“Hmm,” Paolo said. “This seems a bit too easy.”
He tried every key on the bunch, but none of them fit the lock. In the meantime, the constable had continued searching Chaz’s pockets.
“Nothing, sir.”
“Right,” Paolo said, grinning at Chaz. “Time to start stripping off. Put your clothes on the bed so that my young colleague can examine them thoroughly.”
Chaz glared at Paolo. “I’m not taking my clothes off in front of her,” he spat.
CC laughed. “You’ve not got anything I haven’t seen before, but I’ll spare your blushes. I’ll go and search your office.”
“Am I under arrest?” Chaz demanded.
Paolo shook his head. “Not yet, but you are impeding the execution of a warrant, so it’s only a matter of time before you are. Why don’t you do the sensible thing and give us the key? We’re going to get the door open whether you cooperate or not.”
“If I had it and handed it over would you…but…I… Look, I was just following orders, right?”
The claim of sadists and thugs through the ages, thought Paolo. I only tortured people because I was ordered to do it. He left the man to sweat a bit more.
“I can’t go back inside. Not again,” Chaz said.
Paolo remained silent, watching the sweat appearing on Chaz’s forehead, running down his face and dripping onto his collar.
“If I give you the key, will you put in a good word for me? Maybe get me a reduced sentence?”
Paolo nodded. “I can’t promise anything. You know that, but if you cooperate, I’ll see what I can do for you.”
Chaz pulled off his belt and handed it to Paolo.
“Near the buckle there’s a tab. Pull it,” he said.
The tiny tab opened to reveal a small pocket inset into the belt.
“Only the special members have duplicates of that key,” he said.
“Special members?”
Chaz nodded. “They book in advance to use the additional facilities upstairs.”
Paolo lifted his eyebrows in question, but Chaz didn’t explain.
“You’ll see,” he said, closing his eyes as if in prayer.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The door opened onto a staircase leading off to the right following the line of the wall. There was another door at the top, also locked, but it opened with the same key as the door in the wardrobe. Paolo opened it and stepped into a corridor similar to the one on the floor below. This, too, had doors leading off from it on either side, with a single door at the end facing them. Soft lighting illuminated the plush carpet and ivory walls, giving the impression of an extremely expensive hotel.
Each door had a plaque with a name on it instead of a number. The first one was named for the Marquis de Sade, followed in turn by Aleister Crowley, Caligula, Jean-Jacques Rousseau, A.N. Roquelaure, Leopold von Sacher-Masoch. Paolo didn’t need to read any further to realise this was a haven for sadomasochists to indulge whichever sexual need they craved.
He opened the Marquis de Sade door. The palatial feeling of the corridor stopped at the entrance. This wasn’t a room to make guests think of comfort, soft beds and chocolates left on the pillow each night when the sheets were turned down. This was a room designed to engender fear in one person and, presumably, sexual delight in another.
A table to the right of the door held an assortment of whips, some with spiked ends. Alongside the whips was a tazer. Hanging above the table was a rack with various hoods, whether for the victims to wear to increase their fear level, or for the sadists to wear for added kicks, Paolo had no idea and didn’t really want to find out.
There was a bed of sorts against the far wall, but the interior designer had forgotten beds should have mattresses. This one was a basic plank of wood with leather restraints on either side to hold down the arms and legs of whoever was lying on the bed.
A tall cupboard stood in the corner beside the bed. Paolo opened it to find an array of metal gadgets that would have graced any museum devoted to torture techniques. Some of them were in the shape of extra-large penises with rough exteriors that would, presumably, add an extra level of pain to the experience. Paolo already felt sick and they’d only looked in this one room.
He backed out and gave instructions to the uniformed officers to search the other rooms on either side of the corridor.
“Dave, you and CC come with me. I want to see what’s in the end room.”
They walked along the corridor, Paolo’s feet felt too heavy to lift, as if they knew what his head was screaming – get the hell home and have a good hot scrub. He wasn’t sure even that would make him feel clean again, but it would be a start.
There wasn’t a sadist’s name on the end door. The plaque simply read: Screening Room
Inside was a mini-theatre. Rows of velvet covered seats set out in curves faced a screen set up centrally on the far wall. To the right of the room was a well-stocked bar. The wall to the left had four doors, each marked Private Viewing. Paolo opened one of them. Inside was a couch and a smaller version of the main screen, with a DVD player underneath. Presumably so that the occupant could indulge his sexual urges while watching his choice of porn if whatever was being shown outside didn’t appeal to him.
Paolo turned back into the main room.
“You know,” he said to Dave and CC, “all of this turns my stomach, but none of it is illegal. So why keep it hidden? Why was Chaz so keen to try to get some sort of deal going before handing over the key. We’re missing something here, but I don’t know what it is.”
Dave pointed to the shelves to the right of the screen holding rows of DVD covers.
“Maybe the answer lies with those,” he said.
Paolo walked over and took out a few at random. They were all versions of the same type of film – hurt me and/or let me hurt you while I get off. Not nice, but not illegal either.
“Do you think the members took turns being whipper and whippee?” Paolo asked, more to himself than expecting an answer.
