by DC Brockwell
She could feel the distance between her and Alan growing. It seemed like he was talking less these days and testing his girls more. His social life had been hectic too; he’d only slept at home three nights out of ten, a record. Beattie had been forewarned of the sleepovers in advance, but alarm bells were ringing; just because she knew of his sleeping arrangements, it didn’t mean he wasn’t sleeping with someone else.
If she were being honest with herself, it wouldn’t kill her to find out he was having an affair. In fact, it might even be a blessing; she’d be able to kick him out of their home and business, and every penny they earned would go in her pocket, not their joint account. Then again, running both sides of the business would be pushing it somewhat – the stress of organising twenty bees would kill her.
Her father had visited the previous night, and stayed for supper. He’d brought along Lennox Garvey, his right-hand man, who’d used the time to have dinner and collect the day’s take. While Lennox was out counting the takings, her father had informed her that he’d received a warning from an insider that an investigation had been launched by the National Crime Agency against his businesses; they were apparently looking into all his ventures – legitimate and the not-so-legitimate.
She had asked her father if they were in any trouble, and he allayed her concerns with a simple wave of his hand, telling her not to worry. He’d then asked them to keep an eye out for anything unusual – cars following them, suspect phone calls and the like – as a precaution; it didn’t hurt to be extra vigilant, he’d told her. He had also said to be careful when accepting new customers, and even went on to add that he would personally vet every new customer from now on; the last thing they wanted was an undercover cop under the barn.
It wasn’t long before Beattie was walking Danny back to his room, and when she got there she saw that Kimiko had folded a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, some pants and some socks, leaving them neatly displayed on his bed. The look of joy on his face upon seeing the clothes amused her. It was the simple things, she thought.
She watched Danny dress himself. “You know you’ll be getting out of those in less than an hour,” she said, noting that the time was eight thirty. “And you’ll be tied up for this one; it’s Donna’s weekly visit.”
“I know. I’m just getting used to wearing them again, that’s all.”
She nodded. “Okay then, enjoy your clothes. I’ll get more sent down later; get you a wardrobe together. You can look through some catalogues too. And remember, anything else you need, let me know and I’ll get them delivered…”
14
Lennox Garvey felt Gemma’s warm body beside him. When his mobile phone buzzed on the bedside cabinet, he picked it up, glanced at the caller, and then noted the time. It was quarter to nine and he wasn’t due to meet Rothstein until midday; he wasn’t late for anything.
“Mornin’, what’s up?”
“I know you were supposed to go to the farmhouse tonight, but there’s been a change of plan. I need you here for eight, okay?”
He listened carefully, though he really wanted to just lie-in with the previous night’s pickup. “Sure thing, what’s at eight?”
“A friend of ours has a proposition. He says we won’t want to miss out. He made it sound worth our time; just something in the way he said it. I want you here in case it has anything to do with your uncle.”
“You got it. Do you still want me over at noon?”
“No, have the rest of the day off. See you at eight.”
Lennox hung up and placed his phone back on the chest of drawers next to his bed. Then he settled back down under the duvet.
Gemma groaned softly, rousing herself. “Who was that?” she asked, her voice sleepy.
“No one; my boss. Go back to sleep.”
He’d had a busy few days helping Rothstein with finding a dealer who owed him money. This particular associate was a high-value customer, and up until a couple of days earlier, he’d always paid in full and on time. Rothstein had been more concerned than angry, not believing his customer would be so stupid as to steal from him. So, Lennox had been dispatched to find him.
Two days earlier Lennox had tried all the usual dealer’s haunts, including a club owned by a friend of his. The club was a goldmine for his target, so if he were to find him anywhere, it would be there. Lennox had searched the whole place – the dance floor, the toilets, the mezzanine level chill-out zone, everywhere – and found nothing.
Earlier in the day he’d tried the dealer’s flat. He hadn’t answered, and his car hadn’t been parked outside. After going to the club, Lennox had decided to try the flat again, and after seeing the car was back, he walked up to the front door to find it ajar, which it hadn’t been earlier. He’d decided, reluctantly, to enter, putting on gloves before opening the door.
Inside he’d searched the flat room by room until he’d found the dealer’s body sprawled out on the bedroom floor. He had been shot in the eye, through a pillow used to muffle the sound. The pillow had been left on the bed, a gaping hole in the middle of it surrounded by blood, the feathers from inside strewn all around and over the body.
Lennox had immediately taken out his mobile from his jeans pocket and dialled his boss’s number. “I’ve found him. But we got a problem.”
In code he’d relayed the situation to his boss, who told him to get out of there. He’d done as his boss had insisted and left the flat, leaving the door ajar as he found it. He’d then driven his Shogun back to Rothstein’s home and the two of them had talked about possible reasons for the murder, and several suspects to look into. Rothstein believed this was just the beginning.
Three nights before he’d found the dealer dead in his home, Lennox had taken Rothstein’s boat out to the rendezvous point, picked up the month’s shipment, and the captain had steered the boat back to port under the cover of darkness. It was his uncle’s consignment of uncut cocaine, and it was Lennox’s job to collect it. Everything had gone like clockwork, as it did every month. He’d also handled other business dealings too.
