Hartmann: Malicious Rules (Hartmann thriller series Book 1)

by Helen L Lowe

  ‘Right – well, I’m one of them but I’m running late - the others are in though.’ He went back into the hall and knocked on the flat door.

  It was opened by a bare chested white young man with dreadlocks, wearing only pyjama bottoms. A strong smell of cannabis drifted out into the hall.

  ‘Bill, our landlord’s here - wants to speak to us. I have to go.’ He smiled at Julian and left.

  ‘Hey, man,’ Bill said, with a very strange mock Caribbean accent.

  ‘Can I come in?’

  ‘Yeah, sure man.’ He stood aside for Julian to enter. ‘Is somethin’ wrong?’ We paid the rent, I think.’

  ‘Actually, you’ve missed a month or two but that’s not why I’m here. I was going to send you a letter but thought as I was passing, it would be better to speak to you in person.’

  ‘Has someone complained about the parties?’ His accent had slipped into middle class well-spoken English.

  ‘Not that I know of - the reason I wanted to see you was to let you know that I’ve moved back up to London and will be needing the flat again. I’m sorry to spring it on you.’

  Bill walked down the hall to the lounge and knocked on the door. ‘Annie - can you come out here? ‘We’ve got a problem.’

  A tall pretty red-haired young lady came out.

  ‘Landlord,’ Bill said.

  ‘Julian Hartmann.’ Julian said.

  ‘He wants us to move out.’

  ‘Well, that makes our decision for us.’ She looked at Julian sheepishly. ‘We’ve been struggling a bit with the rent - I expect you’ve noticed. Campbell moved out without finding someone to replace him and I lost my job. I’m leaving at the end of April for a job in Brighton.’

  ‘What about me?’ Bill asked.

  ‘You’re hardly ever here - move in with Tracy, you might as well you’re there so often. That only leaves Jack.’

  ‘Jack?’ Julian said.

  ‘He just left,’ Bill said.

  ‘Well, I’ll leave it to you to work it out amongst yourselves but I thought if you could be out by the end of April I’ll forget about the rent owed - as a form of compensation for leaving at short notice.’

  Annie’s face lit up. ‘Really? February’s rent?’

  ‘I mean the rent for February, March and April.’

  ‘That’s great,’ she said. ‘You’re so kind.’

  ‘It’s fair, I think, because it’s in your contract that I’m supposed to give you two months’ notice and so you’d be doing me a favour.’

  Bill suddenly grinned. ‘That’s cool man.’

  Julian suppressed a laugh and took a pen out of his pocket. ‘Do you want my phone number in case you have any questions?’

  Annie held out the back of her hand. ‘Will this do?’

  ‘I’ll send you a letter confirming everything in writing and let the estate agent know that you’ll be leaving the keys with them when you go.’

  He left the two flat mates in a state of excitement and walked back onto Porchester Gardens and out onto Queensway. During his brisk walk back to Sussex House he felt better than he had for weeks, positive and in control. It was like balm to his battered soul.

  * * *

  Julian had arranged to meet Joe that evening in the Queen’s Head in Notting Hill Gate but before leaving the house he typed up the letter to his tenants outlining the agreement to vacate the flat by the end of April, and another letter to the letting agents. He posted them on the way to the pub.

  At the Queen’s Head he was a little early so he was sitting down with a whisky and a pint when Joe arrived.

  ‘Thanks for coming at short notice.’ Julian said, sliding the beer across the table towards him.

  ‘Thanks - how can I help?’

  ‘I’m not sure if you can really – I just need to talk.’

  ‘Is it about Erikson?’

  Julian nodded. ‘I don’t know how to handle him – one minute he’s calm and sensible and the next he’s like an aggressive bear in mating season.’

  ‘Basically, don’t let him walk all over you,’ Joe said. ‘I know that will probably make him aggressive but you have to choose what’s worse – being beaten up by Erikson or being . . . sorry, I can’t think of a nice way of saying it.’

  ‘You make it sound so simple - but if I resist he’ll beat me to a pulp and then fuck me anyway.’

  ‘Possibly, but at least that way you won’t feel like you bent over at the first fence.’

