Beyond The Window: A Fast Paced Crime Thriller (Private Detective Heinrich Muller Crime Thriller Book 2)

by Robert Brown

  “What do you mean?” Heinrich thought he already knew the answer. Had they already released some of those videos? Were thousands of pairs of perverse eyes already exploiting Arizona?

  “They do a regular scene—bondage or whipping or whatever—and they film a kid separately. Then they cut the image of the child and paste it onto the pornographic scene.”

  Heinrich didn’t have to fake his disgust. Britt squeezed his knee, obviously thinking he was shocked at hearing this rather than that he was depressed about having his suspicions verified.

  “How can they do that?” he muttered.

  “It’s a legal loophole. They never show child nudity, and they never have the child on the set with the other actors. Because the child isn’t exposed to any sexual situations or abuse, it doesn’t count as child pornography. There’s a disclaimer at the beginning of the film stating this.”

  “It should be banned,” Heinrich said.

  “It’s too new. A minister of parliament has already brought up the issue and I’m sure the government will close the loophole eventually. But right now, 666 Entertainment is making big money from this.”

  And even if they do make it illegal, those films are already out there. Those images will be shared all over the Internet, Heinrich thought.

  “I didn’t see any of that on their website,” he said.

  “They put it through another corporation. Not sure which. That’s what an actor who once worked with them told me. As soon as he heard, he quit.”

  “I don’t blame him. They might have pasted him into one of those movies.”

  “They probably did. See what I mean when I say you have to be careful in this scene? You don’t want to be mixed up in that, do you?”

  I almost was, he thought and shuddered.

  “Cheer up,” said Britt, slapping his knee. “Finish your beer and let’s go find someone to tie up, eh?”

  Heinrich nodded and looked around the room. His focus zeroed in on a man moving through the crowd—a man wearing a simple leather jacket and leather pants. He seemed underdressed for the occasion, but the glint in his eyes and the set of his shoulders told Heinrich this guy was a master of the scene.

  Heinrich recognized him from the expired gym card he’d seen.

  Johan Garrix.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Heinrich got a wicked idea.

  “Hey Britt, if you want to find a sub to work on together, how about that guy?” He pointed at Johan.

  “Him? Oh, he’s a dom. Can’t you see by the way he’s holding himself? If he wanted to be tied up and beaten, he’d slouch his shoulders and wear something more revealing.”

  A man walked by and temporarily obscured their view. He was completely covered in rubber and wore one of those funnel masks that Heinrich had seen in the fetish shop.

  “Or he’d be dressed like that,” Britt snickered. “Looks like he’s on his way to the wet room.”

  Heinrich didn’t know what the wet room was and decided not to ask. Sometimes ignorance really was bliss. In any case, he’d found his target. Now he just had to figure out how to get him.

  “He looks interesting. Something about the way he carries himself,” Heinrich said. “I’m going to talk with him.”

  Britt smiled. “You really are fluid. Good luck, sister.”

  Trying not to roll his eyes, Heinrich moved off. He kept a good grip on his cat o’ nine tails.

  Johan paused by the stage, watching a woman and man spanking an older guy strapped to a sawhorse. Heinrich came up beside the film producer. “They’re really working on him. That old fart probably deserves a good spanking,” Heinrich said in English, hoping Johan spoke it. There was too much specialized vocabulary in this scene for him to try his limited Dutch.

  Like most Dutch people, Johan spoke excellent English. He turned to Heinrich, looked him up and down with open contempt, and said, “You look like you could use a good spanking yourself, bitch.”

  Heinrich almost slugged him. Reminding himself that he was playing a part, he hunched his shoulders a bit and said softly, “I think you might be the man to do it.”

  Johan gestured to the one empty raised corner of the stage. “Then get up there, bitch, and I’ll use that cat o’ nine tails on you. You should be feeling it, not holding it.”

  Heinrich thought quickly. “How about we go to the dark room? Then you could do even more.”

  Or I can beat the shit out of you in private and learn what I need to know, Heinrich added silently.

