You want to come in here then you and me are going to have get cosy." Jamie looked at Sam before looking up at the trap door. After the briefest of moments he shook his head ever so slightly and turned back to Sam, a look of slight desperation in his eyes. "Please Sam," he pleaded, "they'll make me take the food away again, and they'll get angry with me for not persuading you." "So what. I really don't care," responded Sam, "you can take your food and your punishment, and while you're at it tell them whatever it is that they want, they can whistle. Got it?" "You don't know them Sam, don't make it hard on yourself. I'm begging you." "Why don't you just leave. I told you, I'm not interested in anything you lot have to offer. Go on, fuck off." As he finished speaking Sam stepped forward in what he hoped was a strong and threatening manner. Jamie sighed and turned away from the cage shaking his head sadly. He handed the tray up to the people above the trap door before slowly climbing back up the ladder. At the last minute he cast a final beseeching look at the defiant Sam who was stood, unflinchingly watching his jailer disappear from view. The ladder followed Jamie through the gap in the ceiling before the hole was sealed and the lights went out. *** Lying alone in the darkness Sam's stomach growled angrily. It had been several hours since the lights had gone out and thirst was beginning to take it's toll on top of the hunger. With nothing to do but think the boy tried to work out if there was a reason why he had been taken. His parents were nowhere nearly rich enough for anybody to try and ransom him, so that was unlikely. He certainly didn't hold an important job with access to secret information, in fact he didn't hold any job at all. He was intending to leave Bristol the following month to attend the University of Chester and study for a BSc in Psychology. Again no reason there. As far as he was aware he hadn't even made any enemies that had grievances they would want to get even with him for. Unless, maybe, Andy wanted to get him out of the way so that could pursue Debbie unhindered, even in his current circumstances the absurdity of this thought somehow raised a slight smile on Sam's face. *** Sam was later awakened from a troubled sleep by the automated flushing of his toilet. Not that it needed flushing, Sam hadn't been to the toilet in a long time. The first thing that he noticed when he did wake up was the pounding headache, this was closely followed by a pain in his very dry throat as he tried to swallow. If the switching on of the lights did indeed signal the start of a new day then as far as he could work out it had been about two days since the last time he had been able to eat or drink anything and he was starting to feel the effects. For a brief moment Sam considered calling out in the darkness and conceding this first round in the fight over whatever it was. But the thought existed only very briefly before it was forcibly dismissed from his mind. Even being overcome by a bout of dizziness when he tried to sit up was not going to reduce his determination. *** In a quiet Bristol suburb Detective Inspector Gregory DeSilver took stock of the situation. The Walters' living room seemed smaller than it had when he first arrived now that there were so many occupants. Slowly the detective looked around measuring up every person one at a time. He looked back at his notes reading everything he had written so far during the meeting. "I am sorry Mrs Walters," he moved his gaze from late middle aged woman sat on a flowery sofa to the man sat next to her, "Mr Walters. I know this must be very difficult for you both and I promise that this is the last time I'll ask these questions today. I am just hoping that something, somewhere will jog a memory and give us something to go on. Any little thing that anyone can remember might be that one vital piece of information that gets you your son back." He looked around the room again, sitting in the corner he observed the WPC assigned to the family in their hour of need. Sat very primly on a stool, her notebook on her lap she looked like everything that the perfect Police Officer should be. But Detective Inspector DeSilver knew that there was a lot more to WPC Clare Bridges than met the eye and he had been very pleased to see that she had been assigned to this case. He must have allowed his gaze to linger too long because the blonde WPC looked up and caught his eye, her cheeks pinked prettily as she quickly looked away. "Right," continued DeSilver, "Er, Barry isn't it," he was now looking at one of the teenagers huddled around a comfy looking armchair. The boy nodded. "Can you tell me where you all were on Saturday night?" "Well it was Sam's birthday," began the boy looking nervously at his friends. "He was eighteen so we thought it would be good to take him to a club. Get his first legal drinks an' all. Anyway, there's this place in town called Pryzm and they do this Shisha stuff which we thought would be really cool, so we took Sam there." "That would be all of you, correct?" asked DeSilver. "Yeah, well except Andy," responded Barry, "he was out with his own friends, they just happened to be in the same place as us." DeSilver looked over to the boy called Andy. "Your Sam's cousin right?" he said. "That's right," answered Andy expecting more but DeSilver turned his attentions back to Barry. "Right Barry, tell me what happened in the club." "Well it was pretty cool to begin with, we had a few drinks then the Shisha turned up and that was radical, you know?" DeSilver shook his head. "Well it's just like being in one of them opium dens you see in the movies. Not that we was smoking opium or nothing. They don't even put real tobacco in them it's like one of them e-cigarette things but it still gives you a bit of a buzz." He tried to give his friends a comradely grin but nobody responded. "Okay," prodded DeSilver, "what happened when things stopped being 'cool'?" "Oh. Erm." the boy suddenly appeared a little more hesitant. "Well, you see Sam has had this crush on Debbie since we were at, well, playschool. He had decided that Saturday night was going to be the night he actually asked her out on a proper date. He was just plucking up the courage to ask her when Andy and his friends turned up. We were all a bit, you know, and suddenly there's Andy with his tongue down Debbie's throat." DeSilver noticed