Unbound (The Braille Club #2) (7 page)

“How so?” Ford enquired.

“It’s something you must see for yourself, plus we will insist on the signing of a confidentiality agreement.”

Ford was thinking, processing the words. “I’m a busy man, Mr. Walker. I’m afraid I’ll need more details.”

“I understand. I will send the proposals via email. You can ring me when you’ve absorbed them.”

“Good, I look forward to it. Goodbye, Mr. Walker.” Both men hung up simultaneously, smiling.

Ford had been dating his girlfriend Monique for some time and he’d grown fond of her. He definitely had a type; she was petite, brunette, with pretty eyes and an exquisite face. She told him red hair was hot and sexy, citing Michael Fassbender and Benedict Cumberbatch. He’d laughed, pulling her towards him.

“Flattery will get you into trouble,” he remarked, then silenced her mouth with a kiss. Ford was unusual; he was completely comfortable in his skin. Surviving his ugly duckling stage, he now embraced who he was, glad his earlier days were behind him.

Guy Walker’s call had unsettled him. He’d had offers before—Shell and BP amongst others, but he liked being his own boss. It suited his nature, he liked calling the shots. He looked at his diary. It was busy, but nothing his crew, all handpicked and highly specialised, couldn’t handle. He’d wait and see what arrived in his email. Curious, he scrolled through his contacts until he located Danny. He sent him a text.

Ford: Guy Walker
?

As he waited for Danny’s reply, his thoughts returned to Esme. Shortly after her departure, he’d received an email from her at work. It had brooded in his inbox for two weeks as he tried to ignore it. Just the sight of her name brought memories; the flash of her rare smile, the way she flicked her hair out of her way in annoyance, her face with its smattering of freckles, focused and solemn.

Her eyes were sharp with intelligence; eyes that not only held your gaze, but challenged it. He’d hovered over the mail, fingers itching to open it, but he was still hurting, still angry. After another week he’d given in and they had stayed in touch ever since, tracking each other’s careers over the ensuing years. They were even friends on Facebook. Ford detested social media, but it had its uses. His mobile buzzed, and he looked at the screen.

Danny: Good, ex-copper knows my bro, why?

He quickly sent a reply.

Ford: Wants work done, just checking he’s legit
.

The reply was quick.

Danny: Aye.

Chapter 12

The Braille Club, London, One Year On: The central functionality of the sensory suit had improved, allowing patrons a host of options. The connection to the Braille chair, for example, is adjustable from light to strong, depending on what the patron decides will be the most effective. The tracery pulse within the suit is now controllable; from slow to fast and intermittent. The patron must choose his approach wisely; their trial and error period is still only 15 minutes long.

London 2014

Siena

Siena lay awake unable to sleep, tense and unhappy; withholding the DNA results and her impending testimony were taking their toll. She could sense the net closing in. Benedict asked her repeatedly if she was okay. God, she loved him, wanted nothing more than to share her thoughts and worries, but would he feel the same when she did? Her mind continued to churn until the familiar cry of the twins came as a relief. Slipping from the bed, she entered the nursery. She stared at the faces of the twins, for once asleep. Was her mind playing tricks on her? Turning dejectedly, she padded down to the kitchen. She sat in the darkness and let the tears come. Since she got that letter, she just couldn’t stop them, and then his warm arms were around her, strong and loving, making her sob even harder.

“It will be over soon, I promise. Then he can’t hurt us anymore,” whispered Benedict fiercely as he rocked her.

Siena said nothing as she watched the dawn arrive. Her parents would soon arrive to care for the twins as they had done every day since the trial began. She leant against Benedict and drew strength from him. Mentally she needed to pull herself together and conserve her energy to face that monster in court. She couldn’t bear to look at Nick knowing what he did—just being in the same room made her skin crawl. On the one occasion their gaze met, his calculated stare frightened her; like he was still in control. Nick was up to something, she knew that look—he was probably trying to scare her. Well, he excelled at that. No amount of makeup could disguise the dark shadows under her eyes and her clothes hung loose with the weight she had lost. She was so tired; she just wanted it to be over.

Siena eventually spoke to her lawyer. Philippa told her there was an unconfirmed rumour the DNA results were out although her firm had received nothing. Had Siena received anything in the post? She told Siena her source was normally reliable, but wanted to check with her first before she contacted the DNA company directly.

“No,” she lied. Philippa sighed and said she would look into it.

The courtroom was quiet. Standing centre stage, Nick’s QC held the jury spellbound as he built up the suspense. Siena saw Philippa frown and lean forward. He distributed Exhibit C to the jurors, asking them not to open the paperwork until instructed to do so. His voice was clear and powerful as he gave a full and technical background into the reliability of DNA testing.

Philippa shot out of her chair. “Objection, Your Honour. It appears the defence is in possession of information we are not privy to.”

Nick’s QC feigned a look of shock while a smile dressed his lips. “Your Honour, do you expect us to believe that my learned friend does not have these results in her possession?”

“Your Honour, may I approach the bench?” said Philippa urgently.

