Chapter 169
Horace and Delray weren’t ones to slack off. The moment they arrived in the lunchroom they got to work. First, they crudely bandaged Dick’s wounds — to prevent him from bleeding out — before hog tying him like an animal. With that part done, they then dragged him to the stairs. There was no debate on how to get him down said stairs; they pushed him, then listened as he bounced to the bottom. Of course, Dick was livid about the treatment, and made that clear by cursing them up and down, struggling frantically until the bandages were soaked with blood, and being a generally annoyance to everyone within earshot.
“That was a nice touch they added — the tie and drag,” Jacques told Gilbert with a grin that soon faded. “But what about the little lady? How are we going to find her?”
“We’ll sweep the entire factory again, and hope she’s still here.”
“…you think he moved her before we got here?”
Gilbert let out a frustrated noise. “It’s possible, though I doubt it. Richard Clark is too much of a narcissist. He’d have gone with her, if only to taunt us from afar. The fact he was still here makes me believe she is, too.”
There was also the possibility that he’d already killed Vivian, but neither of them wanted to put that out into the world by saying it. It would mean they were looking for a body.
“…do you think she got away?”
The old man paused for a moment, contemplating the possibility. “… if she did, she’ll eventually call Tyrell.”
“Why Tyrell?”
“She has his number memorized. However, we will be operating under the assumption she’s still here.”
By the time they finished clearing the entire factory, they’d rounded up and disposed of fifteen men in total. None of those still alive proved useful in finding Vivian, so Gilbert had them removed for further interrogation.
Of the men working under Mr Devreaux, only two lost their lives during the raid, which was a pretty decent number considering they’d gone in blind. The factory’s layout, the number of men inside, who was behind the kidnapping… none of that information had been available at the time.
Once the bodies were cleared and the injured seen to, all remaining personnel were now focussed on searching for their boss’ daughter. Groups of three were dispatched to specific areas. One of them was to call out her name, while the others listened for an answer as they checked every nook and cranny.
Two hours later, they’d had no luck locating Vivian. It was as though she’d vanished into thin air.
Gilbert had made the command centre on the production floor, using one of the conveyor belts as a table. Someone had even procured a stool for him to use, as his wound had begun bothering him again. On the conveyor belt, he placed the blueprint of the building someone had acquired, marking off each area as they searched. When he marked off the last one, he gripped the pencil in his hand so hard it snapped in half.
Tossing away the pieces, Gilbert let out a frustrated sigh. “Where is she?”
“You sure she’s still here?” Someone dared ask, earning themselves an icy glare from the old man.
Jacques was sitting on the floor nearby, drinking from a bottle of water as he watched the idiot who’d spoken take a step back. Might wanna take a few more, buddy. His glare kills anything within a fifteen foot radius.
Quietly laughing at his own joke, he looked away from the show. He’d been on the receiving end enough times to know what was about to happen. Normally, it would be entertaining to watch, but he was too mentally exhausted to find fulfillment in someone else getting reamed out. Instead, he fixed his eyes on the machine across from where he sat, letting his mind wander.
It took a minute before he realized what his was seeing; was that blood on the bottom edge of the machine? Getting to his feet, he closed the distance and crouched next to it. Running his finger through the smear, he confirmed it was dried blood. “Hey, old man…”
“What?” The man in question snapped.
“Did someone cut themselves and bleed on this?” He asked, ignoring the attitude thrown his way. There was no other blood in the area as far as he could tell.
There were a few seconds of silence before he received an answer. “No. Why?”
Jacques ran his finger through the smear again before noticing a partial hand print on the floor, half under the machine. No way… There’s no way. The gap underneath was, maybe, twenty centimetres; there was no way she could fit. There just wasn’t. But when he got on his hands and knees, lowering his head to look in the gap, he caught sight of a pair of sneakers, then pants, an elbow… “Found her,” he choked out. “Jesus. Fucking. Christ. How did she fit under here?!”
Gilbert was by his side in less than a second, as if he didn’t believe his son had actually found the girl. “Miss Vivian… thank god…” he murmured under his breath before raising his voice. “Miss Vivian? Miss Vivian… it’s Gilbert Morris.”
“She had to have heard us talking all this time, or at least calling her name,” Jacques pointed out, his heart beginning to pound. What if she’s dead…? What if she hid under there and died, and that’s why she never answered?
