Below in the tunnels a crisis was taking place, Vincent hadn’t been seen for the best part of four days, and each was recounting the last time they had seen him.

“We were in here. Father you remember,” Winslow looked up at the older man of their community hopefully, “We were pouring over the maps for levels D and E, we were making plans to send a work party down there in the next couple of weeks to check everything is in order before water levels rise.”

Father nodded, “Yes I remember. But was that the last time you saw him? As I remember the pair of you left together.”

“We parted company just outside your chamber. I heard him stop and speak to Mary.” Looking round the book-clad chamber Winslow searched for the mother of the tunnels, and not finding her among them asked, ”Where is she? I thought you told us all to meet here by ten.” “Mary is taking another look in Vincent’s chamber for clues. I have to admit to checking his journal, but he makes no mention of any trip away, or anything untoward except his meeting with the two young women from above.” Father told the assembled group of anxious faces before him.

“What do you think about that? Do you think it has anything to do with Vincent’s disappearance?” Pascal asked anxiously.

“It’s a possibility, and as with all possibilities Jamie is set to embark on that just as soon as we conclude this meeting. She and Kipper are going above to the woman’s apartment to see what she knows if anything.”

“Don’t you think that’s a bit dangerous? You should send someone like Winslow. Someone that can fend for themselves.”

“Pardon me, Pascal” Jamie spoke indignantly, “But I am more than capable of looking after myself.”

“So is Vincent, but he’s missing, isn’t he?” Pascal challenged hotly. Jamie caught his drift, “I’m sorry, I get your point. Perhaps someone should accompany us.” She looked to Winslow, who with a nod of his head accepted the offer. Father felt grateful that they had settled it amicably. It had almost turned hostile for a moment. Tempers frayed he presumed with Vincent missing, everyone was worried sick.

Other people spoke up telling when they had last spoken with Vincent and what mood he had been in, and the opinion was passed that at the time of his disappearance, Vincent had been largely optimistic about a great deal of things. A trifle worried perhaps about the woman from above which was only natural, but generally acting as though nothing had perturbed him in the slightest. Therefore, his sudden disappearance was a mystery indeed.

“This might be something.” All looked up grateful for the distraction as Mary entered the chamber. “I found it in his rubbish bin.” Before them, she flattened the creases out from a ball of paper that Vincent had so obviously screwed up and tossed in the trash. “I couldn’t read it so well in his chamber, the candles are burning low and I couldn’t find where he keeps the matches, in here will do better.” The crowd cleared a path for her to the table behind which Father sat with hands steeped in front of him.

“It’s not clear, but I think it says, Vincent your visitors from above are staying with me, should you wish to visit with them, you’ll know where to come. Its signed simply JP. Who do you think its from?” Mary looked from face to face in hopeful expectation.

“Let me see the note.” Father reached for and took it from her hands. The initials JP did mean something to him, but the handwriting would clarify that thought. It did. Father quaked, “Paracelsus.” He whispered hoarsely, “So he’s back among us.”

Whispers gathered around about, questions like “whose Paracelsus?” rang through the crowd and answers, “He’s evil, you don’t want to know” flittered back again.

“Those women, Father, you know the ones from above, said that they had encountered Paracelsus on their way down. I’m sorry after everything that has happened it went clean out of my head. Besides I expect the sentries on duty that night would have seen him?” Jamie looked around hopefully, dismayed when it became apparent that no one had seen the Arch Enemy of the tunnels.

“That he can come and go among us and not be seen is frightening.” Father told the group, “But we should have known this. John is a master of disguises, and if anyone has taken Vincent, he will have done. We must gather together search parties within the hour, and each must go armed prepared for anything. Winslow, you go with Jamie above to the woman, maybe she can remember something. It might not have meant anything to her, but to us it could be the key to finding Vincent. Bring her below if you have to and her friend. I don’t hold with visions and dreams but in these circumstances anything her friend can offer would be a blessing and Narcissa is too far to consult.”

“Father, have you thought…what if the two women and Paracelsus were in on this together?” Jamie asked thinking aloud as the idea presented itself.

“It is possible, but we will know nothing without questioning them. So go above dear girl, take Kipper and Winslow with you, and ask all the questions you can, and if you are not satisfied, or if you think they are withholding something, them bring them back below.” He turned from Jamie, directing commands at the small groups assembling themselves. People that worked well together, those with experience in searching the lower darker levels. Those equipped in the art of weaponry in case they had the need to use it.

