The insipid male in the rear seat laughed, revealing a mouth full of damaged, bloodied and blackened teeth, a pitiful legacy of his decade of drug abuse. His eyes were not windows to his soul but dark portholes that led to a cavern of self-loathing and paranoia. It was the first time he had been in a position to make some money since being released from the prison an hour or so earlier. He needed to buy drugs again and without exception would do anything to get them.
Artur Gheorghiu turned to look at him and placed a hand on his knee, slowly adding more pressure until he had found a trigger point.
“And you can keep quiet too, you fool. Go and open the door to the car. I do not wish to get wet.”
The male hated him, but at the same time needed him. His past was so full of promise. Once the best at his trade in Eastern Europe, he had a reputation, but now, he just had a past. His future looked dismal, and he could see how awful it looked every day.
As he shuffled to leave the Peugeot Gheorghiu smiled at Gabor, he winked too but it was indiscernible, his eyelid being so badly damaged it gave the perception of a permanent stare, and that, among other things, unsettled the young Romanian.
“Smile. You are among friends. Now, drive away and don’t look back. Until tomorrow.”
He nodded. “Until tomorrow.”
O’Shea walked into the office a few seconds ahead of Cade and was greeted by an ebullient Roberts.
“Alright treacle? How are you this morning?”
“Fine boss, you? Oh, and boss?”
“Carrie?”
“Please don’t call me treacle.”
“Indeed. Ah, Jack, my good man, and how are you? Did I ever tell you my dear old Auntie Dot who lived in Lewisham had a pair of lovebirds?”
Cade, still unsettled by the earlier incident, was in no mood for games.
“No, you didn’t Jason. Did I ever tell you I set fire to my former inspector’s home whilst he slept soundly inside?”
Roberts noticed a shift in his colleague’s demeanour and asked him to join him in a side room.
“You OK, bud?”
“Honestly, Jas? No.”
He explained about what he had observed at O’Shea’s flat earlier.
“Weird. Any thoughts on how it happened?”
He hadn’t, and that made it twice as bad.
They read the overnight occurrences and discussed the plans for the next few days over a cup of English breakfast tea. They were joined by an unshaven Del Murphy.
“I’ll have one if there’s one going boss!”
“Jesus Derrick, look at you man, you look like you’ve been up half the night. What’s her name Del? Or, in these days of enlightenment, what’s his name?”
The now-gathered team laughed at Murphy’s expense, but he was in no mood to be the butt of their misplaced humour.
“Actually boss, I’ve been working with a source, not quite A1 but heading that way. She’s given me some good intel up till now, but the latest looks right on the money. Some chatter about our Eastern European friends.”
Roberts was intrigued, and Cade’s ears had tuned in to the conversation. He slid his office chair in their direction and sat among the growing group.
“Pray, do tell my good man.” Asked Roberts in a Shakespearian style.
“Well skipper, this bird I’ve been seeing ‘as given me a few bits of decent source info, mainly about the Albanians in town. Some of it has been actionable, some not. But last night she wanted to meet up about a bloke she knew from the past, Romanian geezer who she knocked about with in the old days. Got a ten stretch at Scrubs for a failed bank job where he tried to blast the safe to bits – he’s just come out.”
“And…?”
“And ‘es been back in touch with ‘er already, wanting a bit of the other.”
“Sorry Del, I’m not with you. How is this relevant, other than him being Eastern European. Expand before you lose your audience.”
“She’s a tom boss.”
“This city is full of them Derrick and I’ll remind you to be careful handling a prostitute as a source on your own, it’s fraught with danger.”
“No boss, not this one. We went to school together. She’s different now to how I remember back in the fifth form. Very high class.”
“Is she now?”
“She is way out of our league boss, and importantly out of reach of the lad who’s just been released from the big house. Turns out in his day he was quite something, he was nicknamed The Chemist or some such shit; into mixing stuff up and blowing shit up, but the passing years have not been kind to him at all, that and a hundred quid a day drug habit.”
