Broken Blue: The Complete Series

by Amy Cross

  I stare at him for a moment. "I'll wait," I say eventually, shivering at the thought of sharing the elevator with him. "Send it straight back up".

  "Of course," he says, stepping into the elevator. The doors close, and finally he's gone.

  "Will you at least let me explain?" Mark says.

  "Explain what?" I ask, feeling my eyes fill with tears.

  "Everything," he says. "Aren't you curious?"

  I take a deep breath, trying to work out what to do. On the one hand, I want to get out of here and forget about everything that happened tonight; on the other hand, there's undeniably a part of me that feels compelled to stay. I feel like I want to leave just to prove that I'm not some dumb, easily manipulated idiot, but at the same time I want to stay because... because of some feeling deep down, something that's piquing my curiosity and telling me I have to at least let him try to explain. Running away would feel stupid, and so would staying; if I'm going to feel stupid either way, I guess I might as well know the truth.

  "Elly?" he says after a moment.

  "How long will it take for the elevator to go down and then come back up?" I ask, keeping my back to him. The last thing I want is for him to know that I'm on the verge of crying, though I'm pretty sure he can tell I'm upset from the quivering tone of my voice.

  "Three or four minutes," he replies.

  "Then you've got three or four minutes," I say. I guess I could probably go and find the emergency exit, but I might as well at least listen to his pathetic attempt to justify what happened tonight. Try as I might, I can't quite bring myself to push him away just yet. Maybe he's just a lecherous, perverted guy who gets his kicks from humiliating girls, and maybe I'm a fool for even listening to his excuses, but there's a part of me that wants to know the truth about what happened tonight. Taking a deep breath, and doing my best to wipe away the tears from the corners of my eyes, I turn to him. "Well?"

  Three

  1896

  Covent Garden is packed with people at lunchtime, which is just what I was hoping. Right now, as I hobble slowly toward my destination, I'm a lot safer in crowds. Sure, Lady Red and her friends have eyes and ears across the whole city, but at least this way I'm making it a little harder for them to find me. I know I can't evade them forever, and I know they'll track me down eventually; what I need, though, is a little time so that I can set a few things in motion. I spent the whole night on the cellar floor until John the Pig finally came down and told me it's okay to leave. All things considered, my leg isn't doing too badly, although the pain is ever-present. There's no sign of infection, at least. All around me, people are giving me dirty looks as I struggle along, but I don't care. I just have to reach my destination.

  "Jonathan Pope?" asks a male voice as soon as I enter one of the small shops in the corner of the square.

  "I need help," I say.

  Sitting behind his desk, Cather May narrows his eyes as he stares at me. Cather's an old man, though no-one knows exactly how old: some say he's close to a hundred, but that daily cups of green tea keep him looking like he's in his sixties; others say that he's actually only forty, but that his inner demons have aged him a couple of decades. Either way, Cather is the kind of man who has contacts, and he's the only person who might be able to help me disappear. The only problem, and the reason why I normally wouldn't come anywhere near him, is that he's a slippery bastard, prone to selling out anyone if the price is high enough. If you believe the stories, he once sold his own grandparents to a workhouse south of the river.

  "You look like shit," he says with a smile.

  "I feel like shit," I reply.

  "You are shit," he adds.

  "I need to get away," I say, limping over to his desk and finally easing myself into a chair. "Away from London. Forever. No coming back. No links. A new name, a new identity, a new country. And I need it fast". I pause for a moment. "Oh, and I have absolutely no money".

  Cather stares at me for a moment. "And you expect me to help you because..."

  "Because you're my last option," I say. "You know full well that I'd never come to you unless it was urgent, but I need to get away, and it needs to happen immediately. Within twelve hours, twenty-four at most".

  "Sounds like you have some powerful enemies," he replies, raising an eyebrow.

  "I always have powerful enemies," I point out.

