“It seems that Tara meets up with her girlfriends regularly for lunch, which is fine, but a guy, we’ll call him Mr X, follows them and takes pictures. Mr X had an apartment above Tara’s, it seems he’d it wired up to take private pictures of her. Cameras were linked to her apartment; I guess he also had a tap on her phone ’cause he knows of her movements. I happened to be outside Tara’s apartment before she came home from work the night the Ed pictures were taken, I saw Mr X arrive and go up to his flat, then Tara, then Ed. None had left by early next morning, when I had to leave to take the boss to training. Photographs of Ed and Tara then arrived at Mr Rossellini’s house. I got Maria to bring them over to Italy, the rest is history.”
Another slurp of coffee, Seb was leaning in closer to hear him, this was fascinating. Who was the mysterious Mr X? He still wanted to giggle but bit his lip.
“Yeah, I saw those pictures, the bastard, he needs to be sorted.”
Seb, now intrigued, shuffled his stool nearer to Michael, two secret agents together.
Michael nodded his agreement.
“I followed Tara last night, I ’ad the night off. She went around to Mr X’s flat and hadn’t come out by 7 a.m. this morning, when I had to go and collect the boss. That’s why I’m parked up here now, wanted to see if anything was ’appening. Mr X is dodgy, she should be nowhere near him, in my opinion. Bumping into you may be fortuitous, I need your help.”
“Sure, how can I help?” Seb asked, thinking of Tara’s text the night before, a deep dread building in his stomach.
“Well, Mr X is your boyfriend, Mr Maloney. I did wonder if you were in on it at first, wiv bein’ a photographer an’ all. But if my hunch is right, you’re not. Am I right, Mr Maloney?”
“Seb, for Christ sake, man, call me Seb. What do you mean ‘in on it’? Me? Jesus, what boyfriend, I’m not ga…”
He stopped, why was he still denying it? Whose bloody business was it anyway? So what if he was gay. Michael stared him out, daring him to deny it; this was no time for games.
“Sorry,” he raised his hands in apology. “OK. I’m gay, but only just… only once… I mean… I’m new… I’m not used to admitting it yet. People have a tendency to be small-minded about this sort of thing, you know,” sensing Michael’s impatience he got back to the point.
“My boyfriend… you mean David, David Howard?”
“Yes sir. Look, sorry, didn’t mean to spy on you but I was watching him. I need to break into ’is place, I’m afraid she’s still in there against her will.”
“Now?.. wow, wait a minute, why don’t you just call the police? I’m not going to be involved in any break-in, no action man stuff for me mate,” Seb laughed nervously, putting his hands up. “No way,” this was rapidly turning from a fun secret spy mission into an arrest on Sky News.
“If I call the police, they’ll bungle it, and the press will get involved. The boss is under a lot of pressure at the moment. If we can handle it quietly ourselves, all the better for everyone involved, including you. You don’t want pictures of your lover all over the papers, do you?”
“Jeysus, no! I may be coming out, but I don’t want the world to know just yet thanks,” Seb cringed.
Michael was right, maybe they could sort it out amicably, he could also be wrong, making a mountain out of a mole hill.
“How can you be so sure she’s still in there? She may have left this morning while you were away. Did you try her flat? I’ve just called her, there’s no answer. She could be anywhere, could have done a runner for a few days, getting away from it all,” Seb paused. “Shyte, do you think he’s dangerous? Jeysus!”
Granted David was a little weird sometimes, but would he do something like this?
“Well, you shag ’im; do you think him dangerous, Mr Mal… Seb?”
Seb flinched, Michael’s voice turned hard. It would be bloody typical that his first lover turned out to be a psycho. He thought on Michael’s words, David was different, but why would he be interested in Tara, a woman?
Seb’s heart began to beat faster, it dawned on him.
“You’re right about the pictures; he took them… feck, feck feck, I bloody know it. He has a room in his flat with pictures of Tara all over the wall, well, I think it’s Tara, the same black-and-white style, grainy, like the Ed shots,” Michael gave him a glare, why hadn’t he mentioned this before?
