“Dr. Alcott, it’s the police department here, earlier today a young woman was found in a disused warehouse. At first it was believed that she was dead, but sophisticated apparatus has revealed some signs of life.” Peter was at once professional as he listened intently expecting that he would be on his way within minutes of this call to see the woman in question. But the next words he heard sent his mind spinning into oblivion.

“Dr Alcott we have reason to believe that this woman is the missing Catherine Chandler, and we would like you to come and confirm this.”

There was silence.

“Dr Alcott? Dr Alcott are you still there?”

“Yes, yes.” It was all Peter could manage. Catherine found? Catherine alive? A tremendous weight lifted from Peter’s heart as he went on, “I’m on my way, where is she?”

“She was taken to St Vincent’s Sir, someone will meet you there.”

Peter hung up, grabbed his bag and left. The spinning chair caught the mug of coffee and sent it sprawling its contents across the desk. Out of his eye corner Peter saw this but he didn’t care.
Catherine had been found…alive…and that was all that mattered.

Fumbling for his cane, Father rose, wanting to run and shout and scream, but refraining from doing any of those things although he hurried as fast as his legs would allow straight to the chamber where his son had been pacing the floor for the past eight months.

Reaching his destination Father just could hardly contain himself. The moment he rounded the final bend into Vincent’s chamber, he felt unable to contain this marvellous news for much longer.

Vincent’s blue eyes watched him enter but he said nothing, as he had said nothing for so long. Father watched, waited for the transformation he knew would come with a hidden glee that turned his very limbs to mere jelly. Suddenly he wanted to sit down, as his legs became unable to support him.
Leaning far more heavily on his cane than he was accustomed to Father felt his mouth open, felt himself try to speak, but no words would come.

Vincent though detected the joy in his Father’s eyes, and had begun to rise from the bed as concern for his parent was now clouding those wondrous eyes. Father waved him aside, “I’m all right Vincent, I’m all right. Vincent, “ he began, “I have a note from Above…” He reached for his son then and squeezing his arm tightly told him with the greatest joy, “Vincent, Catherine has been found…Vincent, she is alive!”

In all his days Vincent would never forget the feeling that passed through him when his father had uttered those few words. Relief didn’t even come close…but what followed frightened him greatly.

He had never believed that Catherine was anything other than alive…but to hear that relief in Father’s tone told him that other people had held the morbid fear that she had been murdered.
For Vincent, just those words that Catherine had been found, was enough…it was all that he needed to hear, and clasping his father firmly the two held fast to one another for many long moments without speaking, until finally Father gently pulled away.

“Peter sent a note. He identified her. She was found earlier today and she is in a coma, but she is alive Vincent…Catherine’s alive!”

Vincent’s world fell apart…Catherine in a coma?
This was not what he had expected to hear at all.
In all the months they had been apart, Vincent had been so sure that Catherine was with another man, so much so that this news came as a shock. If Catherine was in a coma, it was possible that she had been in that coma all the time she’d been missing, but if that were so then where had she been, and who had cared for her during that time?

There were so many questions, and as yet only Catherine could answer them, yet Catherine was in a coma, and therefore still separated from him now as much as she ever was. But nothing could dampen the joy that Catherine had been found and for the moment that was all that really mattered.

Arms reached for her, cool hands on her sensitised skin, lifting her, and a soothing voice comforted her. But she knew, oh yes she knew that this person was a stranger to her, this person was not the one within whom she had grown and since birth had come to love. This was not her mother.
The baby whimpered on, and felt something cool prise her lips apart and a thick coating of liquid fill her mouth. It was distasteful, but the baby swallowed convulsively, until every last drop had gone. Voices, she could hear two different voices, neither identified with that of her mother. The baby listened, the ache in her tummy dissipating, though not yet from the colic milk, but from being held upright with someone rubbing her back.

“How is she?”

“She’ll be okay Sir. Just the colic again. It’s the usual thing with babies. Try to remember to give her a few drops of this liquid before a feed and she won’t suffer so.”

There was silence as the other person nodded, his steel grey eyes scanning the child. He’d hoped for a boy, a male, and was unable to accept this child as his own. Besides she looked like the woman, with no distinguishing signs of that other being. He sighed; causing the nurse to look up at him warily there was something in his tone that worried her. She’d heard things about this man that frightened her.
It was just a baby, surely he wouldn’t hurt that too…

‘I once knew a girl…’ he was telling her and she brought her attention back to him, watching as that slim mouth spoke words she’d rather not hear, ‘I loved her. I was her first love and she was mine, but she did not care for me as I cared for her, and I could not allow anyone to have her after me, so I killed her, so that her beauty could never be defiled by another.’ He spoke so sinisterly but he clearly saw nothing wrong in those actions. The nurse shuddered, but he did not notice, and she remained silent. Though he had spoken the words in her presence she felt that he had been speaking his thoughts aloud. To reply would seal her own fate, for he would not intend that experience to become public knowledge.

The baby was silent now, her large grey green eyes fixed upon the man as if she could see right into his soul. And as the nurse thought this, the man seemed to think likewise, for a sinister smile curved those thin straight lips and a finger reached out to tickle beneath the child’s chin.

