“Well?” Terry asked, his face full of worry. No one had seen either Annabel or Michael since the previous day and neither of their rooms had been slept in. What worried Terry more was that Michael’s most personal items had disappeared. His passport and small carry case had gone, and Michael had no cause to go on any outings.

Eric sat down, a morbid look of stress-come-hangover plastered clean across his face. “No one’s seen them. Michael hasn’t left a note, hasn’t called, hasn’t written anything in his diary…”

Graham coughed gently on his pipe smoke and glanced at Eric’s innocent face, before smiling gently to himself.

John let himself fall into one of the heavy sofas. “I can’t understand it all.” He said pointedly. “How could one woman become so deranged? And she hadn’t even met Alison before!”

Terry shrugged off the image of Alison’s poor swollen face and the amount of things they had had to pull from her cuts. The hospital had been kind to her, and the police had been reassuring, and Cary, the gentleman who had saved Alison from her pit of darkness had left her flowers and chocolates, and had accepted Terry’s heart felt thank yous before slipping off in his Mustang.

“How’s Alison doing?” asked Eric softly and Terry smiled gently.

“She’s doing fine. She’s upstairs sleeping. I’ve locked her in. There’s no way I’m letting anyone hurt my wife again.” He said angrily, and the others knew he meant it.

There was silence for a moment before John coughed. “Do we know what happened to Chelsea?”

Again a hush fell on the group, who suddenly felt smaller without their companions with them.

“She wanted to come back to him.” Eric said adamantly, and John nodded slowly. “She wouldn’t have just walked out.”

Graham nodded also. “Has anyone spoken to the staff that were on duty that night? Perhaps one of them knows something that might help us track her down.”

“Good idea,” Terry said. “I’ll leave that one with you Graham. Your way with people is far more advanced than either mine or John’s.” he said and John smiled, half-heartedly acknowledging the tease.

“And what about Michael?” asked Eric, voicing what the others were trying to ignore.

Terry shrugged. “I really don’t know what we can do.” He said slowly. “If he has gone off with Annabel somewhere, of his own volition, then there’s really not a lot we can do. The police feel that he may have done just that, and aren’t particularly concerned because he said he wanted to marry her.”

John scoffed. “I don’t believe that for a moment.” He said and the group grumbled a resounding agreement.

“You think they may have gone to Vegas?” Gilliam asked, knowing full well that was probably what happened.

“If she could get him drunk enough, Michael would marry her and wouldn’t even know it.” John said and Terry looked concerned.

“I’m worried about his safety. If she didn’t trick him, but became angry because he refused to marry her, well…we all know what happened to Alison…” he trailed off as his friends considered this new possibility.

“I suppose all we can do is wait then…” Graham said philosophically, and they all nodded slowly, each in their own world of thought, and each afraid for their friends.

************************************************************************************************************

Annabel leant into the chiller and pulled out a couple of sodas, before shutting the cabinet door with her foot. She caught the appreciative glance of the shelf-stacker and she smiled at him seductively before turning on her heels and heading towards the fresh fruit and vegetables, her basket swinging idly in her hands.

The small store was quiet, despite being located in Vegas, and she saw the assistants and checkout operators watching her with interest as she wandered around the aisles, picking up random items without even looking to see what they were. She knew she was good looking, knew that they were watching her as if she were a film star, knew that she could pretend she was a star, and knew that she could escape if she needed to.

She pitched some apples and oranges into the basket, and acquired a melon, glancing across the store at the exits, keeping her eyes peeled, looking for anyone acting suspiciously.

Of course no one knew she was here. How could they? She had taken the private jet, she had paid the pilot his money, and she hadn’t left a trace of where there were headed. How could anyone guess that this had been her plan?

Annabel felt the shackles on the back of her neck stand on end. Of course no one knew. She was too clever for them all. They’d never find Alison under the Bowl so no one would find Michael either. She had no one to worry about but her husband now.

Her thoughts scampered briefly over the argument she had had with him the day before. Oh how she wished he could take back those things he had said. Of course he would learn to love her in the end, because she was never letting go of him. Never. Not ever.

Annabel approached the checkout and looked for the security cameras discreetly as she removed her hat from under her arm and placed it on her head with an extreme gesture.

As she paid for the goods she was about to leave the store when large, firm hands were on her arms.