  Johan glanced at the dark archway at the far end of the club, barely visible past the pulsing lights, chattering crowd, and smoke machines. He considered Heinrich’s proposal for a moment. Then he nodded. “All right. I’ll give you a night you’ll never forget.”

  And I’ll get you a jail sentence you’ll never outlive.

  At least Heinrich hoped so. If what Britt said was true, Johan might not be breaking any laws with those damn movies.

  Johan plucked the cat o’ nine tails out of Heinrich’s hand and, with startling speed, smacked him on the hip. The ends of the flails, each weighted with a knot on the end, reached around to hit Heinrich on the ass. He jumped and cried out. Even through his leather pants, that had hurt.

  With a massive effort of will, Heinrich bided his time. Once he got this guy in the dark, he’d rip his head off. In the meantime, he slouched a little more and followed meekly as Johan led him through the crowd. Heinrich glanced around, making sure no one followed. He noticed Britt still at the bar, watching them, but otherwise they hadn’t attracted any notice.

  Heinrich’s heart pounded as they left the crowd and approached the darkened archway. No one stood within ten feet of the entrance, as if those attracted to the light and sound and transgressive sexuality didn’t want to associate themselves with whatever happened beyond this portal.

  They stepped through the archway and Heinrich felt as if he’d entered another world. It was cooler here away from the people and the lights, and some strange acoustic effect muffled the sound of the music.

  Heinrich paused, momentarily blinded. He peered into the shadows, waiting for his eyes to adjust. The place smelled of sweat and damp stone.

  A strong hand grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him farther into the darkness. From his left, he heard a slap and a moan. He and Johan stumbled into a body in the dark, and Heinrich’s hand brushed against damp flesh. Disgusted, he wiped it on his pants, trying to clean off whatever he had touched.

  As his eyes adjusted, he saw that they were in a vast cellar made up of a series of square, vaulted rooms connected by arched doorways. Their corners were cast in impenetrable shadow. Figures moved dimly nearby. Johan must have seen them, too, because he passed through that room and into another. This room was slightly lighter due to faint candlelight coming from a side passage. The rattle of chains came from there, followed by a piercing female shriek.

  Johan tugged on Heinrich and led him to the opposite side of the room, where a smaller doorway led to a nearly pitch-black tunnel. Heinrich realized the movie producer was leading him to the very farthest reaches of the club, where he could do what he liked with him.

  At least that’s what Johan thought he was going to do. Once Heinrich had him isolated, he was going to beat him down and question him.

  Another shriek came from the woman in the candlelit room. If no one was coming to investigate screaming like that, no one would disturb him as he beat a few answers out of Johan.

  After about ten feet, the tunnel dead-ended. Johan shoved Heinrich against the back wall, momentarily stunning him as his head cracked against stone. In the darkness, Heinrich could see him only as a darker blot against the black. He had a vague idea that Johan was readying the cat o’ nine tails. Heinrich brought up his fists and stepped forward, ready to give this guy a hard one-two punch to the face.

  He heard a metallic click. A sharp blade pressed against his throat. The blade pressed a little harder, and Heinrich felt the sting of it piercing f
lesh. He backed up and pressed himself against the cold stone wall.

  “Well, now,” Johan whispered. “It looks like I’ve caught myself a piece of shit American detective. We’ve been looking for you.”

  “You’re making a mistake. People know I’m here.”

  “You’re in a very dark place, Yankee. No one knows where you are and no one cares what will happen to you. That little bitch Arizona told us all about you before you stole her a second time. Where are you keeping her and her mother?”

  So Casey hadn’t returned to Anders and the film company. Where had she gone?

  “I don’t know,” Heinrich admitted. “I took her and the kid back to my hotel and they bolted. Casey took all the money in my wallet and snuck out while I was taking a shower.”

  “Bullshit.” The knife pressed closer. Heinrich hissed with pain as he felt it draw more blood.

  “It’s true,” he said, his voice coming out strangled as he tried to constrict his throat away from that blade. “Her husband sent me to retrieve her. She hates the guy. I thought she returned to you people. I guess she decided to head out on her own.”

