Cut to the Bone

by Alex Caan

  This is SyCo. He’s got 130 points melee attack, and 100 melee defence. His ranged attack is crap, 43, but he has good ranged defence of 73. You can upgrade him later, increasing his defence. He’s all right, but a bit bland.

  The next is another male, this time thinner, with a hood. He has a bow across his back and daggers in his hand.

  Like they didn’t copy this from Assassin’s Creed, right? Still, this is Jerome. No idea why they picked such a retard name for him, probably one of the developers’ own name or something. He’s, yeah you guessed it, the archery supremo. 128 points ranged attack, and 100 ranged defence. His melee is decent, he has 70 melee attack points, probably his dagger skills, and 45 melee defence.

  The next is a female. She wears chainmail in a bikini fashion, and is armed with a curved sword and giant shield.

  This is Tiana. But I don’t like playing female avatars, so you can work out her stats for yourself. There’s a hack somewhere to make her get it on with Jerome, if you know where to look. Not for me to share that though, I’m too decent, as you know.

  The next avatar is also female, again scantily clad. Dan skips over her completely, with a meh.

  So this is the one I’ve gone for. Balthazar. He looks like a badass, and has a top sword, don’t you think? Plus he has something else. He’s got secret powers. Yeah, that’s right, he does wicked tricks, shoots lasers from his hands.

  Balthazar is a demon, with red horns, and fire for eyes.

  He has 150 melee attack, 140 ranged attack and 110 melee defence. So you’re asking me, what’s the downside? I won’t lie to you. He has no defence against ranged. You shoot him up with an arrow, and you’re looking at him with 40 ranged defence. No armour. Cos like I said, he’s a bad ass.

  OK, so got my avatar, time to play this. Are you with me, guys? I got your back, just like I know you have mine. Oh, and if you get bored, don’t forget to click on the link appearing below, yeah I know it’s some dumb advertising, but hey it keeps me online for you. And if you get really bored, click on the link to the right to my website. And don’t forget to subscribe.

  ‘So he literally talks through a game? That’s the attraction?’ said Zain.

  ‘Yes, for his fan base. It’s mainly young guys, trying to see if the game is worth investing in, or trying to work out where they are going wrong if they keep failing levels.’

  ‘Or lonely young gamers wanting some company? Dan becomes their friend as they play their games. A pseudo big brother, and I don’t mean Orwellian,’ said Zain.

  ‘We all get by how we can,’ Millie said.

  ‘I get this. I know how YouTube works. I can see his two million subscriber figures there. Pretty impressive. But they don’t pay a charge.’

  ‘No, he gets paid for this.’

  Millie refreshed the page. It started with an annoying advert that you were allowed to skip after five seconds. Zain barely paid attention to these ads when he was watching videos.

  ‘Each view of this, Dan gets money,’ she said. ‘I had a channel a few years ago, when I tried to do make-up tutorials. I wasn’t very successful. It can be anything from one cent to fifty cents per view, sometimes higher. If the advert is set to play fully, meaning you can’t skip it after five seconds, they pay you more. And while the actual video plays, you see all these adverts scrolling across the screen? Again, he gets paid for them.’

  ‘Still, how does one cent, or half a dollar – what’s that, thirty pence? – earn him enough to live in his flat or pay for yours?’

  ‘Look at his view counts. I think he has hundreds of millions of them. Not all of them earn him cash, but just think how many do. He earns a lot.’

  ‘Fuck me,’ Zain said. ‘So, guy makes videos, posts online, and earns millions. The yoof of today.’ He stepped away from the laptop.

  Millie laughed, sitting down on her desk chair. ‘Seems unfair, doesn’t it?’ she said, looking up at Zain. ‘But they had the balls to do it, put themselves out there. Got in on the rising surf. It’s an endless supply. Young people around the world turn into teenagers, and some of them turn to people like Ruby and Dan. And there will always be Ruby and Dan, or someone else like them.’

  ‘Thank you. I had an idea, but it helps seeing it,’ said Zain. ‘Do you know anything about MINDNET?’

  ‘Not really, they’re one of these companies that are realising the potential of online stars. Helping them somehow. Dan’s agent mentioned it to me.’

