Finding Milly

by Nathan Burrows

  ‘You take a good, long look, fella,’ she said through clenched teeth. Charlotte picked up her clutch bag from the table and stood back up. ‘That’ll be the closest you’ll ever get to these fun bags.’

  As she walked away from the table, swinging her hips with an exaggerated air, Gareth snorted with laughter.

  ‘Did she just say fun bags?’ he asked, looking at Jimmy and winking.

  ‘She did, yeah,’ Jimmy replied. ‘Didn’t she, Simon?’ There was no reply from the man in the middle of the bench. ‘Simon? Don’t be fucking rude. I asked you a question?’

  ‘Yes, she did,’ Simon said in a quiet voice. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I thought you’d never ask,’ Gareth replied. One of his hands waved at the barman, and the other slipped below the table. ‘I’ll have a pint of Stella. How about you, Jimmy?’

  ‘Same for me, please,’ Jimmy replied, starting to enjoy himself. ‘Very kind of you, Simon.’

  Jimmy saw Simon flinch as the barman approached the table and glanced down to see Gareth had his fingers dug into the soft flesh just above Simon’s knee.

  ‘What can I get you, gentlemen?’ the barman asked. Simon flinched again and Jimmy noticed Gareth’s knuckles whitening.

  ‘Two pints of Stella, please,’ Gareth said, ‘and a glass of sparkling mineral water for our friend here. Room 104. Isn’t that right, Simon?’ Simon just nodded his head in response, not even raising his eyes to the barman.

  ‘I’d quite like a packet of dry roasted as well, please?’ Jimmy added.

  ‘Make that two,’ Gareth said. ‘Simon? Any bar snacks for you?’ The only response was a slight shake of Simon’s head.

  When the barman was safely behind the bar and pouring their drinks, Simon finally found his voice.

  ‘I’ve done nothing wrong,’ he said, with a hint of defiance. ‘I’ve done nothing illegal or broken the law.’

  ‘We never said you had, Simon,’ Gareth replied, putting both hands on the table in front of him. ‘We just want a chat, that’s all. Hey Jimmy, I’ve got a question for you.’

  ‘Go for it, mate? Ask away,’ Jimmy replied.

  ‘What’s in your wallet?’ Jimmy folded his arms across his chest and pretended to think for a few seconds.

  ‘Bankcards, twenty quid in cash maybe. Nectar card. That’s about it, I think. How about you?’

  ‘Bit more than twenty quid. But yeah, other than that just bankcards and my driving licence.’ Gareth’s hand disappeared below the table again and Jimmy realised the barman was approaching with a tray. They sat in silence as he placed their drinks on the table, and two small dishes full of peanuts. When he had finished, the barman stood in front of them for a few seconds.

  ‘Give the man a tip, Simon,’ Gareth said as he reached for one of the bowls with his free hand. ‘Don’t be stingy.’ With a resigned sigh, Simon replied.

  ‘Add a tenner to whatever that lot came to.’

  ‘Very kind of you, sir.’ The barman beamed at Simon, but he didn’t return the gesture. ‘Thank you very much.’

  Once the barman was out of earshot, Gareth picked up his pint and sat back on the bench.

  ‘Let’s get down to business, shall we? What’s in your wallet, Simon?’

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I want to know what’s in your wallet.’

  ‘Cash and my keycard.’

  ‘No personal effects? No bankcards? Driving licence? Not even a supermarket loyalty card?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘That’s unusual. How much cash?’

  ‘A grand.’

  ‘Blimey,’ Jimmy chipped in, sipping at his own pint. ‘That’s a lot of money. Those fun bags were nice, but that’s a lot of cash for a bit of a play with them.’

  ‘I told you, I’ve done nothing illegal.’

  ‘Mrs Timpson might not be so sanguine about your position, though?’

  ‘There is no Mrs Timpson,’ Simon replied.

  ‘Yes there is,’ Gareth said, reaching into his pocket for his phone. He prodded at the screen and a photograph of a middle-aged woman appeared. He showed the phone to Jimmy. ‘There she is, standing outside number forty-three Highcliffe Gardens. Quite the looker, isn’t she?’

  ‘What a pretty lady,’ Jimmy replied. ‘Who’s that in the background?’ He pointed at the screen.

  ‘That must be either Amelia or Elizabeth. They’re twins. Are they still teenagers, Simon, or are they now out of their teens?’

  ‘This is blackmail, right?’