“Excuse me ma’am,” the voice said and she whirled around, ready to sprint away from the anonymous voice.

“Ain’t you that film actress?” he asked and she felt her insides flip as she pushed her sunglasses further up her nose.

“Yes I am honey. And if you don’t take your hands off me right now, I’m going to let them all know you tried to rape me right here in the street.”

The man’s face was shocked and he released his grip quick as lightning, stepping away from her as he did so.

Annabel turned and walked swiftly away from the shop in the opposite direction from the hotel, and, hiding in a shop doorway, waited until the gentleman had returned to the shop before moving off.

The streets of Las Vegas weren’t as crowded as she would have hoped, but her attention was grabbed away from this fact when she saw the newsstand and the front page on the Las Vegas Lark.

Annabel picked up a paper from the stand and was reprimanded with an “are you gonna buy that, lady?” She shot the seller a withering glance and turned her attention back to the front spread. After glancing over it a couple of times she dug in her pockets for her change and placed a couple of pieces into the sellers palm with a sweet smile, and turning, with a scowl firmly on her face, she set off to her husband.

*********************************************************************************************************

Alison sat bolt upright in bed and shivered as the room around her swayed back into position. The sweat on her skin felt cold in the lamplight and her breathing subsided from the ragged and harsh gushes of air that were being dragged over her tongue and down her windpipe, and instead she found her heart pounding as she drew in large breath after breath, a calming effect that had instantly begun to work.

For days now she had the same bad dream, and for days now she had stayed confined within the hotel walls. Terry’s vigilance with his wife had become something absurd, and even visits from the other Python’s had slowed down as the search for Michael, Annabel, and even Chelsea, had begun to consume their waking moments.

And all Alison longed for was to be outside again, helping them all with their search. She didn’t want to be cooped up, with only her nightmares and memories to surround her. But Terry wasn’t having it, and he had even set up a private security guard outside of the hotel door, to make sure no one got in or out without his being notified.

Alison pushed herself off of the bed, her nightdress clinging to her body and her legs peeling from the duvet cover. She walked to the window and glanced out through the curtains that had been pulled over.

Outside of the hotel there were a handful of photographers milling around. After hearing about the entire thing they had done nothing but follow the whole troupe around, ensuring that anything the group did was broadcast across the world to anybody watching. There was no hope for secrecy for any of them, and a number of people under Annabel’s employment had already begun selling their stories to the papers in hope of making themselves famous. Any hope of tracing the 3 missing had begun to falter with the increasing press involvement, and the police seemed neither bothered nor fussed that there may be a psychopath holding Michael hostage, despite everything that had happened to Alison.

She huffed and picked up her glass of water next to her bed, crossing her legs underneath her as she clambered on, the cuts on her legs and arms still griping.

Alison frowned, deep in thought, as her husband entered the room, and when he touched her shoulder lightly she jumped a foot in the air.

“Terry!” she exclaimed as he looked at her apologetically.

“I thought you’d heard me.” He said, and touched her hand and kissed it. “Are you ok?”

She nodded slowly, and calmly looked up at him as he sat down on the bed beside her.

“I don’t want to be in here any more Terry.” She said pointedly. “I want to be out there helping.”

Terry shook his head. “We’ve discussed this now,” he said. “You just have to stay here and rest.”

Alison folded her arms stubbornly. “I’m not staying in here. I’ll go mad!”

Terry laughed gently. “I know it’s boring sweet heart, but I said as long as you went with the guard you can go anywhere you wish,” he caught her sudden look of hope and touched her face, “anywhere in the hotel.”

Alison scowled at him. “I’m not a prisoner,” she said. “I’m not mentally unstable and I’m not a child Terry. I’m not going to stand by and let you treat me like a victim.”

It was Terry’s turn to scowl as he looked at her as she clambered off the bed and rummaged through her still untouched suitcase. She’d been here nearly two weeks now and still she hadn’t put on any of the clothes she had brought with her.

“Alison…” he said and watched as she pulled off her nightdress and shoved on a pair of jeans.

She looked at him from underneath her hair that had fallen over her face, and he saw the determination there and knew that nothing he would say would make her change her mind.

“I know you love me Terry, and I know you want to protect me, but I can’t just sit here. I’m fit, healthy, and I want to help!”