  ‘Dan has an agent?’

  ‘Had. Karl Rourke. His agent, accountant, manager. Like a theatrical lawyer. I hate to say it, but Karl’s actually a nice guy. Married, two kids, lives in the suburbs. Can’t believe he used to represent trash like Dan.’

  ‘Used to?’

  ‘MINDNET manage him now. They do all that for him.’

  ‘So why did Rourke get involved with you? Let me guess,’ said Zain, moving back and sitting himself on the edge of Millie’s bed as she turned in her office chair and looked back at him. ‘Karl Rourke is the one that arranged the cash?’

  ‘Yes. He came to see me, told me how I could destroy Dan – that actually there was a better option. He was so apologetic, and it was genuine. Said if someone did that to his daughter, he’d rip them to pieces. He understood, said I was someone’s daughter. Sounds cringe, but it worked.’

  ‘The cleaner. Comes to shovel up Dan’s shit.’

  ‘Everyone has to make a living.’

  ‘Why didn’t MIDNET get involved? Why did Dan send Karl?’

  ‘Maybe he didn’t want MINDNET knowing. Or maybe they wouldn’t do what Karl did. Maybe Karl did it as a favour?’

  ‘Do you know where I can get hold of Karl Rourke? I think I need to speak to him. You think he could be involved?’

  ‘I don’t think so. He might be willing to sort out Dan’s mess – even hire people like me for his parties – but he wouldn’t do something like this. He was also Ruby’s agent, before MINDNET.’

  ‘Dan and Ruby shared an agent? How romantic. How did that happen? Who signed up first?’

  ‘I have no idea,’ said Millie. ‘You think Dan’s done this, don’t you?’ she said.

  ‘Don’t you think he’s capable?’

  Millie considered for a moment, then nodded. ‘Yes, I do,’ she said. ‘I’ve seen the evil in him. He is an absolute monster.’

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Ryan was poking something in a cake tin when Kate went into the kitchen.

  ‘We need to talk,’ he said.

  Kate sat down at the kitchen table. She had called Harris from this exact spot during the night. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

  ‘I don’t have long. I’d better get back,’ she said.

  ‘You can’t keep running from what’s happening,’ said Ryan. ‘This is the third time in two months.’

  ‘I know,’ said Kate.

  ‘You need to have a conversation with her. Or at least get it checked out.’

  ‘I know,’ said Kate again.

  ‘Do you want me to book something?’

  ‘I’ll get on to it, later today. It might just be a seasonal thing.’

  ‘The pull of the full moon?’ he said, laughing. ‘That New Age bullshit is my mantra, not yours. She’s going to hell in a hand basket, as my dear old mother used to say. Although that might have been after she was admitted to the funny farm.’

  ‘Don’t, Ryan; don’t even joke about it. It’s too much today. I’ll sort it, I promise.’

  ‘OK. But if she damages my pretty face, you’re paying for the cosmetic surgeon.’

  He kissed Kate on the top of her head and went back to his baking.

  He was right. Kate needed to face up to some truths.

  Kate walked slowly back upstairs to the second bedroom, and knocked on the door again.

  Too late, Kate realised she wasn’t wearing her blond wig.

  Kate felt part of her curl up in despair at the look of vulnerability, panic, fear she saw.

  ‘I’m sorry
, Mother,’ she said. ‘I didn’t mean to frighten you.’

  ‘Oh, sweetheart, you could never do that. This is all me, I know that. It will take a while for your new hair colour to register, that’s all.’

  Jane sat up in bed, patted the space next to her. She seemed so in control sometimes.

  ‘I was very bad today,’ she said.

  ‘Yes. Poor Ryan.’

  They both giggled, like children in on a practical joke.

  ‘Do you remember what happened?’ Kate asked.

  ‘I’m not crazy, and I’m not losing my mind. Or my memory. God knows, I’ve lost enough of my brain.’

  ‘Mom, you threw a lamp at him . . .’

  ‘It wasn’t . . . I wasn’t . . . has he gone? Has he run fleeing from the Norma Desmond upstairs?’