  ‘Nothing so crass, Simon,’ Gareth replied with a sigh. ‘Not for money, anyway.’ He glanced at Simon’s wallet which was still in the centre of the table. ‘Although I will take what’s in there for little Miss Fun Bags. I think she’s earned it.’

  ‘So, what do you want then, for fuck’s sake? Let’s just get this over with.’

  ‘You don’t have to be rude, Simon,’ Gareth said. ‘That doesn’t befit a man of your standing in the community.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Gareth didn’t reply, but just fiddled with his phone. A few seconds later, he looked up from the screen.

  ‘It says on your Linked-In profile that you’re on the board of governors at the local independent girls' school. How would they feel if they knew you enjoy fucking little girls for money?’

  ‘She’s not a little girl,’ Simon retorted. ‘She’s a grown woman. I’m not a paedophile.’

  ‘She’s someone’s little girl, Simon,’ Gareth said with a glance at Jimmy. ‘How would you like it if it was Amelia or Elizabeth?’

  ‘You can wipe that look of disgust off your face, Simon,’ Jimmy said in a low voice, ‘before I fucking wipe it off for you.’ Gareth shot Jimmy a warning look and shook his head imperceptibly.

  ‘If you don’t want money, what do you want?’ Simon said almost in a whisper.

  ‘How did you find young Nikki?’ Gareth asked. ‘Only we can’t work out how people get in touch with her, and I’ve got a friend who’s superb at that sort of thing.’

  ‘You’ve got no proof of anything.’

  Gareth didn’t reply but just tapped a couple of times at his phone screen. A few seconds later, they were listening to a recording from Simon’s conversation—when he was still Gregory—the previous evening.

  ‘That could be anyone,’ Simon countered.

  ‘Except the phone logs show the call was made from the phone in the glove compartment of your car.’ Simon’s head dipped a couple of inches as Gareth continued. ‘Which you bought for cash a little while ago. Would you like to see the CCTV footage of you buying it?’ Jimmy looked at Gareth, uncertain if he was bluffing. Knowing Dave’s abilities with computers though, he probably wasn’t.

  ‘What do you want?’ Simon asked again.

  ‘I told you,’ Gareth replied. ‘How did you find Nikki? How did you get her number?’

  ‘It was given to me by a colleague.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘I can’t tell you.’

  ‘Does Mrs Timpson know, perhaps? Shall I call her?’

  ‘I can’t tell you.’

  ‘I don’t think you’ve got a choice, mate,’ Gareth said in a low voice.

  ‘They’ll kill me.’ Jimmy’s ears pricked up at this. It wasn’t a single person?

  ‘If Mrs Timpson doesn’t get there first.’

  ‘Seriously, they’ll kill me.’

  ‘I tell you what, Simon. Let’s stop fucking about and do a deal.’ Gareth folded his arms on the table. ‘You tell us who it was and we—being men of honour—will not breathe a word of it to anyone. Or we tell everyone what you do in your spare time, or more specifically who you do in your spare time, and you can kiss your comfortable life goodbye.’

  ‘It’s not a person, it’s a network.’

  ‘Now we’re getting somewhere,’ Gareth replied, taking a large swig of his beer and grabbing a handful of peanuts. ‘Keep going, fella. Who’s in charge of this network?’

  Jimmy looked at Simon and, to his
disgust, saw a single tear rolling down the man’s cheek.

  ‘I can’t say. You don’t know who you’re dealing with.’

  ‘Who do you think we are?’ Gareth snarled. ‘Pinky and fucking Perky?’

  ‘I can’t. I really can’t.’

  ‘Hey Jimmy,’ Gareth said. ‘Do you know the Countdown music?’

  ‘I could give it a go,’ Jimmy replied. ‘What happens when I get to the end, though?’

  ‘That’s when we get up and walk out.’ He glared at Simon. ‘And that’s when your life falls apart.’ They sat in silence for a few seconds before Gareth continued in a voice that was almost, but not quite, kind. ‘Last chance, Simon. Who runs the network?’

  ‘You won’t say anything?’ Simon whispered.

  ‘Scout’s honour,’ Gareth whispered back. Jimmy looked at Simon who was staring in his lap. From the look of resignation on his face, Jimmy knew he was about to give up the name.

  ‘Martin Hollister.’

  Chapter 37

  ‘Room service,’ Jimmy said as he rapped on the hotel room door, mirroring Gareth’s earlier joke. Behind him, Gareth was standing with a bottle of champagne in each hand, courtesy of Simon.