“Mary, I think it would be best if we assemble all the families that cannot take part in the search nearer the home chambers, especially the children. Organise some games for them, but make certain that hide and seek is not among them. If Paracelsus is behind Vincent’s disappearance, the children might be at risk if they were to be found hiding away from the others.”

Mary hurried out, her face pinched with worry, they’d encountered Paracelsus’s antics before, and each time was not something any of them wished to remember. Over and above it though was the underlying truth that if Paracelsus had Vincent who would be a hard person to capture, than none of them were safe. Quickly she rallied groups of young women together issuing commends for the children’s safety and with quiet precision, her orders were carried out without question. Everyone felt the apprehension knew the folly of being oneself at a time like this and each and every tunnel member prayed for Vincent’s safe return.

“Do you know what day it is?” Catherine opened her apartment door to a highly irritated Joe, and just blinked at him, surprise evident in every line of her face.

“Joe?” She queried, first checking her watch, and then realising it would not tell her the date, help open the door for him and waited for him to explain why he was there obviously annoyed and raging on her day off!

“What’s wrong with your door?” Joe queried, pushing it to behind him. Paracelsus had had people repair it, but it would never be as good as before.

“Nothing.” Catherine eyed her boss sceptically, and he was about to speak when the bedroom door opened a crack and he swung round surprised, “Oh I see. Say no more Radcliffe, too busy in the bedroom I see. Don’t mind the fact that you have a job will you? Don’t mind the fact that I might be worried about you! Christ Cathy, I’m only a phone call away. Whatever happened to etiquette?” He would have said more only the bedroom door opened fully and he was stunned when a woman and not a man as expected exited the room.

“Oops, sorry. I heard voices.” Jenny hurried back into the bedroom, trailing the unfastened robe behind her and emerged moments later with the sash firmly tied. “Sorry about that. You’re Joe, right? Joe Maxwell. I recognise you from the papers.”

Flustered Joe sat down without waiting to be asked. “Something funny’s going on here, Cathy, mind telling me what it is?”

“You tell me Joe, you rage in here bellowing about work on a Saturday, Lord want me to work six days a week now do you?” Catherine grinned hoping doing so would pacify him. It generally did.

“Saturday! Saturday? Christ Cathy, its not Saturday, its Tuesday. What are you on?” Suddenly he noticed her puffy eyes, swollen lips and tired wan expression. Perhaps she was ill. Perhaps that’s why her friend was there, taking care of her, and if she had lost track of the days…

“Tuesday!” Both Jenny and Catherine exclaimed together before bursting into laughter. “I don’t think so. What did you get the pages of your calendar stuck together or something?” Catherine added with a full-fledged grin. “Hello, earth to Joe, it’s the weekend. Lord, I think you must be overworked Joe, even more than I am.” Catherine laughed. She hadn’t worked for the district attorneys office for more than two months, but her desk was piled so high with files that she could barely find her way to the chair behind it some days.

His briefcase at his side, Joe reached into it, and almost smugly opened a folded newspaper contained within, “What date does today’s paper say Cathy? Come on don’t keep uncle Joe guessing?”” Catherine detected the sarcasm but let it go, only reached for the newspaper wondering what on earth he was doing.

“Tuesday 5th.” Disbelieving her own eyes, Catherine hurried to her calendar hung behind the kitchen door, several dates were ringed, and Catherine remembered this appointment and that appointment, and left the kitchen astounded that Joe was telling the truth. “He’s right, Jen. It is Tuesday.”

Jenny, who up until then had been leaning against the table grinning, waltzed round to the nearest chair, flopped herself into it, then jumped up and raced for the bedroom, “Heck!” She cried, “I’m supposed to be in Connecticut this afternoon! That’s if I’ve still got a job to go to.”

“Whoa!” Joe grabbed her arm, “Not so fast, if you ladies really thought this was Saturday, you are in no fit state to go anywhere. What happened here?” He looked back at the door eyeing it sceptically. He was certain it had been tampered with. And when his best investigator suddenly lost three days of her life, something was clearly wrong. “Did you shoot up?” He hated to think that but had to ask.

Catherine’s mouth dropped open, “Joe, how could you even think it?”

“I don’t know you well Catherine, you might do that sort of thing. And it would make sense.”