‘You know me don’t you? You aren’t so much her child after all. I can feel you inside me. You are a part of him, and you will make me strong. Too bad that you aren’t a boy, but girl’s can be tough too. You will be great in my world and you will be my stronghold.’

Again those words spoken to the child by passed the nurse as if she wasn’t there. She did not dare to speak, though inside she was quaking. Every word spoken was another nail in her coffin. She knew that for a certainty, he would never let her live once she had completed her duties, once the child no longer needed a nurse. Hadn’t the baby’s own mother been given a large overdose of something from the moment she had outlived her usefulness?

The woman dared not move, and the child was quiet now seeming to sense her nervousness yet with a quiet acceptance that in itself only served to unnerve the woman further.

The man spoke of greatness, of empires and of protection, but this child, small as she was now, was already the greater of the two, the nurse could feel it within her. Despite everything a steady stream of strength infused her tiny frame and the nurse could only marvel. Indeed this was an unusual child.

The man shifted his weight from one foot to another, and then seeming to notice her after so long spoke directly to her, ‘How much longer will she need to take milk?’

The question was out of context and the nurse trembled, she could not lie though she thought of it, ‘Another month and then she can start on solids Sir. She’ll still need milk, but soon she will be able to hold a mug for herself and will no longer need a bottle.’

The man nodded, his steel grey eyes staring straight into her own. Could he detect her nervousness? Did he know that she knew of her fate?

His eyes seemed to mock her as he told her, ‘you have done a good job here, I am grateful, but your services will not be required when the child no longer needs a bottle.’

She did not want to defy him, but had to stall for time, her life was at stake here, ‘she will still need to wear a diaper Sir, for some time, that will need changing, and there are other things…’ her voice trailed away as her words became unsteady.

He stared at her for long moments, hard grey eyes boring down on her, causing the nurse to look away. The child had gone to sleep now, when had she done that? The nurse had not noticed.

‘I hired you to take care of the child’s immediate needs nurse and I have hired another to take her through the second stage in her life. I thank you for what you have done, but know this that at the end of another month your services will not be required.’
His words brooked no argument, and the nurse nodded, fearfully accepting her fate.

Carefully, as carefully as she could, determined not to let him see her trembling hands, the nurse tucked the child back into her cot, brushing a lock of honey gold hair from her brow, before straightening up to return to her chair positioned in the nursery. He watched her in silence, but as she prepared to sit down, he told her, ‘after tonight you can sleep in the next room, then I will not disturb you when I come in to see my daughter.’

The nurse felt invisible bands tighten on her throat…as the implication became clear… He would not wait another month…after tonight she would die…The trembling in her body began again, and the nurse sank into the chair gratefully, her stomach a twisted knot of fear, as she watched him quietly leave the room and close the door behind him.

“Dr Alcott?”

“Yes.”

“Its Dr Tanner here at St. Vincent’s you know we met earlier?”

“Oh yes Dr Tanner, what can I do for you?”

There was a short pause, before the doctor continued, “We have reason to believe that Miss Chandler has given birth within the last three months or so, I was wondering if you could throw any light on this?”

Peter’s mind went into overdrive, “There must be some mistake, Catherine didn’t even have a steady date let alone a partner.”

There was silence at the other end, and Peter felt inclined to explain, “I know Catherine well, she is like a daughter to me. I would have known if there had been someone.”

“I’m sorry Sir, but there is no mistake. So am I to conclude that you knew nothing of her pregnancy?”

Peter swallowed with difficulty before replying, “No. I knew nothing of it. You’re absolutely certain then?”

“Yes Sir, and there is something else.”

“Something else?” Peter didn’t like the sound of that, “What?”

“When Miss Chandler was brought in we didn’t believe that there was any suspicious circumstances regarding her comatose state, we now know differently…” He paused for emphasis before continuing, “Dr Alcott I’m sorry to tell you this, but Miss Chandler’s life is in danger even now. Someone administered a large dose of morphine into her system. Dr Alcott whomsoever held Miss Chandler all those months, expected her to die, and they, no doubt still have her child. We are in the process of moving her to a safe place and I am not at liberty to say where. I’m sorry Dr Alcott but while Miss Chandler’s life remains in danger, no one can be trusted.”

Peter drew in a sharp breath, this was awful, frighteningly so, and in his silence the other doctor continued, “Dr Alcott, it goes without saying that you must tell no one that she is alive…the FBI are taking it over now and will be contacting you shortly.”

This statement freed Peter’s inability to speak, “Will they allow me to see her do you think?”

“I do not know Sir, that’s not for me to say. Just be sure to tell no one she has been discovered that’s all I ask.”

“When is she being transferred?”

“Now as we speak, and Dr. Alcott?”

“Yes.”

“If you can in any way find out who was the father of her child please let the FBI know when they come to see you, its possible the father is behind all of this.”

Peter mumbled an acceptable reply, but could not remember what he had said, as he replaced the receiver. All of what he had just heard was difficult to take in let alone accept. Catherine, a mother?
Who then was the child’s father? And where was the child now?