that one of the girls, a pretty little brunette with long curly hair, was looking down at the floor, tears trickling down her cheeks. Barry carried on with his story. "Sam got really pissed off and was ready to go and beat on his cousin so I was like, 'don't do it Sam' but he was really mad and kept pushing me. In the end Gregg had to come over and help me. It took a while but eventually we persuaded him to go outside and calm down. That was the last time I saw him." "Did you see anybody go out of the club after him?" asked the DI. "No Sir, but I wasn't really watching, I was on my way over to have a word with Andy. You know? Set him straight on a few things." DeSilver nodded. "I watched," interrupted Gregg, "I watched Sam all the way out of the door, and I hung around a bit in case he tried to to get back in. Nobody else left the club through that door while I was watching, I'm sure of it." "Did any of you see anyone paying Sam a lot of attention or anything unusual?" The teenagers all shook their heads and DeSilver sighed. "Okay, that will do for now. If you think of anything, and I do mean anything tell Clare here," he nodded towards Bridges, "and she will get a message to me." Now he turned and spoke directly to the Constable. "Are you alright staying here Clare, I'm going over to the club to see if their CCTV captured anything useful. This kid cannot have disappeared of the face of the planet without leaving at least a little clue." *** Tuesday 31st August 2010 *** When the lights came on for the third time Sam had to blink against the discomfort in his eyes. Even though the light was not bright, having spent so long in a dark environment his vision had done it's best to adapt and it was now slow to react to the changes. At first Sam couldn't work out where he was. The lights had brought him out of a deep sleep and his brain was becoming disorientated from a lack of water. The pain in his head was throbbing and his throat was parched. In addition to this his skin was now dry and dull looking. As the memories of the past few days began to creep back in Sam tried to pull himself to his feet and began to walk towards the door of the cage before the trap door opened and Jamie arrived. But the room around him seemed to sway and spin violently and Sam found himself falling back to the floor, cracking his shoulder on the bars of the cage. Sam was not the sort to be defeated that easily and, wincing with pain he managed to drag himself across the floor. Jamie reached the bottom of the ladder and stopped to stare at the wreck of a man in the cage before him. In just a few days Sam had gone from a healthy teenager to a sallow looking, gaunt figure. He slumped on the floor of the cage just inside the doorway, his lips were chapped and bloody and his skin was pale and dry. But it was his eyes that really caught Jamie's attention. They were ever so slightly sunken into his skull and surrounded by dark rings but they still burned bright with defiance and anger. Something inside the boy just could not help but admire the strength in the person in front of him. A man no older than himself in years, but in fortitude they were miles apart. A cough from above brought him out of his thoughts and he looked up to see the tray hanging above his head. Reaching up he grasped it and brought it down. He turned back to the cage. "Are you going to behave?" he asked the sickly figure on the floor. Amazingly Sam grinned, the movement causing some of the scabs on his lips to crack open and tiny rivulets of blood gathered in the splits. "Why don't you open the door and find out," he croaked, a lack of fluids making his voice harsh and raspy. "You do realise that if you don't drink something soon you will die." Jamie tried again, "Please Sam, just drink something. Anything." Some people might call it luck, some people might call it divine intervention. But whatever you call it, the flushing of the toilet at that precise moment could well have saved Sam's life. His brain was too far gone to pick up on it straight away but later, when he was alone in the dark once more, a thought slowly made it through the fog and into his consciousness. *** It might have been completely dark but Sam could see a myriad of colours and shapes dancing across his vision as dehydration started to cause his brain to lose control. Fighting desperately for lucidity Sam sat on the mattress that made up his bed and recited the last conversation that he had had with his jailer, Jamie. As he muttered to himself a thought somehow fought it's way through the fog that was his mind and connected two separate incidents. He was recalling Jamie telling him that if he didn't drink something he would die when something, deep down in the darkness of his recollection, screamed at him, toilet. Slowly, almost reluctantly, the thought formed. The toilet had flushed as Jamie had spoken. Sam hadn't had to use the toilet all that much in the last twenty four hours so he hadn't thought about it. But now he did think and he cursed himself for his stupidity. Mustering up every ounce of willpower that he had, Sam tried to drag his body across the floor of the cage in what he hoped was the direction of the toilet bowl. His progress was painfully slow but it was progress and, inch by inch, he crept closer and closer to his goal. He did have to rest just after the half way point but after a few moments Sam gathered himself for one final push. The whole time that he lay on the floor of the cage, bars digging into his sore flesh, Sam made a mental note to keep himself pointing the right way and to make sure his tired, dehydrated and disorientated mind didn't take him off in a random direction away from the water. As he started to move it did try. A little voice in his head insisted that he had been turned around and needed to change his direction. Fortunately enough of the boy was still alert to ignore that voice and he went straight on resolutely ignoring the traitorous thought until it was silenced by the bumping of his head into the hard metallic bowl of the toilet. Dragging himself up Jamie resisted the temptation to simply thrust his head down the bowl. Choosing instead to dip a single hand into the water and scooping it up into his mouth. It was that God or fate or whatever you want to call it having an effect again. The small amounts of water that Jamie was able to scoop up into his mouth meant that he didn't