  ‘For Christ’s sake, Joe . . .’ Julian drank his whisky in one hit.

  ‘Sorry – that was tactless but what’s all this defeatist talk about not having a chance in a fight? You used to be a good boxer and when we were students you did a course in a Japanese martial art, didn’t you - what was it called?

  ‘Jujitsu – I’ve kept it up. When I worked at the hospital in Portsmouth I was training twice a week.’

  ‘So what’s the problem?’

  ‘If I could just fight him there wouldn’t be a problem but I’m supposed to be getting him to trust me so that he’ll talk.’

  ‘Sorry – forgot about that - not sure how I can help then,’ Joe said. ‘How far has it gone – the courtship, I mean?’

  Julian stood up and picked up his empty glass. ‘Another beer?’

  ‘I’ll get them,’ Joe said, getting up.

  Julian sat down again and watched him walk over to the bar. If Joe hadn’t admitted to being gay, Julian would never have guessed. There was nothing effeminate about him; no outward sign.

  ‘I’m getting the distinct impression that you’re reluctant to talk about the more intimate details,’ Joe said, as he passed Julian his drink and sat down.

  ‘Not much has happened, that’s all.’

  ‘Really, so what has he done – kissed you?’

  Julian nodded. ‘Twice - and at the gym when I was leaving the sauna with a towel around my waist, he pulled it off.’

  ‘So he’s seen you naked?’

  ‘Yes – and believe me, it didn’t go well - he trapped me in a room and became violent when he saw the bites and scratches. If it hadn’t been for his pager going off, it would have turned into a fight which I doubt I would have won.’ He stared into his glass. ‘Can I ask you a question?’

  ‘Ask away.’

  ‘When you’re with a guy – having sex – what role do you play?’

  ‘You mean, am I the top or the bottom?’

  ‘Do I?’

  Joe grinned. ‘Yes, that’s exactly what you mean – but the answer isn’t clear cut. Sometimes I’m the top and sometimes the bottom.’

  ‘You can swop from one to the other?’

  ‘I can - but there are gays who would never be the bottom and others who would never be the top. You have to understand that being gay doesn’t mean you want to be a woman. You just find men sexually attractive. I’ve met really butch men who were gay – just like Erikson, in fact.’

  Julian leant on the table with his elbows and rested his head in his hands.

  ‘My intention coming here today was to reassure you but I’m obviously failing miserably,’ Joe said. ‘But I do think that the best thing you can do when you’re with Erikson, is to play hard to get.’

  ‘I thought I was.’

  ‘From what you’ve told me I think you’re letting him intimidate you. Think of the way women use all their sexual charm to delay the inevitable climax – excuse the pun. It’s the mating game. They play hard to get but at the same time give just enough encouragement to keep the man dangling on the hook.’

  Julian shook his head. ‘I have no idea how to do that with Erikson.’

  ‘Just think back to the last time a new girlfriend made you wait before she surrendered to your masculine charm,’ Joe said, grinning at him.

  ‘To be honest that doesn’t actually happen when I’m starting a new relationship. I just have evenings with women friends who, like me, don’t want a long relationship. So they don’t play hard to get.’

  �
�Really?’

  Julian nodded. ‘Anyway, how would you know what women do – when was the last time you went out with a women?’

  ‘Ok – you have a point but two gay men at the beginning of a relationship behave in a similar way. You just need to play him along – let him kiss you, touch you if you can handle it but tell him you’re not ready. Use any reasonable excuse you can to stop him before he gets carried away and can’t stop.’

  ‘Shit,’ Julian said, ‘is there no other way?’

  ‘It’s the best way I can think of and if he won’t stop, stick up for yourself and if you’re pissed off with his behaviour, tell him so. If he really likes you, perhaps he’ll be ok with waiting until you’re ready, and you might be able to get through all this with your virginity still intact.’

  CHAPTER 20

  The Coleherne, Earls Court

  9:45 p.m. Tuesday 28 March

  John Erikson sat at the bar drinking his fourth double whisky. He was aware that he was drinking too much but Julian was late and although he knew no time had been mentioned, he took it as a personal slight to be kept waiting. He was trying hard not to keep his eyes on the door and eventually, after nudging people out of the way, he managed to stand at the section of the bar that had a large mirror behind the row of bottles fixed upside-down on the optics. The result was that he could stand with his back to the door but see who came through it in the mirror’s reflection.

