"I can't see how." Rowan shrugged. "I certainly don't have any political affiliations so I doubt any political terrorist groups would be interested in me."
"You've got a bit of money though." Jason nodded.
"Yes, I don't do too badly. The only person who can get it is me. I have no family and no trust funds and the like. I'm not that important either."
"That's not important anyway. Us getting out of here is. Come on." Jason left the torture room, and Rowan followed him.
Common sense told them that it would be fruitless to try the gate that Rowan had ran into, but nothing in Slateskill was making any sense at all. It wasn't really a big surprise to find the gate unlocked.
"So this must be a way out. It has to be." Jason said.
"It is, yes. Look." Rowan pointed beyond yet another barred and locked door and into the original office where the van had been removed from.
"Balls! Damn blast and bugger it to hell! All that and we've gone round in a bloody circle!" Jason ranted.
"A single floor maze with shifting dead-ends." Rowan heaved a sigh. "I'm so bloody tired."
"Single floor?" Jason frowned at her. "You're right." He began scanning the ceiling. "Cavities, there has to be. Ventilation shafts, insulation cavities, wiring cavities."
"So we're going to strand ourselves on the roof? I thought only bad actors with lame scripts did things like that." Rowan said.
"You got a better idea?" Jason asked. "Even if anyone did decide to look here, they'd be as lost as we are in minutes and your theory about the police being a pack of shits is starting to hold water."
"Looks like she's lost faith in you." Brian smiled at Alan and Stewart.
"Goading my officers isn't a wise thing to do." McManus said.
"Good advice. Take it." Stewart snapped.
"Just think, all it took was the brief appearance of two dark skinned men to set up this terrorist idea." Brian twittered on.
"Have a thought of your own, Charlton." Alan rolled his eyes. "Your boss has already been there. Total shit. I think it's more likely to be the kidnapping at gunpoint, regardless of skin colour. Moron."
"Nevertheless..." Brian sat up straight when his phone rang. Only Patrick Adams had his number.
"Are you even watching this?" Adams roared.
"Of course I am." Brian turned a few dials on his control panel. "Don't worry, sir, the gates are all functioning and I doubt even Jenkison's brute force could kick down the ceiling."
"You ass!" Adams bellowed. "Do we want them studying the ceiling? Do we?"
"Shit, the cameras."
"Give him a banana!" Adams said sarcastically. "Use the gates by the boiler hatches."
"Well the boiler rooms weren't checked thoroughly, sir. We ran out of time, remember?" Brian said warily.
"Checked? Checked? He's been electrocuted, she's been burned and electrocuted, and that stupid bloody girl is in a hospital bed shouting 'insurance claim!' Checked? The cameras were installed, right?" Adams said menacingly.
"Yes but ..."
"So get them in that bloody cellar and away from the roof panels!" Adams hung up and Brian got busy.
"Sir!" Phyllis came puffing up the corridor. "Thursby and Nailor Legal Firm. The girl on Jenkinson's photo, sir, her family aren't happy at all."
"So pay them off!" Adams yelled and headed for the stage.
Jason wandered along slowly, looking at the ceiling. It was all but impossible to see any panelling that might have been there. The light was simply too dim. Rowan wasn't having much luck either as she jabbed a five foot long metal pole into the ceiling at regular intervals.
"So who's the girl in the picture?" Rowan asked. "She's very pretty."
"Stacy Michaels and yes she was." Jason leant againt the wall and rubbed his stiff neck. "She died in a car crash four years ago."
"I'm sorry." Rowan grimaced. "If you wanted to tell me, you would have. Big mouth."
"No it's fine. Long time ago." Jason smiled. "That photo was actually taken two years before that. I was only nineteen on it. We'd split up long before the crash but my sister still had that picture in her house. She gave me it the day I beat that arsehole up. I was just going to stash it somewhere."
"That makes those shitheads having it even more disgusting, in my opinion." Rowan said angrily. "That's your private life and shouldn't be mauled over by complete strangers. Have we been this way? I don't remember seeing that gate in the middle of the floor."
The studio audience went very quiet, then ripples of sympathy waved among the crowd. Patrick Adams cursed, cursed, and better cursed to himself. He's plastered a dead girl's picture all over National TV!
"Poor kid!" A woman shouted. "You're an arsehole, Adams. First off you film him on about his mum, then you show everybugger his dead girlfriend! What next? You film her funeral to show us all?"
"All designed to show how such tragedies can affect a man." Adams said calmly. "All Jason Jenkinson has seen is violence and the death of that beautiful girl on that picture must have hit him quite hard. Is it understandable that he hits back at the world when it's treated him so cruelly?" He said theatrically.
"So it's a good job he's got Rowan then eh?" A man shouted and agreements were expressed through the audience.
"Just to clarify, he hasn't 'got' Rowan." Adams raised his hands. "Before this episode, they'd never met. I'd like to make that very clear."
"Oh sit down!" Someone jeered. "We want to see what happens. OK?"
"Yes! Just you keep your nose out of it Adams! We want to see what they do!"
"I think they'll get it on!"
"Nah! Too different to each other."
"She'll help him with his trial."
"They'll start up their own TV show!"
"Yeah! Think they'll get married and all?"
"Maybe. He's a bit younger than her though."
Brian frantically pushed the buttons on his mobile phone.
"What's up Bri?" Stewart drawled. "Hero worship changed direction?"
"You don't realise the impact this could have." Brian muttered.
"Oh? They're all pro Jenkinson so the natural thing for you and your goons would be to pull the plug before you all lose anymore face. Yes? You wouldn't bloody dare, pal. That lot out there would bloody lynch you. Childish to say 'I told you so' but I did."
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