  “Idiot,” Johan said. Heinrich didn’t know if he meant Casey or him. Maybe he meant both.

  “There’s already a murder investigation in New York involving Casey,” Heinrich said, trying to sound brave with a knife to his throat. “And the homicide investigator knows I came here to find her and Arizona. If I disappear, that adds even more cops into the mix.”

  “If I let you go, you’ll lead them straight to us. You have to die, Yankee.”

  Heinrich tensed. His hands were still free, raised half up to the striking position he had been about to take when the knife had stopped him. He could gut punch this guy and then give him a cross that would lay him out flat, but there was no way that knife wasn’t going to gouge deep into his neck.

  Fuck it, better than dying like a lamb at the slaughterhouse.

  A flashlight flicked on, pinpointing them in its glare. Heinrich blinked, all but blinded.

  Johan pulled away from him and shouted something in Dutch. There was a rush of air and a snap. Through his dazzled vision, Heinrich saw the tip of a bullwhip fly out from behind the light and wrap around Johan’s knife hand. The movie producer cried out and the knife fell to the stone floor with a clang.

  Heinrich gave him that gut punch and cross, laying the scumbag out on the floor, just as Heinrich had predicted. He scooped up the knife and saw that it was a switchblade Johan had modified by adding crude saw teeth on the lower part of the blade. Nasty.

  “As soon as I saw a newbie like you going into the dark room, I knew there was going to be trouble,” a woman’s voice said.

  “Hello, Britt,” Heinrich responded.

  Britt shone the flashlight on Johan, who groaned and stirred. With a flick of her wrist, Britt loosened the grip her bullwhip had on his arm and pulled it back. Johan rubbed his wrist and began to stand.

  “Stay where you are,” Heinrich ordered. When Johan continued trying to get up, Heinrich gave him a swift kick in the ribs. Johan fell back on the floor and edged away, pressing his back against the wall.

  “What’s going on here?” Britt demanded.

  “I’m a private investigator trying to retrieve a kidnapped little girl they’ve been putting into their Cut and Paste movies.”

  Britt glared at Johan and gave Heinrich a quick lesson in some very choice Dutch swear words. She raised her whip.

  “Hold on, Britt. I need to question this guy. If he doesn’t talk, you can whip the skin off his body. Deal?”

  Britt hesitated. “Deal.”

  Heinrich nudged the pornographer with his foot. “Talk.”

  “I don’t know where Casey and Arizona are.”

  “Got any ideas?”

  “No.”

  Heinrich turned to Britt. “Whip him.”

  “Wait!” Johan cried, bringing his up hands. “All right. I know their address. I watched it for a few hours earlier today, hoping she’d turn up there. She never did. At least, I don’t think she did. The blinds were drawn, so I couldn’t see if they were inside. The building was locked. I couldn’t get in.”

  Heinrich realized that while he had been searching Johan’s apartment, the producer had been trying to get into Casey’s.

  “Does she know you have her address?”

  Johan shook his head. “She wouldn’t give it to us. Anders got it from her employment record in the Red Light District. All the whores have to show ID and proof of residence. It was easy enough to bribe those guys.”

  Heinrich hauled Johan to his feet and gave him a swift jab to the stomach to soften him up. As Johan bent over, Heinrich put away the switchblade and said, “All right. Give us the address.”

  Johan told him.

  “That’s not too far from here,” Britt said.

  “Good. The perv here is going to take me,” Heinrich said.

  “Don’t say ‘perv,’ it’s very othering,” Britt said.

  “Cut and Paste doesn’t make you a perv?” he asked.

  Britt paused, then nodded. “All right. It’s just that that word is used too much.”

  Don’t be such a perv and I won’t use it so much, Heinrich thought.

  “Let me come with you,” Britt said.

  “No. This is dangerous.”

  Britt laughed. “Yeah, I know. I already saved your ass once, newbie. Besides, I know the scene. I might be useful. And you’re going to need two pairs of eyes to watch this bitch.”

  Heinrich thought for a second. Something told him he could rely on Britt. “All right.” He shoved Johan. “Let’s go. If you try anything, I’ll break every bone in your body.”

