“No,” she said, and her eyes were glassy. “She didn’t know, that’s why she ran… in the book. In the book she thinks she’s doing it to please him, out of love, only one of the guests asks her for extra, a one on one… he asks her how much, and then she knows… she runs…”
“In the fucking book,” I spat. “In the filthy twisted fucking book. How many times?”
“Sorry?”
“How many times did he do that to her? Once, twice, three fucking times? More?”
“More,” she said. “I don’t think you should read that book, Mr Morgan, even I didn’t finish it.”
I jabbed a finger through the air. “I want your copy of that fucking book on my desk first fucking thing.”
She nodded. “Ok, Mr Morgan, I’m sorry.”
“Not as sorry as he’ll fucking be when I get my hands on the cunt.” I scrolled back up to events, checking out his next venue, and that’s when our cosy little duo became a trio. Demelza came dashing in.
“Mr Morgan…” she began, but I held up a hand.
“I know, I know, Topaz has been filling me in. I’ll get on it in a fucking minute.”
I was shaking with rage, my ears fucking ringing, and Topaz, bless her ditzy little socks, she took the fucking reins like a trooper.
“Don’t worry, Demelza,” she said. “I’ll give you a hand, just until Mr Morgan is ready.”
Demelza sighed. “It’s not normally a problem, it’s these masks, I can’t tell who’s bloody who tonight.” I felt her eyes on me, and turned to see her pouting. “And these weren’t put on the system properly,” she said. “I didn’t have any photos for this batch.”
“My bad,” I acknowledged. “I was a little distracted when I last processed them.”
“Who’s missing?” Topaz said, cutting my pathetic apology short.
Demelza flicked through the sheets. “I had four new starters, two came straight to me, I found one about fifteen minutes ago, and that was all good, but I can’t find this guy.George Frederick Winstanley.”
“Sorry?” Topaz said, and she was quick, ripping that sheet straight out of Demelza’s hand.
“What?” I said as her blushed face turned to fucking snow. “What is it?”
She put her hand over her mouth and her eyes were pools of fucking dread. “George Frederick Winstanley,” she said. “That’s Vincent Blackthorne’s real name.”
***
“Go!” I shouted. “Demelza get the fucking door team, get them to lock the main doors. Hell, get them to lock every fucking door. I want nobody in or out. Nobody, understand?”
She nodded, as white as Topaz. “Yes, Mr Morgan.”
“Now!”
She dashed off, and I was already calling up the security feeds, but the fucking masks everywhere made it hard.
“I’ve been looking for her,” Topaz said. “I couldn’t find her.”
I called up the camera to playroom four, but it was on a different circuit, it took a minute to fire up. My breath fucking stopped when the picture cleared, and there she was, I could only see her legs behind him, but I could see well enough to know she was pinned fucking solid. I leapt from my chair with hardly a fucking wince, the adrenaline was already rushing, pumping like a fucking piston.
“Where is she?” Topaz asked. “Is she ok?”
I didn’t answer. I was already off, racing down that corridor without a shit for anyone. The door was fucking locked, cunt. I smashed my shoulder into it but it wouldn’t budge.
“What shall I do?” Topaz arrived, panting. “What shall I do, Mr Morgan? You don’t think he’ll hurt her, do you?” She clutched her hands across her mouth as I slammed into the door again. “Please God, don’t say he’ll hurt her.”
“It’ll be the last thing the cunt ever fucking does,” I snarled, then realised I was running out of fucking options.