“Go on.”
“Well, it transpires that my source has seen this geezer with a right old stash of notes. He’s only been outside for a day or so, so where’s he getting ‘is cash from? According to Lucy…”
“Lucy?” asked a now very interested Cade.
“Sorry guv, Lucy Thomas, the call girl I was telling you about. Bit of a cracker, actually. As I say back in the day, she was different. She’s grown up a lot since then, got a collection of toys that would make Hamley’s blush.”
“Indeed.”
“So what is this Lucy doing with an Eastern European criminal with a heroin addiction when she could pick from Arab sheiks or rich American businessmen?”
“Fair point, guv. It’s not just the money. It’s how he’s talking to her. Talk of a big job, of explosives, that sort of thing. Her old man was in the British Army, did a couple of tours in Ireland. She likes this bloke guv, but hates terrorists. Hence the chat with me. Shall I hook up a meet with her? Perhaps you can ask her those questions yourself?”
“Do just that Derrick, my son. Jack will come with us to chaperone us in case we end up in some bizarre threesome. Carrie, before you start the overnight scan can you get a message to the boss to let him know we won’t be at the morning briefing – we’ve got a date with a gorgeous and exotic lady of the night.”
Roberts was drawing an outline of a girl with an hour-glass figure as he looked back at Del Murphy.
Cade looked at O’Shea and smiled. He winked and mouthed the words ‘miss you’.
She set about deliberately sharpening her favourite pencil as she mouthed back, ‘Good. Make sure you behave yourself.’
Given the extent of the morning traffic, it was a wonder that they reached the apartment quite as quickly as they did. It was less than a mile as the crow would fly, but still took them twenty minutes of stop-start commuting.
Roberts had allowed his subordinate to drive. He was starting to feel the pressure of the last few weeks and needed a chance to close his eyes. Somehow he managed to drift off but sustain a complete conversation with both the driver and Cade who was ensconced in the back passenger seat also trying to grab a moment.
“Now listen Del, let me do the talking, I spent some time on Vice and I know how these girls work, they can be quite manipulative when the need arises. I got taken bloody hostage by one once, tied me up and whipped me and everything.”
Cade was quick to join the tale, “So did you charge her Jason?”
“I did, Jack. Fifty quid and I got a twenty percent discount off my next visit!”
It flew straight over the head of Detective Del Murphy.
“We’re here, boss. You sure you don’t want me to come up with you and Inspector Cade?”
“No Derrick, we will be absolutely fine, thank you. You park the motor and I’ll text you when we are done.”
Murphy was old school so he did what he was told but felt he needed to add just a dash more sauce to the recipe.
“Skipper, there’s something you need to know…” His words were lost in the maelstrom of morning rush-hour traffic so he put the window back up, dropped his seat back slightly and listened to Radio 2 until he drifted into a neck-snapping slumber.
Cade and Roberts reached Lucy Thomas’ door after a rapid ride to the fourteenth floor. Cade was whistling the first few bars to The Police s
ong about a prostitute as Roberts tried to suppress a naughty schoolboy giggle.
“Jack, stop it, man! We need to act like a couple of pros…”
They paused, looked at each other and started laughing at the most inopportune moment, and as luck would have it as the non-descript door to 1412 opened.
Standing in the doorway and at least six foot in her stockinged feet was the rather lovely Lucy Thomas, immaculately made up, her post office red lips were pursed, ready for action. Her hair, flaxen with a hint of strawberry, was tied into a hastily created pony tail. She was slim but not overly so, and her hips were emphasised by the way she stood, leaning casually against the door frame. She wore a rather red and very clichéd silk wrap, which was embroidered with the familiar emblem of the Mandarin Oriental Hotel Group in some far-flung corner of south east Asia. A dishonest acquisition or a gift from a lover?
“You two boys going to just stand there wetting yourselves or are you going to come in, I’m a busy person, time is money and all that. Delboy tells me you want to speak to me?”