“Well not this time buster!” Jenny snapped, “We don’t do that sort of thing. We’re good girls, but I’d sure as hell like to know who robbed some of my life. Have you time to stick around and help us try to remember?”

Joe nodded. He’d seen Jenny Aronson a time or two, liked and respected her, and he would have a soft spot for her if that soft spot weren’t already taken up with dreams of Catherine Chandler. He’s actually made up his mind to ask Cathy for a date the next weekend, now he wasn’t so sure, not unless she could find some other way to make him forget what day it was. Joe grinned. Now that could be interesting.

“Hello, earth to Joe.” Jenny waved a hand in front of his face, pulling him from his daydreams with a touch of embarrassment. “Sorry, I was thinking.” He told her by way of covering up, quickly followed by, “What is the last thing either of you remember?”

Wracking their minds, the two young women thought hard. “I can remember eating soup.” Jenny laughed, “Did you spike it Cath?”

“That’s not funny.” Catherine told her friend shooting a hasty look in Joe’s direction thankful that Jenny understood, “Sorry Cath, that was thoughtless of me in the circumstances.” And to Joe she pleaded, “Forget I said that, my friend is not into spiking drinks, or soup come to that. Its just that is ALL I can remember, although…” Her words trailed away causing both Catherine and Joe to search her face alarmingly. “What is it Jenny, anything no matter how trivial might help us here.” Catherine told her. “For I too, can’t remember anything beyond the soup.”

“Its nothing really, just one of my weird dreams I guess.” Apologetically she looked toward Joe saying, “I have strange dreams you see. Sometimes I can see into the future, and I have no way of knowing at the time whether they are dreams of the future or of the past, when they aren’t related to people that I know.”

Joe was sceptical and disinterested in Jenny’s ‘gift’ all he wanted to know was what she could actually remember. “I think its best I called back when you two, have had time to clear your heads.” He told them. “Tell you what you just call me when you want to talk.” He headed for the door, “I really don’t have time for this.”

Stunned a little, in light of the fact that he had said he had time to help, both Catherine and Jenny watched his retreat with some annoyance, but they said nothing, just let him go. Besides when they thought of it, much of what the two women had undergone over the past few days could never be related to him anyway.

“So what do you think did happen to us?” Catherine asked as she checked that Joe had closed the door firmly. Her gaze remained fixed on the hinge for a moment longer than was necessary as something pricked at the back of her mind. What was it about that door anyway?

“Well without stating the obvious Cathy, we were drugged. The thing is, why and when? The last thing I remember was being here with you eating soup and toast. There are those evasive dreams of course but nothing substantial enough to grasp.”

“You might think this strange, but I’ve had similar dreams, at least I think I have. Do any of your relate to dungeons with bars and chains?”

Jenny gasped, “As it happens, yes they do. And a man, white haired balding, with evil intent in his eyes, I know…Paracelsus…remember that man we met in the tunnels?”

“The tunnels?” Catherine queried mystified.

“Don’t say you’ve forgotten? Cathy! Hello,” Jenny waved a hand before her friend’s face, “We went down into the tunnels beneath the city remember, and we met Paracelsus, among others.” By the expression on Catherine’s face, Jenny wondered if she had dreamed all that as well. Clearly, Catherine could remember nothing of the experience.

“This is weirder than I thought.” Jenny remarked very much troubled, “I’m sure we did that.”

“Jenny, the last thing you’d have me do is traipse underground through sewers!” Catherine exclaimed with obvious disgust. Even so, Jenny was jubilant, “I never said where the tunnels were, Cathy! We did do it! I know we did for I clearly remember that before we went into them you had no knowledge of their existence. Well that’s not strictly true. We learned about the tunnels beneath the city in college, but you had forgotten that, remember?”

Catherine shook her head, “I neither remember learning of them, or have knowledge of them now. Are you sure? I mean are there really tunnels beneath the city? I thought there only to be sewers.”

“They might have been built for that reason, but obviously weren’t deep enough for that usage. No, these ones are storm drains, to take away waste rainfall or tidal waves that sort of thing. But in parts of the tunnels people have set up their homes, many are known as the Mole People.”

“Do you mean that people actually live in them?” Wide-eyed Catherine could not believe she had heard Jenny right.

“Not just people Cathy, but we believe that he lives in them, remember?”