  "But you've never needed to run away before," he says. "You've always stood and fought, although..." He looks down at my injured leg. "Something tells me you've already tried fighting, and it didn't work out too well". He pauses for a moment. "If you need help, try John the Pig. He's more your sort of fellow".

  "John the Pig stitched me up," I reply, "but the things I need right now are beyond even his purview. He's good for domestic matters, but you're better connected on the continent. I need to go somewhere I can never be found".

  "Where are you thinking?" he asks.

  "Asia, perhaps". I sigh. "I don't know the world very well, Cather. I know London like the back of my hand; every street, every alley, every crack in the pavement. But once I leave London, I'm lost, and that's why I've come to you". I wait to see if he's going to accept my explanation. It's a long shot, but I figure he'll probably be intrigued. Cather and I have always kept rather far apart, so he should at least be interested in the fact that I'm now sitting here, begging for his help. "I'll be dead if I don't get away," I continue. "The only thing I can offer you is my network. You know I've got connections. I know things. I'll turn over my entire operation to you, in exchange for your help in getting me the hell out of here".

  "Your operation?" he asks. "Mr. Pope, I hope you don't think I'm being rude, but your operation isn't worth a ton of shit to me. You deal with low-life thugs. Why do you think I would ever want to lower myself to such a level?"

  "It's all I've got," I reply, "and I'm desperate. Surely you can do something with my network? Perhaps you can sell it on, or cherry-pick the parts you want for yourself, or -"

  "This is absurd," he replies. "I can't believe you'd actually come in here and make such a ridiculous offer. You must be in a very desperate situation". Smiling, he leans back in his chair. "Tell me, Pope, who are your enemies? Who in this whole city could strike such fear into you, that you decide to turn and run?"

  "You don't need to know who I'm dealing with," I say. "I could tell you, but it'd just cause more problems. Let's just say that I've run up against an immovable object, or rather a set of immovable objects, and I know when I'm beaten. There's no way out, so I'm asking for your help. I know we don't have a history that merits your mercy, but I'm asking you to perhaps look into your heart and see that there are certain benefits to giving me the help I need". I pause for a moment. "If you don't help me, I'll be dead. They'll get me. There's no doubt about that. They're the best, and I'm not going to fight them, not again. I already tried, and I came damn close to getting a bullet in the head. I know when I'm beaten, and I'm beaten now. I have to go". Realizing that he's not necessarily buying my claim, I hitch my trousers down so he can see the bloody, bruised stitches on the side of my leg, along with the makeshift wooden splint that's supposed to be keeping the bone straight. "I barely got away with my life the last time," I tell him. "I won't be so lucky a second time".

  He stares at me, and I can tell he's starting to wonder if my story might be true. "Your network," he says finally, "consists of a collection of... what, exactly? Men such as yourself?"

  "Men such as myself can be extremely useful," I point out. "We get things done".

  "Perhaps," he replies. "I do not know precisely what I would do with such a network, but I feel I might be able to make something work".

  "So we have a deal?" I ask.

  "We have the starting point for some negotiations," he says. "These enemies of yours. Tell me about them. Might they not decide to come after me if they believe I have helped you?"

  "Absolutely not," I reply. The truth, of course, is that I have no idea what Lady Red and her f
riends might choose to do if they discover that Cather May has helped me to escape. John the Pig was reluctant to help me at first, but he came round when he realized that his links to the King's Arms would keep him safe. Cather May, on the other hand, has no such protection; despite being a well-known and somewhat formidable underworld operator, I have no doubt that Lady Red would probably be only too willing to sweep him aside if she felt he was getting in her way. Fortunately, I do not care one jot for Cather May, and I merely wish to use him for my own purposes. Once he has given me what I need, I am perfectly happy for him to be dragged screaming into Lady Red's darkest shadows.

  "And yet they terrify you," he replies.