His wasn’t exactly a good life. It was the only life he knew, never having attended school in Jamaica – not properly anyway. He’d learned everything he needed from his uncle, who was more like a father to him, since his parents had been murdered in their home when he was just eight. He could vividly remember hearing the five shots fired, waiting by the stairway bannisters for a few minutes – his little heart racing – and then finding them sprawled out and bloodied on the sofa in the lounge. His father had been shot three times, twice in the chest and once in the forehead, while his mother had been shot once in the chest and once through the right eye. Lennox could remember the blood – there was so much blood. He had called his uncle – who’d come immediately – and ever since that day, Lennox had lived with him and learned from him.
Gemma turned over and cuddled up to him, her leg over his. He put his arm out and she accepted the invitation. He felt her hand stroking him. “Don’t you want a shower first?” he asked. On the one hand he loved sex in the morning; on the other, he hated morning breath. When she kissed him, he reciprocated. It would be rude not to…
15
Nasreen Maqsood had had a busy few days with the stabbings cases, which had turned out to be gang-related, as everyone had assumed it was. They’d spent hours interviewing witnesses to the stabbings. It had been time-consuming and traumatic for all those involved, including her and Terrence.
For the first time in a few days, Nasreen found herself with a little time on her hands, so she sat down at her desk and took out her file on Danny’s disappearance. As she’d added lots to it through her own investigating, she had to hide it from both Terrence and Adams.
As per Terrence’s prediction, Danny’s case had been dropped the day they had taken over the stabbings cases; no one had been assigned to it thereafter. As a result, his case had only six days of live investigative work attached to it, which made her angry. A person’s life was apparently worth less th
an the force’s clearance rate.
Carefully taking out the papers, she flipped through them one by one.
The forensics tests on the burnt-out van had turned up nothing. There were no hairs, no fibres, no fingerprints, not even partial prints. There was no sweat or blood traces anywhere inside the van either, even though Danny had bled in the park. It was definitely the same van that had been used to abduct Danny though, as she had managed to catch the licence plate through cameras near the site of the burned van.
She had an even better picture of the driver – the man Valerie had described – and the passenger, which had been taken using the same camera near the scene of the burned van. So, Nasreen now had faces and a number plate, but all this proved unfruitful, as the facial recognition software they used had turned up nothing, and the van had been reported stolen from a house fifty miles away.
Nasreen typed “male escort agencies, UK” into Google and waited for it to load. She needed more knowledge of the industry if she was to carry on with her private investigation.
The first three entries were for agencies called Gentlemen4U.com, Beescorted.co.uk and the Beemanescortagency.com. Gentlemen4U.com was apparently a strictly “no extras” legitimate escort agency, promising escorts for dinner dates, weddings, work functions, and the like. The website looked professional and described how to become an escort by applying within. The men appearing on the website were advertised as real, and she found them appealing, yet none of them were as good-looking as Danny, not by a long shot. Although, of course, she was biased.
The second website, Beescorted.co.uk, was an entirely different service. It advertised the men on their site as being typical escorts, good-looking men willing and able to take their clients’ fantasies and make them real. They were unabashed about advertising the fact that sex was on the table. She wondered how the website even stayed up, it was so obvious.
Continuing her search, Nasreen found that the majority of the sites were similar to Gentlemen4U – not actively advertising sex for money – however, she did wonder how true it was in the real world. What was advertised on their web pages wasn’t necessarily what the users experienced, she suspected.
Out of interest she typed in “Nagel and Nagel Escorts” and waited for it to load.
To her surprise, their website popped up on her screen. A purple and yellow background framed a picture of Eric and Claire Nagel, with flashy writing of the company’s name. The blurb beneath the name stated that theirs was a legitimate enterprise, with a strict “no sex” policy. Nasreen knew that was a lie, so she thought that they probably all had to say “no sex policy” on their site.
Nasreen knew that no more would be forthcoming from Eric or Claire Nagel; they’d already sent her their client list. She had already interviewed two of Danny’s former clients and had another one booked in for that evening at seven. She hadn’t learned anything new from the two she’d interviewed, but she was hopeful she might that night.
She scrawled down the numbers of the three agencies listed on the previous page and put them inside her suit jacket pocket; she would call them later and hopefully arrange interviews. She just wanted to gain an understanding of what really happened on these escorted dates.
When she heard Terrence’s voice coming from a distance, Nasreen quickly shuffled the papers back into her folder and shut them away in her lockable drawer. He appeared in front of her. She’d managed to sneak them in.
“Hey, you ready?” he asked, beckoning her to follow him.
“When you are,” she replied, standing. While his back was turned, she bent down and quietly jiggled the drawer to make sure it was locked.