“Now you have lost me. Oh you mean this Paracelsus fellow?”

“No, not him! Well yes, him too. I mean the guy that you have the connection with. The one that rescued you that night in the park.”

“Do what?” Brows drawn together, Catherine stared at her friend totally perplexed. “I was what? Rescued from the park? Why would I be rescued from the park? I know my way out of there for God’s sake!” Catherine laughed, what Jenny had said was ridiculous.

“Cathy! Don’t you remember anything?” Jenny grew worried. Either she had had a damn weirder dream than ever before, or Catherine’s memory loss was worse than her own.

“At this moment in time if you told me the sun had turned green three days ago and I saw it happen with my own eyes, I wouldn’t believe you. Besides…” she laughed shakily and pointed to the window, “the truth is plain to see. The sun is still yellow.”

“It might have turned back to yellow.” Jenny remarked, but knew that was not the issue and did not want to get into that sort of debate, not at that moment. “Cathy, look I’m sure I wasn’t dreaming this, besides why on earth was I here? We don’t usually share a bowl of soup in the early hours, do we? “

“There’s always a first time. Come on Jen, its one of your dreams isn’t it? Only this time its one that has appeared so real you have believed it actually happened. How do you know, for heavens sake, that its not like you told Joe, a dream about an occasion that’s yet to be?”

“Because this feels as though we did it already. Oh Cathy, usually when I have such a dream, various aspects of it remain veiled. I can’t see faces clearly, I can only surmise at places. But in this one all the corners are visible, and all the rough edges are formed, there are no ghostly places where my eyesight can’t penetrate. Everything is clear, whole complete. It wasn’t a dream Cathy. We did it, it happened.”

Catherine laughed out loud, “Then how is it I don’t remember?”

Jenny sighed, “I don’t know how or why Cathy, but someone drugged us. They came up here to your apartment, they broke down the door and…hey…what is it? Have you remembered something?”

Catherine was looking at and then walking slowly toward the door. Jenny watched her mesmerised as she too recollected something happening to it in what seemed a lifetime ago.

Tracing the door frame with her fingers, Catherine sought out her mind’s elusive messenger that told her the door had been broken down, and recently too. Cathy knew that there had been no other occasion when that had happened, and she wasn’t one to have strange dreams as Jenny had.

“Someone broke it down.” Catherine told Jenny, “Why I remember that and nothing else beats me. But just a few days ago, this door was broken off its hinges, and as if to prove that, see here…” she touched the bright brass hinges, “they are new, Jenny. The hinges are new…but the lock…it’s the same, though look…I have to lift the door slightly to make it fit. I never had to do that before.”

“You likely remembered it because it left you vulnerable. Your possessions were left unprotected while we were gone. Because we were gone, Cathy, deny it all you like, but someone broke in here, drugged and carried us off. They placed us in chains and used us to capture another and then they brought us back here and let us think we had imagined it all. The only thing was they gave us more of the drug than intended…” Jenny shivered, “Or less than they’d thought. Perhaps we were never meant to wake up, Cathy!”

“I don’t know Jen, but I know you from of old. I’m inclined to believe you, even though I remember none of that. Tell me more about the tunnels, and about this other person you said I knew would be there.”

“Don’t you even remember that?” Jenny was clearly amazed. “Cathy ever since the night you were attacked in the park…”

“Whoa…whoa…” Catherine exclaimed, “I was what? Attacked? When did this happen?”

“Oh Cathy!” Jenny exclaimed tiredly, “Sit down, I can see I have a lot to remind you of.”

When she had done, Catherine still could not believe her friend, it all sounded ludicrous, especially the bit about being connected to her saviour. Catherine would have laughed had Jenny not taken it so seriously. The thing was what were they to do about it for if Jenny was right, then they had left a lot of loose ends unattended.

“You don’t believe me do you?” Sadly, Jenny asked at length.

“Its not that. I want to do. You have a great track record, Jen. But you also have a great track record for seeing into the future. How do I know that these are not things due to happen? There’s not a scar on me, and yet you say I was attacked?”

“Cosmetic surgery…hey…your doctor he would know…it’ll be in your medical records…call him Cathy, call him and ask if what I say has happened to you.”

Catherine laughed out loud, “Give Peter any reason to carry me off to the funny farm, Jen and that would be it. I’m not calling him with that question, no way.”