drink too much too quickly, the result of which would have been to vomit the whole lot back up. By taking it slowly he had managed to drink a reasonable amount by the time the lights came on to signal the start of a new day and Sam was actually feeling much better in himself. Not that he was ready to show them that. *** It took DI DeSilver twenty minutes to drive from his home to the club called Pryzm. A bomb scare in the Bristol aquarium had prevented anyone getting into the area the previous evening and he been forced to wait until now to carry on his investigation. By the time he arrived DeSilver had already drawn up a mental list of the things that could have possibly happened to Sam. The most positive thought was that he had simply moved on to somewhere else, drowned his sorrows and was now sleeping it off in some hotel room somewhere. Sadly DeSilver had been in the job for far too long and in his experience cases like this very rarely came to the most positive conclusion. Before going into the club DI DeSilver took a walk around to look at the front exit, the one that Sam had apparently left through just two nights ago. The door opened out onto a large open cobbled space that was completely overlooked by the windows of the club, as well as other buildings. Even in the daylight the night club was an impressive site from this angle, DeSilver knew that it was even better in the dark when the frontage was all lit up with neon. His well honed policeman's brain instinctively told him that there was no way anybody could be forcibly abducted from this square without being seen by someone. If young Sam Walters had gone, he had done so voluntarily. DeSilver was met at the door to the club by his sergeant DS Carl Brightwater, a very smart young officer who had the world at his feet. The DCI, Justin Stanfforde, had paired the two up three years earlier expecting the young rising star to quickly overtake his staid, senior officer and move up. Instead, the two men fell into a very productive and comfortable working relationship as well as a strange sort of friendship. The thought of promotion never seemed to cross Brightwater's mind. "What you got for me Carl?" asked the DI as they walked into the club. "CCTV's set up in the managers office," responding the sergeant, "he seems very keen to help. Everyone at the club has worked hard at building up a good reputation and he wants to protect it. "I've also got all of the doormen who worked last night on their way in so we can take their statements. Only got two of the barmen that worked the lower floor on their way, haven't managed to get hold of the rest yet. We're still trying to identify the Shisha girl that served the victims table. Hopefully one of the barmen can tell us. I figured we can talk to other members of staff later, otherwise there'll be too many to handle comfortably." "Nice work, have you had a look around?" "Yeah, to be honest though the place has been thoroughly cleaned since Saturday, the odds of us getting anything are very slim." "I'm sure the SOCO boys will see it as a personal challenge, when will they be here?" "Arrived ten minutes ago Boss," Brightwater allowed himself a small smile at his small victory, "it's Channing's crew so we should know something pretty soon." The two men arrived at the managers office and DeSilver knocked before pushing the door open. The manager, a middle aged, balding man with a spreading paunch was sat behind his desk in the middle of a phone call. As soon as he saw the Police Officers coming through the door he made his excuses to the person on the line and hung up. "This is DCI DeSilver," said the DS introducing his superior, " and this is Mr Addams, he runs the club." The manager stood and offered his hand to DeSilver. "This is a terrible thing Inspector." He said sincerely. "If there is anything we can do, a lot of our customers come at least once a week so if somebody saw something..." He trailed off but had done enough to impress the DCI, normally business people wanted to sound helpful but get things sorted in a matter of minutes. Addams sounded as though he generally wanted to help. "Thank you Mr Addams, you have no idea how grateful the family of the missing boy will be to know you are being helpful. Now would it be possible to view the CCTV tapes?" Giving his consent the club manager led the way from his office to the security suite. Inside the suite the Policemen were faced with a whole bank of TV monitors. At the moment most of them were blank although a few screens showed views of the outside of the club. The office was manned by two technicians, both relatively young and looking nothing like a stereotypical security guard. "How many cameras do you actually have on the premises?" asked Brightwater, clearly impressed. "One hundred and fifty in operation at the minute." Answered one of the technicians, a skinny long haired man wearing brown cords and a plain white t-shirt. "Were you on duty on Saturday night?" the DS was getting into his stride and DeSilver let the younger man take the lead. "Yes Sir," smiled the man, "Davey and me practically live in here." He indicated the second young technician, this one sported a grade one shaved head dyed a very vivid shade of red, black jeans and a long sleeved black t-shirt. "We were both in on Saturday, not that we saw anything. It's very rare that we see anything unless we get an alert from the floor. The cameras though, they see everything, and they never forget a single detail." He cracked his knuckles and rolled his chair towards a keyboard underneath one of the biggest monitors. "What do you need to see?" It was time for DeSilver to take over. Pulling out his notebook he flicked his way through the pages until he found what he was looking for. Reading from the book he recited the description that he'd been given to find the table that the kids had been sitting at. As his partners fingers began to tap at the keyboard, Davey turned to the Policemen and grinned. "Man you gotta see my man Mike fly. Ain't nobody get around this system like him." DS Brightwater nodded absently, his eyes transfixed on the flying fingers of the man called Mike. Suddenly he pressed a key with a flourish and pushed his chair back. Above him the screen flickered into life showing the inside of one of the bars, it had evidently been recorded during a busy time in the bar as the screen was filled with a heaving mass