  I pause for a moment, wondering whether it's possible that Cather might already know something of Lady Red, Mr. White and Mr. Blue. Although their secret seems to have been generally well kept across the city, the past few weeks have clearly seen some significant changes. A growing number of people - including John the Pig, Inspector Matthews and myself - have begun to gain some understanding of the game, so it's certainly possible that rumors might have reached Cather. At the same time, I do not wish to tell him anything. "You know how it is," I say eventually. "Maybe I'm losing my nerve. A few years ago, I've had taken the bastards down, but I've had some bad luck and all I want now is to get away and live an easier life".

  "Is that right?" he asks, clearly suspicious. "So you need identity documents, and you need a safe passage out of the country. Is that correct?"

  "Absolutely".

  "And do you know whether these enemies of yours are able to monitor your movements?"

  "They have considerable resources," I reply, "though obviously they have limits".

  "They don't have men at the ports, do they?" he asks.

  "I wouldn't like to say". I pause again, hoping to make him think that I'm in a cautious frame of mind. "They're certainly very powerful," I continue eventually. "They have connections with the highest people in the land, so I would prefer to not under-estimate them. I only have one chance to get this right. If something goes wrong, there will be no chance to escape".

  "You fear death, Mr. Pope?" he asks.

  "I fear a slow, painful death," I reply. "Mere death, I can handle".

  He smiles. "Then I shall endeavor to help you. If you can deliver the full details of your network, and hand everything over to me, I will arrange for all the necessary documentation to be ready by midnight. Is that acceptable?"

  "That is more than acceptable," I say. "I wish I had more to give you, Cather, but I can assure you that if all of this goes well, I shall regularly raise a drink to your health in whatever place I finally choose home".

  "Don't get sentimental, Pope," he replies. "Men like us never have homes. We just have places to hide. Now, if you don't mind, I have some arrangements to make. Meet me on the south side of London Bridge tonight, and I shall have everything you need. If you're late, I shall leave and there will be no opportunity for you to re-engage my assistance. Do you understand?"

  "Of course," I say, slowly and painfully standing up. "I shall be there. And thank you, Cather. You owed me nothing, yet you are going out of your way to provide vital assistance. I only wish there might be some way I could repay this huge debt".

  "The details of your network will suffice," he replies. "I look forward to see you tonight".

  Once I have paid my farewell to Cather, I limp back out into Covent Garden. People are milling about, walking in all directions, clearly with no idea of the dark game that is being played in their midst. Men such as myself, and Cather May, and Edward Lockhart and John the Pig and Vincent D'Oyly and Lady Red, we all have one thing in common: we move in the shadows, hoping to never be noticed by the wider world. If the people of London knew the truth about what happens in the heart of their city, I'm quite sure there would be an outcry. What gentleman would want his daughter to be dragged into such a horrific situation? I struggle away from Cather's door, determined to enjoy my final few hours in this city before I go to London Bridge at midnight and prepare to meet my fate. I can only hope that Cather is not tempted to genuinely help me; my entire survival hinges on the hope that he will betray me to my enemies.

  Four

  Today

  "I brought you here to play a game," he says, still naked as he stands before me. "The very first moment I met you last week, I knew I wanted this to happen, but it took time to get you here. I didn't want to make some clumsy move and risk having you pull away, so I worked patiently to secure your interest".

  I take a deep breath. "Go on".

  "I thought I saw something in you, Elly," he continues. "I've found other girls for the game, but I've never been so totally convinced by one before. You're probably not aware of it, but there's something in your eyes that indicates a very unusual kind of soul. You're strong, stronger than any girl I've ever met".

  "Huh," I say, sniffing back the last of my tears. "This game you keep mentioning -"

  "It's too big to go into now," he replies. "Suffice it to say, the game has been played for centuries, and it will go on being played until finally a winner is found. I thought for a short while that you might be that winner, but I can see now that I was wrong. The look on your face when you saw Mr. White was... I knew at that moment that I'd made a mistake. You're not the girl I'm looking for, Elly. I only wish I'd come to this conclusion earlier, so you could have been saved so much pain".

