by Roger Hurn
I stared at her in disbelief. ‘Oh please don’t tell me you buy this crock of shit!’
She shook her head. ‘No, of course I don’t, but Zander kinda does.’
‘You’re having a laugh,’ I said. ‘If he knows Azrael is just an actor then he knows it’s all bollocks.’
Carly grinned. ‘Yeah, he gets it that Azrael is bogus and all that, but being a Church member is a great way for him to get his rocks off. I mean guys only have to be breathing to be up for sex, but us girls have to be in the mood.’ She gave me a look that was unreadable – well by me at least. ‘And the Church teaches them to be in the mood 24/7.’
‘Okay, I can see why he thinks he’s won the lottery, but I still don’t get why he thinks you’d want to join.’
‘Well, it’s ‘cos I’ve convinced him that I’m in love with him and I’ll do anything he wants me to do.’ She giggled. ‘Guys are such prats.’
She may have had a point and it wasn’t one I was going to debate with her. I had the feeling I’d lose.
‘So what are you going to do?’
She shrugged again. ‘Join of course. You’re getting precisely nowhere so the only way we’re gonna make a breakthrough in this case is for me to go in undercover like I told Sue I would.’
I sat back and rubbed my cheeks. ‘And what are you going to do when he wants you to have sex with him and/or his buddies and whoever it is they’re entertaining? Tell them you’re not in the mood?’
‘Nope, I’ll tell them I’ve got an STD.’
My eyes opened wide and my jaw dropped.
Carly laughed. ‘Hey, you should see your face.’ Then she suddenly turned serious. ‘I haven’t by the way. Just in case you were wondering.’
‘I never thought you did.’ I said it a tad too quickly and her dark eyes flashed.
‘Sod you, Ryan.’
Actually, there’s only one place for me as far as Carly’s concerned and that’s in the wrong. That’s okay. I was beginning to feel quite at home there.
‘Yeah, yeah, but won’t they just throw you out if you tell them that?’
‘No,’ she said sulkily. ‘STD’s are curable you know. Well, the one I’m going to have is anyway. So it’ll be like making them wait for a special treat. Forbidden fruit and all that garbage.’ Then she gave me a knowing look. ‘And men always want what they can’t have, don’t they, Ry?’
I didn’t answer. Sometimes keeping your trap shut is the wisest thing to do. But then the silence began to drag out and she didn’t break eye contact so I changed the subject.
‘Right, did you find out anything about those two goons I had a run in with, Crispian and William?’
Carly nodded. ‘Yeah, Zander says William is a friend of his from school. They went to uni together and then William introduced him to the Russian geezer who sounds like a dog.’ She paused to let me know she was being sarcastic. ‘Well anyway, William’s dad is some kind of banker in the City and he and the Russian guy do business together.’
I nodded thoughtfully. ‘Right, I get the connection. But what about Crispian?’
‘Zander doesn’t really know him. He’s a friend of a friend of William’s dad or something. Zander says he’s a smart guy who can talk the talk, but he’s a really cold fish.’ She shrugged. ‘Well, that’s how Zander describes him anyway.’
I decided it was time to mend fences with Carly. ‘You’ve done brilliantly, Carl. No one could have done more than you to make him open up. But I am seriously worried about you going down to Camden Hall. It’s a very risky strategy and I don’t want you going missing like Angie.’
She grinned. ‘Hey, don’t tell me you care, Ryan. You’ll have me in tears next.’
I grinned right back at her. ‘No, obviously because I’m a bastard I don’t care about you at all, but I’ve spent time and money training you up to be a first class private investigator so I’d hate to see that investment go up in smoke. Comprende?’
For a second she looked like she was processing this information then she stood up. She wasn’t grinning anymore. ‘Yeah, I comprende, but I’m a big girl and I can take care of myself. Look.’ She reached into her bag and pulled out a 9mm pistol. My heart sank. It was army issue and I was guessing it was one of a batch stolen from an army barracks down in Wiltshire a year or so back when I was still in the DPG. They were the gun of choice for some of the London street gangs.
‘Carly you cannot …’ but she cut me off in mid sentence. ‘Yeah, I can. Unlike you, I think something bad’s happened to Angie and it sure as hell ain’t gonna happen to me – comprende?’
