Maloney's Law

by Anne Brooke

  A heartbeat’s pause and then the scarred man, the torturer says, ‘No.’

  As I shut my eyes tighter, Dominic speaks again, ‘What the fuck do you mean, no? Here and now, I’m in charge, and you do what I tell you. No more and no less.’

  ‘I only take orders from—’

  ‘Yes, yes, Mr. Kenzie, I know. Same old line, same old bad attitude. Well, perhaps that’s why you continue to make the mistakes you do. It’s time you learnt to get it into that head of yours that Blake and I are partners. What one of us wants, the other wants also.’ As he says this, there’s the lightest of touches on my leg. When my eyes flicker open, I can see he’s standing between me and the two Egyptians. His fingers are on my skin and they’re as still as his voice is calm.

  The first man snorts. ‘Prove it.’

  ‘Prove it yourself,’ is Dominic’s reply. ‘Here, my phone.’

  With one sudden movement, he flings his mobile to the man. As he stretches out in an automatic gesture to grasp it, Dominic launches himself across the floor and brings his opponent crashing down. At the same moment, from the doorway, the second man reaches for his gun.

  ‘Dominic! Watch out.’

  Dominic twists nearer the desk as the bullet fires, narrowly missing the sprawling men and me. There’s another burst of gunfire and a sharp cry of pain, followed by...nothing.

  ‘Dominic.’

  From where I am, I can’t see what’s happened. I can’t see anything, but the silence is unbearable. Making one hopeless effort to strain against the ropes brings no success, but the squirming of my body dislodges the knife resting next to my leg. It falls with a clatter to the floor.

  ‘Dominic? No, Dominic.’

  A grunt and then what sounds like Egyptian swearing is followed by two heavy footsteps coming closer. I brace myself for whatever is about to happen. Just as the thick-set frame looms into my vision, there’s a long drawn-out strangled cry, and he disappears. A hand carrying something bright and metallic rises and falls, once, twice, each moment of vanishing corresponding with a thud and soft moaning.

  Then, silence.

  Then, a voice. ‘God.’

  ‘Dominic?’

  ‘Yes,’ he pants and suddenly his face is close to mine, his breath warm on my skin. ‘Thank you for the knife. We’re safe. For now. But we have to get you out of here.’

  It’s not that easy. Of course it isn’t. The two men are unconscious or dead. Dominic drags them into the main office, unties me as carefully as he can, and uses the same rope to tie their hands and feet. He then turns off the gas on the oven, lifts me to a sitting position and eases me into his arms. Now and again, no matter how careful he is, I can’t help drawing in a harsh and ragged breath. The sound of it makes him swear softly.

  Half standing, half leaning against him, I try to walk, but my legs are shaky and useless. Each movement of my muscles sends a dagger of fire through my skin. I can’t stop the trembling.

  ‘Paul, your burns are worse than I thought. I can get water for you, but I’ll need to put you back on the desk.’

  ‘N-no. M-must leave. Go n-now.’

  ‘All right, but you can’t walk. It’ll take time, it—’

  ‘C-carry me.’

  ‘I don’t think—’

  ‘For f-fuck’s sake, I don’t c-care about your suit, D-Dominic, just do it.’

  For a moment his unfathomable eyes gaze into mine. Then, with a suddenness I don’t expect, he steps to my side, puts one hand around my shoulders, another under my knees and lifts me as simply as if I am feathers. This, for reasons I don’t understand, makes me laugh.

  ‘What?’ he says. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Just...just...a p-position I could have enjoyed once, but not n-now.’

  ‘Be quiet. You’re in shock. I’ll take you somewhere safe and then ring for an ambulance. I don’t want ano...a death on my hands.’

  ‘No.’ I grip his neck with my free hand and wrench him ’round to face me. ‘No.’

  ‘Don’t be so bloody stupid. You need medical attention. Where else can you go?’

  ‘Home. Not hospital. Because, fuck you, but you owe me. You owe me. Take me home.’

  These are the last words I’m able to say for a while as the pain sweeps me away into blackness and noise.

