The quiet atmosphere of the prison as it settled down for the night was shattered by a distant rolling thunder that rumbled and shook the very ground. Growing louder and closer it rose up from the bowels of the earth. Looking through a narrow gap in the wagon's door Humboldt watched as smoke poured out through the blue door of hell. Like a magician's grand trick his vision blurred for a moment and the blue door vanished in a vast cloud of smoke and dust. At every window of block C opposite, prisoners ranted and raved. Whining and wailing, the crazier inmates screamed that the devil was coming, that he had split the ground wide open and was now rising up to take them all down to the fiery pits of hell.

Looking over at the sound of the iron gates being flung open, Humboldt could see the first of the guards to arrive. Racing into the yard they soon came to a halt in surprise as clouds of thick choking dust rushed towards them, enveloping them and blinding them. Like fine snow on a winter's night, dust floated down to cover everything and everyone in a coat of fine white ash. Like a magician's big reveal, the door had indeed vanished along with the remaining walls of block B. Humboldt guessed that the wooden posts and beams in the underground passage had given way to the fire. Without their support the vaulted ceiling had come crashing down, burying Henry and his wretched souls in the hell he had created.

On arrival the two prison gaurds took control of the emergency, prison officers Stiles and Burbank's first job was to evacuated all non-prison personnel and secure the prison's population.

Burbank turned to Stiles and with a tremor in his voice, said, 'Was Henry down there, Pete?'

Stiles shook his head. 'I don't know for sure, but I think so.'

Burbank was visibly shaken 'Jesus, if the guv was down there with those crazy bastards when this lot crashed in, then shits going to fly?'

Stiles thought for a moment 'Don't worry, if no one here misses Henry then he can't be suspected of being down there. Only we and the doc knew of the governor's jaunts down to solitary, and it's in all our interests to keep that information to ourselves.'

Burbank shook his head, he wasn't convinced 'But still, if he's dead or missing the police are going to be swarming all over Henry's office trying to find out where he's gone. What if they find out about us? Henry could have kept something on us, you know, for insurance, to keep us in line. Oh shit, we could hang for the stuff we've done for the guv.' Burbank began to pace up and down.

Stiles could see Burbank was starting to unravel 'Just calm yourself. No one's getting hanged, especially us, OK?' He knew Burbank's type, tough as nails, but when it came down to it, when things got a little hairy, he'd crumble. Burbank would throw his own mother to the dogs as soon as the police came within 5 feet of him. It was only a matter of time before Burbank spilled the beans and sent them all to the gallows.

Stiles stepped closer to Burbank 'Like I said, if no one here misses him then there's no reason to suspect any of us of wrongdoing is there? Now listen to me, I'm going to enter into the gate's log that Governor Henry departed some hours ago when you relieved Leonard for his Tea break, OK? All you've got to do is confirm that you witnessed the guv leave and that will put Henry far away from here when all this collapsed.'

Burbank smiled, 'Yeah, yeah, that's it, good thinking, boss. But what about the bodies down there, they'll find em.' he began to pace again.

Sighing, Stiles said, 'No they won't. There are no bodies down there, are there? We've signed the prisoners out and they escaped, didn't they? And as for Henry, well, he left earlier this evening didn't he, to where, who knows?' Stile shrugged his shoulder and winked.

Stiles placed a reassuring hand on Burbank's shoulder, 'You see, all that's happened is that the remaining part of the block collapsed completing the building's demolition. I'm sure all that will happen now is that the rubble will be cleared, but the basement levels will be left as they are; full with rubble, ready for the new build to be begin. If they do start to dig, it'll take them days to get that far down and we'll have plenty of time to scarper, OK? Now relax and get on with your duties, and act normal, right.'

Burbank nodded and rushed off. Stiles knew he would have to deal with Burbank sooner or later. Looking at the retreating man, he knew it would be sooner. The boy was too much of a liability for Stiles to allow him to roam free much longer, but first Stiles had to visit the main gates and relieve Leonard for an unscheduled break and deal with the log book, just another loose end for him to deal with. He frowned and stalked off.

Humboldt had heard the two guards talking and realized like him they now had to make sure that they too survived this mess, they like him would be making plans and contingency plans, all to survive Henry's hold over them. Humboldt quietly closed the wagon's door, and keeping Jeremiah close, he remained silent as the Morguers drove the wagon into the larger courtyard, and finally through the main gates and out into the countryside beyond.

Humboldt knew he had to think of the boy's future and his own. The boy gave him new hope for the future, hope he had thought lost to him. Jessica had been right; they were each others saviors. Humboldt had held Jeremiah until the young boy had sobbed himself to sleep. The fragile child was all he had left of Jessica, and he would do everything he possibly could to raise and protect him. A life on the run, continuously looking over his shoulder would be a difficult life even for the hardened criminal. Humboldt had no intention of subjecting Jeremiah to such an uncertain future. No, he had to give him something better, a real and honest life. The poor boy had already lost his mother and father as well as Alice his nanny and Oliver his beloved butler. The only people who had loved and cared for him were gone. With no living relatives left that could be found, Jeremiah was all alone; an orphan. Although Humboldt was Jeremiah's legal uncle, he was also his officially dead uncle, dead and buried in Egypt, a war hero.