“Then I will.” Jenny left her seat with the intention of opening Catherine’s telephone book and making the call.

“You’re serious?” Catherine stopped laughing, then started again, “Go ahead, call him, maybe he’ll cart you away instead.”

Jenny said nothing, she knew she was right, and three minutes from now, Catherine would know she was right also. The thing was, Jenny felt that the proof would not be enough to convince her friend of everything else that had happened. And while she might remember more than Catherine did, there were still some things that Jenny had a problem with, like where was the entrance to the tunnels and who was the mystery man that Catherine had shared a connection with? More to the point, why was it that she no longer shared that connection with him? For surely if she had then she would know of it. What then had severed that feeling? Jenny grew worried as she dialled Peter’s number. Whatever his answer it would be the tip of the iceberg for Jenny had the distinct impression that the receiving of drugs in her system was only part of Catherine’s problem. Jenny felt that it had provided the perfect excuse for her friend to hide recent events away, to forget they ever happened and to bury them somewhere deep inside where they could never again remind Catherine of the night she was attacked or the events that followed it.

It didn’t help that Jenny was right, and Peter’s anxiety sent him hurrying around to the apartment the moment surgery was over for the day just to check on Catherine. Of course there was only so much Jenny could tell him, as far as she remembered the fact of people living in tunnels beneath the city was not something she ought not pass around, even to someone who could hold a confidence, like a doctor. So, all Peter knew was that someone had broken into the apartment for a reason known unto them given some kind of drug to both Jenny and Catherine and now Catherine could remember nothing at all. That Jenny’s memory was minimal concerned him but not being her doctor, he could only advise that she made an appointment to see her own, and relate the results to him as soon as she knew them. Better still, he told her, if he had the name and telephone number of her doctor, they could swap notes about the two patients. And so reluctantly, Jenny left her friend in Peter’s loving hands and made her way home, intent on calling her doctor for an appointment when she got there.

“Now young lady, I want you to tell me exactly how you feel?” Peter asked Catherine as he rolled her sleeve and took some blood from her arm.

“My head hurts.” Catherine told him, “But then after finding out that I’ve been involved in an attack I cannot remember, that’s not surprising. Peter who rescued me, don’t you know?”

“You asked me this before Cathy, and I didn’t know then. The park is a big place frequented by lots of people. It could have been anyone. We were just grateful at the time, given the hour, that it was someone compassionate enough to help you. Anyone else might have added to the injury.”

“Peter, I have to know…” Catherine’s lip trembled and with eyes wide she asked, “Was I raped?”

“No.” The relief his answer gave her was tremendous. “No, Cathy, just left for dead. You owe your life to your saviour, and as I remember have spent a great deal of time looking for him ever since.”

She was just about to ask him how he knew, when there came a knock at the door. A slight hesitant knock as if whomsoever it was were nervous about doing so.

“Shall I get that?” Peter asked standing up from where he knelt at Catherine’s side.

“Yes, please do.” Ordinarily she would have asked her visitor to call out first, but being that Peter was well over six foot and strongly built she felt he would overpower anyone with malicious intent, so said nothing. Not that she could imagine him listening to her anyway. So when Peter crossed over to the door and Catherine saw him open it she was surprised when his countenance showed genuine surprise at seeing whomsoever stood on the other side. Hushed whispers filtered across to Catherine, and he looked back over his shoulder at her, his eyes cautious and full of trepidation. Finally, he beckoned the caller inside, but it was not anyone that Catherine recognised.

“Catherine, this young woman says she knows you, is that so?”

Catherine looked from Peter to the roughly dressed young woman at his side and shook her head, “No, sorry. Who is she?”

“I’ve got a tongue in my head thank you! You can speak to me. And you do know me, or is your memory so limited that you have forgotten already. Or maybe I look different in the daylight.”

“Peter what is she talking about?” Catherine deliberately disregarded the young woman further. There was a distinctive smell about her, one Catherine’s nostrils found no favour with and she deliberately made that plain by holding her nose with her thumb and finger.

“Are you sure it was Catherine, Jamie?” Peter asked with obvious disbelief. “Only I can’t imagine that Catherine would…sorry Cathy…what was that?”

Something had pricked at the back of Catherine’s mind, “What did you say her name was?”

“Its Jamie,” both Peter and the young woman answered together, while the woman went on, “We met the other night in the tunnels.”