Her voice was unusual, distinctive; rasping but alluring. Each word was measured, assured and brimming with experience. She looked up and down the hallway as she ushered them into her spacious and well-appointed home.
Roberts coughed nervously, still trying to hold back the urge to giggle. His collegial relationship had strengthened with Cade to the point where he had quickly considered him a friend and one with whom he could now have some fun – among the chaos that had recently consumed them both this was a good thing.
“Very nice pad, Miss Thomas. Delboy, sorry Detective Murphy said you could help us with some information about our current investigation. Is this true?”
Thomas walked to the kitchen, “Fancy a coffee? I’m parched, I spent four hours getting rather acquainted with a Jordanian businessman last night. The way he was going at it I think he was drilling for oil the dirty little bugger.”
She laughed a laugh that was not in keeping with the image that Murphy had portrayed. It was a deep-seated roar, the kind that could easily have been equated with a dock worker or bricklayer, the antithesis of the inhabitant of upper-echelon male sexual fantasies. All that said, neither man had ever seen such an attractive tradesman.
In spite of the image and the developing rapport, Cade couldn’t help feeling that there was something more to Thomas.
With perfect timing she looked at him and smiled emphasising her impressive cheekbones and aquamarine eyes.
“Sugar? Or, as I suspect with those ocean-blue eyes, are you sweet enough already darling?”
Cade laughed politely, if not a little awkwardly, and replied, “It has been said Lucy. Now, tell me what you know about a recently released Romanian.”
“Dear God, no foreplay? Come on gents, Delboy and I spend at least an hour flirting before we get down to it. You can do better than that…surely?”
Cade looked at Roberts, who had withdrawn slightly and was now sipping on his overly strong coffee and physically indicating to Cade to take the lead.
“Lucy, I’m all for foreplay but this is important, can we just go straight to full sex, you know, leave out the part where I tell you I love you?”
“Toys?” Thomas was almost insistent.
“No!”
“What about a bit of bondage? I could strap you to my headboard with your Marks & Spencer’s tie and we could talk about the first thing that comes up…”
“No, no, no. How many times Lucy?”
“Me? I can go all night, Inspector Cade, I’m not sure about you.” She turned to Roberts, “And what about you, sir? What’s your pleasure? Let me guess…your friend here doesn’t like my idea of M&S action, so what say we indulge in a little S&M instead?”
Roberts was quick to cut her off in her prime “No, seriously, that will not be necessary. The three of us need to get down to business before one of us ends up getting hurt.”
Thomas placed her coffee on the black marble kitchen worktop, walked over to Roberts and inclined towards him.
“So sugar, now we are getting there, you want a threesome? Well, honey, why didn’t you say, I’m game if you are, as long as old blue eyes over there gets to finish me off.”
Roberts stood and tried to regain control. He gently pushed Thomas back with his left outstretched palm but the six foot tall Amazon resisted, now playing games with him and enjoying the audience.
She leant in further now, dominating him. Cade watched with veiled amusement, observing his partner losing the battle but prepared to step in should the need arise. He knew that escorts could fight their way out of most corners. And the one first-hand experience he’d had taught him that they didn’t play by the Queensberry Rules.
“Listen, love, we just need to talk. I’ll pay you for your time but neither me nor Inspector Cade want to be tied to your furniture, spanked, licked, spat on, shat on, smothered in apricot yogurt or have anything cold, metal and shiny shoved up our collective arses. OK?”
Roberts had felt so intimidated that he knew had to push on whilst he had the upper hand.
“And another thing…I do genuinely only want you for your brain, not your body.”
It was then that the slap landed on Roberts’ face, and it was a ferocious slap too, probably heard by Murphy fourteen floors below.
“Bitch! I’ll have you know my body is prized by men all over this city – no, make that all over the world!” The altogether darker Lucy Thomas was now enraged and strutted back towards the retreating Roberts, her hips sashaying from side to side.
Roberts reacted a little too hastily and pushed Thomas backwards. She staggered slightly and fell unceremoniously onto Cade. Now the fight had really started.
