Again he walked behind them running the tip of his fingers lightly along the top of their buttocks as he passed them. He stopped seemingly at random squeezing the buttock of the girl in front of him.
“They been trained?” he asked abruptly. The thin man with the cane smiled displaying his badly nicotine stained teeth as he nodded in reply. The Chinaman grabbed the first young girl by the hair on top of her head and forced her to kneel in front of him. With his free hand he noisily pulled his zipper down and waited.
There was a sharp slashing sound as the cane cut through the air again. An unspoken warning that was clearly understood by the girl. With silent tears rolling down her pretty face, she obediently took his erect member into her mouth. He took a turn with every girl in the line subjecting each of them to the same degrading and humiliating act.
His criteria was simple; young, pretty and a virgin! He chose three girls, two Cambodian and one Chinese, two aged thirteen the other just eleven, the rest were dismissed except for one, a small, undernourished Cambodian aged about ten and the negotiations begun.
“Five hundred dollars,” he offered the skinny pimp.
The pimp laughed aloud, “Don’t insult me. Theses girls are worth at least that each!”
The Chinaman looked at the pimp, his hard eyes studying him, he had once been in his position, a businessman, just trying to make money and he understood how it worked. He would make an offer, which the pimp would, rightly so, reject as it was ludicrously low and so he would come back with a counter offer and so it would continue until they agreed on a fair price. Today, though, he did not have time to play games. He had to move this merchandise quickly.
“Twelve hundred dollars and that’s final. Take it or leave but don’t waste my time, I’m a busy man!” he snapped.
The pimp thought quickly. He knew that was a fair price. He also knew that to alienate the Chinaman would be a bad business move. He tried to look as though he was beaten, “Okay. Twelve hundred dollars.”
“Twelve hundred dollars and her!” he nodded in the ten year-olds direction, “you got a room?”
The pimp grinned, “Upstairs. Enjoy!”
*****
The security guard at The Port of Sihanoukville in the Bay of Kompong Som, Cambodia sauntered casually along in the shadows heading towards the locked gate only his eyes giving him away as they furtively scanned the vicinity for any sign of movement.
He stopped in front of the huge, locked wooden gates and took a cigarette from his pocket. There was a muffled rasp as the ribbed wheel of the lighter grated against the flint but as soon as the lighter burst into life he released the small red lever under his thumb extinguishing the flame. He repeated his action three times and on the third attempt the headlights from an unseen car parked in the shadows of a warehouse on the other side of the road cut through the darkness. The guard, with nervously shaking hands, unpadlocked a door within the gates and was joined by two men and three young girls dressed in jeans and tattered old jumpers. The small, thin Chinaman in the crumpled suit silently thrust two envelopes his way. One was for him and contained the equivalent of a year’s salary, his family would live well for the next twelve months and the other fatter one was for the German. He took the girls and led them through the maze of stacked containers and sheds until they came to the quayside and stopped in front of a large container ship.
The bridge of the ship was lit from the eerie glow emitted from various panels being monitored by tonight’s unlucky duty officer. The only other person on the bridge was the captain who stood with his back to the shoreline as he looked out to the stark blackness of the sea. He turned and paced restlessly retracing his steps as he crossed from one side of the bridge to the other. He was a man with a lot on his conscious. He finally stopped pacing and looked across the dockyard towards the mass of flickering lights of the city and checked the time on his expensive wristwatch. Quarter to two. It was time.
“Go,” he growled at his subordinate. “I’ll take the rest of your watch.”
The surprised junior duty officer looked at his captain, “Are you sure, Sir?” The night watch, especially in port, was not something usually undertaken by the captain of a ship.
“Go! Before I change my mind,” he growled again absent-mindedly. He swallowed nervously as he strained his eyes searching the quayside looking for a sign. “Go!” The command sounded almost like a threat. The junior officer did not need telling again.
At ten past two he saw a small naked light, probably from a cigarette lighter, flash on and off. He trained his night vision glasses on the spot and felt his shoulders slump as the guilt of what he was about to do pressed down on him.
He broke the cardinal rule and left the bridge unattended, running along the gangplank as best he could considering his physical condition, praying that he was not seen. As he hurried across the concrete towards the container he started whistling Das Lied der Deutschen – the German national anthem. A port guard stepped out from behind the container and gave him a thick envelope pushing the three children towards him and disappeared quickly into the darkness.
His heart sank as he looked at the frightened faces of the three young girls. Although he did not know their final destination he knew what was in store for them and the guilt hit him hard as he was partly to blame for what the future held for them. He had to shoulder some of the responsibility for the miserable life that awaited them! He motioned for them to follow him and took them back to the ship and hid them in an unused cabin that was meant as a solo berth locking the door behind him.
