Caulder is a man lacking in certain emotions, and this kind of job suits him well because of that. He’s able to detach himself completely from the consequences of the tasks that are asked of him, no matter how despicable they might seem to everyone else. Despite the nature of his work, Caulder has a close family, is a well-respected member of his community, and is considered by many of his friends, even the ones that know loosely what he does, to be trustworthy, balanced and fun to be around. Of course that depends entirely on the dynamic of the relationship you find yourself in with him. One word that suits him perfectly in all situations is ‘thorough’.
If there is anyone who can find out who is responsible for the images and the ransom demand, it’s Caulder.
Isabella lives in a large, open planned apartment in a converted warehouse on the east side of Manhattan. She’s worked for Dante for as long as Wonderland has been open, working her way up from occasional dancer to everyday manager, demonstrating excellent business acumen on the way. She is a close confidant, and Dante trusts her completely, but that is beside the point. Caulder trusts no one, which is why he is here.
The first thing Caulder does after picking the three locks to gain access, is sit down in the egg chair that hangs from the ceiling with a thick length of rope, and contemplate the room. Large oak cross beams link structural sections and pipes hang from exposed brick walls like intestines. In one corner sits the large, cushion adorned bed, while another occupies several sofas and a giant, flat screen TV. There are books stacked up along the edges by the huge sash windows, and art work framed in elegant detailing, hanging off industrial hooks. Chains swing loose from the ceiling in sections, some gathered up to hold elegant lamps or other elements of modernist decoration.
Caulder takes off his shoes, taking care to tuck the laces inside and place them by the door. He pulls on latex gloves, cracks his knuckles and begins his search, moving from area to area methodically. Out of kitchen drawers he removes utensils, operation manuals, and tea-towels, all of which he examines carefully before putting back. He goes through closets, drawers, cabinets and boxes. He removes clothes, runs his hand along brick work to look for hidden gaps and sections, lowers himself carefully to look under the bed and meticulously examines the ceiling with an intense beam torch.
Out of a box stashed prudently in the bathroom, he pulls sex toys and lubricants, anti-depressants and other exotic medications, all of which he handles without a single break in concentration . Behind a hanging portrait he finds a safe, the lock to which he has open in around six minutes, which has money and expensive jewelry inside.
When he is finally finished, the apartment has been turned over completely to his satisfaction and he’s back in his swinging chair, he takes out his notepad and pen, and crosses off Isabella’s name.
He goes to the fridge, drinks orange juice from the carton, takes a loud leak in the toilet bowl, and puts his shoes back on by standing up and balancing himself perfectly. With the thick door closed behind him, he resets the locks and heads back to his car.
At Alex’s apartment he does the same. There, amongst an office drawer of assorted electronics, he finds a digital camera, where close inspection of the memory card reveals nothing out of the ordinary. He opens her computer, scans her files and copies a large chunk of them onto a pen drive. In the waste paper basket, he finds screwed up post it notes of captured chunks of passing thoughts and unimportant reminders, alongside torn bills and discarded paperwork. In the bathroom upstairs, he cleans his teeth with her toothbrush, while her cat, Ivan, watches him suspiciously from out in the corridor. Back in his car, he scratches her name off the notepad.
Henry sips at cold coffee. On the table in front of him sits an antique radio, broken into a hundred pieces and scattered about folded newspaper. Ghost lies at his feet, caught peacefully in postprandial sleep. Outside, his car swallowed by the shadow of a large tree, Caulder waits. On the seat next to him, taken from a hidden compartment in the trunk of Henry’s Sedan only moments before, sits a large manila envelope, out of which stick the white borders of several printed photos.
Chapter 5
The light around Dr Chaudrey’s head looks like a halo. Sash can’t help but think it appropriate, considering that what he is about to do to her would be viewed in some cultures as a miracle. Even in her own understanding of the advances of modern life, Sash can’t help but feel like she’s about to be blessed, and that Dr Chaudrey is less of a doctor and more of a modern day saint. How many girls can say that they have lost their virginity twice?
Dante watches his stepsister eagerly. In less than two hours, she’ll be as pure as she was when they first met. At her side, he holds her hand, while Dr Chaudrey and his team of assistants, one of whom Sash notices has kind eyes, hover above her, getting her ready for the operation.
Sash feels comfortable in their company. The room is clean, the procedure, she has been reminded again, extremely simple. Dante is by her side. The woman with the kind eyes is brushing the hair away from her head like her mother used to do. They are going to administer general anesthetic only because it’s more comfortable for Sash that way. When she wakes up, she’ll feel a little tender but nothing more. After a while, it will pass. She’ll notice nothing uncomfortable or different with her body. Dante has promised to take her for a romantic, candlelit dinner. He’s promised to wine her and dine her and then fuck her brains out spectacularly, and just the thought of it makes her melt.
She can feel her eyes getting heavy, the light blurring at the corner of the room. The last thing she remembers before she falls asleep, is Dante’s phone ringing and her hand slipping away from his as he goes to answer it.
***
In the hallway, green paint peels near a crack in the wall. Dante turns his mobile phone over in his hands as he looks at it, trying to think what to do. It’s the same thing he’s been doing for the last hour and still hasn’t reached a conclusive decision. One hundred million dollars is a lot of money to pay for silence. It’s a lot of money to risk for that silence too. Again the question comes to him, how did they know?
If he lets Caulder do what he needs to do, he crosses a point he can never return from. If he doesn’t do anything at all, he risks everything he has spent his life working towards. He didn’t exaggerate when he warned Sash, if the whole world finds out about them, he knows they’ll be finished. Not only will his businesses lose interest from important backers, he’ll lose the faith of his clients and his life, as he knows it now, will change completely.
He’ll be backed into a corner, hounded, harassed, and absolutely humiliated. They both will, and he can’t afford that. Not when he’s on the verge of getting what he wants. Not after such a long time waiting for it. If it isn’t Henry, however, he has another problem entirely. He has the initial problem of dealing with the ransom, and then he has the problem of Henry and his mother automatically finding out about them. He knows what he promised Sash, but can he afford for them to find out this way?
The mobile phone turns in circles against his leg. The more he looks at it, the bigger the crack gets. On one side one half of the corridor bathed in light that spills from the adjacent window, the other in darkness cast by the shadows of a large oak paneled cabinet. Sash will never forgive him if she finds out, but then if she found out what he’s done already for them, they’d be over like that. One hundred million dollars. He could pay for his silence directly for much less than that. But what if it’s not Henry, what does he do then? What if the whole thing is a bluff or a set up? Can he take the risk if he thinks it is?
Once again, he cycles through the images, grainy but clear enough to make out, of him fucking his stepsister. Despite the obvious issue, they make him feel a little proud and a lot horny. There she is captured in a moment in time, under his spell. Bound by him, driven wild by him, taken and owned by him, she is his, forever.
Finally coming to terms with what he has to do, he takes a deep breath, and makes the call.
Chapter 6
Dante is by her side when she wakes in a recovery room, one hand on her forehead, the other grasping her fingers tightly. It takes her a moment to realize it’s not her bedroom, nor is it anywhere else she’s ever been before. A moment later she remembers the operation and why she is here, and as if the memory itself brings with it the sensation, she immediately feels a knot of pain gnaw at her insides.
“Hey”, Dante says, as he watches her stir.