  ‘Just a sec,’ Dave’s voice came from behind the door. When he opened it a moment later, he looked flustered.

  Jimmy and Gareth walked into the room, both smiling. Inside, Charlotte was sitting on the edge of the bed. She looked at them expectantly.

  ‘How did it go?’ she asked, her eyes wide and excited.

  ‘Perfect,’ Gareth replied. ‘Don’t you think, Jimmy?’

  ‘Yeah, he sang like a proverbial canary.’ He looked at Dave and Charlotte. ‘You were fantastic. Both of you.’

  ‘When you mentioned “fun bags”, Charlotte,’ Gareth said, ‘I thought I would piss myself laughing.’ He crossed to the other side of the room and put the champagne down on the desk next to the hotel menu. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out the wedge of cash that he’d helped himself to from Simon’s wallet as they’d left, throwing it onto the desk next to the champagne.

  ‘Simon wanted to give you both a tip for your hard work,’ he said, pointing at the pile of twenty-pound notes. ‘So, there you go. Help yourselves.’ Charlotte stared at the money and started laughing. ‘He got you both a bottle of champers.’

  ‘What a nice man,’ she giggled. ‘Where is he now?’

  ‘Probably in his hotel room,’ Dave replied. ‘Having a bit of self-reflection time, if you know what I mean, Charlotte. One in the bank and all.’ It took Charlotte a second or two to work out what he meant.

  ‘Oh, you are disgusting,’ she said once the penny dropped. ‘There’ll be no fun bag time for you now.’ Jimmy started laughing, and before long they all were doing the same.

  ‘Right then, Jimmy,’ Gareth said. ‘Shall we find a pub somewhere and have a proper chat? Leave these two love-birds to it?’

  ‘I was thinking I might stay in the room, in fact,’ Jimmy said. ‘I’m pretty tired after all that excitement.’ He kept a straight face for thirty seconds, but the look on Dave’s face made it impossible. He giggled before continuing. ‘No, you’re right. Let’s leave them to it before they start shagging while we’re still here.’

  He walked to the door and as he and Gareth walked through it, there was an excited squeal behind them. Jimmy closed the door with a grin.

  ‘Mate, they both did fantastic, didn’t they?’

  ‘Brilliantly. I’ve been thinking about expanding out into private investigation. I might have to hire Charlotte—she’s the perfect honey trap.’ They heard the pop of a champagne cork behind the door.

  ‘You’ve set the bar a bit high, though, Gareth,’ Jimmy said as they walked down the corridor.

  ‘How'd you mean?’

  ‘If her and Dave split that cash down the middle, then you just paid her five hundred quid for a couple of hours' work.’

  Twenty minutes later, they were sitting in a dark corner in the Murderers pub on Timberhill. It was one of the oldest pubs in Norwich, full of wooden beams, plaster walls, and private drinking nooks. Jimmy was sipping at a pint of lager while Gareth was engrossed with his phone.

  ‘I’m just looking up this Martin Hollister bloke,’ Gareth said. ‘He’s quite the philanthropist, isn’t he?’

  ‘Yeah, and from what we just found out, he’s also a pimp,’ Jimmy replied.

  ‘I guess so.’

  ‘What else would you call him? He’s running a network that sells women for sex, according to our man Simon.’

  ‘He was a slimy little tosser, wasn’t he?’ Gareth said. ‘I was sure you were about to smack him just before we left.’ One thing that they’d discussed while they were planning the sting was whether to show the man the picture of Milly. Gareth had been dead set against it, even insisting that Jimmy leave his phone in the hotel room so he couldn’t get caught out in the heat of the moment. Jimmy looked at the other man now, knowing that he had been right. If he had shown Simon the picture of Milly, and Simon had admitted to having seen her in the past, Jimmy would have picked up his pint glass and smashed it into the man’s face.

  ‘I was tempted,’ Jimmy admitted.

  ‘Yeah, I could see,’ Gareth replied, still looking at his phone. ‘So, what’s next?’ Jimmy thought for a few seconds before replying.

  ‘I need to get closer to this Martin Hollister, I reckon,’ he said. ‘I was sure it was Max who was the man running the whole thing.’

  ‘I never thought he had the intelligence, to be honest,’ Gareth replied, putting the phone down and taking a sip of his pint. ‘Taking photos or videos is one thing, but running a bunch of girls is quite another.’