  "I don't have a clue what you're talking about," I reply. "What game? You make it sound like something really serious is going on".

  "It is," he says. "You and I, and Mr. White, we're just small parts of the game. We're just passing through. The game is part of London, part of the fabric of the city's life. Every Mr. Blue thinks he'll be the one who finds the girl who can win, but I guess that's the tragedy of the game. Maybe it can't ever be won".

  "What's it about?" I ask, not sure whether Mark is crazy. "What's the point of this game?"

  "It's about sex," he says. "That might sound blunt, but it's true. It's about pushing people past the boundaries they've erected around their bodies. The only way to win the game is to go through a process of reinvention. You have to open yourself to the possibilities around you; you have to be willing to do things you never thought you'd do, and to continually break through one barrier after another. You've had a taste of how it works tonight, but trust me, beyond this point it would become so much more shocking".

  "And you thought I'd be good at this game?" I ask.

  "Yes," he replies. "I mean, for a while, I thought you had a unique quality that might equip you for the game's demands, but I can see now that I was wrong. You're just..."

  "Just what?" I ask after a moment.

  "Just... You're not the right person. I thought you were different to all the others, but... Don't be sad, Elly. Don't regret anything. You should be eternally grateful that you're not going to be drawn into all of this. If you'd been the right girl, you'd have been about to embark upon a journey that would have tested you beyond all limits. The fact that you've turned out to be so normal is a good thing. For you, at least".

  Behind me, a bell rings and I hear the elevator doors open.

  "I'm normal?" I ask, shocked by the way Mark seems to be dismissing me.

  "The elevator's here," he replies. "You should go".

  I glance back at the elevator, and I see the bellboy standing awkwardly, waiting for me to go and join him in the chamber.

  "Elly -" Mark starts to say.

  "I don't need you right now," I say to the bellboy. "Sorry. I'll call you if..." My voice trails off, and I watch as the doors close again. Hearing the sound of the chamber going down in the shaft, I turn back to Mark. All the anger and shock of earlier has now been replaced by a tingling feeling of defiance; it's as if, faced with Mark's belief that I'm nothing special, I suddenly want to prove him wrong.

  "You really should go," Mark continues. "There's nothing for you here".

  "Isn't there?" I ask.

/>   He shakes his head. "Don't make this any harder than it has to be," he says. "Don't try to put yourself in a situation you can't handle. Please, Elly, just write off everything that happened tonight. Try to forget about it; try to forget about me. You've had a lucky escape, and you should just -"

  "What if I stay?" I ask, interrupting him. "What if I decide I want to see what happens next?"

  "You'd regret it," he replies.

  "So?" I stare at him. "I'd regret not staying, so it seems I'm going to have regrets, whatever happens. If I stay, can't I at least get a taste of the next step in this game? Who knows? Maybe you'll find I'm not as weak as you think".

  "You're getting into very dangerous territory," he says. "If you think tonight was extreme, you're wrong. Tonight was just an initiation, a toe in the water. If you stayed, the next sexual encounter would be a hundred times more testing, and the one after that would be even more extreme. I saw your face when you realized Mr. White was here tonight, Elly. You're not cut out for this. Just go home and -"

  "Be normal?" I ask.

  "It's nothing to be ashamed of," he says.

  "But it's not what I want".

  He smiles. "I know what you're doing, Elly. You're trying to prove something to me. You're trying to make me think I was wrong about you, but it's not going to work. I'm a good judge of character and I can tell when someone is in too deep".

  "Well," I say, walking toward him, "it seems we have a difference of opinion. I guess there's only one way to settle the discussion". I lean closer to kiss him, but he steps back.

  "No," he says firmly.

  "Are you scared?" I ask. "Are you worried I might actually turn out to be everything you thought I was?"

  "I'm not scared," he replies, his voice tense as if he's offended by the mere suggestion. "I like you, Elly, and I don't want to see you dragged into the game and then spat out the other side. It's dangerous, and you could get hurt, or worse".