He nodded slowly and bent his head a little to gaze at his hands, and she approached the bed.

“I love you.” She said softly and touched his face, and he smiled at her with watery eyes as she leant over and kissed his mouth tenderly.

*************************************************************************************************************

Eric stumbled over himself as he approached the desk clerk, and cursed his stupidity as she smiled behind her hand and glanced down. He shot her a winning smile and leant deftly on the counter surface.

“Can I help you Mr Idle?” she asked with a small smile and Eric grinned.

“Maybe later, but right now I need to find someone.” He said and smiled as she stifled a giggle.

Eric rummaged in his pocket and removed a picture of Chelsea and flipped it onto the counter. “This woman was at the final Monty Python performance two weeks ago.” He said. “We think she was removed some time during the performance. We need to know everything you guys know about her.”

The desk clerk looked at the picture blankly. “I wasn’t working the last performance.” She said and shook her head.

Eric grimaced. “Do you know who was?” he looked at the picture. “We desperately need to make sure this woman is alright.”

The clerk, whose name was Roseanne, rummaged under her desk and pulled out a folder and quickly began flipping pages over. She placed a manicured finger on the top of the sheet and then scanned downwards, with Eric watching her all the while.

“Um…the rota says that Carole was on the main desk, and…” she pulled the sheet from the folder and handed it to Eric, “there’s a list of all the security guards that were working that night too.”

Eric scanned it and caught at least twenty names on the list, with contact numbers and addresses.

“Do you mind if I take this?” he asked and Roseanne shook her head.

“You can’t,” she said and then smiled softly at his crestfallen face. “But I can photocopy it for you.”

Eric grinned as she removed the paper and then disappeared for a moment behind the screen.

Eric grabbed a pen and paper and scribbled quickly on it as she returned and handed him the warm paper.

“Thank you so much Roseanne.” He said and smiled warmly. “I owe you a drink.”

She blushed slightly and shrugged. “It’s my job to help you Mr Idle.”

He shook her hand and pushed the paper into it and then made towards the exit, turning quickly to catch her looking at his number and hotel room number with a dumbfounded face.

He laughed to himself as he clambered into the rental car. “Well Eric Idle, you can confuse American girls too.” He said as he started the engine and sped away.

*************************************************************************************************************

The room was dark when he managed to peel his eye lids apart, his head throbbing with what felt like a hangover and his limbs stiff and rigid. Glancing around Michael felt his thigh ache and he tried to rub it and found he couldn’t move. Waking up some more he looked around the room and saw the same hotel room he’d been in before, only this time the lights were out, the curtains were drawn and he couldn’t physically move from the bed.

Flashes of what had happened before he had blacked out raced through his mind and he shuddered at the thought of what Annabel had become. She had been wild eyed, crazed, completely unlike anything he had ever seen before, and there was nothing he could say or do to make her calm down. Even when she had injected him and he had felt the world give way to black, he had seen her eyes dart around, listening, making sure no one had heard the fight and no one would suspect she had a man captive here.

He felt his stomach flip at the thought of their being married. He didn’t know what she had done with the certificate, or how he could have gone through with it without knowing, but it had happened, and now all he had to think about was how to escape and how to get this whole mess sorted out.

He looked to his arms and legs and saw exactly why he couldn’t move. He had been tied, quite expertly, to the bed frame, and no matter how he moved or shifted his weight, he couldn’t get free. How had it come to this? How had he managed to make the mistake of letting a maniac into his life? He shuddered at the thought of the things she might have done. And with a start an image of Chelsea’s face darted into his vision. It suddenly made him wonder what had happened to her the last night of the Hollywood Bowl, and why she had suddenly disappeared. He began to tremble at the thought of Annabel getting her hands on her, and he felt his heart wrench as he pushed the thought of her being hurt out of his mind.

This was crazy. He began to struggle violently with the binds on him, cursing and writhing on the bed. It was useless though, and he felt so helpless that he couldn’t stop the yell from bursting out through his mouth.

“Help!” he shouted, using all of his might to lift his head from the pillow and to project his voice as far as he possibly could.

“Help! Help! Anyone! Help me! Help!” Michael screamed for what seemed like an age but no one came, and eventually he lay back on the bed, his throat hoarse and the muscles in his neck and shoulders screaming for relief.