  Chapter Sixteen

  All around me there is the sea and a sound of humming, though there’s no indication where it’s coming from. The sea is red but this doesn’t strike me as strange. As I walk along, the sand underneath my feet changes to pebbles burnt by the sun, but if I keep on walking the pain is bearable. I’m the only person on the beach, but I don’t feel alone. I keep on walking, but there’s no sense of having to arrive anywhere; it’s the simplicity of the movement that melts the tension away. If I could just keep on walking, with the sun on my back and the wind lifting my hair from my scalp, then there would be no danger. Everything would be okay. I don’t know how I know that, but it feels like something close to the truth. My bones, my blood sing with it.

  Once, however, the planets make their slow spin, turning, turning, and the morning moves to mid-day, then I will have to take the long journey back. When the sun is on my face then the truth will burn through me and take me...take me—

  A rushing movement and I’m caught in a storm but more than a storm; the sea has darkened to purple and all the skies are orange, streaked with a deeper fire. It might be beautiful, but my eyes are burning, and there’s no air...nothing...to breathe and...

  ...I’m falling, falling with a jolt in my stomach and...

  ...suddenly my eyes are wide open and I can see whiteness and a pattern and shadow on plaster. There’s the sound of a gasping cry that’s mine.

  ‘It’s all right, Paul, you’re safe. You’re at home.’

  His hand is resting on my shoulder and I can see the rapid rise and fall of my chest. There’s a teatowel wrapped ’round my left arm, and it’s stained with blood.

  ‘But what...what about the sea? The storm?’

  ‘There’s no storm, no sea. It was just a dream. You’re awake now. There’s nothing to worry about.’

  I close my eyes and let that thought slide through my mind. A couple of seconds go by, and then Dominic removes his hand and there’s the sound of gentle splashing. A heartbeat later I feel a coolness on my damaged skin.

  ‘Water?’ I say. ‘It’s good. Thanks.’

  ‘You’re welcome. I found a bucket and some clean cloths in one of your kitchen cupboards. But you still need to get to hospital and—’

  ‘No, please. I meant it. I’m fine here.’

  ‘As you wish.’

  While my breathing steadies to normal, he continues to sprinkle me with water. I hear him get up.

  ‘I’ll get fresh,’ he says. ‘If you think it’s helping?’

  ‘Yes. Please. And, Dominic?’

  ‘Yes?’

  Turning to look at him, I say, ‘Could you bring me some water to drink, too?’

  ‘Of course.’

  When he’s gone, I prepare for his return. The effort of this is almost too much. When he comes back, my instinct is to gulp down the water he’s brought, but he stops me.

  ‘No,’ he says, supporting me with his arm. ‘Try it little and often. Too much too soon will make you sick.’

  ‘Okay, okay, but who made you a b-bloody first aid expert?’ I grumble, but obey, having no choice.

  What feels like ten minutes later, the glass is empty and I sink back against the pillows.

  ‘More?’ Dominic asks.

  ‘No. Thank you,’ one breath, then another and another. ‘Dominic?’

  A pause before he answers and his voice is guarded now. ‘Yes?’

  ‘You know we have to talk, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Brushing one powerful hand through his blond hair, he grabs a chair and sits next to the bed. There’s no grace in it, and Dominic is someone who’s always moved with grace. Up until now.

  He d
oesn’t look at me but stares into the distance. The silence is heavy across both our shoulders.

  ‘Talk to me, Dominic,’ I whisper. ‘Please.’

  ‘All right.’ He still doesn’t look at me. ‘All right.’

  When at last he begins, even his voice sounds different. It’s lower, more urgent, less cultured, and I no longer recognise the man. ‘How much do you know, Paul? I mean really know? Not just guesswork.’

  Now, for the first time since the case started, I tell him what I’ve found out. ‘I know about Blake Kenzie’s involvement with people trafficking. No, let’s call it by what it is. Sex trafficking, plain and simple. And deadly. Jade found some of it out from police records and what they implied, and I got a lucky break from a newspaper article piecing the facts together. At my parents’ house, of all places. It linked the dead woman outside your offices, Bluesky, with the suspicions the welfare agencies had. It didn’t surprise me. Not about Blake. What we had was a partial list of codenames and dates for transfers and meeting points, but they didn’t make sense. Not without the other half of the information. But right now I don’t care about that. What I need to know from you, and I think you owe me the explanation, is how long you’ve been involved. And why, for God’s sake? I mean why? Don’t you have enough?’