  ‘Mother, don’t be cruel. He cares, he’s just worried. So am I.’

  ‘It kills me when you say such things,’ said Jane. ‘I feel like such a burden. Look at what I’ve done to you. Sometimes, I just feel like . . . like making it all over with.’

  Kate looked up at the woman with grey hair, whose eyes were still as blue as her own. ‘Don’t you dare,’ she said.

  ‘It would make things easier for everyone,’ said Jane.

  She slumped where she was, running her hands over her face. Desperate for the tears not to fall. But they did anyway, and she silently shook. Kate reached out, laid her hand palm up on her mother’s stomach. Jane clasped it, and they held hands for a while.

  ‘If you go, I’ll be left alone,’ whispered Kate.

  ‘You’re so vital, so alive. You should be with a husband, with a family of your own.’

  ‘Why did you get angry? With Ryan?’ Kate said, changing the subject.

  ‘You’ll think I’m being silly. I was remembering something. A vacation we took. Remember Branson? The cabin?’

  Kate laughed. It was for an anniversary. Twenty-five years of marriage for her parents. A rental cabin in the Ozark Mountain range in Missouri.

  ‘Yes, I remember,’ she said. ‘What about it?’

  ‘I just . . . it just came to me. I was looking out back, at the colours on the trees. And it just came back, all of it. I remembered it so clearly. I remembered you all so clearly . . . and I wanted to stay there, in that moment . . . and Ryan, he just pulled me away from it. And it made me angry. And then there was the lamp, broken.’

  ‘It’s OK, Mom, we’ll get Dr Lyons to have a look.’

  ‘Yes. That would be nice.’

  ‘I have to get back. Are you going to be all right?’

  ‘Yes, of course. I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have come home. I’m a nuisance, I know.’

  ‘No, you’re not. And if you ever talk about ending things again . . .’

  ‘We have to talk about it sometime,’ said Jane.

  ‘Not today,’ said Kate.

  Kate knew her mother was right. Truths had to be faced. It was not confronting them in the first place that had led them all to where they were.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  The air was fresh when he stepped outside. An old lady with a terrier and a shopping trolley walked by. Zain patted the dog, scratched its ears. The dog barked, but seemed harmless enough.

  ‘Don’t touch the bugger, he’ll bite you,’ said the woman.

  Zain laughed. ‘I’m a detective, don’t worry, I’ve been bitten by worse than him. You need help?’

  ‘No.’ A terse response. ‘Thank you.’ More mellow.

  He’d also be suspicious if he were her. Random stranger, dressed as though going for a pint, tells you he’s a police officer.

  In his car his phone burst into life, the theme tune from Knight Rider. The office.

  ‘Harris,’ he said.

  ‘Hey, it’s DS Pelt. I checked the CCTV the guard sent over. Dan Grant wasn’t home from about 5 p.m. until 8 p.m.’

  ‘So he was missing during the time Ruby disappeared?’ said Zain.

  ‘If we work on a timeline from when she left her parent’s place, then yes.’

  ‘Little fucker. Give him a call, ask him where he was.’

  ‘That’s not all,’ said Rob. ‘He left again about 9.30 p.m., and didn’t come home until just after eleven in the morning.’

  ‘Thanks. Get onto his network provides. He has three phones that I know of. We need to monitor who he calls or texts. Speak to the security guard. I want to know if Dan leaves his flat, and if he does, track him through CCTV, see where he goes, and if that doesn’t work, get someone to tail him. Ask Brennan to get you some back-up. Don’t ask Paddington Green station, though; she stole a team from them this morning.’

  ‘Whose turn is it next?’

  ‘Try Southwark. They already hate me today. They’re also on Newington Causeway, close to where Dan lives.’

  So Dan was out there somewhere when Ruby was in trouble, and he definitely had the psychosis, according to Millie.

  Zain sent a text update to Riley. It was odd she had just disappeared like that. Still, he would worry about that later.

  Zain typed Rourke’s postcode into his satnav instead. He wanted to know what the ex-agent had to say.