He returned to the bridge and slumped heavily in his chair and placed his head in his hands as thoughts of his own daughters came to mind. He was not proud of his actions and the money did nothing to quell his conscience. He wondered for the hundredth time how could he be so stupid? One night! One stupid, drunken night had ruined his life. Five years ago he had got drunk, an unusual event for him, and had woken up the next morning between two young girls. Girls, he later found out, who were just eleven and twelve years old. Disgusted with himself he had got out of there as fast as possible and had convinced himself that no-one had seen him. His vessel did not return to Sihanoukville for ten weeks but one night, when dining alone in a small restaurant, he was approached by a small, thin Chinaman who handed him a DVD and then left without saying a word.
It was then that he realized he had been set up. The wise thing to do was to go to the police but the authorities in this part of the world may not have been to sympathetic to a foreigner, especially as many of them came here for the sleazy child sex market. The Chinaman paid him a large sum of money to smuggle a girl out of the country and into Oman. He had no choice! This was his fourth time smuggling human cargo and every time he felt a little bit more of his self esteem disappear with them! He promised himself it would be the last time.
Chapter 3
For once Andy Richards was glad of the attention he was attracting. Ordinarily this quiet, shy man would be very conscious of anyone looking at him. It was not that he was outrageously tall - at six feet two inches, though, he certainly was not short - or that his narrow shouldered, skeletal frame, covered by a light grey suit that had seen better days, was an unusual sight. In fact, there were no outstanding physical features that made this man remarkable in any way except in the way he walked.
He kept his upper body was very stiff and rigid with no perceptible swinging movement from his arms. His back was ramrod straight and his head held slightly aloft as though he was looking down along his long, pointed nose. The only part of his body that moved was his legs and even then, it seemed, only from the knees down. Today, as he tried to walk as fast as possible without actually breaking into a run he looked like a character from a comedy sketch as his knees came ludicrously higher up than was natural.
Today, this odd walk was doing him a favour. He turned quickly at the next corner into a deserted residential street and glanced back over his shoulder. The young man, who had been following
him since he had left the office, was obviously new at this, as even he had spotted him almost immediately. He made no attempt to be inconspicuous and at first had stuck so close to him that Richards felt sure that if he had suddenly stopped walking he would have bumped into him.
Gradually the gap between them grew as the huge strides taken by his long, lanky legs allowed him to out-pace his unfortunate pursuer forcing him to almost trot along making his presence even more obvious.
The low rumbling sound emanating from the traffic began to rise as the busy main road loomed into sight at the end of the quiet residential street. Richards increased his speed, stretching his long legs to their limit covering an unbelievable amount of ground with each stride. His mind concentrating on how to lose his unwanted follower. He slowed as he reached the main road and had another long deliberate look behind him.
It was better than he had hoped for. His young shadow had fallen further behind than he had imagined. As he turned onto the busy main road he almost broke into a run nimbly side-stepping and swerving to avoid other pedestrian’s busy going about their lives and then he saw his chance! Seeing a gap in the fast moving traffic he broke out into a stiff-legged run, his arms swinging awkwardly by his sides - keeping fit and athletics had never been high on his list of priorities – he crossed the road running in front of a fast moving cyclist who swore at him vehemently as he swerved to avoid a collision and just made it to the bus stop in time to be the last passenger to board the bus. He rushed along the inside of the bus and immediately looked through the rear window in time to see his perplexed pursuer standing on the edge of the pavement frantically looking up and down the street.
Breathing heavily and with the perspiration showing on his forehead he allowed himself a smile. He was safe for now!
Inspector Ernie Davenport sat in his car discreetly watching the occupants of the blue car parked about a hundred metres away on the opposite side of the street. He had been following them around since late afternoon. Thanos` lackeys may be wearing designer suits but even that could not disguise the fact that they were paid thugs. He shifted his position for what seemed like the hundredth time. His back and legs were aching and his mind had gone numb with boredom but it had to be done.
Thanos was a small-time Greek businessman from East London. Most of his colleagues were convinced that he had an unhealthy fixation on this man. His wife thought so. At least, that was the excuse she gave for leaving him and running into the arms of a so-called friend. Considering that he was renowned for his clear thinking, analytical mind he never saw that coming.
His once high-flying, promising career had been brought to a shuddering halt. Those officers that he regarded as friends avoided him and those assigned to work with him had as little to do with him as possible.
Fortunately, he had a very keen analytical mind and could read things in the grey area that others missed and so his was kept on, given an office in the bowels of the Yard, it was the force’s way of keeping him out of the way without ruining his chances of receiving a decent pension – which they were pushing for him to take.
Since the divorce he had concentrated all his spare time as well as a huge part of his employers time and resources into investigating Thanos. Maybe he subconsciously blamed him for the failure of his marriage or maybe it was a substitute for his lack of friends now that he was a social outcast but whatever the reason Thanos took up a large part of his life.
He could prove that financially the extravagant lifestyle lead by Thanos with properties in his native Greece and the south of France did not meet the figures he returned to her Majesty’s revenue service only to have it bluntly pointed out that it was not his job to investigate tax fraud.