“Sorry mate, I’ve only just remembered,” Seb hunched his shoulders.
“She hasn’t returned to her apartment, I checked, no answer. She must still be in there, with your fuck-buddy.”
Hearing Michael speak so crudely reminded Seb that you didn’t mess with ex-SAS. He was finding Franco’s chauffeur more and more attractive.
“He’s a bit violent, yes, but I don’t think he would hurt anyone,” defended Seb.
“Well, that’s where you’re wrong. I’ve been doing a bit of homework on our Mr Howard, through a few old connections at the Met (Police). It seems he was the local tart at his boarding school, had a big thing goin’ with the Headmaster, your old school I believe. A year after David left, the Headmaster was found murdered in a forest, a science professor and priest were found a few months later, copycat killings. Not enough evidence to pin the murders on anyone, but the investigating police officers suspected David. You don’t want to know how they died, not a pretty sight, I’ve seen the crime scene photos. Also, a home help went missing that same year, Ms Philbeach, the old dear had been working for David’s father when she disappeared, her family reported her missing. Again no evidence, not even a body this time, but the local police suspected lover boy.”
Seb remembered the Heddington Forest murders well. In his last year at school, the boys had been protected from the full details, but there were gruesome rumours; he couldn’t believe David had anything to do with it. He shook his head.
“Your lover boy also goes wiv women, I’m afraid to disappoint you.”
Michael was getting cheeky now, enjoying telling Seb about his lover’s failings.
“He uses prostitutes, into the sado-masochistic scene. Not a nice man, a control freak, has a few issues, bit of a complicated character, you might say,” Michael knocked back the dregs of his coffee.
“Anything else you have to tell me?” Seb’d had enough of this talk, he felt sick.
“Yeah, Helen Howard, his sister, Tara’s mate, your ex, has been vandalizing cars, she seems to have issues with Tara… and, oh yeah… Josie, Tara’s other mate, she’s a hooker, calls herself Josephine,” Seb was gobsmacked.
“Life is never dull with you posh totties, is it mate,” Michael grinned at the ashen-faced Seb, his jaw on the ground.
“Fuck me!” exclaimed a shocked Seb.
“Ok… your place or mine?” winked Michael.
Seb wasn’t the only one with secrets.
“What?” Seb’s head was spinning, he did a double-take. Michael laughed, saying nothing, letting it sink in.
“You little shit, and there you were giving me a hard time about David!”
“Nah, only about your bad choice, Mr Maloney, you have no taste! David may be a pretty boy, but he is a total fuck up,” chuckled Michael.
They looked at each other in a new light, the atmosphere lightened. Seb decided that he rather liked Michael, maybe they should get to know each other better… he wondered what he was like in the sack… but, hey, first they had to put their heads together and devise a plan to save Tara.
Sporjakk took a back seat. He ordered more coffee.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
He had contemplated popping into her flat and packing a suitcase of bare essentials to make it look as if she’d gone away for a few days, but with the paparazzi camped outside, it may be too dangerous. He’d been lucky so far; returning to the building may be pushing it.
He kept her phone charged and on, so that he could monitor who was trying to get hold of her and the messages they were leaving. She had come to him the night before manned only with her flat keys
and phone, pathetic really. He already had a set of keys, they were no use, but the phone was. The ringtone was annoying, so he set it to vibrate and checked on it periodically.
He listened to her voicemail. A few journalists had sourced her number and were giving her an opportunity to tell her side of the story, offering her large sums of cash to spill the beans. A Mrs B, Ned Bromley, and Pete Wells were trying to get hold of her to attend a Sporjakk damage limitation meeting.
He loved it that he had them all running around like headless chickens. They would just have to do without her; she was his now.
Seb had called persistently, he was not sure he believed him about not sending the text; he would have to keep an eye on the boy.
Since his ejaculation problems that morning, he’d been pulling her out of her drugged state. He fed her water through the baby bottle, gently holding her head in his lap and stroking her hair while she drank, tentatively at first, then hungrily. She slowly started to come around. He spoke softly, as if to a baby, coaxing her around, his voice hypnotizing, gaining her trust.