“Your Honour, I believe this to be a stalling tactic,” the defence blustered.

Siena watched the proceedings as fear clutched at her heart. She watched Benedict’s look of anger turn to anxiety. The court was adjourned for the day, following the judge’s ruling. Benedict took her arm as they followed Philippa. As soon as they were clear of the court, Philippa made a phone call while Siena and Benedict waited nervously.

“Is this some kind of joke?” Benedict fumed, pacing up and down. “How did Waters get the results before we did?”

Siena tried to speak, but a sob escaped instead.

“Siena,” said Benedict, rushing to her side. “It’s going to be all right,” he soothed. Siena saw Philippa approach and tensed at her grave expression.

“Siena, Benedict, I’m so sorry you were subjected to that. I left instructions last night with my office to contact the company handling the tests. I’ll call them for an update. Let’s grab a coffee.”

“Can’t I contact the firm directly and force them to tell me?” said Benedict, losing patience.

Philippa shook her head. “It doesn’t work like that. Please let my office handle this.” Benedict looked mutinous but had no choice but to accept what she said. Siena offered to get the coffee from a shop nearby and Philippa flashed her a grateful smile. They arrived and took a seat in Philippa’s office. The waiting was torturous as they sipped their coffee; all attempts at small talk abandoned when at last Philippa’s mobile rang. She took the call, turning her back and walking just out of earshot. Siena could see the strain on Benedict’s face as his grip on her hand tightened.

Philippa ended the call. “They’re faxing the results now.”

A knock and the tension in the room tightened. A young boy appeared with a sheet of paper in his hand.

“Josh, could you please give it to my clients?” Josh handed Benedict the fax. “I’ll give you some privacy,” said Philippa.

Siena began to cry again as Benedict gripped the piece of paper. A subdued Philippa re-entered the room with a copy of the same results.

“This does change things, I’m afraid.” She looked at the shocked faces in front of her. “Go home, I’ll brief you in the morning,” she said kindly.

***

Benedict

They were silent on the journey home, each wrapped up in their own thoughts. As soon as the lawyers had called saying there was a complication with the DNA results, he’d felt uneasy. Siena’s panic attack…had she received the paperwork that day? Is that what she was hiding? The company confirmed they had posted the results. He felt Philippa was embarrassed he didn’t know already. She assured him again a copy had been posted to his address and then everything clicked into place. It would explain her behaviour…but the company
had
made a mess of getting the results out to Philippa. His heart thudded painfully; he now knew what a complication with the DNA results actually meant.

Siena’s parents had handed over care of the twins to Grace for the afternoon. She was surprised to see them back so early, but one look at their faces had her hastily exiting their home. There had always been a chance Nick Waters could be the twins’ father, but he had dismissed it, the thought repellent. He felt his whole world had stopped spinning as he hurried to his front door to see Grace out. He moved quickly through the house to the kitchen and stopped when he saw Siena.

She looked utterly broken as she sat slumped on the chair, her shocked eyes staring into space. He stood behind her, his hand touching her face as she turned to look at him, eyes filled with anguish as she handed him a crumpled piece of paper. Benedict took it and began to read, his mind and heart racing. Then there was a loud roar in his ears as a devastating array of emotions passed through him until it was Siena holding him.

Chapter 13

The Braille Club, London, One Year On: The Braille chair now came in many guises…depending on zone choices. For example, there was the saddle chair for the most advanced assignees. With no support for their upper body, while their lower body was so intimately challenged, keeping their bell silent was the ultimate test.

London 2014

Ford

Ford sat opposite Benedict and Guy as he looked at the objects in front of him. He filled the room with his presence, his 6’4” frame barely accommodated by the chair he sat on. Studying the men in front of him, he could detect nothing from their demeanours. He was happy to sign a number of confidentiality agreements—he understood people must protect their inventions, but he was speechless when he saw what they were.

“Let’s start with the hood, shall we?” said Guy. “I want members to have the best sound experience, like headphones—wireless, of course—is this possible?”

Ford lifted the hood and examined it. He turned it inside out and eventually put it down before answering. “Look, I’m not sure I’m the right guy to be asking…this all seems very—” He struggled to find the right word. “Specialised,” he finished.

“In your opinion, is it possible or not?” asked Benedict as direct as ever.

“Well yes, I suppose it’s possible,” Ford conceded.

“We want a flexible cuff to replace this.” Guy handed him the bindings with the bells. “In fact, we want two versions. One cuff set with just the bells and the other with motion sensors. Both must have automatic locking and unlocking functions. Is that possible?”

Ford, uncomfortable now, nodded, wondering what had possessed him to attend this meeting. He stopped at the open chair in front of him and examined the machinery stored beneath the seat and frowned.

“I’m sorry, I’m lost here. What does this chair do?”

“Ford, can you come with us?” asked Guy as they all stood and he followed them through to a room with several similar chairs set out. Benedict would never allow Siena to participate in demonstrations. Foreseeing a need, Guy had asked Grace. An original member of their staff, she’d willingly taken on the teaching role.