Having pretty much achieved all they could with the stabbings, Adams had a new investigation for them to commence. All she wanted to do was look for Danny…
16
After fifteen days of captivity and being chained to his bed, Danny’s first client as a “free” bee had been Donna, so he’d spent half an hour chained up again. She was certainly a creature of habit; she’d entered the room, dropped her robe, and climbed on top of him – no words, just in and out. The only difference between this time and the last was that she’d turned to him as she’d reached the door and said, “Thank you, Danny, that was wonderful.”
He’d walked naked, under escort by Kimiko, to the toilet and shower area and had soaked himself for a good half hour. He’d thought about his former life, what he would be doing now if he was out. He thought about his clients, and then Kimiko crept into his head. Why was he thinking about her? He had no feelings for her; he was only getting close to her so he could persuade her to help him escape.
On the way back to his room – this time without Kimiko’s aid – he observed the goings on outside. It seemed as though the guards spent all day by the bar – not drinking, just standing around – not good news for any potential escape. They were big blokes, and while Danny wasn’t small by any means, he would have trouble with one of them, let alone six. He would have to bide his time.
Having dressed and eaten the gruel they called food, Danny spent the last hour sitting on his bed, meditating. He’d started meditating after his sister, his last remaining relative, had moved to Ottawa; it was his way of keeping calm when he felt anxious. And although he put on a brave face, he was always anxious in this room.
He opened his eyes when he heard the jingle of keys in the lock, and a second later the door opened. When Kimiko entered, he knew what time it was: client number two of six for the day. “That time already, huh?”
Kimiko replied, “Five minute,” as she pulled his jumper over his head and unzipped his jeans, pulling them off his legs.
He lay back in just his underwear, watching as she folded his clothes and placed them neatly on the chest of drawers.
“You take off pants?” she asked politely.
“How about I let you do it?” He grinned as he lay still.
“Okay,” she replied, pulling his pants down to his ankles.
Danny lay back with his hands behind his head – now at full attention – then watched as a woman came in and waited while Kimiko left. She was in her forties with shoulder-length curly brown hair. She was about five feet six. “Hi!” he said, stroking the sheets. “Come and join me.”
She de-robed and stood for a second or two before joining him on the bed.
He moved onto his side as she lay on her back, and then he rubbed her belly, letting his hand move further south with each rub. “What’s your name, sweetie?”
She closed her eyes, and he could hear her breathing getting deeper as she replied, “Grace.”
“And what would you like me to do now, Grace?”
“Keep going,” she replied through a delighted sigh, “please.”
Using his skills, Danny carried out her wish until he heard her say, “Kiss my neck.”
He leaned in and kissed the nape of her neck.
She leaned in too, her mouth just centimetres from his ear as she whispered ever so slightly, “Act normal, I have something to tell you. Cameras are watching, so please behave as normally as you can.”
He gulped. “I’m listening.”
“I’m an undercover police officer.”
He wanted to yell with joy, almost forgetting where he was.
“Act normal, or they’ll see us talking.” She was still whispering. “Go on top; it’s easier for us to talk. Keep your head in my neck.”
He couldn’t believe it! Was this really happening? Could he really be getting out of here? Did she have backup waiting outside, waiting for her signal? He’d watched too many cop shows maybe. Still, he could hope.
He took a couple of deep breaths before mounting her.
“We’ve been trying to penetrate Beatrice Harrison’s operation for months, but we haven’t been able to get inside her network until now.” Grace pulled him closer. “We’ve been investigating multiple disappearances over the years and it’s all led back to here.”
He listened, while acting
casual, wanting to snigger at the use of the words penetrate and inside, given where they were. It was too serious a situation.
“The only problem is we have no tangible proof, so I’ve had to come here as a customer and do this.”
“How soon can you get me out of here? I’ve been in this place for over two weeks now… I have to get out,” he added, kissing her neck for appearance’s sake.
“It won’t be long now – a couple of days tops, I promise,” she said, her voice broken by an approaching fake orgasm.
“You’re doing a great job,” she whispered. “Now make it convincing when we finish. What do you do, cuddle up with your customers afterwards? Whatever you do, do it with me. If I get caught, Beatrice will kill me.”
“They normally just get up and go. Say something nice and leave. And please give me a good rating, or my life won’t be worth living.”
She kissed him, then unwrapped herself from him.
“That was fantastic, Danny,” she said as she stood up. “I’m going to book with you again, rest assured.” She winked at him, picked up her gown, and wrapped herself up. “See you soon.”
He watched her as she left the room, his mind all over the place. He knew he had to calm down. He so badly wanted out he could hardly breathe – how long would it be before the police raided this hellhole? Taking three long deep breaths, he lay back, staring up at the ceiling. He prayed to himself in his head.
A few seconds later the door opened and Beattie walked in, flanked by three guards. Behind the guards came Kimiko, and finally Grace. He was confused; what were they all doing here?
“Well, well, Danny,” said Beattie. “Won’t be having any trouble from you, huh?”
He saw the three guards start to move towards the bed. He sat up and, seizing his chance, jumped up and flew towards the open door. Unfortunately, he couldn’t avoid one of the guards.