She felt as if she were waking up to the mother of all hangovers. Her body heavy and cumbersome, she could barely move her limbs. Water trickled down the back of her parched throat as she winced through the pain of dry swallowing.
She began to remember events leading up to her passing out. She knew where she was and with whom. She couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes; she wasn’t ready to see what had happened to her just yet. Hiding behind her lids she squeezed them tight shut. If she could keep them closed, she could keep him out.
His voice soothed in her ear, his hands ran over her head, stroking damp hair away from her face. His fingers had a powerful magnetic effect on her skin, she recognized the touch, she’d dreamt about it, she must keep him out.
The mugginess in her head started to clear. She could feel she was naked, on a mattress and covered with a sheet. What had happened to her clothes? How had she got there? Her brain struggled with angst questions, was she going to die? A wave of panic rushed over her, tears pricked her eyes, she couldn’t loose it. She had to stay calm, get out of there, away from him, but how?
The weight in her limbs began to lift; she could feel the sensation of bindings around her ankles and wrists, she a prisoner. Her head felt as if it were resting in his lap. He was administering water, with what? It felt like a plastic teat, was it a baby’s bottle? Her head ached with dehydration, she sucked hungrily grateful for the cool water waking her senses. The smell of his musky, heady cologne began to hit her. She breathed in, enjoying its relaxing sensual effect.
The distant hum of traffic meant that she may still be in his apartment. He was whispering in her ear, his voice low, she couldn’t make out what he was saying but the tone was rhythmic and reassuring. Behind his voice she could hear classical music; its peaceful cadence slowed her heart. The panic subsided, she began to feel safe.
Another sense kicked in, an ache in her abdomen, her bladder was full to bursting, she stopped drinking. Turning her head away from the bottle, the teat dragged out of her lips, she spoke in a barely audible voice.
“No more… no… please.”
He smiled, she was coming around. She looked like a child lying in his lap. He gently wiped away the trickles of water from the sides of her mouth, with a corner of the sheet.
“Are you hungry, my love, what can I get you?” he soothed.
“Why are you doing this? What do you want? Who are you? Please let me go,” her voice rasped as she tried to lift herself up.
“No, no, no young lady, relax, I’m going to look after you for a while; you collapsed but you are safe, trust me… now, are you hungry?”
“No… I need the bathroom, I need to go now… please,” she lurched forward but couldn’t move.
Her bladder was painfully full, she didn’t feel she could control it. Her body began to shake, a splitting headache seared the back of her head, her skin began to crawl as if covered with tiny creatures. What was happening? She was going to piss herself. Another wave of panic hit, she started to pant, trying to gain control. She mustn’t lose it, she had to stay calm. Eyes tight shut, don’t let him in. Tears rolled down her face.
“Hey, hey, don’t worry chica, let’s get you to the bathroom, everything’s fine, you can have a nice hot bath,” the drugs were wearing off, she was coming down, he needed to keep her calm.
Sliding her head gently off his lap onto the bed, he went to the bathroom and turned on the taps of the Jacuzzi bath. He poured in a mixture of bath salts he’d shipped in from Paris; they cost a fortune but were wonderful. He hummed cheerfully to the music as he worked.
Letting the water run, he returned to his angel and undid her bindings, lifted her out of the bed, and took her to the bathroom. He sat her gently on the toilet seat, kneeling in front of her, letting her head rest on his chest as he waited for her to relieve herself.
He had watched her ‘pee’ a hundred times from the spy apartment, it was nothing new.
“I can’t with you here… I can’t, please go,” she may have been out of it but she still had dignity. “I need clothes, please,” her hands tried to cover her bare chest.
“No, it’s ok, I’m not looking, come on, Tara, then you can have your bath, it’s lovely, look at it.”
She refused to open her eyes, but smelled the bath salts and heard the noise of the water cascading out of the taps.
“No, I can’t, please leave me to do this alone,” she whimpered.