“Ford, will you sit, please.” Guy indicated the chair nearest him. Ford sat down warily and Grace entered the room. She smiled at them warmly. An elegant woman, her age indeterminate, she was dressed in a black polo neck and tapered black trousers.

“Ford, I will leave you in the capable hands of Grace. She will take you through what is required.”

Ford felt uneasy and curious. “Is all this cloak and dagger routine necessary?” he asked.

“You are free to leave at any time. We ask, as a professional courtesy, you say nothing of what you have seen here,” said Benedict, already losing patience.

Ford heard the note of dismissal in his voice, the flash of annoyance on his face. He hesitated looking up, but the look of disappointment in Guy’s eyes had him eventually nodding his head. This was the most unusual meeting he’d ever been to, but somehow he sensed these men weren’t fooling around. Their intense expressions conveyed just how serious they were. Hell, the payment of his outrageous fee, upfront, told him they were committed.

“Okay.” He grinned. “I’m at your mercy, Grace. Be gentle with me.”

These were words he would soon realise he would come to regret. Grace stepped forward with the hood in her hands.

“Ford, this session is all about pleasurable endurance, but you will feel no pain. All I ask is that you do not ring your bell.”

Ford looked confused. “What do you mean? What bell?”

“Please listen, I will explain everything. There are three rules I will ask you to observe during this demonstration. The first one is you cannot see; blindfolds are compulsory. May I?” said Grace, the hood in her hands.

Ford’s eyes widened, but Grace pressed on, slipping it quickly over his head before continuing.

“The second rule is you must not speak, silence is mandatory; please nod your head if you wish to continue.”

Ford sat there, the darkness absolute, trying to get his racing heart under control—what was this? He didn’t know what was happening or whether he should continue, but he remembered Benedict’s cold voice from earlier telling him he could leave at any time and this calmed him. Still it was several minutes before he nodded his head.

“The third rule is you must not move. By this, I mean your hands. Once they are bound, should you move them, the bell attached to the bindings will ring, and the demonstration will be over.”

Ford thought back to what he had seen on the table. The silken fabric with the bells seemed innocent enough.

“Please nod your head if you are happy to proceed,” said Grace.

Again Ford paused. Did he want to be tied up? It had never occurred to him. He flushed as his mind wondered about the kind of kinky shit he was letting himself in for. Were Guy and Benedict still here? There was only silence as his ears strained to detect movement. Eventually, he nodded his head; he was a big guy. Grace and her bindings would be no match for his strength. Music flooded the room. There was a reason for this, it allowed Grace to approach Ford, the music masking her movements. Distracted, he jumped and stiffened when Grace touched his hands, drawing them behind the chair and quickly binding them together.

“Relax, Ford. Can you please move your hands?” asked Grace. The bells could be heard quite distinctly as he obliged. “Nod your head if you are ready to begin.”

Ford slowly nodded his head, his body on red alert. His heightened sense of smell became aware of a delicious scent all around him. His ears strained as he listened, but the only sound was the music and his own erratic breathing. The touch, when it came, a fingertip to his lips, caught him by surprise and it took all his control not to move as Grace began.

Guy watched mesmerised, having never experienced it so close up and personal. When he was in the cube, he was working under pressure, ensuring that members’ identities remained protected while juggling time restraints. Coordinating the removal of members when their bells went off, he barely had time to draw breath. This was different, the demonstration was laid bare before him, and he could not take his eyes off Ford. A mixture of tension and nerves charged the air. Benedict watched blankly while Grace took Ford through the routine, his mind elsewhere. He motioned to Guy that he would be next door and slipped out of the room.

Ford, his mind and emotions in turmoil, struggled to keep his body still. He had forgotten all about Grace, his focus concentrated on the touch. It was intense and intoxicating, his breath quickening in astonishment as he felt a pulse vibrate below his body. It was coming from the chair and his body tingled in response. Almost panting now, he lost all sense of time, connected only to sensations rippling through him. He groaned as the pulses intensified, wondering how long he could hang on. When the central pulse kicked in, rising through the fabric of the chair, he moved instinctively, the pleasure sublime. His bell rang and abruptly, everything stopped. He was on fire, both mentally and physically, sweat glistened on his partially covered face as his chest heaved up and down. Grace’s gentle voice grounded him.

“Ford, please wait while you are untied.” He felt the binding loosen and his hands fall free. “Take your time when removing the blindfold,” she continued. “The lights are dimmed to help your eyes adjust.”

Ford felt a strange crushing disappointment as he became aware of his surroundings, he didn’t want it to be over. The first thing he saw as the hood lifted was Guy Walker…Grace was nowhere in sight. Their eyes locked for the briefest of moments and Ford simply nodded, not trusting himself to speak—he was on board. He looked at his hands and saw they were trembling. Not sure he could stand yet; he sat a while longer on the chair he had arrogantly dismissed earlier. Regaining his composure, he found his voice.

“Right, let’s get down to business; I’ll have a look at that chair again,” he said firmly.

Guy stood and smiled. “I was hoping you’d say that…this way.”

Ford followed him, barely able to contain his excitement, his mind whirling with possibilities.