  While he waited, he realised that if Julian didn’t turn up, chose not to contact him and basically dropped off the radar, he would have no way of finding him. John knew that he lived in the Bayswater area but that was all. It had been the main reason for insisting he would drive Julian home on Sunday night, and he wasn’t sure if Julian’s decision to hail the black cab was motivated by a desire to keep his home address secret or to avoid more sexual advances. But when he thought of Julian’s mood back at the gym, it gave him no hope at all.

  At ten o’clock John finished his fifth drink and turned away from the bar to leave. He was walking out of the main entrance as Julian came in and it brought them to a standstill on the threshold.

  ‘We’re leaving,’ John said.

  Julian shrugged. ‘I need a drink.’

  John was shocked as he watched Julian walk on into the pub. He was angry that he had dared to cross him but he was in a quandary. Did he go back in and make it obvious he was only there for Julian or should he leave and imply that Julian wasn’t that important to him. Whatever his decision, it had to be fast because Julian was making his way to the bar and heads were turning; he wouldn’t be alone for long. John had to swallow his pride.

  He stood next to Julian. ‘You’re late.’

  Julian caught the barman’s eye and ordered a double whisky. ‘Am I - did we agree a time?’

  ‘I don’t expect to be kept waiting half the night.’

  Julian took his wallet out but Erikson gripped the hand holding the wallet.

  ‘I pay for the drinks - remember?’

  ‘For fuck sake, back off,’ Julian said, wrenching his hand free. He took out a note and handed it to the barman.

  While John waited to be served he watched Julian walk over to a booth. Within seconds, another guy sat down at his table and started chatting him up. John was in half a mind to leave but he had put a lot of time and effort into this relationship, damned if he was going to let some other man take over. Drink in hand, he walked over to the booth and stood next to the stranger, glaring down at him. Eventually, the guy left the table but not before he had whispered something in Julian’s ear and pressed something into his hand.

  John sat down close to Julian. ‘What did he give you?’

  Julian opened his hand to reveal a neatly folded piece of paper. There was a phone number and the name “Adam” written in biro. Erikson screwed it into a ball and tossed it in the ashtray and on an impulse he did something he rarely did in public; he grabbed Julian’s head in both hands and gave him a long and passionate kiss. When he had finished, he sat back in his seat and glanced around the pub. Very few people were looking their way; just a couple of blokes sitting by the exit who John knew were working for DCI Chase, and the man who had come-on to Julian. Two men kissing in the Coleherne may be a common occurrence but Julian looked shocked and embarrassed.

  ‘If I ever see you flirting with him or anyone else, that won’t be the only thing I do to you in front of an audience. Is that understood?’

  Julian returned his gaze but said nothing.

  ‘You stupid fuck, you’re really asking for it tonight.’ John stood up. ‘Come on, we’re leaving.’

  They walked down Coleherne Road to John’s Bentley. He stopped Julian getting in the passenger seat and opened the door for the back seat. ‘You can change your clothes in the back.’

  ‘Why do I need to change?’

  ‘We’re going to a private club - they have a dress code, that’s all. There’s no need to worry, I’ll protect you.’

  ‘Protect me?’ Julian said, as he climbed in. ‘Protect me from what?’

  ‘You ask too many questions. For once just do as you’re told.’

  While John drove over the speed limit, swerving around corners, he could hear Julian struggling into the tight leather trousers. After a twenty minute drive, he slowed down and pulled up in front of wrought-iron double gates. Two men were standing either side of the gate.

  One of them came up to John’s open window. ‘Mr. Erikson, nice to see you again.’ He peered into the back seat. ‘You have a guest?’

  ‘Yes, one guest.’

  The man nodded and signaled to the other guard to open the gates. John drove up the long drive and parked in a row of expensive cars.

  He opened the back door for Julian. ‘How’s the fit?’

  ‘The trousers are too tight,’ Julian said, as he climbed out.

