Alexander (7)

7

‘Luther – what are you doing ?’

Over an hour had passed since Luther marched into the forest. Now he’d suddenly re-appeared. He was facing the front door of the manor house listening for sounds of movement, his fist held above his head, ready, it seemed, to demand entry.

Alexander hurried towards him. ‘Luther wait! There are people inside. I spoke with a woman. Please, calm yourself - we have to finish our work.’

There was no answer, just a contemptible glance before he launched himself towards one of the ground floor windows and began to claw at the metal edge with his fingers. Alexander, dumbfounded, asked him: ‘What are you trying to do ?’

‘Trying to get into the house. What does it look like ?’

‘We can't enter the house - Terry warned us.’

Luther looked to his left and right, as if trying to find something that would help him prise the window - a piece of wood, a length of metal, a rock - anything. Alexander said: ‘Luther, stop!’ Frustrated, impatient, Luther moved towards the west side of the manor house. Alexander followed.

‘I heard something’ said Luther ‘Noises, from the cellar. Somebody’s in there.’

‘What noises ?’

‘Chains…somebody crying...’

‘Are you sure ? Maybe it was your imagination. We need to work. You haven't done anything since we arrived. I need this job. If I don’t work I starve!’

Luther took hold of Alexander by the throat. ‘I heard someone...in the cellar... someone who needs help. You do what you want but I'm going to find a way to get inside.’

He let go. Alexander stared at his work colleague - shocked by the older man’s sudden resort to violence.

Luther was now looking up at a small first floor turret window that was partially open. It was far too narrow for him to crawl through but Alexander knew what Luther was thinking: if he could reach it, he’d be able to lean in and open the larger window to the side. Luther said: ‘Get me some ladders.’

Alexander hesitated. Luther spat out the order: ‘Ladders - from the garage!’

Alexander ran to the garage, emerging with retractable ladders which he extended so that they nestled against the window sill. Luther clambered up, ordering the younger man to hold firm at the base. Alexander winced as he watched Luther ascend. If he slipped and fell he would most probably break his neck. What’s more, Luther, wearing his heavy greatcoat and military boots,  didn’t look too confident as he climbed, uncertain in his footing, his breathing heavy and irregular. By the time Luther hauled himself up onto the window ledge Alexander's teeth were grinding in fear and his eyes flickered to and from the entrance gate, afraid that the Rolls Royce Silver Shadow might suddenly re-appear.

Luther balanced precariously on the ledge, stretching out his arm in an attempt to reach the latch of the larger window. Eventually, with the tips of his fingers, he managed to push down the handle. Then, with the window opened, he maneuvered himself into position and launched himself head first into the turret’s circular room.