Paint the town blue

Chapter XLII (1st ending: Never to be seen again)

Charles's POV

For the next few days, Max and I tried not to think about the fact that our idyll could end at any moment. We were looking forward to a call from Esteban every evening, and he called at exactly 10 p.m. - not a minute earlier, not a minute later. However, on Sunday his usual schedule changed, and he called twice: at noon and at the already familiar 10 p.m.

He called from different numbers every time - he probably bought himself a few "burners" so as not to arouse suspicion. I wonder if he's calling from different places too, so that he can't be traced if Albon and Lawson find these numbers too? Surely, because Esteban is far from a stupid person and understands such subtleties perfectly.

Basically, he didn't really say anything much in conversations, just asked about how he felt and wondered if we were ready to act. When we asked what we were going to do, he literally got off the subject.

Esteban called us on Friday evening and informed us that Alex might have found something about us, so he didn't come to us again, so as not to bring a "tail". Actually, after that Friday call, Max and I began our weekend full of worries and playing "I'm not worried at all, and don't you shouldn't have to worry."

On Saturday, he called and asked if we had noticed anything suspicious at the house, to which we both replied in the negative.

"That's good, because I started being paranoid myself after I found Albon's fingerprints on the phone."

"Do you think he would've come here?"

"He? No, he's too correct and he won't stick around without Frederic's approval."

"Well, yes, unlike Liam."

Max chuckled softly, and I rolled my eyes, immediately remembering the "warm" relationship between them. Even after Max was taken into custody, Liam didn't stop throwing barbs at Max from time to time. I even made remarks to him about it several times, and even once it turned into a small quarrel, but after that Liam pulled himself together and stopped talking about the Dutchman at all.

This evening call of his lasted less than five minutes, but even that was enough time to tell and find out some details. More precisely, Max and I tried to get Esteban to talk, but he spoke briefly, clearly and only to the point. "Did you take the pills? Have you prepared your things? Fine, see you tomorrow" - that's how every conversation ended.

On Sunday, the call was earlier, but also prolonged. He asked again about our well-being, about my leg, and spoke as if I was about to run a marathon. He laughed and said that it was just a concern, and he wouldn't have to run - there would be a car for that.

The medical examiner said that he had prepared everything and would come in the evening to help us escape from here. Again, he didn't go into details, but said that his brilliant idea should work, because thanks to his work he has many connections and they all turned out to be useful now.

"By the way, Max, didn't you ask Charles?"

"What was he supposed to ask?"

"About whether you're really ready to run away with me, or will you decide to stay?"

I looked at Max in surprise. We discussed this quite recently, and I've already given my answer, why is he hesitating now? I shamelessly repeated my answer, confirming that I was ready to run with Max to the ends of the earth. Esteban chuckled softly into the phone when he heard my answer and said, "Okay, lovebirds, wait for us tonight." Us? I wanted to ask him who he was going to come with, but he had already hung up. It's not a person, it's a complete mystery that I'll never solve.