I wasn’t in the least surprised when she told me Tyrone had got her the gun. I guess it was his way of looking out for her. She comes across as tough and streetwise, but somehow she still makes you feel protective towards her. So I knew where Tyrone was coming from. But I still wanted to punch his lights out.
‘Look, no good ever comes of it when civilians start waving guns around,’ I said. ‘It’s bad enough with some of the armed coppers I’ve met. A right bunch of trigger happy tossers!’
Carly gave me a hard stare. I could tell I might as well have been talking to a wall, but I had to make the effort.
‘Listen, Carly, it’s not just you I don’t want packing a gun, I’m totally against arming the average rozzer too and that’s because I’m a trained firearms officer and I know it takes a cool head to use a gun properly.’
‘Are you saying I don’t have a cool head?’
‘No, I’m saying you don’t know how to use that thing.’
‘Yeah, I do. I point it at the bad guys and pull the trigger. Bang! Bang! Problem sorted.’
I hated it when she put on this front. She was a bright kid but she’d never seen the mess a 9mm can make of a human being.
‘No, it’s not sorted. Life’s not a flaming video game.’
Anyway, we argued the toss back and forth but nothing I said, or even shouted, made her change her mind so, in the end, I had no choice but to go along with her plan. She was going to do what she wanted regardless of me anyway. Yeah, I could have tried to take the gun off her but there were so many ways for that scenario to go pear-shaped that I didn’t even really think about attempting it.
Carly agreed that she’d text me on a regular basis with updates on what she found out and she promised that if she uncovered any evidence about Angie she’d get out and bring it to me and not try to rescue Angie herself. To say I wasn’t happy with this arrangement was the understatement of this or any other year but, as Carly said, we’d taken Susan’s money so now we owed it to her to deliver. I just wished it was me going in with the gun, but I didn’t have the looks to get through the door.
Chapter Eleven
The next day, Carly went down to Camden Hall with Zander and joined the Church of the Dark Light. Mobile phones were banned but that didn’t stop her smuggling one in with her. Well, considering she’d also smuggled in a 9mm pistol I guess she figured hiding a mobile was a piece of cake. She sent me a couple of texts but basically she had nothing much to report. She’d certainly seen no sign of Angie and all she’d had from Azrael was a basinful of psychobabble. He’d given her a headache apparently. I was happy to hear that ‘cos I thought it might make her think there were worse people than me trying to boss her around. But I wasn’t holding my breath.
Anyway, I spent the day fielding Carly’s texts and chatting with old mates and trying to pump them for any titbits I could get about clandestine VIP visits to Hortonhurst. By about six I’d had enough of getting nowhere and decided to piss off my missus by going home early.
I was strolling along to the car park when a car slid to a halt beside me and a guy came up on my blind-side and sunk his fist into my kidneys. I doubled up and he shoved me into the back seat of the car. Then someone slipped a bag over my head and I felt a gun barrel push hard against my head.
‘Shut the fuck up,’ snarled someone with a thickly accented Eastern European voice.
I guess he
objected to my groaning and retching. If he did then he should have told his mate not to hit me so fucking hard. But I made the effort and swallowed back my sobs. The gun muzzle was removed from my head but I didn’t need to be Mystic Meg to know it wasn’t far away or that my future was looking grim.
We cruised on for what seemed like forever, but it was probably only about 45 minutes. I figured I was in a rich man’s motor because the engine didn’t roar, it purred. This didn’t make me feel any better about the situation. There was only one rich man with Eastern European hired heavies who was in my orbit and that was Yuri Borzov. I reckoned if he was a happy bunny he’d have given me a call rather than have me snatched by a bunch of gorillas and taken for a ride at gun point. I wasn’t wrong.
I spent the journey distracting myself from imagining what fate had in store for me by trying to work out who had grassed me up – but the list of suspects was just too bloody long. The whole phone hacking scandal showed that there’re plenty of bastards on the force ready and willing to sell their souls for a few quid. But I ruled out Rob. Then I figured everyone has their own agenda and I had no idea what Rob’s was. So, even though ratting me out to a Chelski fan would have stuck in his gullet, I put him straight back on the list. I didn’t really believe he’d done it but somehow those trips to watch the Arsenal were never going to be the same again.