Father met him as he rounded the final corner into the main hub and Peter hurried to his side blurting breathlessly, “You’ve told Vincent?”

Father beamed, “Yes.” He drew in a deep breath, “And all of our friends here Below.” Peter’s face noticeably paled and Father grew concerned, “I did wrong? You did intend for everyone to know did you not? Your note said nothing to the contrary.”

Peter nodded, “It’s not that. Its just there has been new developments. Catherine may be in danger still, and the least known of her discovery the better.”

“I’ll call a meeting.” Father told him reaching for the nearest pipe with his cane, “No one will say anything to any topsider and we can trust everyone Below. Paracelsus has gone, and there is no one who would knowingly try to hurt Catherine. Peter you know that, why then do I get the feeling that you are withholding something from me?”

“There is something else, yes. Call the meeting Jacob, ask everyone to meet in your study, and I will announce all I know there.”

Acting as normally as possible, she bundled the child into the buggy under the watchful eye of the security guard, glad when the great oak door was opened for her and she could see that the master’s car was not parked outside.

A small sigh of relief escaped her lips, though she detected that she must act normal and she smiled at the guard, making no comment as to the master’s whereabouts.

He could be anywhere and it was unlikely that they would do the deed at this time of day, more likely it would happen in the house at night, for nothing would be done that might frighten the child. No simply while she stayed close to the child she was safe.

Pushing the buggy beneath the shade of the trees, the nurse was afforded the opportunity to think as the child slept peacefully.

She had to get away from the house and had up until that moment considered only that she should make her own escape. But as she looked down at the sleeping child, she knew that she couldn’t leave her to a similar fate, for as soon as the master changed his mind, he was likely to kill the child too that she knew. Hadn’t he at the last moment stayed the doctor’s hand when the morphine had been administered to the woman, so as not to kill her? Hadn’t she overheard him tell the doctor that if the woman should live she might one day give him the son he had hoped for?
The nurse did not understand this and though she did not know for a certainty that Gabriel was not the child’s real father, she was convinced that the child would be better off with her mother.
She knew that on a few occasions when she had gone through the main gates and taken the child down to the lake outside of the grounds a security guard had sauntered down to the lake and tactfully brought her back within the security of the grounds. Just by talking to her and directing his footsteps back to the house he had tactfully but purposefully allowed her to fall into step alongside him as they chatted.

When it had first occurred the nurse had concluded that he was chatting her up but when he did not show further interest, she concluded it was just a ploy to bring her back without unnerving her. Heading down toward the lake now the nurse had no doubt that the guard would soon be on his way, having seen her exit through the gates with the aid of security cameras. But she was still ahead of him and a faster pace that did not look suspicious could secure her the distance between them that she craved.

Heart in her mouth, the nurse made her bid for freedom, heading straight for the lake, but slightly towards the path that led around it, knowing that just around the corner would be a car park, frequented by families visiting the area.

Walking faster, pushing the buggy ahead of her, the nurse dared not look back. Her gaze firmly fixed ahead, joy surged through her to see not just vehicles ahead but a few people milling about.

If she did not pull this off then her head would roll for a certainty, whether they’d intended to kill her or not. For behind her she felt sure she had heard a shout but refused to acknowledge it.

Her heart thumping now and drowning out any further sound from behind, the nurse picked up the pace, watching avidly as a couple prepared to get into their car and leave the area. She was still some way off from them and could not risk calling out. Unless she called a greeting, maybe that would suffice? At least then she would have an alibi if needed.

She called, waving as she went, hoping fervently that the couple would notice her and delay leaving. She called two names, a man’s and a woman’s the first names that entered her head, it didn’t matter that they were the wrong names, for the security guard was nearer to her than the couple were, and he would hear the names just as well. Afterward if her plan backfired, she could maintain she knew those people, but they had not heard her and she would have to catch them another time. She could make up a story that would suffice, but she did not want to have to do, she wanted the couple to hear her and wait for her to catch up to them.

Shouting louder now, and waving frantically, she watched as the couple got into the car and prepared to leave. Her heart sank, and out of her eye corner she looked back to see the security guard jogging now at a discreet pace behind her.

This was her life at stake now, her bid for freedom, she had to take it. Picking up the pace she started to run, pushing the buggy faster and faster, aware that it swerved this way and that as the wheels pivoted and twisted over the rough ground. The baby woke and began to cry, but the nurse did not slow her pace. Her breath caught and held in her tightened lungs, and she ran on faster and faster, waving and shouting all the while.

The car pulled out of the bay and reversed and though there were other cars parked there were no more people in sight.

The nurse reached the car park just as the car started to pull forward, and then as luck would have it the passenger turned down the window and for the first time heard a shout above the sound of the engine. “Wait!” She grasped the driver’s arm, “I think that woman needs our help.”

The driver hesitated, his foremost thought for his wife and himself. The lake was a reasonably lonely place and it was not unheard of for muggings to take place, though generally not by a woman with a child.