of humanity. "Now if I'm right," he said his eyes on the screen, "your boys should be round about there." He pointed up at the screen and sure enough there were was Sam's birthday party in full swing. DeSilver confirmed Mikes assessment and the young man leaned over to his keyboard and pressed a few more keys. Five more screens sprang into life each showing different views of the table from various parts of the room. "If anyone was watching your boy," explained Mike, "we should be able to spot them on one of these." For a time nobody spoke at all, everybody totally focused on the screens in front of them. They watched people come and go around the group at the table. They saw the moment when Sam's cousin Andy arrived and the moment when he stole Sam's girl from under his nose. They stood glued as Barry and Sam argued and followed Sam's walk to the door with their eyes. Eventually De Silver shook his head. "It's no good," he said, "I haven't seen a single potential suspect anywhere. Nobody has paid them the slightest bit of notice all night." "We ain't finished yet man," smiled Davey, "it's time to hit the outside. Will you do the honours Mike?" Mike nodded his head and started tapping the keys again. Soon the pictures on the screens changed to show the outside of the club. On the main screen the group were able to see Sam walking through the doors, as he did he stopped for a moment to speak to one of the doormen. Then he was off again, walking across the cobbled square until he passed out of view of the camera. A quick click on the keyboard and the image changed again to pick up their victims progress. On the far side of the square Sam sat down on the cobbles and leaned against a wall, his head in his hands. From the corner of the screen a figure appeared, it's back to the camera. The figure crossed the square towards Sam, occasionally looking to the side but never revealing his features to the viewing Police. "Come on," muttered Brightwater under his breath, "show us your face you bugger." Then aloud he added, "It's definitely a bloke boss, but you'd think he knows the cameras there." "Those cameras are pretty obvious to be honest," responded Mike, "but I do have a couple that he might not have noticed." He tapped his keyboard once more and all the screens except the main one went blank before two flickered back into life. Each of these screens showed Sam and the stranger from different angles but even in these the strangers face could not be seen. For the first time Mike began to appear less than totally cool. "God dammit," he cursed, "how are you not showing your face to me?" Angrily he punched the keyboard and all three screens zoomed into the man's head, seemingly, simultaneously. But in every shot his face was covered by an oversized hood. As the footage moved on there were a few moments when it appeared that the man's face would finally come into view, but at the last second he changed the direction of his movement and the whole room would sigh in disappointment. Sam and the stranger sat and talked in the square for over fifteen minutes, with several passers by appearing in the cameras lens as they did. Eventually the stranger stood and offered his hand to the young man, without hesitation Sam accepted the offer and was pulled to his feet. Unable to do anything DCI DeSilver was forced to watch as the two of them walked directly away from the camera. "Right I need a statement from the doormen, especially the one who spoke to Sam on his way out." Instructed the DCI, "Mike can you get me stills of every single person that walked past the two of them while they were talking?" Mike nodded. "No problem, I'll check other cameras to see if there was anything we missed as well." "Thanks." DeSilver turned to Addams, "Thank you for your co-operation Mr Addams, I will send somebody over to discuss the best way of getting any information that your customers can give us. You know them better than we do so I'll leave it to your judgement." "No problem Inspector," replied the club manager, "if there is someone preying on our customers I want him stopped immediately." *** Wednesday 1st September 2010 *** When Jamie next came down the ladder into the cellar he half expected to see Sam's lifeless body lying on the mattress in the corner of the cage. For reasons he could not work out he found himself feeling pleasantly surprised to see him sat on the floor with his head down. Jamie took the tray from the man above the trap and placed it on the floor in front of Sam so that the unfortunate boy would be able to see as well as smell the food and water it carried. Once the tray was set down Jamie sat himself behind it and looked at the prisoner. "Can you hear me Sam?" He asked the person in front of him. "If you can hear me, you really must drink something. They tell me that you probably won't make it through another night if you don't take in at least some water." Suddenly he stopped talking and gawped. Sam had raised his head just a little and, although he still did not look good, Jamie could see more life in his eyes than had been there the previous morning and a wicked grin was spreading across his face. "Why don't you come back in the morning and we'll find out who's dead, huh?" Whispered Sam. "It won't be me, I promise you that." The sight of a revitalised and slightly crazy looking prisoner unnerved Jamie and he backed quickly away from the cage. His mind was racing to understand what he had just seen. Surely there was no way that the young man in the cage could be fitter than he had been on the previous day. It was simply impossible. So lost in his thoughts and fear was Jamie that he was already on the ladder and climbing until the man hidden upstairs made him go back and retrieve the tray of food. *** Thursday 2nd September 2010 *** Sam was completely losing track of time as he lay in the total blackness of his cell. With no light and nothing to do to help time pass it was impossible to gauge the passing of the hours. Sam's time was spent worrying about the future, contemplating his situation and suffering the pains and discomforts caused by a lack of food. At least the thirst had been overcome and this did at least make it easier for him to sleep, relatively speaking. Although on this occasion he didn't feel as though he had been asleep for very long when something woke him up. He listened hard for a clue as to what it was but there were no