  The traffic was sluggish. Mid-afternoon London. Zain envied the cyclists, whipping through the cars and vans, leaning on the back of buses at traffic lights to rest. He made it through Chandos Place, and turned left into Agar Street, passing the police station. There was a private door, off to the side and rear, accessed from William IV Street. A vehicle, police patrol, was coming out of the underground car park. Zain waited for it to leave before approaching the intercom. He gave his security passcode, heard the voice at the other end groan – a typical response to anything to do with the commissioner. A few seconds delay and Zain was in, heading to an empty parking bay.

  Karl Rourke’s offices were off Leicester Square; the parking round there would be atrocious, even with police privileges, so Zain decided to park and walk. The desk sergeant at Charing Cross police station looked at him the way he would a turd on his shoe. Zain winked at him.

  Back out on Agar Street, Zain’s phone rang. He picked it up immediately.

  ‘An update please. Where is Riley?’

  A beat. Zain thought about the right thing to say. The truth seemed the best option. And the worst option.

  ‘She’s gone off radar,’ he said. ‘Left us to it.’

  ‘Where to?’ said the voice at the other end of the line.

  ‘A family emergency or something. Don’t know the details. There was no warning, she just took off.’

  ‘What’s your focus now?’

  ‘The boyfriend,’ said Zain.

  ‘You’re doing well,’ said the voice.

  Zain didn’t know what that meant. And he sure as hell didn’t feel well. Only, some debts he had to honour, even if it meant betraying Riley and his new team. Zain ended the call, feeling filthier as he did.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  You’d miss St Martin’s Court unless you were aware of it. It was a narrow turning off Charing Cross Road, close to the Wyndham Theatre.

  Rourke’s office was in the basement below a model train shop, down some spiral stairs. The owner of the train shop looked up briefly, but barely acknowledged Zain. He was too busy polishing a green engine.

  At the bottom of the spiral stairs was a glass door, no lettering. Zain knocked and pushed the door open. There was no waiting area, no secretary, just a man Zain presumed to be Rourke at his desk.

  Karl Rourke confirmed his identity and beckoned Zain into his office. He was in his early forties, possibly late thirties. He had dark hair, but it was receding at the temples. His face was fake-tanned, his teeth very white. He was wearing a suit, tailored, expensive, and Zain caught the feel of a manicure when he shook his hand.

  ‘Please sit, detective,’ Rourke said.

  When did people start using that term? Detective Inspector, Sergeant, Detective Sergeant. American crime shows now meant everyone called him
Officer, or Detective.

  ‘Can I get you a coffee or tea?’

  ‘I’m OK for now,’ said Zain. ‘Have you seen the video of Ruby?’

  ‘Yes. I couldn’t believe it. When her parents called, I thought they were being paranoid, but they were right to worry. It was out of sync for Ruby to disappear on them, and they were spot on. Unfortunately.’

  ‘How long was she a client of yours?’

  ‘A while – maybe a couple of years, eighteen months. During the time she wasn’t with MINDNET. They’re a company that has her under contract now.’

  ‘Yes, I am aware. My DCI has spoken to them. Dan Grant was your client as well?’

  ‘Yes, he was. They’re good kids, work hard. Lots of sharks out there, though, and to protect themselves they need an even bigger shark.’ Rourke showed his teeth off.

  ‘And MINDNET?’

  Rourke lost his jovial manner. ‘They’re the biggest shark of all.’

  ‘Why did they switch? From you to them I mean?’

  ‘Money, prospects, exposure. MINDNET offered them more than I could. In the end I was like those old people hanging on in council flats. You know the building is going to be bulldozed, with you in it. So I sold them my client list, for a reasonable amount of compensation.’

  ‘Why did you get compensated?’

  ‘Ruby and Dan were under contract to me. MINDNET bought out the contracts. I hated doing it, but I did it for my clients. They wanted to go.’

  ‘When was the last time you heard from Ruby?’

  ‘Yesterday.’

  ‘She still contacts you? But she’s not your client anymore?’

  ‘We’re still in contact. Usually she asks for my opinion about work, sometimes about personal issues. Let me check.’

  Rourke went through his phone.

  ‘Yes, I messaged her at six-thirty in the evening, and I called her a few times after her parents told me she had gone missing.’