CHAPTER 4 - Desperate Measures
Mr. Karras extended his hand, grasping Frank's in a firm handshake. The grip was strong, professional, yet there was an undercurrent of sympathy in the way he held on just a second longer than necessary.
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Thorn. Your wife was… is a remarkable woman. I am certain the authorities will manage to find her," Mr. Karras said.
Frank's shoulders slouched as he studied the man before him. Mr. Karras was tall and lean, his jet-black hair slicked back, accentuating the sharp angles of his clean-shaven, triangular face. The lines behind his glasses, and around his eyes and mouth spoke of a man accustomed to stress.
“I… we,” Frank began, his voice faltering as he nodded towards Benji, who stood beside him, clutching the strap of his backpack tightly. “We are devastated. I don’t know where to begin. I don’t even have a clue about the site you are tending to. I only know what you told me over the phone, Mr. Karras.”
Mr. Karras cleared his throat and returned to his black leather chair with a swift, almost mechanical turn. He sat down, folding his hands over a stack of papers on his desk.
His gaze shifted from Frank to Benji and then back, a new sorrow settling into his features.
“The site is cavernous, Mr. Thorn,” Karras began, his voice dropping to a more solemn tone. “Susan is one of our most prized and esteemed colleagues. She uncovered a very peculiar artifact that led us to believe we had found the main room of the labyrinth. But then… the floor crumbled. She, along with the artifact, fell through.” He paused, as if trying to collect his thoughts, then continued, “We dug and dug, but it was as if the earth itself had swallowed her. Only last night did we find a trace… a hint as to her fate.”
Karras opened a drawer in his desk and produced a single item- a shoe. It was dirty, scuffed, but unmistakably familiar. He set it gently on the desk, and for a moment, it seemed to weigh down the entire room with its presence.
Frank and Benji both gasped, the sound escaping them involuntarily. Frank’s eyes locked onto the shoe, recognition flashing in them before he managed to choke out, “Is this… all you’ve found? Was this the urgent matter John mentioned?”
Mr. Karras nodded solemnly, his face tightening. “Yes, Mr. Thorn. I wanted you to know that we are doing everything in our power to find your wife… and mother, of course,” he added, turning towards Benji with a soft, reassuring smile.
Benji, caught off guard, managed only a faint, “Thank you,” the words barely a whisper as they escaped his lips. His mind was racing. The shoe on the desk seemed to stare back at him.
The rest of the day passed in a blur, as if time itself had lost its meaning. They found their hotel, checked in, and tried to find solace in food and rest, but both eluded them. The food was tasteless, and sleep refused to come, leaving them in a restless state, their thoughts swirling with anxiety.
It wasn’t until dusk that Frank’s phone rang, the sharp sound cutting through the oppressive silence of their hotel room. Benji watched his father as he answered, his face tightening with each word. The cold, brisk air from the air conditioner brushed against Benji’s skin, a welcome distraction from the tension building in the room. Outside, the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the blue expanse of the Mediterranean Sea.
Benji’s gaze drifted towards the window, where the lights of the city began to flicker on, the cars moving sluggishly through the traffic below. His thoughts strayed, wandering back to memories of his mother and the last time he had seen her.
When Frank finally hung up, he turned towards Benji with an urgency that immediately set Benji’s nerves on edge. “They think they’re onto something. Mr. Karras asked me to accompany them to the site. Will you be okay here?”
Benji’s stomach sank. Stay here? Does he expect me to sit in this hotel while they search for my mother?
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He frowned. “Here? I’m not staying here. I want to come along.”
“Please understand, Benji,” his father replied. “Your mother, an experienced professional, got lost at that site. What kind of father would I be if I let you into such a dangerous place?”
Benji could see the fear in his father’s eyes, the desperation to protect him. But that only made the situation more unbearable. “So, you’re saying you could get lost too?” he retorted, his voice breaking.
Frank straightened, his sparse blondish-brown hair catching the dim light. He looked older at that moment, as if the weight of the world had settled on his shoulders. “Listen, Benji. Some things are better left to those who know what they’re doing. This isn’t about you not taking your mother’s disappearance seriously- it’s about keeping you safe.”
Benji bit back the retort that came to his lips, forcing himself to calm down. “I just… I have the right to…”
“Here,” Frank interrupted, holding out a piece of paper with a number on it. “This is the reception desk’s number. You can go downstairs to order food or call them for anything else you need. And please, keep your phone on at all times.”
Benji’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, the paper crumpling slightly as he took it. He wanted to argue, to insist that he should be there, but the exhaustion in his father’s eyes stopped him. With a resigned sigh, he nodded and watched as his father rummaged through his suitcase, pulling out clothes suitable for a late-night excursion into the unknown.
Suddenly, a thought struck Benji. He glanced out the window, down at the street below. “How are you getting there?”
“John, I guess,” Frank replied absently, still focused on his packing.
Benji’s mind raced. If John’s van was the transport, maybe I could sneak into the trunk and go along without anyone noticing. But how could I get down there before Dad?
“When is he arriving?” Benji asked, trying to keep his voice casual.
“I don’t know exactly. Mr. Karras said the driver would call me when they’re close.”
An idea sparked in Benji’s mind, and before he could second-guess himself, he sprang into action. “I’m getting bored waiting, Dad. Can I go down to the reception and order some food? Do you want anything?”
Frank shrugged, still sorting through his things. “Burger and a coke.”
“Okay, I’ll be right back,” Benji said, heading for the door.
The elevator was already going down and Benji couldn’t lose any more time. Thus, he decided to go from the stairs. The hotel’s narrow staircase seemed to stretch endlessly as Benji rushed down, his feet pounding against the steps. He used the walls to propel himself faster, his heart racing not just from the exertion, but from the plan forming in his head. He had to get to the van before his father did. It was his only chance.
By the time he reached the reception desk, Benji was out of breath, but he forced himself to speak. “ Is there a delivery service? Can I order two burgers and two cokes? ” He said in a rush.
The receptionist, a middle-aged man with a stoic expression, nodded. “Yes, sir. I will see to that.”
“Great. Please leave them in our room. Room 22. We’ll be out for a while.”
“Certainly, sir.”
Benji glanced towards the elevator, seeing it begin to ascend. His father would be coming down soon. He needed to hurry. Just as he turned to leave, the familiar screech of John’s white van pulling up outside caught his attention. He hurried out the doors, his heart pounding.
The van’s engine was still running as Benji approached it, the noise providing perfect cover for his plan. He hesitated for a moment, his eyes scanning the area to make sure no one was watching, before sneaking around to the back of the van.
The trunk door was rusty, and Benji winced as he carefully eased it open. The hinges creaked, but the sound was drowned out by the van’s engine and John’s loud greeting as he opened the front door to talk to Frank. Taking advantage of the moment, Benji slipped inside the trunk and pulled the door closed behind him.
The space was cramped and smelled faintly of old leather and oil, but Benji didn’t care. He lay on his back, his mind drifting back to a time when everything seemed simpler. As the van started moving and the gentle rocking motion lulled him into a state of tense anticipation, a surge of frustration washed over him as he realized that the trunk lacked an interior handle.