  “Oooh, now you’re getting the hang of it,” Britt cooed.

  “Spare me.”

  “Hey, newbie, you forgot your cat o’ nine tails,” Britt said, shining her flashlight on the floor where Johan had discarded it.

  “Oh, right.”

  Just as Heinrich bent to pick it up, Johan bolted.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Johan didn’t get far. Britt’s bullwhip made a whoosh as it circled her head and then lashed out, wrapping itself around one leg and pulling Johan off his feet. He did a face plant on the floor. Britt hauled him in like a fish.

  “Told you I’d come in handy, newbie.”

  Heinrich chuckled and shook his head. “That you did, my friend. That you did.”

  Johan appeared cowed, so Heinrich searched him. He removed Johan’s phone and a set of keys. They returned to the dressing room, now fortunately empty, and he and Britt took turns dressing while the other person guarded Johan. Johan kept his sharp eyes fixed on the door but didn’t try anything.

  Once dressed, they headed out. Britt turned out to be a natural. She took up a position behind Johan while Heinrich walked next to him, an arm around his shoulder like he was an old pal. No one glanced at them as they left the club and headed down the street in the direction Britt indicated.

  “Now, you stay quiet,” Heinrich told Johan, “or the little lady here will give you another taste of the whip.”

  “I identify as a man,” Britt snapped.

  Good Lord, another one.

  “I don’t get that,” he said, glancing at her. “You do know you’re a woman, don’t you?”

  “There a difference between the sex I was born with and the gender I identify with. Sure, I have a uterus. I have breasts. But mentally and emotionally I’m a man.”

  “But you still can’t write your name in the snow while peeing.”

  “And you’re mentally and emotionally a child.”

  Heinrich grinned. “I’ve been told that before.”

  A fifteen-minute walk took them to a quiet side street and a shabby apartment building. They had to wait a minute and ensure the coast was clear before Heinrich could pull out his lockpicks to get them inside. Johan told them the apartment number and they climbed a worn staircase, past cooking smells and the sound of loud televisio
ns and squalling children.

  Casey’s apartment turned out to be on the top floor, facing the blank wall of a neighboring building. No one was in the hall. Heinrich needed less than a minute to open the cheap lock.

  It was a studio apartment. One medium-sized room contained a bed and a television. An inflatable mattress, like the ones kids used in pools, lay on the floor with a single thin blanket.

  “Casey’s a fine mother, isn’t she?” Heinrich snorted.

  “She’s poor. Maybe she can’t afford better for her daughter,” Britt objected. “You shouldn’t judge people who are less privileged than you are.”

  Heinrich opened a half-empty closet. Several bondage outfits hung inside.

  “How much does one of these cost? They’re a lot more elaborate than the gear I bought, and I spent enough to buy a mattress,” Heinrich said.

  Britt didn’t reply.

  Johan let out a derisive laugh. “These bitches don’t care about their kids. Why do you think they let them be in our movies?”

  “I didn’t ask you,” Heinrich snapped. “Sit over there and keep your mouth shut.”

  Johan sneered but did as he was told.

  Heinrich locked the door in case the porn producer tried to make a break for it. Then he started searching the room. Britt helped.

  The place was a mess. Clothes and toys lay scattered on the floor. The apartment hadn’t been cleaned in weeks, if ever. The closet and bureau were half-empty and Heinrich found no suitcase or backpack. Casey and her little girl had obviously left.

  But not long ago. A cereal bowl with cartoon characters sat on a tiny table in the corner kitchenette. The bit of milk at the bottom had a sour smell to it but hadn’t yet dried up. He checked the fridge and cupboards and found some food, none of which had gone bad.

  “I think they came here after getting away from me,” Heinrich said. “And then they headed off somewhere else. But where?”

  “I think I know,” Britt called from the bathroom. Heinrich crossed the room but stopped at the doorway because the bathroom was too small to fit both of them.

  The bathroom was as dirty as the rest of the apartment. Written in red crayon on the tile next to the toilet was the word “Delf.”