  At the end of this speech, I’m exhausted. Lying back, I close my eyes, partly to gain strength and partly because I can’t bear to look at him as he talks.

  ‘You have to understand something about me,’ Dominic says, his voice hesitant at first. ‘I realise you think you know me, but I don’t think you do. Apart from how we are when we fuck of course. But you don’t know what I’m like, who I am. I know about you; born rich, with rich parents. No matter what happens to you, you’ll always have that easiness. A history, a tradition you can rely on. Things are made smooth for you, however difficult they seem at the time. It’s not the same for me. That’s not an excuse, it’s the truth. It’s how the world is.’

  Here he pauses, but I say nothing, knowing there’s more to come. When it does, it’s not what I’m expecting.

  ‘I’m not like that,’ he continues. ‘I was born poor. Of course I’ve told Cassie about my past, but not the children. Never the children. Did you know I was born and brought up in a council house? No, I suppose not. Why should you know that? There’s no reason to. The first eighteen years of my life were spent struggling for money and for acceptance. I hated the way we had to live and the attitude of those my mother had to deal with. I swore to myself that once I could leave I’d never go back and I’d never again be poor. My sister, Cathy, and I were the first ones in our family ever to go to University. She went to London, but I worked like the devil and begged my school to let me take the Oxbridge exams. They weren’t keen, but in the end they couldn’t say no. And I passed, went for the interview, and got in. You can’t imagine what it was like. The sense of possibility, the opening of a door that had held me back the whole of my life. Autumn 1976. I walked out of one existence and into another. I changed my accent as soon as I’d learnt how. Not only that but I changed my name. God, do you know you’re the only person I’ve ever told that to? Not even my wife knows that. Just the family I was born into, though I never see them now. I changed my name from Donald, which I hated, to Dominic. Dominic Gregory Allen. It’s who I am now. Dominic. The man I became. The man I am. And I kept my promise; I never went back.’

  A minute ticks by on the clock, and I’m silent. Then I say, ‘I never knew you had a sister. Is she alive?’

  ‘Is that all you can say? Cathy, she lives in Norfolk. I have a niece I’ve never seen. I have two brothers as well, though both our parents are dead. Richard is the oldest and Thomas the youngest. Cathy and I are in the middle. Though,’ he laughs, but there’s no humour in it. ‘Though I suppose it’s the fact of my sister that would matter most to you. I should have known.’

  ‘Yes.’ I look at him for the first time since he began his account, and I see his face is unchanged, as if nothing he has said has affected him. ‘Yes, you should. I think you’ve been lucky, but you’re too blind to know it. What does it matter about your background or who you really are, what you’re really called? What matters is what you do with your life. There’s more you need to tell me. Tell me about Blake and what you’ve done.’

  He does and this time there are no interruptions.

  ‘I joined my first company when I was 21 years old,’ he says. ‘I was Dominic Allen by then, of course, with a classy accent and a classy girlfriend in tow, a girlfriend who, when I was twenty-eight, would become my wife and give me that extra edge I needed. Ten years later, I was Chief Exec and the company became what it is today. DG Allen Enterprises. Not just a change of name, but a change of focus, of ambition, too. And whatever you may think of me, Paul, business and making money are the things I’m good at; they’re the things I trust. Nothing else matters. DG Allen Enterprises has done well for itself since then. We were riding high, we still are. I first met Blake at a conference in Cairo. I know I haven’t told you that before. No doubt you found that out for yourself, but God knows why you didn’t challenge me about it. Too late now. We get on well, Blake and I, we have the same ethos and the same ambitions. I can do business with him. With him I can make good money.’

  He stops and runs his hands up his face and through his hair.

  ‘And I have made money,’ he continues. ‘Though of course none of it is good, not if we apply your moral code, such as it is, Paul. I knew from the beginning what Delta Egypt was involved in. As well as the IT business. And it’s a fair trade, of a sort. Helping to bring in people cheaply to this country from Moscow, Bucharest, Sofia, all the cities where the opportunity arises, to take up jobs for firms where Delta have contacts. Dancing, working in night clubs, escort work, the sex industry. Yes, I knew it. Why not? The market economy is something I’ve always believed in. I’ve never judged people for what they choose to do, so why start now? It’s easy money. You wouldn’t believe it. The fact that Blake works from Cairo is the perfect cover. No prostitutes come here from Cairo, at least not directly. It’s so easy in fact that later on I decided to buy out Blake’s company. At least that much of what I told you is true. And all the time the cash kept on coming and my investments kept on rising. The sight and smell of money in the balance, money that’s mine, is a dream to which nothing else compares. Nothing at all.’