When the car finally stopped for good I was manhandled out of the back seat, dragged along and then dumped onto a hard seat. My arms were wrenched back and my wrists were tied with wire. I think it’s fair to say that I was feeling pretty vulnerable. All was quiet for a few moments then I heard a door open and shut and footsteps moving towards me. Suddenly the hood was unceremoniously yanked off my head and I saw Yuri Borzov standing in front of me.
He was immaculately tailored in a silk suit that probably cost more than every item of clothing I’ve ever had combined. His face was still cheap and nasty though. You can buy clothes but you can’t buy class. He stared at me then sniffed disdainfully. We were in some kind of underground garage. He waved his hand as if drawing my attention to it. Then he spoke in a kind of upper class drawl that covered his own accent like a bad paint job.
‘There was a movie out some time ago, Mr Kyd. You may even have seen it. It was advertised with the line: “In space no one can hear you scream.”’ He smiled. If a shark ever learned to smile it would model it on Borzov’s ghastly skin-creeping grin. ‘Well, in this place no one can hear you die.’
He clicked his fingers and one of his heavies handed him a Glock. He raised it and pointed it at me. My guts twisted themselves in knots. He walked forward until the gun was touching the middle of my forehead and then pressed the trigger. There was a click but no explosion. There was no round in the chamber. He pulled the gun away.
‘I’m impressed Mr Kyd. You didn’t beg and you hardly flinched. Such stoicism is admirable. They trained you well in the Diplomatic Protection Group.’
Actually, I wasn’t being stoical; I just never believed he’d shoot me. Oh, not because I thought his heart was overflowing with the milk of human kindness, but because I figured there was no way he’d want to get my blood and brains splattered all over his suit. And at that range it would’ve been inevitable. No, guys like him always get other people to do their dirty work. This was pure theatre. But if he’d handed the gun to one of the plug uglies standing around in the garage then screw stoicism, he’d have heard me begging all right. As it was I contented myself by saying, ‘I take it that was my one and only warning to keep my beak out of your business was it Mr Borzov?’
Borzov nodded. ‘It was indeed, Mr Kyd. Next time there will be no empty chamber.’ He smiled his thin smile. ‘But again, I like it that you are not trying to pretend you don’t know why I had you brought here. I can do business with a man like you.’
I said nothing but inclined my head slightly. It could have been a nod.
‘The Church of the Dark Light is under my protection. It serves a purpose for friends of mine and they value my discretion. I can’t have you compromising that Mr Kyd. So forget you ever heard of it and you’ll have nothing more to fear from me. In fact, I may even be in a position to help you. I know many influential people who, from time to time, need the services of an investigator with your qualities.’
I forced myself to look grateful. ‘Thanks, Mr Borzov, but I think your friends would be a little too rich for my blood. So, if it’s all the same to you, I’ll stick to digging the dirt on blokes who are playing away from home. They tend to get pretty pissed off with me but, so far anyway, none of them has threatened to put a bullet in my brain.’
Borzov laughed. It sounded like dirty water running down a drain.
‘You’re probably wise, Mr Kyd. A man’s reach should never exceed his grasp – even though the poets would have us believe otherwise. But is it any wonder that they always die young?’
‘Robert Browning lived to a ripe old age,’ I said. ‘And I intend to do the same.’
A look of genuine pleasure swept across his face.
‘Mr Kyd, you are an educated man as well as a stoic. This makes you a rare breed and therefore it would be such a shame if you became extinct.’ He smiled again and it set my teeth on edge. ‘It has been a pleasure to meet you.’
I made no comment and he clicked his fingers again. A heavy took the gun. ‘Take Mr Kyd back to where you found him. There’s no need for the hood or for him to be harmed.’ Then he turned on his heel and walked out of the garage without a backward glance. I suspected and hoped he’d already forgotten about me.
Chapter Twelve
Borzov’s goons dropped me back in Deptford from Moscow-on-Thames without harming a hair on my head though, as they’d already tried to rupture my kidneys, I wasn’t about to put them on my Christmas card list.