His job was to prove a link to crime and that was where the problems started. Evidence had a mysterious way of disappearing or suddenly becoming unusable. Thanos always knew about evidence collected on him a fact that finally lead Davenport to the unpalatable conclusion that there was a mole inside Scotland yard. Having learned his lesson he kept very little of what he knew on his official office computer preferring to keep any information that he could find, whether it be a rumour linking Thanos to something or hard, photographic documentation on his private computer at home.
His legitimate businesses were a front and he earned his money from more serious criminal activities. The minicab business, the restaurant, the import/export business were all a cover. The local police had nothing, not so much as a parking ticket, on him. Getting the evidence was frustratingly difficult - almost impossible.
Thanos was clever, very clever and almost all links between him and any criminal activity were so very well hidden.
He looked at his watch again. Eight thirty-two. God, time was dragging! He wondered for the hundredth time why these two were parked up for so long and for no apparent reason in a quiet road in Wapping. He racked his brain trying to remember if there was a Wapping address in his file on Thanos – the one that he had been ordered to hand over to his Commander, Peter Braithwaite, who in turn had passed them onto the Sub-Commissioner. He could not remember one but that did not mean that there was not one in it.
One of the men in the car was very well known to him and he did not need to read a file to know the scum he was looking at.
Morton. Geoff Morton was Thanos` right-hand man. If there was a dirty job that needed doing, especially if violence or intimidation was required, then it fell into his jurisdiction. Just his presence alone was enough to instil fear into most people. He was one of many known criminals that worked for Thanos. He was vicious, cold-hearted and had a fearsome reputation amongst even his own kind who had the utmost respect for him. Over the years he had been charged with minor offences but nothing ever stuck. At six feet three and bull-chested he was a big, heavy-set man who kept himself in good physical condition; he worked out daily in a gym and jogged about ten miles every morning. The product of an orphanage he had no known family, no regular girlfriend preferring to use prostitutes but again the maths did not add up. His official employment was a mini-cab driver but how did a cab driver own a very expensive flat in that part of East London. A flat that even he, an inspector at the Yard, could not afford.
The other young man in the car with Morton was new to Davenport. He was sure that he would have remembered this face. It was quite distinguishable; fairly young, bright faced with two small gold earrings in his right ear and again dressed in an expensive suit. Another one to follow and document, he thought wearily as he focused the telescopic lens of his digital camera on him and snapped off half a dozen shots.
Another dreary hour passed. Occasionally people passed by on their way home from work. He saw it as a sad reflection on society how none of them even noticed him sitting alone in the car.
A lone man wearing a grey suit came into view. He was quite tall and thin and was walking rather slowly keeping deliberately in the shadows close to the high-sided wall, which formed part of the perimeter of the exclusive complex. There was something about the man’s behaviour that alerted Davenport’s keen policeman’s senses. He picked up his camera and focused on the man.
This was better than he could have hoped for. The strange man was not such a stranger after all. It was Richards. He was Thanos` accountant. Details of this man’s known past came immediately to mind. He was a brilliant accountant apparently but his upwardly mobile career had been cut short, brought to a standstill, in fact, after a very public court trial for company embezzlement, undeclared company earnings and several other misdemeanours he served three years of a five year sentence and was struck of the register of chartered accountants. And then along came Thanos. If anyone knew where his money was kept it was this man.
He took as many pictures as he could as the man approached the glass-sided security post and spoke briefly to the guard. There was a dull click and a low whirring sound as the iron security gate slowly swung open and he disappeared inside.
*****
He breathed more easily now and f
or the first time that day allowed himself the luxury to relax for a while in the knowledge that here, at least for a short time, he was safe. He pushed on the intercom button and waited drumming his fingers nervously on the brass plate.
A heavily accented woman’s voice answered. Even though she was softly spoken the fear could clearly be heard. “Yes!”
“It’s me,” he said simply. That was all she needed to hear and there was a sharp click as the door unlocked.
She was already waiting for him at the door. Even in her obviously distressed state her beauty showed itself. She placed her arms around his neck as soon as he was in front of her pulling his gaunt frame into her.
Eventually she spoke. Her husky voice barely audible, “What have you done?”
He did not answer immediately but pushed her inside the door closing it as he stepped through. He pulled her to him wondering if this would be their last time together. He could smell the sweet scent of Eternity, her favourite perfume. They stood locked in their silent embrace for a full minute before she asked the question again.
“What I had to do!” he answered simply. He felt her shudder in his arms and knew that she was crying. He pulled her tighter to his thin chest.
“Why? We could have found another way,” she said desperately. “It’s not too late!” He could feel her wet tears as they trickled down her cheek and onto his neck.
For the first time that day he wondered if he had made the correct decision. “It’ll be fine. You’ll see!” but deep down inside he had a nagging doubt.
The men inside the blue Omega moved. Their hunch had paid off. This, they knew, was going to be a long night.
Ernie Davenport knew what he had to do. If he wanted answers he would have to wait it out and so he, too, settled himself in for a long wait but just how long he had no idea.
The Qadesh Club Page 2