  ‘Did you never think about what you were doing, about the lives you were destroying?’ I say. ‘For God’s sake, did it never occur to you to think of these people as human?’

  ‘I’m not certain what you mean by that,’ he answers. ‘Of course everyone is human, but what counts is power, not pity. And how you use it. I’m not in the business of destroying lives; when people are helped to come to the West, they earn more money than they’d ever do in their home countries. Economic empowerment is what I’m selling. And, yes, I’ve met some of them. One night, for instance, I was in Prague finishing off some business with Blake and with others. I’ve never relied on one source of income alone. That would be foolish. We were drinking in a bar, in a place with strange music I’ve never heard before. Halfway through the evening, a couple approached us, a slim black-haired woman hanging on the arm of a dark-eyed man dressed in green and gold and dripping with jewellery. Her clothes were expensive, though she wore only a small necklace. They laughed, the strange man and Blake, and said something in Arabic. While they talked, the woman and I sipped our drinks and chatted. Her English was accented, but good. They didn’t stay long. After they’d gone, Blake laughed, leant forwards, and said, “Good product that one, my friend. Nice and submissive when it’s called for, you know what I mean? And still tight, of course. Our customers enjoy that. A small part of the fruit of our collaboration and I believe she will soon be in your country, yes?” Then he stared at me and smiled. And I smiled back because that woman made me realise, as I did the other times I met some of our people, that what we’re doing is only helping them get riche
r. It’s not wrong and it doesn’t cause pain. As long as they...’

  He stops, but he’s not finished yet.

  ‘As long as they...what?’ I whisper. ‘Keep to your rules? Don’t get sick or catch diseases? Don’t try and escape? Play your game?’

  ‘Don’t be stupid, it’s not...’

  But I’m not listening. Something else he’s said has sparked a connection for me, and I interrupt him. ‘Because it goes wrong sometimes, doesn’t it, Dominic? The people you deal with do get hurt, they get killed, and then what do you do? Keep quiet and hope for better times? This woman you’re talking about, the one with the necklace, is she still alive now? Is she? Do you know for sure?’

  He closes his eyes. ‘There are other women—’

  ‘Never mind the other women. Let’s look at this one. The one you mention. Is she first in your mind for a reason? Is she...is she the woman outside your offices? There was a necklace there, too, wasn’t there? Something small and silver, with a star. Is she...Bluesky?’

  There’s a silence. He shakes his head. ‘Yes, but that was a one-off. A stupid mistake and badly handled. When it happened, Blake and I had a huge row and I threatened to go to the police. Not that I would have done, but still it angered him, and he retrieved the body and dumped it next to DG Allen Enterprises as a warning. Thank God no-one made the connection. At the same time, I rang you. I was worried. I wanted to get more dirt to use as a hold over Blake if anything like this happened again. Equal knowledge gives equal power. It’s a good principle.’

  ‘So that’s why you hired me?’ I interrupt. ‘To gain power over Blake? A stand-off?’

  ‘Yes,’ he says. ‘And it worked, up to a point, didn’t it? Not that it matters now. Since then, we’ve tightened procedures, and nothing like this will happen again.’

  ‘But it has happened. Jade is dead.’

  ‘That was a mistake too. Blake and I repaired the cracks in our partnership. I told him if we retrieved the information you’d gained and beat you up, you’d let it go, especially if I lost interest, but when it came to it, I couldn’t be sure a beating was all you’d get. Not after Bluesky. So I rang you. It was the night the family were away — lucky, or so I thought — and I asked you over for the evening, hoping even then you’d stay the night. It would be safer. I thought Blake’s men would mess your place up a little, take any evidence they could find, and leave. I never imagined Jade would be there; I never thought about what they would do to her. And for that, Paul, I’m sorry.’