“She’s running from someone, look!” His wife grabbed his arm again, shaking him, and pointing across to the grounds of a vast mansion that they had noticed many times before.

“Maybe she has stolen the child. We should go.”

“We don’t know that.” His wife looked down at her own swollen belly and she wondered what it would feel like to be denied her child. “At least if we take her someplace we will know where she went to. Look let’s take her straight to the police department, let them sort it out.”

Her husband grunted some reply that she knew to be reluctant acceptance, and she alighted from the car, opening the rear door as the nurse and child approached. “Get in, get in, hurry, leave the buggy, just get in.”

She helped the nurse unharness the child and snatched up a bag that she noticed hooked onto the back. Then she threw it in behind the woman and child as they scrambled into the back passenger seats, before getting back into the front, and telling her husband to put his foot down.

Turning in her seat the woman grinned, “I do take it you were trying to get away from him?” She motioned with a nod in the security guard’s direction.

“Yes.” The nurse still catching her breath whispered, “Please we must hurry and you must take me to the police department and then leave me there.”

The woman glanced across at her husband, as if to say “See.”

He patted her hand speaking for the first time, “We’ll take you, don’t worry, just relax, can you tell us what this is all about?”

The nurse hesitated, “Its best that you don’t know, but in my own defence and in case I don’t make it, the child has been kidnapped.’ She panicked as the car slowed down and shouted ‘not by me, not by me, I’m returning the child to its mother so keep going, don’t slow down.’ Something in the woman’s tone scared the couple in front, and they were only too happy to be heading straight for the police department.

The driver put his foot down, desperate now to be apart from their burden, as some sixth sense told him suddenly that all their lives were in danger.

The entire community of tunnel dwellers congregated in Father’s chamber within the hour, the first arrivals waiting in anticipation for the others to arrive, as neither Father nor Peter gave anything away, and yet their grave faces worried every member. Vincent too sat still not speaking or smiling, showing no outward signs of the joy he should be feeling knowing that Catherine was alive, and that worried them further. Father and Peter watched Vincent carefully. Though they had not given him any details for this meeting, each wondered if perhaps they should have. As one, they turned to one another, and Peter spoke first, “I think I should speak to Vincent somewhere private before I speak to everyone else. Even when I tell you all of it perhaps we should keep this fresh news between us. I will tell you directly after I have spoken to Vincent. Father nodded, “Its that bad then?” Peter nodded his face grave, “Yes. I’ll take him to his chamber.” Peter rose, and walked across to Vincent, whispering something into his ear and Father watched as the pair quietly walked together through the throng of people and disappeared from sight. Now all he had to do was wait for Mouse and Pascal, and…his eyes darted around the assembled crowd ticking off in his mind’s eye who was missing and hoping it would not be long before everyone arrived. He desperately wanted to know whatever it was that Peter was telling Vincent.

It had been a long two months for Vincent, no respite from his feelings, nor from those of the tunnel community. What they said had made sense, but he could not allow it, could never expect to allow it. It had been Pascal who had first voiced the opinion backed readily it would seem by every tunnel member in turn. He could hear him now, his words forever ringing in his head “We could do it Vincent. It makes sense. It’s Catherine’s child after all, it’s what she would have wanted and it will be safe here.”
But Vincent had not wanted to know and his reasons were entirely selfish making him feel all the more treacherous because of it. Pascal’s idea of bringing the child below, either by kidnapping or by some other means was a sound one. The child would be safe with them, but Vincent could not do that. To deny the child, any child the sunshine was one thing, but believing firmly that somewhere that child had a father with rights to its future prevented Vincent from agreeing to anything his family might suggest.

Though they assured him that the moment Catherine awoke she would come running to him, Vincent faced the fact of that remote possibility. Whomsoever fathered the child would be the one to whom Catherine would run and simply that was not him.
To bring her child Below, would put her in a difficult situation. She would be made to come there, be made to face him when she so obviously could not face doing so before.

No, as much as he hated everything that had happened, as much as he grieved the loss of his love, Vincent had to let her go. He had to forget and try to get on with his life.
A life with limits and a life without the only woman he would ever love.

He was a businessman, not yet cut out to be a father, but he could provide the required personnel to take care of the child’s needs and he would be there for her whenever time allowed.
And though Elliot cared for the future of the child, she was but a pawn in his game. It was the child’s mother that he wanted and the child was just a means to achieve that gain.

Still, he would go along to the court and he would pledge his undying love for a child he had only met on occasion and he would make them believe that he had the child’s welfare at heart. And he would win, because there was no other contestant that could provide all that he could provide.
Elliot laughed at the thought of his only real competition being Joe Maxwell. Real only in the case that Joe Maxwell loved Catherine Chandler too and being her work colleague might go in his favour. But it was only a slim possibility. Though the two had become closer since they had spent so many hours searching for Catherine, there was no love lost between them.

So as the day for the court hearing loomed Elliot was ever confident and did not doubt for one moment that he would be taking the child home with him.

