'He is evil,' Will agreed. 'I didn't realise how bad until I'd started to become involved in this latest carry on.'
'And you say we're being helped by Theona Blue?' Julia asked, with a puzzled frown. She remembered the singer vividly.
'That's right. We've got a way into Gabor's private computer system. She's offered to get into Abbey Reach with the aid of her passkey and have a poke about on his PC.'
Julia's eyes roamed the familiar room with its old but now fashionable furniture and knick-knacks. Aunt Mary had never thrown anything away, and the relics of bygone eras occupied places on the mantelpiece, the tops of cupboards, and the glass-fronted shelves on either side of the marble fireplace. There were Royal Doulton figurines of garlanded cupids; shepherds and shepherdesses; spooky slender hands formed of white porcelain, moulded from those of the deceased; intricate silk flowers under glass domes, and a conservatory with wicker chairs, aspidistras and cacti.
It was a monstrous white elephant, but Julia loved it and never wanted to sell up and move. She had modernised the kitchen and had a TV installed in the sitting room, along with a video machine and her sound system. The ancient piano with its carved frame and candleholders positioned each side of the music-rest, stood against one wall. It was all part of her childhood. Aunt Mary had endeavoured to keep the place up to standard, and Julia, its present custodian, struggled to find the money to do the same. She couldn't bear the thought of it being sold for redevelopment. Sentiment apart, it was her one and only investment.
All this talk of plots and counterplots, of breaking into offices and hacking into computers seemed foreign to her. Aunt Mary wouldn't have had any truck with it. Times had changed drastically. She hadn't been dead for more than five years, but if she returned she'd find this new century filled with attitudes, mores and manners of which she would heartily disapprove.
'You'll do it?' Arlene asked hopefully. 'Find my sketches, if he hasn't already destroyed them?'
'We'll sort out Vincent Gabor, and then, if we find there's any truth in his shady dealings, get the police in to investigate,' Will confirmed, and put his arm about Julia's shoulders in a warm, comforting way to encourage her.
'Okay,' she agreed, though reluctantly. 'I'm going to Blake's apartment this afternoon. Kevin Dean will be there. I'm to be photographed; a trial run for a session in Bermuda.'
'Don't look so woeful,' Will said, giving her a hug. 'You won't have to go, of course. With a bit of luck they'll soon be exposed. Then you can write your piece for Denise and come back to the magazine.'
'Yes,' she answered pensively, wondering if this was really what she wanted; modelling was certainly more glamorous than working for the press.
The atelier was filled with light, as an artist's studio should be, but totally deserted. The sewing machines were shrouded in dustsheets, the chairs ranged neatly in front of them, the pattern-cutting table free of fabric, the dressmaker's dummies naked and forlorn looking.
'You expressed the desire to see where it all happens,' Marty Blake said, a hand under Julia's elbow.
'Where is everyone?' She was surprised by its emptiness, for this was a weekday.
'On holiday,' he replied, examining his territory, making certain that all was in apple-pie order, obsessive when it came to his beloved work.
'You closed it down for a few days?' Julia kept her remark casual, though she was thinking what a grand opportunity this might be for a spot of espionage.
'I always do after a show. They've slaved away for me to get it all ready in time. They're a loyal crew, and they deserve a break.'
'And this is where you store your sketches and patterns?' she asked, noting the big cupboards, the angled drawing boards.
'Some of them,' he confirmed. 'Others, if they're very new and precious, I keep in my apartment.' He chuckled a little. 'I suppose I'm paranoid really, for the whole building is linked to a security system second to none. No one is likely to break in.
'Come along, let's go - Kevin will be waiting and he's already wildly jealous of you,' and he smiled and gazed with evident relish at her nipples, the outline of which could be seen through her T-shirt. 'He jumps on the wrong bus, whereas I ride on both. Don't look so confused; he's a gay submissive and I'm a bi-sexual dom.'
Kevin was in the apartment's lounge, fiddling with his camera. He glanced up, his eyes sharp as a bird of prey's as Julia and Blake entered. 'About time,' he said reprovingly. 'I've been here over an hour.'