I drove home, drank a gallon of water, swallowed some paracetamol and went straight to bed. But if I thought I was going to get a good night’s rest I was sadly mistaken. First off my ribs felt like they were cracked and I couldn’t get comfortable. Next, my missus gave me grief for groaning and fidgeting so I took myself off to the spare room. Then, just as I was dozing, I got a text from Carly that made me sit up and take notice. Camden Hall had just had a visit from a VIP. It was none other than “Smart Alec” Alec Carmichael, our boy wonder Chancellor of the Exchequer. Apparently, he’d taken a shine to Carly but he hadn’t stayed long. He’d spent most of his visit in cahoots with Azrael. Then, after he’d left, Azrael summoned her and told her she’d been specially chosen to spend personal time with Smart Alec when he next came down. She’d acted flattered but she’d wanted to gob in his smug face. Even in text speak her anger lit up the screen.
It went with the light bulb that was hovering over my head. Smart Alec’s DPG guy was Rick Brayshaw. He’d been the second bloke I’d pumped for info that morning. He’d told me his boy was way too busy trying to sort out the financial mess left behind by the previous government to sod about getting his jollies with a bunch of bimbos, however gorgeous they might be. Then he’d made a crack about how he wouldn’t mind getting his leg over a tasty bit of skirt as it would be a sight more fun that holding Smart Alec’s hand. I’d laughed dutifully then hung up, but I bet the bastard was on speed dial to Borzov the moment I had.
Now I couldn’t sleep for worrying about what Carly was getting herself into. Alec Carmichael was the government’s rising star and hotly tipped to be the next PM. In my experience, it doesn’t matter what people say, they vote with their wallets. If Smart Alec delivered on his promises to bring back the feel good factor and put money in all our pockets then he was a shoo-in. He looked good on TV and was a brilliant public speaker. He could run rings around his opponents and he played to the gallery while still coming across as a man of principle. He was a spin doctor’s wet dream.
I’d first come across him when he was on the way up. I’d been given the job of watching his back at the Cenotaph on Remembrance Day. He pushed all the right buttons for
the media, but I knew from the way he behaved off camera that he was a slimy, two-faced little git.
I texted Carly to let her know that she should be very careful and not do anything stupid. She didn’t reply. I guess she’d already figured that out for herself.
Chapter Thirteen
I was sitting in the office next morning typing up a report when Carly rang.
‘Listen up, Ryan, I haven’t got much time and what I’ve got to say is too long for a text.’
I was all ears.
‘I got talking to one of the girls this morning. She’s a right snobby bitch and pretty messed up ‘cos she thinks getting screwed by the rich and powerful puts you on their level. She told me that the “Chosen Ones” of the Church of the Dark Light were like the Hetaerae of Ancient Greece. Well, I didn’t know what the fuck she was talking about, but it turns out they were like well-educated, artistic and clever women who were the companions of the crème de la crème of society back in the olden days. Now I always thought that all those ancient Greek guys were gay, but it turns out they were into women all along. Apparently, the Hetaerae were like doing all sorts of sexual shit for those guys when they weren’t spouting poetry, playing lyres and talking about philosophy and politics and stuff.’
Carly paused for breath and I cut in. ‘Yeah, I know about the Hetaerae. But …’
‘What kind of fucking school did you go to, Ryan? ’Cos it sure as shit wasn’t anything like mine if they taught you stuff like that.’
Carly obviously had some issues here but this wasn’t the time to explore them. So I didn’t. Instead I asked, ‘Why was she telling you this stuff?’
‘Cos I told her I was gonna be Alec Carmichael’s next squeeze. I wanted to see if it got a reaction and it did. She was like seriously ticked off that I’d been picked and not her. But here’s the thing, she also said I’d better be good ‘cos the last girl he’d chosen hadn’t come back to Camden Hall. No one knew why, but this girl figured it was ‘cos she’d messed up big time and had been kicked out of the Church. Then she said in a really snidey way that “the Chancellor seems to favour girls of a certain type” and she was looking me up and down when she said it.’ I could hear the simmering resentment in Carly’s voice. ‘This girl was like totally up her own arse. I mean she’s so jolly hockey sticks you wouldn’t believe it.’