*** *** ***

Beneath the city streets as the day arrived, Vincent paced his chamber. Words Pascal had spoken flooded his mind. Things he had heard since warred with Pascal’s words.
Of all the two people, both Elliot Burch and Joe Maxwell had come forward to be the child’s guardian, and though neither staked a claim to its parentage Vincent could not help but wonder if either of them truly were the child’s father.

There was Joe, dear sweet Joe; Catherine had referred to him as on more than one occasion. A man after Catherine’s heart that Vincent did know. Had something happened between them?
Had Catherine and Joe…Vincent could not even sound the words in his mind…he didn’t want to think on them or to imagine Joe and Catherine together like that.
If Joe was the child’s father then why didn’t he say? And if Elliot was the child’s father why didn’t he say?
The answer to that question filled Vincent with a fury he didn’t want to unleash. If either believed the possibility of being the child’s parent then…well then the answer was obvious, Catherine had slept with the both of them.
Oh how could she!

The thought alone brought bile to Vincent’s throat, as his mind yelled at him, ‘Why shouldn’t she? You would not give her what she desired, and you knew, oh yes you knew what it was she desired. Don’t deny it Vincent, the woman wanted you, she was crazy for you, hungered for you, but you drove her into another man’s arms, and now you have only yourself to blame.’ The voice of that other taunted him mercilessly night and day.
And the nights were the worst. Though the voice did not always come at night the pictures filling his mind stayed with him throughout the day when the voice would taunt him further, ‘you think it is a dream? Fool, it is no dream. You loved her. You made her your own. The child is ours. Our child, her child, your child.” Vincent thought he would go mad as those pictures played out again and again in his waking moments, Vincent was incensed that he could see those things so clearly. Knowing he had never been in a situation like that with Catherine, but here she was in his mind, naked, he naked, he making love to her, taking her, hearing her cries of love, his name borne from her lips, her kisses on his face.
Day and night the pictures rolled through his mind, while that other cried through his madness, ‘It is no dream, it is a memory, it happened, it happened, you loved her, she’s yours, the child is ours.” And nothing Vincent could do would stop the pictures or the relentless cries, and there was no where he could go to escape them. Save for death, but then such blessed oblivion would take him from Catherine. And while there was a chance that she would recover, he knew he owned it to her to cling to whatever life there was for him, even if he should have to live that life for endless years without her at his side.

Elliot Burch on the other hand, could provide all the right security for the child, but simply the love was not there. Father detected an ulterior motive for Elliot wanting the child with him and it had nothing to do with love. Well not love for the child at any rate.

This grieved Father, if a guardian was not found, then the child would go into care and even when Catherine did come round then it would be very hard for her to be able to get her child returned to her. Besides children in care very often ended up on the streets and they in turn ended up Below.
If only he were in the position to bridge that gap and take the child below now, saving endless heartache in between.

It was then that the door opened and Father heard a muffled conversation from behind, and felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up, mouthed the name but no words would come, and moved up on the bench as Peter Alcott slid in beside him.
“Jacob, couldn’t keep away huh?” Peter whispered with a knowing twinkle in his eye.

Father nodded, “She was like a daughter to me too, I’m afraid I am acting like the concerned grandparent.” He replied keeping his voice low.

Peter nodded, “Exactly what I was thinking. I’d hoped to be here earlier to hear those two stake their claim, but I doubt I’ve missed anything too interesting?”

Father nodded, “You’re right, they have nothing to offer a child. Joe has the love and Elliot has the security, but each sadly lack in what the other has to offer.”

Peter nodded, “I know what you mean. That’s why I decided to put in a bid for custody.”

Father stared at Peter with amazement, “You! But Peter, you have age against you.”

“Thanks very much.”

Father snorted, “Well you know what I mean. It would solve everything of course, but I can’t see it happening.”

“Neither can I but I had to try didn’t I? I’m certain you would too, if you could give an address.”

Father nodded, of course he would, that’s why he was there wasn’t he?

The jury was still debating. There were other people beside Elliot and Joe, or Peter, childless couple who offered the child a good home, and the court were looking favourably upon such ones, but the judge’s face remained expressionless, and even after he had heard Peter’s pledge, he remained so.
Finally when everyone had spoken, he cleared his throat and spoke to the courtroom.

“This is an unusual case. We are all well aware of this fact and Catherine Chandler is a wealthy woman and it should not be overlooked that any guardian of the child could have an ulterior motive. Even if this were not so, as in the case of Mr Burch who is deemed financially secure beyond that of Miss Chandler I feel that even there a case of ulterior motive exists.” Elliot coloured up at this but said nothing.

“Mr Maxwell was the only one who impressed upon me that he would love the child, but unfortunately Mr Maxwell would not be able to provide for a child on his salary and his proposed promotion to senior DA will not come through soon enough in this instance. However, should the child be given into foster care and Mr Maxwell ever receive the promotion he is expecting, then this case can then be reviewed at a later date in view of that.
For now though I see no alternative but to place the child into the care of the foster parents, the said Mr and Mrs. Laythorne, until such time as Mr Maxwell’s promotion, Catherine Chandler’s recovery or the identity of the child’s true father is revealed. Case dismissed.”