Now he was Stamford, a fictional escaped murderer who himself had been shot and killed. Now he was nobody, nothing to anyone except to Jeremiah. He couldn't raise a child like this and feel that he was being true to Jessica's final wishes. He had to be Humboldt once more, he had to rise up from the grave and take his rightful place here with Jeremiah. To give the boy everything Jessica had wanted for him: love, understanding and most importantly a moral code. Jeremiah would grow to be an honest and decent gentleman, he would be a man of means, respected among his peers, he would make his mother proud. No, a life on the run was not an option.

Later that evening, once he and the boy had left behind the prison and the Morguers, Humboldt had taken Jeremiah to the police station, and had sent him alone through the doors of the main entrance with a promise that he would return when he could.

"Jeremiah dear boy, I know terrible things have happened to you today, I know you have lost your mother and others. Like you, I saw your father, the monster your father had become and what he had done and it is terrible indeed. But Jeremiah, I am here know, I am your friend, I saved you as your mother asked me to, she asked me to take you and raise you in a loving home and I will do this for her and for you. Do you understand Jeremiah" the young boy silently nodded.

Humboldt placed a hand on the boys shoulder "I have to go away for a while, but I will be back, I promise. I need you to be patient and wait for my return. Jeremiah, the police will want to know things, they will want to know where you have been and who took you. You must not tell them of the prison, or of me, tell them your father kept you in the basement of the house and that he went away with your nanny, and that later you escaped, if they ask anything else, tell them you do not know. Do you understand?" Jeremiah's small frame shook in Humboldt's grasp as he nodded again.

Watching the police station's main entrance for a few more minutes after Jeremiah had entered, Humboldt turned and began the walk towards the train station. With a large sum of money he had found in the doctor's wallet, he planned to take a train to the coast and from there he would sail aboard a cargo ship, quietly, secretly back to Egypt and enter the port city of Alexandria.

Three weeks later.

Humboldt Granger was the talk of Fleet Street. The miraculous story of a British soldier fighting for Queen and country shot down dead, killed by Urabi's rebel forces along with his comrades, leaving none alive to report the truth of his capture. Believing him to have been killed in battle the Crown had given him a hero's funeral. Unbelievably, years later to turn up at the Alexandrian Embassy, alive, having escaped years of captivity and slavery at the hands of what remained of a the defeated rebellion.

The truth, Humboldt knew would always remain a secret.

The sensational story covered the front page's of all the newspapers. The Borden Gazette covered it for days, over shadowing the story on page two, also about Egypt and the British embassy. An attempt had been made on the British Ambassador's life. The assassination attempt was thwarted by the gallant sacrifice made by the Ambassador's personal aide, Reginald Williams. Rumor had it that a tall red headed stranger carrying a rifle had been seen running away from the area. No culprit was ever found or apprehended, so the attack was pinned rebel dissidents.

After months of exhaustive travel, Humboldt arrived back in England, and the town of Borden to a hero's welcome. Although he was the talk of the town, and had barely a minute to himself, being pulled between the press and local dignitaries wishing to be part of his popularity, Humboldt found it vastly more important to find Jeremiah and to finally take his position as the boys guardian.

Nine weeks to the day, after leaving the young boy outside Borden police station, Humboldt entered the lobby of Newhart manor house, hand in hand with Jeremiah. The house was cold. A blanket of silence hung in the awkward air. White cotton sheets covered the furniture like the ghosts of a home lost to the past. A thin layer of dust dulled the sheen of the black marble fireplace, as a frost had done that morning across the fields. Looking down at the boy Humboldt realized that the man he had become fell far short of the father Jeremiah deserved and the man Jessica had loved. He would try to bring back the Humboldt of old; a man who once loved to write and read poems to his love, who once reveled in the sweetness and beauty of a summer morning, who loved to run his fingers through the fields of tall grasses and who dozed in beds of wildflowers. Yes, he would try. For his love of Jessica he would raise her son as his own, their son, their child, their future.

Humboldt watched as Jeremiah flew up the sweeping staircase excitedly disappearing into his bedroom to play with his toys once again. A soft ringing bell drew Humboldt's attention to the doorway to his right. Entering the dark stuffy room he stepped around the furniture and reached into the large recess of the bay window to pull open the heavy crushed velvet curtains. The bright afternoon sun of spring rushed in to vanquish the winter shadows. Looking around, he found himself behind a large oak desk surrounded by shelves of leather bound books and paintings covering the walls.

'Ah, the study'

Throwing aside the dust sheet Humboldt sat down in the patent leather chair and reached over to pick up the source of the ringing bell, it was a small round brass clock, its burnished surface belied its age. Flipping a catch on its reverse, the bell ceased. Humboldt placed the clock down and picked up a silver framed photograph that made his heart yearn and ache. He looked at the picture of Jessica standing by this very desk. Sadness threatened to overcome Humboldt at the reminder of her absence, he wiped a tear from his cheek. Humboldt had to do everything he could to become the man he had once been, for Jessica and for Jeremiah, he would be Humboldt, he would be Bloomdell once more.

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