'Set up outside,' Blake retorted, ignoring Kevin's sulky remark. 'The weather's sunny and we want to see what Julia looks like in the open air.' He flung a small bundle, which she caught. 'Put that on,' he instructed.
'Where can I change?' She didn't want to undress in front of Kevin, knowing he'd endeavour to find fault with her figure.
'Use my bedroom along the corridor,' Blake, halfway through the glass door to the patio, said over his shoulder.
She opened several doors. Three were guestrooms with no sign of personal effects. There were two showers and a study, all superbly decorated, and then she found what must be Blake's room, the best, largest and most lavishly furnished, with it's own bathroom. Unfortunately now was not the moment to search for Arlene's drawings, though instinct told her he would have hidden them there. She stripped quickly, laying her clothes across the wide bed, and watching herself in the pier-glass as she stepped into the minute gold bikini bottom and then attached the matching triangles over her breasts. The cups were a shade too small, and she filled them to capacity. She adjusted the halter neck, which was made of thin chains and decorated with beads, and fastened the ties centre back.
A filmy silk sari in a contrasting material came with the skimpy outfit, and she draped it round her, then barefooted, padded her way out to the patio. She moved silently, pausing when she reached the screening shrubbery growing profusely over a trellis. She was about to make her presence known when a sound arrested her, a moan, a sigh. Holding her breath, she peered through a small gap in the honeysuckle.
Kevin was leaning across the wrought iron table situated beneath a large striped sunshade. His shorts were down round his knees, his T-shirt pushed up, his bare hindquarters lifted. Marty Blake, as handsome as a Greek god, was just raising his arm. In his hand was a belt, coiled up, turning into a lash. He brought it down savagely across Kevin's white buttocks and Julia repressed a gasp, her own posterior burning in sympathy.
Kevin winced, his arms outspread as he gripped the edge of the table. 'That was for daring to interfere this morning,' Blake snarled. 'If I fancy Julia, then I'll have her. Understand?'
'Yes, I apologise,' Kevin bleated, and reached down for his groin, groping for his penis. 'Forgive me.'
Blake lashed him again. 'Don't touch that till I give my permission,' he said coldly.
'All right, I won't... will you rub it for me?'
'Oh, I'll do more than that.' Blake opened his jeans and his cock sprang out. He fondled it and, taking a bottle of sun-oil from the table, laved his tool lavishly in the slippery lotion and then spread Kevin's legs and worked three greasy fingers into his anus.
Julia was flabbergasted. She had never seen two men at it before, knowing she should withdraw till they had finished, but so fascinated that she couldn't move. For some reason the sight, instead of repulsing, was making her horny. She touched her nipples, and they were rock-hard, firmly pronounced within the thin gold cups. Her clitoris throbbed and she slid two fingers into the bikini briefs, combing through her soft pubes. She rubbed, parted her sex-wings, and toyed with the rapidly swelling nubbin. All the while she never took her eyes from the scene being enacted in the roof garden.
Blake oiled his palm and slid it round till he encompassed Kevin's dick. The long, stiff, pale-skinned organ jerked as he rubbed it, and Kevin gasped in rapture. Taking his own cock in his other hand, Blake slid on a condom and then, standing between Kevin's thighs, fed his erection into his well-prepared arsehole. Julia, speeding up the friction on her clit, saw him mo
ve, slowly at first, then faster.
'I'm going to come in you now, and then take off the johnny and do it again, all over your face,' Blake growled, his hips pumping rapidly.
'Yes, yes, do it!' Kevin urged, clinging to the table, his cock jumping in Blake's hand. 'That's just how I like it!'
'High, hot and a hell of a lot!' Blake chanted.
Shockwaves of sensation were gathering in Julia's groin. Her clit was fully roused, her labial wings engorged. She was climbing to the peak, blood racing, heart pounding. She could hear both men panting like Olympic runners. By now she had joined in the contest of who would come first. Then Kevin cried out and shot a jet of creamy semen into Blake's fist.
Julia was there, riding the crest of the wave, feeling her whole being convulsing. Perspiration dampened her fringe as the final spasm passed. Then she saw Blake rake across Kevin's back with his fingernails, saw the trail of red marks, and saw him arch. His ragged breathing stopped for a second. He grunted, thrust once, twice, thrice, and climaxed.