Cade pushed upwards, trying to rid himself of the blonde bombshell as Roberts moved in to drag her off him. Recognising the fun had only just started, Thomas lashed out with a foot and caught Roberts squarely in his testicles. He dropped onto her whilst clutching them and gasping for air. Nausea rose up and he took a moment to acknowledge that this was possibly the least erotic thing he had ever done.
Cade, sensing that things could take a turn for the worst, grabbed hold of Thomas’ arm but connected with the silk robe instead. He was somewhat surprised to feel her strength as he struggled to hold on to her.
The three of them fought against each other before landing unceremoniously onto the expensive and no doubt authentic dark blue Persian rug.
Lucy Thomas had got the threesome she had desired. Her language now resembled the aforementioned dockworker and her actions befitted a scorned fish wife. This was not in any way, shape or form turning out to be ideal for the two investigators.
Whilst Cade and Roberts battled to rid themselves of the happy hooker she hung on for grim death, not unlike a carnal rodeo rider, aroused at the physical interaction.
As the skirmish continued all three began to tire. Cade thought for a moment about ringing Murphy but he knew it was futile. For now, he needed to protect his own assets.
He found himself on top of Thomas and tried to restrain her, conscious of harming her but also aware that his colleague was underneath, shouting and pleading for mercy.
Cade looked across the room and saw a reflection in a glass display cabinet, it was a sight he wished never to see again. The three people thrashed around like competitors in a deranged game of Twister, which had transformed into something befitting a well-thumbed and slightly adhesive page from the Kama Sutra.
Knowing he had to resolve the matter – and wondering how the hell it had got to this – he grabbed her ponytail and yanked it forcibly. On the second heave the pigtail extension moved towards Cade, causing him to fall backwards, pushing Thomas’ lithe and much-used hips into Roberts’ face.
All that the detective sergeant could think about was his dear wife – what would Cathy she say if she could see him now?
Mother Nature, herself a playful thing, chose this very moment to reveal some extra facts about Lucy.
Her exquisite honeyed hair was far from natural. Her wig had masked what was actually a reasonable amount of mousey brown hair that could, and probably did, find itself transformed into differing styles. Mrs. Nature, not content with giving up without a fight, also chose to inject some previously secure information – and the evidence hit Roberts squarely in the face.
Thomas’ equally silky underwear had shifted during the melee to reveal a rather healthy, previously restrained and altogether impressive phallus – and Roberts was within seven inches of it.
His arms were pinned to the rug by Thomas’ legs, and Cade’s own weight ensured that neither could move.
Cade was still astride her, now holding the once-glorious flaxen crown, and could hear his colleague begging for help. Whilst he was now fully aware that Lucy was not a natural blonde, he had no idea whatsoever that the girl called Lucy was in fact a man. A man called Thomas.
A six foot tall, well-hung, wig-wearing bi-curious call girl who was about to ruin Detective Sergeant Roberts’ day, week, month and year.
“Any joy, Carrie? They’ve been a while.” It was Daniel, wondering where his second in command was.
“Sorry boss, clearly something has come up with the hooker they’ve gone to pump for info.”
“Right, well get on the blower and let Jason know he’s going to get a right mouthful from me when he gets back. Our meeting has been in his diary for at least a week.”
Daniel returned to his office, unusually angry. He was normally the brightest part of each morning, O’Shea knew, even after the relatively short time she had worked for him that something was wrong.
Roberts pushed with all his might against a pair of hairless thighs that now bristled with muscle, tendons and ligaments; that no longer appeared sexy, now they were more athletic and glistening.
The overly large testes, however, were a different proposition altogether. They sank onto his cheek, hairless and sweat-laden, causing the sexually bashful Roberts to wretch. It was one thing to sleep with his wife and to do the things that they did, behind closed doors and occasionally with the light on, but this? This was wrong on so many levels.
Seven Degress (The Seventh Wave Trilogy Book 2) Page 10