He didn’t have time for modesty; he hauled her up and carried her out of the bathroom, down the corridor to the wet room. He pushed her under the showerhead. She fell into the corner, huddled up against the cold tiled wall. He turned on the tap and freezing water poured ruthlessly down on top of her. She let out a scream with the shock and stood, head bowed, crying, holding her shivering body until the water gradually heated to bearable.
Lifting her face up into the powerful stream, she cried out loud, the noise of the shower drowned out her sobs, tears mingled with water, lost on her cheeks. The pain in her bladder was finally too much to bear; she gave way to the embarrassing release.
The hot golden liquid trickled down her legs, filled the shower tray with yellow swirls, circled her feet and snaked down the plug hole. She wailed into the water, angry and humiliated that he should see her piss herself.
He turned off the tap, put a towel around her and walked her back to the bathroom, guided her trancelike up the steps of the Jacuzzi and down into its warm soapy water. She sat on the ledge seat that circled the inside of the tub, her arms still locked around her body, rocking, nursing, trying to stay calm.
David stripped off and stepped into the water beside her. He reached over and turned off the taps. The abrupt silence ceased her tears. She was aware that he was close to her, sitting beside her. He must also be naked; a new fear hit her… rape.
“You are safe, angel, don’t worry, open your eyes, it’s ok,” he whispered. “Look how lovely it is in here… look… I will not hurt you… look… you are safe I promise,” his soothing gentle voice coaxed her.
She let her eyes open, prising them slowly against the soft light; they took a while to focus. She was sitting in a large deep Jacuzzi, warm water up to her chest, candles lit around the room. In any other situation, she would have loved it, but David was sitting beside her, watching her every move… shit, he’s naked, she jumped to the other side of the Jacuzzi, covering her breasts with her hands.
“What do you want, why have you done this?” she demanded.
“Well, you passed out my darling; I was just looking after you until you came around. Once you’re better, I’ll let you go. Don’t worry, I won’t harm you, you’re my angel, remember,” he spoke softly, as if he meant it.
“What do you mean, I passed out, you put something in my drink, it made me giddy. Why did you do that? I feel like shit, I can’t stop shaking.”
“You are my angel,” he repeated, “do you not r
emember who I am, Tara? I wrote to you years ago, confessing my undying love to you. I am David Howard, Helen’s brother… have you forgotten?”
She stared at him across the water, trying to avoid their legs touching. Her thoughts galloped through groggy brain, trying to take in what he’d said. Helen’s brother… oh shit! the nerdy geek that always followed her, yes, she did remember him. She giggled nervously, this was ridiculous. Where was Helen? Did she know about this?
“I used to look after you, if I remember,” memories coming back.
“Yes, you did,” pleased that she hadn’t forgotten.
“I used to stick up for you, when everyone would pick on you… I felt sorry for you… why would you do this?”
“Because, fair lady, you threw my love back in my face, I needed you and you threw me aside.”
He moved crablike around the ledge to get closer to her, she backed away, keeping the distance between them.
“You’re still running away from me, I’m not a leper, you know; why do you despise me so much?”
He looked offended at her efforts to get out of his reach.
“I was only young and you were even younger, how the hell did we know anything about love? I didn’t know your feelings for me, I remember that letter, and felt so sorry that you had taken my kindness the wrong way. I was only protecting a little kid that was being bullied, I wish I hadn’t bloody bothered now,” she huffed.
His face darkened, making her regret her words.
“Look, I’m sorry, but I didn’t mean to hurt you. I wrote back trying to explain, I even remember telling you that one day you would have loads of girlfriends and look at you now, you are really handsome, I’m sure you’ve got loads of…” remembering that he and Seb were lovers, she chose her words carefully. “…admirers.”
“But I wanted you, Tara, I fell in love with you… do you really think me handsome?” he beamed cheerfully.
He changed tack and tone mid-conversation so easily, it unnerved her. Her mind was still fuzzy; she shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. At least the warm bath had mellowed her body; she stopped shaking and could move with ease. The water was so inviting she wanted to relax into it.
The Penance List Page 31