The scene righted itself; a peaceful, sweet-smelling garden once more, filled with the sound of birds singing and the bubbling of the jacuzzi in its little glass-roofed house. Julia took her fingers out of her bikini bottom. The gusset was soaking wet.
Lust appeased, the men pulled apart. Blake did up his jeans and Kevin hoisted his shorts. Neither said a word. Both lit up a cigarette, and Julia stepped under the flowery arch, the sari knotted round her waist.
'Ah, there you are,' Blake said, cool as a cucumber. 'Did you enjoy our display of homosexuality?'
She could feel herself going bright red. 'How did you know?'
'Darling, it was obvious. I saw the foliage moving. Did you come as you watched us?' Before she could answer, he pulled her close, parted the sari and shoved a possessive hand tight between her thighs. 'A dead giveaway,' he crowed. 'You're very wet.'
'Dirty bitch,' muttered Kevin, then linked his arm with Blake's. 'But we don't care, do we?'
Blake freed himself coldly with a shrug. 'Have you set up the tripod?' he snapped.
He was most professional as the afternoon progressed. Kevin shot Julia from all angles, sedate shots, compared to George's; her bra top was kept firmly in place, as was the minuscule tanga. The sun burned down fiercely, and she applied Blake's lotion, her body gleaming with an oily sheen.
Kevin bitched throughout. 'God, but she's awkward,' he complained. 'She doesn't have a clue how to pose.'
'She did all right for George,' Blake countered, sitting in the sun, shirt off, browning his legs in the tiniest of shorts.
'That's as maybe,' Kevin huffed. 'But she's bloody unprofessional. A novice, my dear. A rank amateur.'
The more he criticised, the more she found herself floundering. It had been almost better to do open crotch shots for that slimy little toe-rag, George.
'I think we've got enough,' Blake said at last. 'Fetch me a large gin and tonic, Julia. Plenty of ice, mind.'
Rather offended by his offhand manner, she stalked into the kitchen, found the drinks, raided the fridge for ice-cubes and returned. This time she didn't stop when she found Kevin kneeling in front of Blake, whose cock was raring to go again. Neither of them took any notice of her as she placed the glass on the table. Kevin bent forward and licked the dew from Blake's glans. He placed his hands on Blake's hips to steady himself, the cock disappeared into his mouth, and moved his head up and down.
What better time than now, she thought, when they were so absorbed? She retraced her steps through the lounge, along the hall and into Blake's bedroom.
First she changed into her skirt and T-shirt and slipped on her sandals, for she knew she might have to make a quick exit. Ready to flee at a second's notice, she began her search.
The wardrobe yielded nothing, neither did the tallboy. Then she saw the desk, a valuable Napoleonic piece, the top covered in bottle-green leather and edged with brass filigree. There were two stacks of drawers on each side and a large central one. Julia tried it. It wasn't locked. Marty Blake must have been so convinced that no one would break in, she thought.
It slid open. Inside were several drawing-pads. These revealed nothing but rough sketches that he must be working on. Then, right at the bottom, she found a folder. She lifted it out and spread it open on the desktop. She recognised Arlene's style and the Queen of the Night gown. Her signature at the lower right hand corner further confirmed this. There were others, too, garments that Blake had kept under wraps until the moment of the show. These also bore Arlene's signature.
Got him! Julia wanted to shout aloud with glee, but instead she closed the drawer, rushed to the bed, picked up her tote bag and stuffed the drawings inside.
'And where do you think you're going with those?' said Kevin, from the open doorway.
Julia pulled up sharply and gasped. Now she was in trouble. 'I... I'm off home,' she faltered feebly, wondering how long he had been standing there, watching her. 'We've finished here, haven't we?'
'What's that in your bag?' he said slowly, a predator tormenting its prey.
'Um, nothing... th-the usual stuff... make-up, my chequebook and credit card... you know.' This was awful, Julia's worst nightmare realised.
'Let's have a look,' Kevin said, and snatched it from her. He spilled the contents on the bed and grabbed the sketches. 'Marty will be interested to see these,' he added heavily, and hauled her along to the lounge.