sounds penetrating the darkness. Lying on his mattress Sam went back to considering his situation. It had been two days since he had thought to drink the water out of the toilet bowl and was now feeling much better within himself. It was a shame that he hadn't managed to find an equally clever way to relieve his hunger. As though confirming this concern his stomach let out a growl. If he was going to find a way out of this predicament that was a problem that needed solving and quickly. Sam pulled himself up onto his knees and very carefully picked his way over to the toilet, his hands feeling out the path in front of him. Before urinating he quickly scooped up a couple of handfuls of water to drink and then settled himself down to do his business. There was no point in trying to aim at the bowl in the darkness and the smell of wee was bad enough without pissing on the floor so Sam had taken to sitting down to do it. Once he had finished he returned to his bed and this time he was able to fall back to sleep relatively quickly. The next time that he awoke the smell of stale urine in the air was stronger than normal. Sam lay on the mattress and gingerly felt around his body to see if, maybe, he had messed himself during his sleep. Everything was dry. He sat up and listened carefully but there were no sounds, he strained his eyes in the darkness but could see nothing. Somehow Sam knew that something was wrong but what it was he did not know. All he could do was sit in the darkness and wait until something tangible happened. Eventually that something did happen and it began with the light doing its funny little flicker and coming on. By now Sam was beginning to feel his thirst building so he hurried over to the toilet for a drink. As he neared it the smell of stale urine intensified and with horror, Sam realised what had caused him to wake up during the night. He hadn't been disturbed by a noise, in fact it was quite the opposite. Sam had been disturbed by the absence of a noise, one that had been so frequent and regular during his time in captivity his subconscious had noticed it's absence and alerted his active mind. At some time during the night his captors had turned off the automatic flush mechanism on the toilet and his clean water was now tainted. He was still stood staring at the bowl when the trapdoor opened. It wasn't Jamie that came through the trap door this time. It was the man who called himself Jon. He was closely followed by a large, scary looking man. Standing at over six foot tall Nick Goodfellow did not live up to his name. His head was devoid of hair and covered in Celtic design tattoos, as were his chest and arms. His muscles flexed as he moved and Sam instinctively stepped away from the door. "You're not being very cooperative here Sam," said Jon, a bored look on his face. "I was kind of hoping that you'd be a bit more agreeable. My man Nick here, well, I think he wants you to carry on fighting. He does like fighting does our Nick, don't you?" The big man grinned and grunted something that sounded like an affirmation. "Cooperate," hissed Sam, "you drug me, kidnap me, lock me in a cage and then you expect me to cooperate. What sort of idiot do you take me for?" Jon grinned maliciously. "The sort of idiot that doesn't know when to quit." He nodded at his companion and the big man moved forwards to open the door of the cage. Sam backed up even further as the man monster walked towards him, Jon ambling in behind him as though he was wandering through a park. Stumbling over his mattress Sam crashed into the bars of the cage and that was all the encouragement that Goodfellow needed and, with a turn of speed that belied his size, he was across the floor and had hold of Sam with one huge hand around the boys neck. Using his free hand the big man ripped the shirt off Sam's back at the same time as he smashed the boy's body back against the bars of the cage knocking the wind out of him. Jon ambled up to Sam, pulling a syringe out of his pocket. Leaning in close to the teenagers head he whispered in his ear. "You see, it would have been so much easier, and less painful, had you just cooperated with young Jamie. Still, this way is so much more fun... well, it is for me anyway." With that he plunged the syringe into the top of Sam's arm and depressed the plunger. When Jamie came down the ladder an hour later Sam was sat on his mattress clutching his knees up tight to his chest and shivering. "Are you alright Sam?" asked Jamie, the concern in his voice sounding genuine. At first Sam didn't answer, prompting Jamie to ask again. "I thought I was dead," Sam finally answered. "I thought he'd killed me. I could see myself lying on the floor and I wasn't moving. How could I see myself? What happened?" "If I come in will you behave?" Asked Jamie without answering Sam's questions. The prisoner nodded so Jamie unlocked the door to the cage and walked in, setting the tray of food down on the end of the mattress before settling himself next to it. "Jon gave you an injection of Ketamine," he explained, "that's what it does to you. Well one of the things, probably the worst. It's one of his favourite ways of punishing new people, and there's nothing you can do to fight it. Still it's probably better than getting a beating from Nasty Nick." Sam didn't say a word he just sat there, blankly staring and shaking. Eventually Jamie simply stood up, "I'll leave your food here for you. You just eat it when you're ready." With that he got up and walked out of the cage carefully closing the door behind him. After another couple of hours Sam slowly started to regain his senses and edged his body towards the tray of food at the bottom of the bed. The fried breakfast had gone cold and congealed but that didn't stop the young man from wolfing down his first meal in days. He devoured the food in less than five minutes. *** Saturday 6th November 2010 *** Over two months had passed since Sam was kidnapped outside the Pryzm club on the night of his 18th birthday. Over two months since he seen anything outside the room that he was being held captive in. Over two months when the only company he'd had where his kidnapper Jon, the human brick wall Nick Goodfellow and Jamie, the one ray of sunshine in an otherwise desperate place. For the first few weeks of his captivity Jon had forcibly given the boy an injection of the powerful Ketamine. This caused him to suffer