There was uproar and rejoicing, depending upon whose side they were on, and for the first time Father and Peter noted that the child had actually been inside the courtroom all along, peacefully sleeping through it all.
As the child was lifted up out of its baby seat and handed to the Laythorne’s something struck a cord within Father’s heart. But from his vantage-point he could not see as well as he would have liked and so he hobbled across, taking his time, scouting around the overjoyed couple and their relatives as the baby was passed from one to the other of them.

And then it happened.
It couldn’t have been more perfect. Standing behind some relatives while the baby was being passed from one person to the next, hugged and kissed and passed on, Father suddenly found himself with the child handed into his arms, and with a hearty ‘here granddad’ people began to surge away from him as the reporters arrived in the room. Fading quietly into the background, Father caught Peter’s eye over the top of the crowd and could have sworn he saw the man wink and indicate with a nod of his head to the back of the room.
With his cane hooked over his arm, Father walked towards Peter with the child still in his arms. And couldn’t believe it when no one intercepted him, or tried to take the child from him before Father found himself at Peter’s side and the pair gazed down with loving eyes for the first time at the daughter of Catherine Chandler.

“She’s so like her isn’t she?” Peter tickled beneath the child’s chin and was delighted when the child rewarded him with a full-fledged grin.

Father was staring at those beautiful grey green eyes, at that smile he knew so well, but there was something else about the child that appealed to him, though he could not put a name to it. The child was totally Catherine, not a hint of anyone else about her at all. Her hair was Catherine’s, her face, eyes, everything, but Father felt an uncanny bonding with the baby like he’d had with only one other and that disturbed him greatly.
“Cover me Peter.” He heard himself say that, but couldn’t quite believe that he had.

Peter understood that was the worst of it, “You’ll never get away with it Jacob, but good luck anyway.”

He couldn’t believe he was even contemplating this. But he could not give her back he could not. He was doing the right thing he knew it. The courtroom door was open and beyond Father could see out into the street. All the reporters were in the room, congratulating the proud foster parents, there was no one waiting in the corridor outside and plenty of people were passing by on the sidewalk. He’d quickly be lost in amongst them and he’d soon make it to the nearest entrance to the tunnels.
Heart in his mouth, Father made a dash for it. Holding the child firmly against him, marvelling that she trusted him at all, this perfect stranger, Father fled the court with his precious bundle and did not look back.

Peter was rapped across the knuckles quite forcefully for a few days, but when he had finally made everyone believe that he only knew the old man in passing, they had let him off the hook and spent the manpower on following up other possible leads.
Elliot Burch was not above suspicion, neither was Joe Maxwell, but after several days of watching both avidly and revealing nothing, even those suspicions were dropped.

Sadly the baby had been kidnapped again. And while people had been congratulating the happy couple in the courtroom that day, everyone had overlooked the fact that no one knew the description of the original kidnapper and he could well have been there among them awaiting his chance.
Well that chance had been handed to him literally although a great many could not believe that the old man would hold a woman and child for so many months on his own. He’d had to have had an accomplice, which is why Peter Alcott then came under suspicion at first since he was the only one who appeared to know the old man, but in time even that idea proved false.

Suspicions were rife though on everyone until one afternoon the New York Times received a telephone call that put everything right. The child’s nurse, having seen the papers, telephoned the editor saying who she was and explained that the old man might have taken the child, but simply he was not the original kidnapper, but she refused to say who was. In fact since that day she had beat a hasty exit after giving Joe Maxwell the child she had not been out of hiding.
After that day though everyone knew of her.

Found the following morning with a bullet between her eyes, and a note in her pocket with the telephone number of the newspaper and the name of the editor and a few scratchy details about the child, the papers were full of it, but for those that wanted facts the trail had gone cold. No one knew who had the baby now or why, or who had had her from the beginning. All they could do was sit and wait, and pray that Catherine Chandler, the only link to any of this, would recover from her coma and be able to tell them.

And though they had named her, they had not had a naming ceremony, and it had been the first time that a child had been so named without one, so that everyone knew of the child’s name.
They’d named her Rose. It had some symbolism between Vincent and Catherine, but it had been Mouse who had thought of it first.
Her cheeks, he had told everyone, were flushed pink like rose petals.

Yet in all the time that baby Rose had been cared for Below, no one could understand why Catherine’s whereabouts was being kept such a big secret. They knew everything of course. They knew that the FBI were guarding Catherine’s whereabouts, but it grieved them to know that Joe Maxwell and Elliot Burch were still searching for any details as to Catherine Chandler’s whereabouts. This grieved Vincent, for somewhere at the back of his mind, his conviction remained that one of these men was indeed the child’s father.

At the same time Father was doing his own calculations. No matter what his son had said to the contrary, dates told him quite differently.

Rose was approximately, true, eight months old. She had been with them for five months and obviously with her captors for about the same length of time, give or take a couple of weeks. A pregnancy lasted nine months, but his presumption was that the gestation period in these circumstances, though he could only speculate, might be shorter. At any rate, the date of conception took him straight to the time Catherine rescued Vincent from the cave, or three months earlier. Surely in all that time Catherine would have said something?
Surely she would have known?
Father could not contemplate that a woman such as Catherine would keep that kind of knowledge to herself. Though she had surprised him at her ability to keep secrets, he couldn’t begin to believe that she would have kept that one from him. Or from Peter come to that matter. So surely somewhere there was someone who would know?