“Jamie!” Peter scolded with a glare that sent daggers her way.

“Its her, Peter. I’d know her anywhere. I’m not telling her something she doesn’t already know. Think I’d be that stupid?” Jamie glared back at the doctor. “Where’s your friend? Does she live here too?” Jamie looked around the apartment taking in its plush interior a little enviously.

“My friend?” Catherine asked with a sidelong glance at Peter.

“Yes, Jenny. The one you came into the tunnels with. Oh, come oh stop pretending it wasn’t you. You were even wearing the same clothes that you are wearing now, which if you don’t mind me saying so, smell just about as bad as you seem to think I smell.”

Despite how rude that was, Peter laughed, “I didn’t want to tell you Cathy, but now that Jamie has mentioned it, you do pong a little. In fact not too unlike the tunnels themselves.”

“That’s impossible, I bathed after we’d been…” Anything else Catherine had been about to say trailed away as a sudden flash of memory came and went and she frowned trying to keep a hold of it but it vanished from her mind leaving her feeling bewildered and apprehensive.

“Yes, after you’d been where?” Peter jumped on the statement. Though he had been sure that Jamie had been mistaken, for a moment there Catherine had seemed as though she was about to admit having been into the tunnels.

“I don’t know.” Catherine shook her head, “I can’t remember.”

“Yeah right!” Jamie remarked disdainfully, “And I bet if I asked you wouldn’t remember where Vincent was either, right?”

“Whose Vincent?” Catherine asked.

“I rest my case.” Jamie snapped. “Peter, she’s lying. Any fool can see that, and cos she is, I know that she must know more than she’s letting on about Vincent’s disappearance.” Jamie advanced on Catherine and grabbing hold of her sweater dragged her close and started to shake her, “Tell me, what did you do with him! Tell me!”

“Jamie!” Peter cried intervening and tearing Jamie’s hand away. Catherine was furious, “How dare you! Get out of here!” She stood intent on frogmarching the young woman to the door bellowing about calling security if the young woman didn’t go, while Peter did his best to pacify her.

“Catherine, its okay. I’ll see Jamie out. Look don’t fret so, there has to be a plausible explanation and I’ll get to the bottom of it don’t worry.” All three reached the door as he finished speaking. “I’ll just fetch my bag.” Retracing his steps, Peter reached and scooped up his bag in seconds finding the two women glaring at one another furiously on his return. “I’ll get the results of the test done Cathy, and call you, in the mean time try to rest and let me know if either you or Jenny remembers anything more.”

“She does know a Jenny?” Jamie queried who on the brink of wondering if she had been mistaken about Catherine, now knew differently. Peter nodded, “Yes but no more questions Jamie. Something’s not right here, Catherine has memory loss, but we’ll get it sorted I promise you.”

“And in the meantime, Vincent’s whereabouts remain a mystery. Its not on, Peter, she must know where he is! Where does Jenny live do you know?”

Catherine listened to the exchange in silence, until Jamie asked about Jenny’s address. “You’ll leave Jenny out of this. Peter don’t you dare tell her where Jenny lives. I’ll never forgive you if you do.”

“I won’t.” Peter began as Jamie flared, “Oh yes you will!”

“I won’t” Peter reiterated, “And I couldn’t if I wanted to, I haven’t a clue where Jenny lives.” Jamie sighed all fight leaving her feeling desolate. She had been so sure that coming up here would reveal the information that they so desperately needed to find Vincent and her parting shot made Catherine feel infinitely sad.

“If you remember then, if you suddenly remember what happened to Vincent, let us be the first to know, do you promise?”

Catherine said nothing, believing that she knew nothing, but her heart ached all the same. Whomsoever Vincent was, he meant a great deal to the young woman that was plain to see.

“Come away now, Jamie give Catherine some space, I’m sure if she remembers anything she will let you know.” Apologetically, Peter winked at Catherine as he took Jamie by the arm and led her toward the elevator. The most amazing thing about all of what had just taken place was only just sinking in. It was possible that the woman he had brought into the world and considered as a daughter all her life knew about the tunnels, and about Vincent, and strangely if that were so, Peter knew it would provide him with a great deal of relief and comfort. Because for the first time in thirty years he would have someone he considered ‘family’ to share the secret of the tunnels with, and that felt good, it felt really good.

To be continued in part seven.

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