“Could be, sir,” CC said, “but, as you say, that’s not against the law.”
“What about the young men George Baron said he hired who had to live in?” Dave said. “We haven’t seen any sign of them.”
“Good point, Dave.” He looked around the room. “Let’s see if there’s another concealed door in here. Start tapping on the walls.”
The search proved fruitless, none of the walls gave any hint of hidden chambers, but Paolo was convinced there had to be a reason Chaz reacted as he had. He stared at the screen. It was a large square housed in a box-like structure which reached from floor to ceiling. A memory was niggling in the recesses of his mind, but he couldn’t quite grasp it. A thought nagged and refused to go away; something to do with the screen, so why was he thinking of waterfalls?
That’s it, he thought. The waterfall at Fletcher Simpson’s place had been encased in a similar structure which moved to allow a doorway to open. He strode across to the screen and tried to push it aside. It refused to budge, but he was certain now that he was right.
“Look for a remote control,” he ordered.
Dave held up two. “I assumed these were for the DVD player,” he said.
Paolo took them both and examined them. “This one is,” he said, “but look at the buttons on here. It’s only got three. The power button and arrows to left and right. I don’t think this has anything to do with showing films, but I’m hoping it’s to do with movies.”
He tried the on/off button, but nothing happened. Then he pressed the arrow pointing to the right, still no movement.
“Damn,” he said. “I was sure this was the answer. Last chance.”
He pressed the arrow pointing to the left and the screen slid in that direction, revealing another door.
“This is like Hampton Court bloody Maze,” he said. “Every time you think you’ve reached the end, another opening appears.”
The opening led to another set of stairs, more utilitarian than thos
e they’d used so far. Paolo had the impression that club members didn’t go up here. So, who did? And why? At the top was yet another door, but this time there was a key hanging from a hook on the wall. He reached up for it and saw that his hands were shaking. So far nothing he’d uncovered had been pleasant, but it had all been within the letter of the law, even if not within the spirit. He had a horrible feeling, he was about to uncover the part of the club that strayed outside the boundaries of legality.
Paolo turned the key, almost expecting creaking noises as the door swung inwards. Instead it moved on well-oiled hinges. They were now in the attic space above the club with yet more doors leading from another corridor. He opened the first door and ducked just in time as a shoe flew past his head.
“Fuck off. I was on last night. I can’t do it again.”
Paolo stepped into the room. It was spartanly furnished. Bed, bedside table, desk, wardrobe with a skylight opening in the roof. A young man dressed only in boxer shorts, aged somewhere between sixteen and twenty, glared at him.
“Who the fuck are you? Oh, Jesus, fuck, you’re the Bill.”
Paolo could hear the sound of other doors opening and a babble of noise behind him. He went back into the corridor to see nine other occupants, a couple of them looking more like boys than young men. They all bore the hungry look of addicts. None of them were fully dressed. The most clothing worn appeared to be tee-shirts over the boxers. All had manacle marks on ankles and wrists and most had whip marks across their bodies.
“Call for medical services, Dave. I want you to stay up here until they arrive. These poor bastards have to be taken care of. I’m going downstairs to have a stronger chat with Chaz. He’d better have some answers for me or I’ll kick him into the middle of next week to get them. CC, you come with me.”
He made his way back downstairs, through the video room and down again into the bedroom. Chaz was sitting on the bed with a constable standing on either side of him and one blocking the door.
“You,” Paolo snarled, pointing at Chaz, “get the fuck downstairs to Baron’s office. We’re going to talk about what I’ve found upstairs. If you lie to me, or hold anything back, I’ll make sure you end up in a cell with someone who likes to play the same sort of games as your sick fucking members do.”
The officers escorted Chaz from the room. Paolo was about to follow when he felt CC’s hand on his arm.
“Calm down a bit before you go at him, sir. You’re too het up.”
“Het up? Het up? Of course I bloody am. Did you not see those drugged up zombies upstairs? A couple of them are little more than kids.”
She held on to his arm. “I know. That’s why I want you to calm down a bit. You won’t be doing them any favours if you lose it with Chaz.”
Paolo nodded. “You’re right.” He took a deep breath. “Okay, let’s go.”
By the time he reached George Baron’s office, his temper had cooled just enough to let his brain work properly, but not so much that he didn’t still want to drag Chaz upstairs and manacle him to the wall of one of the torture rooms.
Chaz had been placed in one of the visitor chairs. CC sat next to him while Paolo walked around the desk and sat down in George’s chair.
“Right, Chaz, start talking. I want to know everything there is to know about this place and its special members. Kidnap and false imprisonment are just two of the charges I’ve got on my list so far.”
“We didn’t kidnap them,” Chaz said. “They came to us.”
“Really? What did you do, put an ad in the wanted section of the paper? Good rates of pay, accommodation and meals provided for torture victims?”
Paolo was astounded to see Chaz nodding.
“What? You mean that’s really what you did?”
A ghost of a smile flitted across Chaz’s face as he nodded again. “We didn’t word it like that, of course, but when someone applied for the job we did a full interview. We knew straightaway the ones who would do anything for a regular supply of whatever they were already hooked on.”