Unable to tell anyone, and unable to now go Above, Father sent word to Peter, detailing his concerns, knowing that Peter was in all likelihood being watched for he had not been Below in months. And Father just hoped that Peter could turn something up where he couldn’t.

He watched as tenderly Vincent fought to retrieve a white china rose from the mouth of the child, while telling her the story of the rose’s symbolism and of her mother’s courage and love. Father watched them both through new eyes.
He’s seen it before of course this quiet interchange, and he had hoped, yes, he had hoped, but now the scene took on new meaning, a frighteningly true meaning and one that he had to speak of yet again. He cleared his throat “May I come in Vincent?”

Blue eyes looked up and Vincent nodded, “Of course Father.”

Father watched with incredibility as those huge lethal looking hands gathered the tiny child from the bed and placed her upon his lap as he sat on the side of the bed “What is it Father, your tone sounded serious. Is something bothering you?”

“Yes. Vincent there is something I must bring up again… I am reluctant to do so, for you…” He hesitated as Vincent’s eyes grew wary, but Father drew on his courage and went on, “But I must speak to you about it again.” He watched the child sitting quietly upon Vincent’s lap, and for the first time it struck him hard.
Father gasped, how had he missed it before?
But then perhaps he had always known?

Everything about the child was solely Catherine but for one thing and he could see it now oh so clearly, the way the child watched him avidly. Her clear grey green eyes all knowing. Father rejoiced and Vincent became concerned by his father’s evident joy.
“I know we have mentioned it before Vincent.” Father was uplifted now. He had his proof, though it was not proof enough. That would come later, for now he had to make his son believe.

Vincent said nothing, a tiny seed of doubt brewing in his mind, a tiny web of fear weaving around his heart.

“I asked once whether you and Catherine…”

“STOP IT Father!” Vincent snarled and that was another thing the child did not even flinch. She knew, she had anticipated this move, this action from her father.

Jacob Wells jumped to his feet. It was so obvious to him now and as clear as the light of day! Vincent had lost his bond with Catherine, with anyone, but this child, this wonderful, wonderful child knew and there was a connection!
Thinking back now Father wondered how he could ever have been so blind.
Rose stilling on Vincent’s approach though he was as yet out of sight, Rose knew. She would smile before Vincent had entered a chamber her head turning anticipating his entrance.
She would respond to his moods, she knew when to be silent, when to comfort him, even at her tender age.
Father could not withhold that kind of news, any longer. “Vincent whatever you say, the child is yours. She’s your child Vincent! I can see it. She’s yours Vincent. Rose is your daughter!”

Vincent stared, and it was unusual to hear him say anything outrageous, but this time he made an exception, “Are you crazy old man, you can’t be serious. Father!”

Stunned Father could only stare at his son, where on earth had he learned such street talk? Father’s lips twitched at how funny such talk sounded coming from his regal son, but he understood the implications behind such an outburst. Vincent was furious, not only that but he was embarrassed and shocked that his father could say such a thing, and with such conviction too.

Father was shaking his head, “I don’t know how Vincent…” What was he saying of course he knew how, but the idea posed such an impossibility that it was deemed untrue, yet looking at the child, the facts presented themselves so sharply.

“Please Vincent you know I would never make rash statements unless I thought them justified and I don’t know when or how this happened, but somehow you and Catherine came close enough to bring forth a child.”

About to argue Vincent stopped in mid stroke, as flashes of a reoccurring dream and whispers in the night came before his eyes. He sank back down to his bed, the child still firmly held in his arms, and marvelled that even during his sudden outburst she had not flinched, had not seem to mind or care that his whole life had suddenly been turned inside out.

“Are you so certain nothing happened between you?” Father prompted gently now, sensing something important on his son’s mind.

Vincent shook his head, and whispered, “I thought it was a dream.”

Father’s spirits lifted, “There is the possibility?”

Vincent’s eyes rose to that of his father, his voice trembled when he spoke, “Maybe.”

Expelling a long deep breath Father’s whole body relaxed. “Would you like to be alone, or to talk perhaps?”

“I’d like to talk.”

There was a long silence, but Father waited knowing it would take his son some time to get his thoughts into words. The wait was worth it, for once Vincent began he did not seem able to stop.
“I have been having such dreams about Catherine and I…about things between Catherine and I.” He continued to tell his father of the intensity of his dreams before adding; “I see Catherine in those dreams as I have never seen her before, and she, she sees me.” He paused begging Father to understand with eyes filling with pain and embarrassment unable to put those things into words.

Father understood and he added the missing words that were silenced by his son.
“Naked?”

Vincent looked away, embarrassed, “Yes.” His reply was barely audible.

“When then Vincent, do you know?”