This was supposed to be a hotel for God’s sake. Surely there was someone around?

Lying back on the bed Michael felt exhaustion wash over him and he closed his eyes to calm himself.

*************************************************************************************************************

The hotel wasn’t doing as well as it should this time of year, and apart from the young woman that had checked in several days ago, they’d had only four other guests arrive, including a couple who had arrived, and checked out again within a day.

Raymond Silver rummaged in the check in desk log in book and flipped pages over. He remembered better days when his had been the best hotel on the block and even celebrities had come here to relax in the small but comfortable rooms. Now he was being driven out by the huge commercial hotel chains and the large rooms-come-mansions that people could get for about $100 dollars more.

He glanced at the names of his guests and smiled. The couple in 4, the Radcliffes, were sweet enough. Middle aged people who came to Vegas to discover lost youth. The man in 7 was tall, unassuming, and boring from what Ray could tell. His name was Anthony Vanderbilt, and he looked very German. And then there was the woman in 8. She was someone Ray would have expected to stay at the larger, more upmarket Hotels. She was stunningly attractive, but tried disguising the fact by wearing a large hat and sunglasses wherever she went, even in the evenings when it was ridiculous to wear sunglasses at all. She also carried with her very sophisticated technology, and he had spotted her with one of those new mobile phones a couple of times. She had signed herself in as Mrs Annabel Palin, but he didn’t believe that was her real name. The only Palin he knew of was Michael Palin, who he had seen at the Hollywood Bowl not two weeks previous. Ray smiled at the memory. It wasn’t every day that Monty Python arrived on your doorstep, and so he had had to go and see them, taking enough money that week to afford the expenses, and sleeping rough in the airport either side of the performance. It had been worth it though.

He shook his head. Michael Palin wasn’t married, so she wasn’t a relation of his, and he knew for a fact that Annabel wasn’t the name of his sister, so that only meant that she was someone completely different. Ray shrugged his shoulders. What did it matter anyway whether her name was Palin or not. He shook out his evening paper and glanced over the front page, taking in the picture of Alison Jones, Terry Jones’ wife, and the hole in the floor of the stage that she had been brought out of. Ray shuddered to think that she had been trapped in there for the final performance of the boys at the bowl, and skimmed the article briefly before flicking the page over and reading on into the newspaper.

A picture of Michael Palin looked out at him on the second page and he quickly read through it, staggered at the revelation that one of the iconic men had been missing for nearly two weeks now, and he hadn’t noticed. He concentrated on the article and didn’t hear the door swing open in the reception area until she was almost upon him.

“Terrible business that…” a voice said and Ray looked up into the startling beauty that was Annabel Palin.

“Good evening Mrs Palin,” he said with a hoarse voice. He coughed self-consciously and ran a hand across his balding head. He glanced down at the paper and nodded. “Yes, a terrible thing. I can’t imagine why he’d just leave like that.” He shrugged as he saw her mouth twitch. “Mind you, the papers never tell you the whole story now do they?” He glanced at her shopping bag and smiled gently. “Did you enjoy your outing?”

Annabel nodded slowly and her eyes cast back down onto the paper. “The locals have a little something to be desired…” she said and looked back down onto the paper. She had been foolish enough to check herself in as Annabel Palin, and it wouldn’t take long, even for a simpleton like Ray Silver to work out that the Annabel Price in the paper was the Annabel Palin stood in front of him and staying in his hotel. “I was wondering, and I know this is awfully rude of me, but I was wondering whether I could borrow your paper for a little while?” She watched his face carefully and could see no sign of anything that would suggest she had given herself away. “I have a penchant for the horoscope section.” She smiled her most winning smile and he folded the paper up and gave her the copy.

“Certainly.” He said. “Anything for our guests. Return it whenever you fancy.” He said and she flashed a smile and took it from him.

“Thank you.” She said. “I best go and pack away my shopping.” She said and quickly left the lobby and clambered the stairs.

Ray watched her go and felt the shackles on the back of his neck stand up. It wasn’t what she had said, it was the fact that he saw the same paper sticking out from her shopping basket, and she had specifically asked for his copy. He waited until he heard the slam of her hotel door before he picked up the telephone on the reception desk and dialled 911.