  According to Simon, Martin Hollister’s “network” was broad ranging. There weren’t that many members, and those that there were all had enough money to spend a lot on extra-curricular activity. When pressed, Simon had told them that pretty much anything could be bought from the network if you had enough money. Custom pornographic videos were one option, and that was where Max got involved.

  Clients of the network specified what they were looking for—in as much detail as they wanted—and the network priced it up and sourced it for them. Where ladies were reluctant to play the game, the price went up until they agreed.

  ‘I still think he’s in deeper than just being the monkey on the other end of a camera, though,’ Jimmy said.

  ‘Fair enough,’ Gareth replied. ‘So, what’s your plan?’

  ‘Like I said, get closer to Hollister. And I still want to get into Max’s flat for that hard drive.’

  ‘You might not like what you find on it though, Jimmy. Have you thought about that?’

  ‘Every fucking day, Gareth. But I have to know.’ Jimmy paused, eyeing Gareth carefully. ‘Will you help me?’

  ‘Break into his flat? No. I’ve told you. I don’t do that sort of stuff any more.’

  ‘After what we did to Simon back there, you’re hardly above the law.’ For a split second, a dark expression flashed across Gareth’s face and Jimmy knew he was pushing it.

  ‘We didn’t break any laws. We were just having a chat with a friend,’ Gareth replied. Jimmy smiled to relieve the sudden tension between the two of them.

  ‘Apart from hacking into his life and stealing a grand off him?’

  ‘We didn’t hack into his life—all that stuff Dave found out was open source. All he needed was the man’s name and address.’ Gareth returned Jimmy’s smile, and the pressure eased.

  ‘How about his wife and kids’ names?’

  ‘Electoral role. The kids are both nineteen, so registered to vote, and they’re still at home so they show up at the same address.’

  ‘The school governor thing?’

  ‘Linked-In profile.’

  ‘Picture of his wife?’

  ‘Her Facebook page. There were plenty of photos of the kids on there as well, but I didn’t need them.’

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Jimmy said with a sigh. �
��Hang on, how did you know his phone was in his glove compartment? And the CCTV of him buying it?’

  ‘The glove compartment bit was a bluff, but where else would it be? The burner phone will be in there with his real wallet—the one with his bankcards and personal stuff.’ Gareth smiled, a dark grin that had no humour in it at all. ‘He’ll have shoved everything in there just in case the woman he was meeting found out his real identity and tried blackmailing him. We haven’t got any CCTV footage, but Dave could probably get it.’

  ‘But Dave hacked into the hotel’s computer systems. I’m sure that’s against the law.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll give you that one,’ Gareth replied, a slow smile creeping over his face. ‘We broke one tiny little data protection law to get Simon’s name and address, but the rest of it?’ His smile broadened. ‘Good old-fashioned social engineering, now made easy by the internet.’

  ‘Okay, so if you can’t help me, can you teach me?’

  ‘Teach you what?’

  ‘How to break into his flat? You know how to pick locks and stuff like that, don’t you?’

  ‘Then I’d be aiding and abetting.’

  ‘Just help me get his flat door open.’ Jimmy looked at Gareth, not liking the fact that he was on the verge of pleading with the man. ‘I’ll do the rest.’

  ‘For fuck’s sake, Jimmy,’ Gareth replied with a sigh, picking up his phone from the table. ‘You don’t give up, do you? Opening a door is easy enough when you know how, but you’ve got to know how and that takes a hell of a lot of practise. It’s not like I can just sit down with you and a couple of paperclips for half an hour, mate. Just find another way.’

  ‘Okay,’ Jimmy replied, looking at Gareth and realising that he would not be persuaded otherwise. ‘I’ll sort something out myself. Press on on my own. I’ve been watching the place. I don’t know what the girlfriend does most of the time, but when she goes round to his flat, it’s rarely before nine.’ Gareth looked up from his phone and stared at him.

  ‘I’m sorry, Jimmy,’ he said, his features softening. ‘I made a promise a while ago that all that was behind me.’ Jimmy ran through a range of responses in his head, about how he was only asking for some help to get into the flat, not for Gareth to actually steal anything, but he decided against saying anything. ‘When I first started going out with Jennifer, she found out I used to, er, nick stuff for a living. We even broke up for a while over it.’ Jimmy noticed a distant expression on Gareth’s face. ‘I promised her I’d never steal so much as a pencil ever again. I know she’s dead now, but even so…’ His voice trailed away.