“In my dreams everywhere is dark, only a dim light is glowing. It is enough to see her, but not enough to see where we are, but I think, I feel that we are somewhere deep, somewhere alien, I can feel the unease and the cold of the place surrounding me.”

Father nodded, “The cave then, that day when she went in with courage to save your life. She brought you back from the brink of death Vincent, from the madness, and you have been different ever since.”

“But a child?” Incredulous Vincent looked down at the baby upon his lap, seeing her through new eyes.
His child?
Was it possible?

“You said Catherine had something that she wanted to tell you that last day you were together?” Father reminded him gently.

“Yes.”

“Do you think…”

“That she wanted to tell me about the child?”

Father nodded.

“Yes.” Vincent told him, “I believe that was why she was so troubled.” He swallowed hard, as new implications of this amazing event unfolded before his eyes. “And that’s why she was kidnapped, and that’s why the child was stolen, and why Catherine lies in a coma today. Father somebody knew, somebody knew and they wanted this child, only because she is my child!” His voice rose and Father looked on startled, “Then someone knows about you, enough to know of your link with Catherine?”

“Someone evil, someone who will stop at nothing to get what they want, but none of this makes any sense. Was it just a mistake that Catherine never died, was it a mistake that during the time the child was at the hospital no one made any attempt to take her back? Father it doesn’t make any sense. What then are they after?”

The truth hit them both simultaneously and Vincent’s eyes widened, “Its me, they want me don’t they?”

“If your theory is correct then yes, possibly. Vincent have you ever attempted to go to Catherine since she has been found?”

“I don’t know where she is. No one does, why even Elliot Burch and Joe Maxwell are being kept in the dark. No body knows where the FBI are hiding her, not even Peter her own GP!”

“It must have messed with their plans when the child disappeared. If they know where Catherine is they are probably having her watched. They would not know that Catherine had not told you about the child.”

“But why not? Catherine did have time to tell me even if she didn’t, but they don’t know that, unless she told them otherwise.”

“And she might have done Vincent. To protect you Catherine would do anything.”

“As I would Catherine, but it is because of me that all this has come about. It is because of me that Catherine has undergone so much pain.”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“First you tell me that the child is mine and then you imply that she isn’t. What am I to believe Father?”

“Vincent, I didn’t say that, I didn’t imply that she wasn’t your child, I stake my life that she is, everything about her speaks of you, and then of course there is the connection.” Father’s merry eyes twinkled.

“Connection?”

“You may have lost your bond with the child’s mother Vincent, but Rose certainly shows signs of sharing one with you. She knows when you are near she responds to your approach through solid rock Vincent. How does she know that? Tell me huh, if Rose shares a bond with you from whom does she get it, from you or from Catherine?”

Vincent shook his head, as if clearing it again. This too was unbelievable, but if it were true, if the child were his, then Catherine had carried that knowledge with her and had still returned to him. She had acted with love and with kindness around him, indicating that whatever he had done with her she had been a willing participant. Suddenly that thought became unbearably too much, and Vincent needed time to think.

“I need time alone Father.”

Father reached for his cane and rose to his feet, “Of course you do Vincent, I’ll be in my chamber if you need me.” He crossed the room, and bent to kiss first the tawny head of his son, and then lower still to plant a kiss upon the silky head of his granddaughter.
Father smiled with pride, yes she was his granddaughter, Vincent’s daughter, and incredible as it may sound, Father realised he had never doubted it for one moment.

The telephone rang for what appeared to be the umpteenth time that day, and Gabriel snatched it up, hoping for the news he sought.

“Yes!”

“Sir, its Jed, I’m sorry Sir we’ve drawn a blank again. He just didn’t show. And Sir?”

“Yes?” Gabriel shook with rage as he grasped the receiver in one hand his tone barely civil.

“If I might be permitted to make a suggestion Sir.”

“Go on.”

“Is it possible that he doesn’t know where she is?” The voice quaked on the other end of the line. Daring to even suggest that his boss hadn’t thought of that filled the caller with dread.

Nonetheless Gabriel held his silence for a few moments signalling to the caller that he was still present only by the sound of his ragged breathing. He neither acceded to nor refused the question, instead he replied, “What would you suggest?”

There was a long in drawn breath at the other end of the line, and Gabriel waited aware that the caller was selecting his words carefully, afraid of upsetting him. Gabriel smirked, someone had trained the fellow well, only been on the payroll two weeks and already he cowered before him.

“To make the beast know of her whereabouts. There must be someone that knows where he is.” The timid reply suggested.

Gabriel thought it over for a second or two before answering sharply, “Get it done.” And then hung up, how his men got it done didn’t concern him, only the outcome of their actions did.

With the telephone receiver burring in his ear, the caller stood for some moments collecting his thoughts together. It had taken all his courage to make the suggestion and at no time had he assumed that his boss would expect him to carry the suggestion through. The man shook. He was on a spot now and if he did nothing he would die. If he did anything and failed he would die. Before him appeared a colossal task and he had not the contacts with which to make it happen. Still if he didn’t try his boss would have his head. He replaced the receiver just as a high-pitched wail issued from its tone, and walked slowly back to where he had left his car.