Love Lost and Found

Chapter 32/?

He cowered into the corner, flinching every time the chains on his left ankle clinked. He had barely moved but the chafing iron seemed to have rubbed through his socks, pressing upon his ankle and making the skin beneath it red and irritated. “Be right back.” the voice of his captor echoed in his mind as he tried to shift into a more comfortable position. “I just have to get the last missing... let’s say ingredient, shall we? I don’t think he’ll mind.” Who would not mind what, Orlando asked himself. The fact that the madman had referred to the ominous ingredient as “he” only made him more anxious. He hoped that he had not meant Bret. Tears ran freely over his face as he thought of the young actor, whom he hardly knew and who might be dead because of him. What if Bret was the missing ingredient? And if he was, what was the kidnapper planning to do with him? How could a human be an ingredient for something? He blinked furiously a few times, clearing his vision again. His eyes had grown accustomed to the gloom in the chamber and he was able to make out his surroundings now.
The only light came from the faded, dirty light bulb that stood on some sort of sarcophagus in the middle of the room, fed by a rather large battery. All in all there were three stone sarcophagi in the room. The one in the middle and two on the far end of the room, which were approximately 9 feet away from him. A stone statue was lying on each of the stone coffins, bearded men in withered long robes, whose feet seemed to rest on some sort of stony cushions, while their empty eye sockets stared emptily at the low ceiling.
Everything in the room was almost as dirty as old. The dust of decades covered the floor in a thick carpet of brownish grey, crumbled stones lay in the corners and some plants and moss had found their ways through and up the walls, making them shimmer in an sick green. Parts of the walls looked as though they were close to caving in and to his left, almost within his reach, lay a half-decayed dead rat.
A cringing bout of dry coughing churned Orlando’s lungs as he finally noticed the malodorous smell of the place. The air was incredibly dusty. He tried to make himself as small as possible as he sat up in the yellow gloom, his heart beating furiously with fear while he waited for his captor to return. His only hope of ever getting away had been destroyed by the chain on his ankle.

He had almost reached the run-down house where he had hidden the boy, when a thought suddenly struck him. He could always use the boy later. But he still had to deal with Michael, the traitor, who had dared to take Bret from him. Hatred shone in his green eyes. Nobody dared to cross his plans, without being punished for it. Michael was intelligent, no doubt about that, but he was still a criminal. And one who was more mad than sane. A malicious smile curved Kyle’s lips. Michael might just be dumb enough to take Bret home with him. He just had to find out his former partner’s address. But that was no problem. None at all. He changed directions and quickly went down the shabby, barely illuminated street towards his Mercedes. He knew where to get his answers from.

He hummed softly to himself as he cluttered around in the kitchen. Bret had still been asleep when he had gotten up, a contented smile playing on the Kiwi’s lips as he peacefully slept through the dreamy haze induced by the sleeping potion Michael had given him earlier. He had made up his mind as he lay awake before getting up and was more than curious how Bret would react to the news. Given that the actor could think clearly again. Two days had passed since he had saved the Kiwi from David but there still was a lot of Belladonna in the young man’s blood and he did not know how long the after-effects of the poison would linger on. He had absolutely no idea how much David had given him. He quickly switched off the coffee machine and poured the coffee into two identical blue mugs with red polka dots, choosing the fuller one for Bret and carrying them into the living and bedroom. He would try to wake the Kiwi as carefully as he could, lest the young actor mistake him for David.

He was swearing under his breath as he stormed into their shared office, calling on every demon and evil he knew, imploring each angel whose name he could remember, to please kill Goodie, Mortensen and the bodyguards and cast them into the deepest pit of hell. The officer on duty, a middle-aged man with a fitting middle-age spread around the waist, had informed him that Goodie had driven off almost an hour ago to visit that accursed Mortensen after Bloom had been to the station. “Fuck!” he yelled, brushing Goodie’s aloe Vera plant from the desk. Somehow the sound of the flower pot shattering on the floor made him feel better. At least a little bit.
His mood darkened as he leafed through the heap of papers on Goodie’s desk and noticed that the Bloom-Mortensen-McKenzie file was gone. What the hell was Goodie up to? Goodie’s notebook lay open to an empty page, the page before obviously having been ripped out in some sort of hurry. Kyle grinned as his finger ghosted over the paper of the following page. //Goodie must have written with a pen...// he thought. He could clearly feel the imprint the pen had made when writing. Quickly he took a pencil from his own neat desk and started to colour the page, grinning even more broadly when Goodie’s last notes became visible to him.
His grin did not last long as he finally made sense of what Goodie had written. Cursing loudly again he turned and ran out of the station, ignoring the strange looks his colleagues were giving him. He could only hope and pray that Daniel had not informed them yet. He needed to act quickly. Now even more than ever before. The evil one was close to winning and he was the only one to prevent that from happening. His self-assured grin returned as he remembered that they would never think of looking for Orlando in the catacombs. Few people even knew they still existed. He could go through with his plan just like he had intended to. He would have to hurry a bit in dealing with Michael and Bret, but that would be all.
Some moments later Kyle David MacLachlan was en route to Michael’s apartment, hoping that he would indeed find the traitor there. He was positive that everything would turn out just the way he wanted it to.

Tbc...