from some severe hallucinations as well as what can only be described as near death experiences. By the end of those few weeks Sam had become a nervous wreck and was only too willing to accept Jon's offer of a nicer, happier alternative. Sadly for Sam that alternative was heroin. On the first day of this new regime, about thirty seconds after the injection Sam began to feel very relaxed, until he threw up all over his bed that is. By the end of that week it was taking just 5 to 10 seconds after the injection before he began to feel the rush. The rush felt incredible, all at once Sam's body began to feel heavy and he felt this very strong warmth starting in the centre of his chest and radiating out from his body. The initial rush would only last for maybe 30 seconds, making his eyelids droop or even close, though he would never fall asleep. It was strange but somehow he could smell the heroin that was flowing through his body and even taste it in his mouth even though he had never licked any of the powder. By the end of the second week all that he felt was a sense of warmth and well being. He began to look forward to his daily visits from Jon with what became known as his little friend and on the one day that his captor didn't arrive he started to become a bit agitated and nervous. Jamie came down the ladder and, as always, reached back up for Sam's food. Now that the prisoner was cooperating with his captors he was getting three good meals a day and, more importantly, the lights in his room were staying on during what Sam assumed was the day time and only switching off at night. Having this sense of time reintroduced into his life made things feel a lot easier for Sam and he was beginning to open up to his jailer and only friendly contact. He didn't forget where he was or what was happening and he certainly never stopped looking for a means to escape. But making the time pass more easily until that moment arrived made a lot of sense. "Morning Sam," said the colourfully clad youth as he opened the cage. "Hi Jamie, have we got anything exciting to eat today?" "Let's have a look shall we?" Jamie responded as he lifted the cover off Sam's plate to expose a pile of bacon and scrambled eggs. "doesn't look too bad to me." With previous prisoners Jamie had eaten with them occasionally just to make them feel safe in his presence. Having a friend amongst the kidnappers was supposed to make it easier to break their will later on, But he had actually begun to like Sam, there was no pretence necessary, and had taken to eating with him whenever possible to help that feeling of friendship to grow. "Why do you stay here?" Sam asked his new friend as he ate. "You don't seem to be the same type as the rest of them?" "They look after me, Mr Jackson is actually a very generous man." responded Jamie. "Jackson?" enquired Jamie. "Is that Jon's second name?" "Jon?" Jamie laughed, "God no, Jon's not in charge here. He just works for Mr Jackson same as Nick. He likes to act like he's the big boss man but you should see him when Mr Jackson gets pissed. He almost wets himself." "So what's this Mr Jackson like, one minute you're telling me he's really generous now you're telling me that Jon's scared of him. Which is it?" "Oh he's really nice most of the time. If you stay on his good side then you'll get along just fine. Like I said he's really generous, he pays for all our brown out of his own pocket and he is very careful about the purity so we don't get sick. "If you get him angry though, well then he totally changes. He gets so mad and violent, that's when he is really frightening. It's usually only Jon that really catches it though. Like he did with you." "Me?" Sam looked puzzled, "What about me?" "Well most of the kids that come through here are street kids like me. You know, runaways. With nobody to report them missing or anything. When Mr Jackson saw your picture on the TV with the Police and your Mum and Dad and everything. Well, he went ballistic. Came around here and was booting Jon all around the house. Reckoned he was putting everything in danger. "That's why it took so long for Jon to come down here with his drugs, he had to recover from the beating." Sam smiled, but his brain was now racing. "How many people are there in here?" He asked. "At the minute just Jon, Nick, you and me. But that could change at any minute." "What about the street kids you mentioned, where are they?" "Oh they get moved on as soon as Mr Jackson has a place for them. Sometimes they can be in and out in a few months. It's only me that seems to be permanently stuck here." Jamie's mood shifted a little. "That bit's not very nice really, I just start getting to like someone and they're gone. At least I've got you to talk to now though eh? For some reason I seem to get on with you easier than most." "Where do they go?" "Who? Oh the other kids. Depends really. Wherever Mr Jackson sends them I suppose. Sometimes he has rich customers that come and get them, other times they just get loaded in a car and disappear. I reckon the ones that get collected are the lucky ones." Jamie was being as serious as Sam had ever seen him as he dwelt on their situation. "Why do you say that?" "The ones that go off in the cars. I never see them again. At least some of the others come back with their new owners from time to time." The two boys fell into silence for a moment, eating their food and dwelling on Jamie's words. Eventually it was Jamie who broke the quiet. "You know at some point they're going to ask for something back from you?" "What do you mean ask for something back?" Sam responded angrily. "For what? Let's get this straight, they are the ones that kidnapped me and they are holding me prisoner. If anyone deserves anything back it's me. I didn't ask for any of this." "Maybe not but they're still going to ask for some sort of payment for the drugs." Sam got even angrier and actually shouted back at that one, "I don't want the drugs, I never wanted the bloody drugs. They forced me to take those drugs so there is no way on earth that I am going to pay for them. If they don't like it then they can take their bloody drugs and shove them where the sun don't shine." Jamie shook his head sadly. He'd seen resistance from prisoners before and he knew what would happen. "We'll see Sam. We'll see." *** DeSilver looked up at the knock on his office door, the massive frame of a Detective Constable filled