Paolo nodded at CC. “Add drug dealing to the list. Something tells me it’s going to be a very long list by the time we’re done here.”
Chaz sat up. “We’re not drug dealers.”
“No? I can’t see how those boys can come down to buy their own, considering there are two locked doors and a sliding mechanism that only works by remote control between them and freedom.”
“It’s a better life for them than being on the streets.”
Paolo felt the heat rising in his body and forced himself to stay calm. “Is that how you justify it to yourself? Using those young men as objects to throw to your members to abuse is better for them than being on the streets? Let’s get to the point. You said only special members have keys. I want the names of all of them.”
Chaz pointed to a ledger on the desk. “That’s our full membership list. We really are a businessmen’s club. Only those members whose number starts with an x have access to the upstairs facilities. They pay triple the membership fee.”
Paolo banged his hand on the desk so hard Chaz jumped.
“Facilities being human punch bags?”
“No, we don’t let them beat the boys. It’s just, you know, bondage and so on.”
“So on? There are whips and tazers up there. Fucking manacles to hold the poor bastards down. But you think it’s all okay because they aren’t beaten? You are sick. Really and truly sick.”
Paolo opened the ledger and turned to the M section, not at all surprised to see Montague Mason’s membership number started with an x. No wonder he’d committed suicide. If this had come out, he’d have been ruined.
And that question still remained. Who was the blackmailer? It had to be someone inside the club.
“What about staff? How many of your regular staff know what goes on upstairs through that hidden door?”
Chaz shook his head. “None of them. They only know about the stuff that happens in the open areas. When we have special functions down here, like on the day you wanted to come in and we kept you outside, I work the bar and we have caterers who leave the food in the kitchen, ready for me to put out.”
“Special functions? What sort of special functions?”
Chaz looked as if he wished he’d bitten his tongue out.
“Come on, out with it,” Paolo said. “You’ve gone this far. There’s no point in holding back now.”
“We…we…sort of let the boys out and they have to hide in one of the downstairs rooms. The members…” He stopped and thinned his lips as if to prevent another word from escaping.
“You might just as well tell me,” Paolo said. “If you don’t, we’ll get it from the boys themselves, I’m sure.”
“It only happens once a month,” Chaz said, eyes pleading for understanding.
“What does?” Paolo roared, hanging on to his temper by a thread finer than cobwebs.
“It’s like a fox hunt. The first to be found has to service the group. The rest get to go back upstairs to have time off in their rooms.”
“And what exactly are you doing while this group rape is going on?”
Chaz looked up at the ceiling, then down at his feet. When he finally answered, Paolo couldn’t make out what he’d said, but CC, sitting next to him, heard every word.
Her face a picture of disgusted outrage, she glared at Chaz before turning back to Paolo.
“He said he videos the proceedings, sir.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
After taking Chaz to the station and leaving him there to cool his heels waiting for his solicitor to arrive, Paolo took Dave with him to call on Trudy Chappell. Even if, as Chaz insisted, she didn’t know the whereabouts of her ex-boss, she might have seen or heard something to give them a clue of where to start looking.
As Dave pulled up outside a picturesque detached cottage on the outskirts of Bradchester, Paolo checked the address Chaz had given him for Trudy from the club’s employment records.
“Are
you sure we’re in the right place, Dave? Your SatNav hasn’t had one of its funny turns and taken us off to a surprise destination?”
Dave leaned over to look at the piece of paper in Paolo’s hand and then back at the address he’d keyed into the SatNav.
“We’re in the right place. This is the address.”
Paolo got out and looked up and down the street. Similar properties stood on both sides of the road. It was quaint without being over the top, but what it definitely wasn’t was a rough area.
As Dave’s head appeared on the other side of the car, Paolo glanced across.
“Do you remember when April said Trudy had asked for self-defence lessons? I’m sure she said it was because Trudy claimed to live in a rough neighbourhood.”
Dave nodded. “You’re right. That’s exactly what April said. This is not my idea of rough, that’s for sure.”
Paolo shrugged. “Maybe April misheard or misunderstood. Anyway, let’s see if Miss Chappell knows anything that can help us to find her missing ex-boss.”
A fragrant rose garden lined either side of a narrow path leading to a sapphire blue front door. Paolo was able to appreciate the beauty of the place, but knew he would go insane if forced to live there. It was a bit too twee for his taste.
Dave lifted the heavy brass knocker and rapped a couple of times. A lace curtain twitched in one of the glass mullioned windows. Paolo held up his warrant card and waited. After a couple of minutes, he heard a chain being put on the door before it was opened just a few inches. He’d expected to see a face peering at him, but whoever was on the other side of the door remained hidden.
“Miss Chappell? Trudy? Remember us. We were at the club a few weeks back. Detective Inspector Paolo Storey and Detective Sergeant Dave Johnson.”
“I know who you are,” she said. “What do you want?”
“Could we come in to talk to you for a few minutes?”
“No. Who sent you? I’m not pressing charges, whatever you say.”
Looking For A Reason (#4 - D.I. Paolo Storey Crime Series) Page 16