As Jacques spoke, Gilbert pulled out his phone and turned on the flashlight. When he illuminated the space they could see she was curled up on her side in a tight ball, head tucked behind her knees. It looked like the outer lip of the machine was low, but there was more space once she’d gotten past it.
“Are her hands covering her ears?” Jacques asked with a frown.
“Seems so. We need to get her attention somehow. She’s too far in for either of us to reach.”
“I’d say give her a call, but… she doesn’t have a phone on her…”
Gilbert glanced over at his son. “Maybe not, but we do.”
“You do. I can’t do shit with the one I’ve got.”
Holding out his hand, the old man snapped his fingers. The nearest guy handed over a phone without a word.
“Okay, fine, show off much,” Jacques complained with a roll of his eyes. It was said without conviction, as he was relieved that there were others around to lend a hand.
“We could dismantle the machine,” Delray offered from where he stood near the blueprints. “Might take a while, but…”
“It might scare her more,” Gilbert replied with a shake of his head. “If we can’t get her attention we may need to resort to that, but until then we’ll avoid making things worse.”
As he spoke, Gilbert had placed the phone on the floor and, after taking careful stock of the lay of the ground and how far Vivian was from him, he gave it a shove. The phone slid under the machine, where it came to a stop a couple inches from her legs.
Using his personal phone, Gilbert made the call. Under the machine came the sound of an upbeat tune, one that had many of those standing around sneaking glances at the person who owned the device. It was a happy, make-you-want-to-dance ringtone that didn’t quite fit with the image of getting a call from one of your bosses.
“It’s my daughter’s favourite song,” the guy muttered, annoyed with the attention.
“Uh huh…” someone else said, causing a chuckle to ripple through the crowd.
“Be quiet,” Gilbert snapped as he waited to see if the girl would react.
The song played for half a minute before sending the call to voicemail without any reaction from Vivian. He called it a second time, then a third before Jacques noticed movement. “I think she’s moving,” he whispered, eyes wide as he watched one of her hands begin to move. Next was her legs as she uncurled just a bit, part of her face now visible.
She stared at the phone for a few seconds before hesitantly reaching out to touch it. From his position, Jacques could see her hand was shaking as she tapped at the screen. “H-hello?” She whispered.
“Miss Vivian, it’s Gilbert Morris,” he heard the old man say. “We can’t reach you while you’re under there. Are you able to get out?”
“…Gilbert?” Her voice sounded like she was talking from far away, even through the phone.
“Yes, Miss Vivian. I’m here. So is Jacques, and a lot of other people. We’ve been looking for you.”
“…Oh…”
“You can come out now, if you’d like. We made the bad guys leave.”
There was a pause, and Jacques watched as she drew her legs up, as if she planned to curl into a ball again, but then decided not to. “… you promise?” She sounded scared as she said those two words.
“I promise.”
“…okay…”
Jacques watched as she dragged herself along the floor and, even after witnessing it himself, couldn’t believe she fit through the gap. It was like watching a cat squeeze through a space it shouldn’t be able to fit.
There was blood covering her right hand, with smears of it on her face and clothes. Even her hair looked like blood had gotten in it.
“Let’s get you looked at,” Gilbert told her once she’d finished pulling herself out from under the machine. He had her sit on the floor, afraid she might not be ready to stand just yet. It looked like she was still in shock and unable to fully grasp what was going on around her. “Where are you hurt?”
“Uhm…” she began, looking confused. A first aid kit had been placed on the floor next to where Gilbert sat, which he opened and began rifling through.
First thing he did was wipe at the blood on her face, revealing the bruises that’d begun to form. Jacques watched as the muscles in the old man’s neck grew taunt at the sight of the darkened skin. He was nearly done cleaning her face when Vivian held out her right hand. “It’s all from this,” she murmured.
Gilbert paused, then carefully took her hand in his own. Gently, he moved her fingers so he could see the palm, but when Vivian made a pained noise he stopped. “You’ll need someone to stitch this,” he told her in a calm voice. “Nothing serious, just to keep everything closed while it heals. It’s not something I can do with my training.”
“So…” Jacques began as he got to his feet. “Do we bring her to the hospital? Or have her treated in house.”