the frame. "There's a guy in interview two that says he needs to speak to you boss" he said his low voice rumbling in the DI's ears. "Thanks Mark," responded the DI, "I'll be down in a minute, can you make sure he's got a coffee or whatever?" "Already done Boss." DeSilver smiled, he was very proud of his team. He had spent a lot of time moulding some of the roughest coppers in Bristol into the best squad around. With the criminals they were still as hard as nails, but with any one else they were public servants in the old fashioned sense of the word. Not once had there been a story in the media criticising the antics of one of DeSilver's people. When he entered the interview room DeSilver was surprised to see Mike Lovell, the security technician from Pryzm, sat on the other side of the table nursing a coke and looking nervous. DS Brightwater was sat opposite him with two cups of coffee on his side of the table. No cheap plastic cups of vending machine coffee for DeSilver's team. The man was a self confessed coffee snob and had insisted on having a range of proper coffee machines installed in the team's break room. As Brightwater saw the DI enter the room he stood and help out one of the coffee's. "Thanks Carl," acknowledged DeSilver before looking over at Mike. "Hello again Mr Lovell, did you come across something on one of the other cameras?" Having had virtually no luck in the case after two months DeSilver was ready to clutch at any straw being offered and he could feel his hopes rising just a little. It didn't last long and they fell again as Mike shook his head. "Not exactly Inspector," he said looking up from his coke. DeSilver could see anguish in the young man's eyes and wondered what could be causing it. He didn't have to wait long to find out as Mike continued to talk. "It had been bugging me for ages that we hadn't been able to find anything in any of the footage from the club so I went back for another look., Actually it was about the tenth time I'd been for another look. This time though, while I was messing about I noticed that some of the viewing logs had been altered." He responded to DeSilver's quizzical look. "Every time somebody watches a specific camera on one of the terminals it automatically creates a log, that way if ever we are called to watch an incident anywhere on the premises it is recorded and can be easily found at a later date." "Makes sense," commented Brightwater, Mike carried on. "Anyway that Saturday the logs said that nobody watched anything specifically other than one incident that I was called to watch at about half past twelve. Just some drunk girl getting into an argument, nothing interesting. It was pure luck that I noticed how, at one point there was a single minute of log repeated. Well that can't happen, I mean you can't have two camera's showing on the same screen at the same time. Not possible. So I dug around for a bit and found some code that had physically altered the log, whoever did it must have caught the wrong key or something and messed up that one time code. Once I had found one piece of code it didn't take long to find a couple more from the same night. I removed the code and reset the logs, I've given Sergeant Brightwater a copy already." "Do you know who changed the logs Mike?" Asked DeSilver. "Yes Sir, only two people it could have been, and it wasn't me." Lovell appeared to visibly deflate at the question and his answer was evasive, but DeSilver felt that the young man's guilt was for something more than feeling responsible over not finding the code earlier. "Do you know what, or who they were watching?" "Yes." "Are you willing to give us a statement?" Mike took a deep breath and closed his for a moment. Whatever was going on in his head was troubling him but eventually he made the right decision. "Yes Sir." Mike hesitated before speaking again but now it all came out. "I made Mr Addams hire him. It's my fault. I thought that I could trust him you see." "What do you mean?" asked the DI, although he was starting to realise the answer to his own question and what had caused the younger man's earlier anguish. "Davey." answered Mike. "I knew that he had a drug habit years ago but he told me he was clean and I believed him. When he applied for the job as my assistant Mr Addams didn't want to hire him, thought it was too much of a risk in that sort of a role. I said there was no risk and that nobody else could do the job as well as Davey, he's almost as good as me." He added that with a rueful smile. "I guess I was wrong." DeSilver thought carefully over what he had heard before speaking. "So are you telling me that your assistant, Davey, had been watching our victim during the night he went missing?" "Yes Sir, but it wasn't just that," Mike became a little more animated, "he watched the actual abduction as well. He sat there watching that kid getting led away by that bloke and never said a word. He knew what was going to happen when we watched the tape on the Monday but kept quiet. Why would he do that?" "Who knows why some people do the things they do," said Brightwater calmly. "I take it you didn't notice anything about Davey's behaviour on the actual night to make you suspicious?" Mike shook his head, "When it's busy like that we're both pretty much focused on our own terminals. There's a lot to watch and we each have a different rotation of camera's so that as much of the club is seen as possible. I never saw a thing." "Well, thanks to your perseverance Mike, we know all about it now. Look, one thing you mustn't do is blame yourself for what your friend has done," said DeSilver a very serious look on his face, "we all like to think the best of the people we know and it would be a sad world if we didn't trust our friends. You did nothing wrong at all and you need to accept that and move on. Carl will take a formal statement from you. I need to arrange for someone to pick up our little voyeur. Do you know where he'll be Mike?" Mike nodded. "At work. Wondering where I am no doubt." "Great. I'll get a couple of uniforms to bring him in. Thanks again Mike, you never know this could save that kids life." With that DeSilver offered his hand to the long haired technician, which was gratefully accepted, before leaving the room. David Robert Evans, better known to his friends as Davey, was busy watching cartoons on his security monitor when the Police arrived to arrest him. The two constables were followed into the room by a very angry looking night club manager as well as a couple of the clubs own doormen. "Are you David Robert Evans?" Asked one of the two constables. Too shocked to speak Davey just nodded so the police officer continued, "I am arresting you on suspicion of conspiracy to carry out the abduction of one Sam Walters on the night of Saturday August 29th of this year. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand your rights as I have explained them?" Again Davey nodded. "Good then I will ask you to stand up and hold your hands out in front of you that I can put these handcuffs on you." The constable produced a pair of handcuffs from the pouch on his belt and fastened them around the red haired boys wrists. Addams,, the club manager, had been silently seething the whole time that this was going on and he finally took the opportunity to put in his five pennies worth. "You can take this as your termination notice as well Evans," he yelled angrily, "and that goes for your hippy mate as well." *** Friday 7th November 2010 *** Detective Sergeant Brightwater stood towering over the dejected figure of David Evans whilst DC Mark Cooper lurked with intent in the doorway. "Right then Mr Evans," smiled the DS, "would you like to tell us why you were watching Sam Walters on your terminal on the night of Saturday August 29th?" "I don't know what you mean," stammered Evans, "I wasn't watching anyone in particular. Our screens are set up to rotate through specific cameras on a schedule so that we see as much of the club as possible." "That would normally be the case," insisted Brightwater, "but Saturday was different wasn't it? On Saturday night you spent extra time watching Mr Walters, didn't you?" Evans tried to stay in control but you could see, even in these early stages, that it wouldn't take a lot to break this particular young man. "I didn't do anything" he shouted, his voice a little bit higher than it would normally be. "Okay," Brightwater backed off for a moment to let his opponent relax his guard a little. "Tell me how long have you worked at Pryzm, Davey?" Returning to the use of Evans' first name calmed the younger man even more. "A couple of years now." "Is it a good place to work?" Brightwater was concentrating his questions away from their target in the hope that Evans would let his guard down, but at the same time they had to stay near to the point so that he would be easy to lead back. "It's alright I suppose, Addams tends to leave us alone most of the time. I don't reckon he really understands what it is we do." Evans let a small smile cross his face at the thought, and DS Brightwater didn't miss it. "Did you know Mike before you started working together?" Another smile from Evans, he was feeling much more comfortable now and was beginning to believe that the copper had just been fishing to start with. It was an old trick and Carl Brightwater could never understand how, time after time, criminals fell for it but they nearly always did. "Ah," began Evans, "me and Mikey go all the way back to school man," the DS inwardly smiled at the use of the word man. It wouldn't be long now. Evans continued talking. "It was Mikey who got the me the job at Pryzm you know. Addams didn't want me but Mikey put him straight." "Why didn't Mr Addams want you?" asked Brightwater feigning ignorance. Following the interview with Mike Lovell he already new the answer to the question but how Evans responded would be an important indicator on how soon he could bring out the pertinent questions and attack. "I was a bit of an idiot when I was younger," chuckled Evans, "got in with some bad dudes, did some smack, did a bit of time too. Didn't need a second dose of that, got myself clean real quick, I can tell you. This cat does not intend to go back inside for no man." Brightwater could almost have laughed out loud when he heard that, this kid was literally going to hand him everything he needed to know. "So who abducted Sam, Davey?" "I told you man I don't know." "I think that you do Davey," Brightwater moved in for the kill. "I know that you were watching him on the CCTV when he was in the club and that you watched him leave with our suspect. Now you will tell me who our suspect is." "I don't know," the voice was getting higher again, this time Brightwater was not going to back off. "Listen to me Evans." No more niceties like first names now, "and listen carefully. You might think you are a brilliant computer whiz but trust me you're not. It took less than half an hour to find your mistake, yes you made a mistake, and once we had that we had everything else. I wonder what we'd find if we went even further back, have you done it before? Maybe I should get someone to check." Evans went white. "I can't go back to prison man, I can't go back." Within seconds every ounce of resilience that the technician had had was gone. "So tell me who our stranger is." Said Brightwater a bit of kindness in his voice, "do that for me and I'll do everything I can to keep you out of prison." "I've never met him, honestly." Evans was totally defeated and crestfallen. Brightwater knew it wouldn't be too hard to break a man like this, but even he couldn't have foreseen the ease with which Evans broke. "He contacted me by phone about eighteen months ago. Called himself Jon, never told me his surname." Evans stopped. "Carry on Davey", encouraged Brightwater, "I'm sure he didn't just say find me someone to kidnap and you went okay. Did he?" Evans kept his head down low as he spoke. "When I had my problems a few years ago I got into debt with a dealer, quite a lot of debt really. Anyway the dealer got put away for murder while I was inside so I thought I'd got away with it. This Jon bloke said that he the dealer had put a contract out on me and if I didn't help him he would collect. I said no at first but then my dog turned up with his balls in his mouth and his dick sticking out of a hole in his throat. I loved that dog more than anything." By now tears were streaming down the man's face his sadness at the loss of his dog obvious. "The next time he rang he said he had something even better planned for my Mum if I didn't agree to help him. I had no choice man." The DS walked around the table and put his arm on the sobbing man's shoulder, "It's alright Davey, we'll get him. Just one last question, the dealer. Who is he?" "Calls himself Broadsid