  John looked at the black leather trousers Julian was wearing. They were clinging to his legs like a second skin. ‘That’s what they’re supposed to look like.’ He noticed Julian’s white shirt under the black leather jacket. ‘You can’t wear that shirt.’ He reached along the back seat of the car and brought out a black polo-neck sweater. ‘Wear this.’

  ‘What sort of club is this?’

  ‘One that will open your eyes.’ John waited for Julian to change into the sweater. ‘Come on, follow me and keep your mouth shut.’

  CHAPTER 21

  Julian stayed close to Erikson while they waited in a queue in the large reception area to sign in. While Erikson chatted to a few acquaintances, Julian glanced around the various posters on the walls which were advertising events but one of the posters caught his eye.

  “Rules of the House”

  Dress Code: smart/black leather/fetish

  No-one under the age of 18 will be allowed entry

  Possession, trafficking of illegal drugs is forbidden

  No cameras or recording equipment

  Prostitution is not allowed

  No sexual intercourse in the toilets or corridors

  No masturbation while in the public areas

  Aggressive behaviour is not tolerated

  Please ensure all activities are consensual.

  You may recognise other guest or members

  Please be discreet if you recognise other guests and members

  Erikson struck up a conversation with a tall black man wearing an expensive suit. He had a mild West Indian accent and a roguish smile. The man’s eyes lingered on Julian in an obvious display of desire.

  ‘This one looks interesting,’ he said, ‘am I going to get a chance to see him later?’

  ‘Maybe, Winston - maybe’ Erikson said.

  ‘Perhaps you’d be interested in a swop for a night or two - I’ve got a young guy who would be right up your street.’ He glanced around and indicated a fair-haired young man who was leaning against a wall and didn’t look old enough to be drinking the glass of red wine in his hand.

  Erikson raised an eyebrow and nodded sl
owly. ‘This one’s not broken in yet but when he is we can sort something out.’ He had reached the front of the queue and turned away from Winston to sign the book.

  Winston used the opportunity to move behind Julian and pressed his body in close. ‘Would you like that, boy?’ He grabbed Julian’s buttocks and breathed into his ear, ‘I bet you’ve got a nice tight fag hole.’

  Erikson turned away from the table and took hold of Julian’s arm to lead him away from the queue. ‘Looks like you’ve made a conquest – though, I should warn you that Winston’s got the biggest dick I’ve ever seen.’

  Julian pulled his arm away. ‘I need the toilet.’

  Erikson pointed to a door off the reception area. ‘Make it quick.’

  In the toilets, there were two men using the urinals. Julian went into a cubicle and shut the door, not to relieve himself but to get a few minutes respite from the distressing situation. He felt in the left inside pocket of the leather jacket and brought out the loaded syringe. There would probably be no chance for him to use it but it made him feel better knowing it was there. In the right inside pocket, was the bottle of Diazepam that Dr. Deacon has prescribed him. He had taken a couple before he left his room earlier that evening, and now he popped another two into his mouth, fully aware that he had doubled the prescribed dose.

  Erikson was waiting impatiently back in reception, but he said nothing and guided Julian through the throng of men. They had to wait their turn to pass through a set of double doors that led into a massive room. It was divided into two main areas. At one end was a bar and at the other, a central stage surrounded by tables, similar to a night club where the guests drank and ate while watching a show. While they waited at the bar for drinks, Winston found them again.

  ‘I need to talk to you about next week’s arrangements,’ Winston said to Erikson.

  Erikson shot him a look and picked up the drinks from the bar. He gave Julian his and pointed at the stage. ‘Go and wait for me at that empty table - the one in the front.’

  Julian did as he was told and while sitting on his own, he tried to work out what was going to happen next. By now, there were about eighty men gathering in the room, all heading for tables that surrounded the stage. There was a mic-stand in the centre of the stage and he guessed it was for a show of some kind. He turned his head to see Erikson at the bar but he wasn’t there and after a brief glance around the room Julian was painfully aware that he was on his own. He tried to ignore the looks from the other men and found himself praying for Erikson to come back. When Erikson eventually returned to the room it was via a door next to the bar. He sat down at the table.