'I've just caught your golden girl poking around in the desk,' Kevin announced. 'She's got the sketches, Marty. You know, those you stole from Arlene Murphy.'
Marty Blake rose from the white leather settee. His brows swooped down in the blackest scowl Julia had ever seen on a man's face. 'What's all this?' And he glared at the drawings Kevin had shoved into his hands.
She stood there shaking. 'They don't belong to you,' she quavered. 'I wanted to return them to their rightful owner.'
'I told you she wasn't genuine, didn't I, Marty?' Kevin beamed triumphantly. 'Model, my arse! Ask her what she's really doing here?'
'I don't have to answer that,' she said, spine straight, shoulders back, chin held defiantly high. 'I'm leaving now, and I'll thank you to let me take those with me.'
'You're not going anywhere.' Marty Blake's voice was heavy with brooding menace. It sent icy shivers down her spine. 'We'll see what Vincent has to say about all this.'
She glanced at the door, made a dash for it, but was hauled back by Kevin, who was surprisingly strong under his weedy exterior. He held her tight, his nails gouging her spitefully.
'Come over here right away, Vincent,' Blake said into his mobile. 'We've a spy in the camp.'
Chapter 11
Vincent Gabor listened in silence to Marty Blake's litany of complaints, and Julia stood before them like a prisoner in the dock. She was so frightened she couldn't function properly.
'So, Julia, what do you have to say for yourself?' Gabor asked at long last, his dark eyes expressionless, his face set.
'Nothing,' she blurted out.
'Why were you taking the sketches?' he persisted, with the grim patience of an inquisitor.
'I-I-I don't know,' she stammered, aware that it was useless. He was too shrewd to believe any cock-and-bull story she might try to concoct.
He rose, looming over her. 'I want the truth, Julia. Don't even attempt to lie. Tell me, you are acquainted with Arlene Murphy?'
'Possibly. I may have met her once or twice... in the pub, or at a club. I can't remember.'
'You can't remember?' His hands were clenched threateningly at his sides, but she could feel excitement gnawing through the fear. Was he about to hit her?
'No... that is...'
'I've made some calls, Mr Gabor,' Kevin cut in eagerly. 'And the jungle drums report that Julia and Arlene live at the same address.'
'Ah, so you have been lying to me,' Vincent Gabor said, more in sorrow than anger. 'Dear me, Julia, you're a very silly and naughty girl.'
'I only wanted to help her,' she b
urst out. 'She was so upset at the loss of her designs...'
'And you thought you could worm your way in here, nose around and find out things that would get me into trouble,' Blake spat venomously.
'It wasn't fair; you have so much and she struggles so hard and has so little.' By now Julia had lost the will to lie. It didn't much matter. Something unpleasant was going to happen to her anyway, no matter what she did or said.
'This is intolerable,' Blake cursed. 'She's got to be punished, and if you don't do it, Vincent, then I will.'
The sleek black limousine snaked through the traffic. Julia could look out of the darkened windows, but no one could see in. She was seated in the back, with Vincent Gabor on one side of her and Marty Blake on the other. Kevin occupied the front passenger seat and a uniformed chauffeur was driving. An ironic touch, she thought, considering his employer's intentions towards her, though she could only guess as to what these might be.
She had been frogmarched to the parking lot. Gabor kept his hand round her arm, preventing any attempt to escape. They had removed her mobile from her bag, and she was thankful she'd had the forethought to erase any incriminating numbers; Denise's, Will's and Arlene's. She could only pray they might get worried if they couldn't get in touch with her. There was one small ray of hope: her abductors obviously thought she was after the sketches, nothing more. Neither suspected she was involved with the press, or that Theona Blue was working to expose Gabor's involvement with contraband.
She recognised the route. The car was heading towards Hazel House, and she rummaged through her memory bank to recall if she had given Will the address. She had, but how long would it be before he put two and two together and came up with the right answer? She might be held prisoner for days. It was useless trying to convince herself that she had been removed there for any other reason. She was Vincent Gabor's captive.
In Too Deep Page 18
