by Adam Carter
“Oh don’t mind him, he’s gone downstairs, I checked that first.”
Of course you did, Baronaire inwardly sighed.
And so he was forced to acknowledge the presence of Detective Sharon Foster.
Foster was short, a little plump, with long red hair and a perpetually happy expression. She was a pleasant enough young woman, probably in her early thirties, and had a string of ex-boyfriends she no longer liked. In fact, she tended to despise them vehemently. She also had a dog name Choo-Choo and a goldfish named Scratchings. She liked to read whatever was currently in vogue and had a penchant for laughing at the worst of times.
Baronaire only knew all of this because the woman never shut up, and always seemed to find time to talk to him. He did not dislike Foster especially, but then he did not actually really like anybody, so he always found it difficult to talk to her. He often wondered why her goldfish was named Scratchings, but knew that as soon as he broached the subject, her eyes would light up and he would be in for a half hour story.
“Thanks for the coffee,” Baronaire said. “But I’m in the middle of something.”
“A case?” Foster asked, excited, craning her head to the side in order to see the file from the right way up.
Of course it’s a case, you stupid woman, Baronaire thought. What else would I be sitting behind my desk looking through files for?
“Yes,” he said instead. “Very astute.”
“What you working on?”
“Prostitutes.”
“Nothing out of the ordinary there then.”
“I certainly hope so. I’m trying to choose a date for the weekend.”
Foster’s perpetual smile was on the verge of sliding, but then broadened and she needled him in the shoulder. “Nearly had me there, Charles.”
“Please don’t call me ...”
“Closing down a brothel are we?”
“We are on separate assignments,” Baronaire said, trying his hardest not to shout, “and we shouldn’t be discussing cases.” It was Sanders’s policy, should one of his officers falter. It formed the basis of how one wrong word could not bring the entire operation crashing down upon their heads. Careless talk and all that.
“Anything I can help with?”
“God no.” The thought horrified Baronaire so much he spoke without thinking. “I mean,” he added to her crestfallen face, “I wouldn’t want you to have to associate with such women.” He knew full well Foster’s thoughts on prostitutes. In fact he knew her thoughts on everything. She wasn’t exactly one for keeping her mouth shut for any reason.
“Always looking after the team, Charles,” she smiled.
“Don’t call ...”
“I’m on a murder case,” she continued, getting comfortable enough to swing her legs under his desk. “You remember that woman killed in the park last year? Well it’s come to court and I have to keep my eyes on ...”
“You’re not supposed to tell me your ...”
“... things in case it goes in his favour. It shouldn’t, there’s enough evidence and a couple of witnesses to ...”
“Foster? Stop telling me ...”
“... what happened. I mean, you gotta have the guy sent down when you got witnesses, right?”
Baronaire sighed, rubbing both hands slowly down his face. “I give up.”
“Oh?” she frowned, assuming he was talking about his own case. “Having problems? Anything I can help with? Maybe your case needs a woman’s touch after all.”
“There are plenty of women involved in my case as it is, thank you. And I really need to ...”
“You seen Jurassic Park yet?”
The question threw him. “What? No.”
“Wow, I mean like ... the ultimate pulp novel, but in a film. You read pulp fiction, right? I know you read pulp fiction, Charles, because you told me you do. This film, it’s like that Burroughs of yours, but without all the naked people. The science is just as complicated anyway.”
“There’s hardly any science in ... No, I’m not having this conversation with you.”
“Did you like the book?”
Baronaire had read the book. He had read the book because Foster had insisted on lending it to him. He had had no intention of reading it, he had other things to think about. But Foster knew he liked books, they had that much in common at least; and Baronaire had even let slip that he was a fan of Edgar Rice Burroughs, and that had cemented their relationship. He had loaned her a Burroughs, hoping it would shut her up, but it only seemed to open up further conversation points for them. So Baronaire had read the book. But he had no intention of seeing the film.
“I can’t see dinosaurs ever coming back,” he said in reply to her question. “I wanted to like it, but ... I don’t know. I think there are some things science will just never achieve.”
“That’s why it’s called science fiction, Charles.”
“Don’t call ...”
“And Sanders is a dinosaur, so they’re not even all dead. I mean, how old is that guy anyway? They say he set up Operation WetFish in like the sixties? And he was a DCI back then?”
“If he was mid-to-late twenties at the time, he’d be sixty now,” Baronaire replied. “I don’t know how old he is, but who says that about WetFish anyway?”
“You know, people?”
“Who?”
“I don’t know, people about the office.”
“People about the office aren’t supposed to talk about things like that.”
“God, Charles, you’re such a stickler.”
“Don’t ...”
“Anyway,” she said, jumping back to the floor, “glad we had this little chat. Gotta rush, got myself a court case to watch.”
“Have fun.”
“Wouldn’t mind watching something more fun afterwards though. I haven’t seen Jurassic Park yet myself.”
“Go for it.”
“You ... uh ... sure you don’t want to see it?”
“I’m sure, Foster.”
“It’s just I got ...”
“I’m sure, Foster. Thank you.”
She left him to his work and Baronaire was all for breaking into the armoury to fetch a shotgun. For him or her, he hadn’t quite decided yet.
His phone rang and he answered it with a snarl.
“Nice way to put off informants,” the woman on the other end said.
“Sorry, having a bad morning.” Then he realised he recognised the voice. “Crystal?”
“You give your number to many girls, Chuck? Girl could get a complex.”
“What do you have for me?”
“Doldress has changed his mind.”
“Damn.”
“Not really. Just brought it up, is all. I think he’s been barred from pretty much every high-market brothel in London. The guy’s likely starved for some action. Wants to meet me in half an hour. His place.”
“I’ll be there.”
“You know where he lives?”
“I know a lot of things. Just meet him, stall him and make him talk as much as you can. I need something to use against him. If I can’t get Nields, maybe I can still have Doldress.”
“Uh, am I just supposed to trust you here? I mean, I go in there and he smells a rat, I’m not walking out of this.”
“I’ll be there.”
“What, watching from the rafters?”
“I know a way in. Trust me.”
Crystal swore to herself. It was clear she had trust issues, but she had little choice right now. “Just have my money ready for me, all right?”
“Got it right here with me now.”
“And don’t be late.”
She hung up and Baronaire groaned. He had forgotten about the money. He supposed it was too late to ask Sanders about it now, because then he’d foist a partner onto him. Gliding from his desk, Baronaire decided the money didn’t matter anyway. By the time he got to Doldress, Crystal would already be there, and the last thing on her mind would be money. He just ho
ped for her sake she got something out of him before the flails came out. If Baronaire didn’t hear enough to put the creep away, he wasn’t intending on doing much interfering at all.
*
From the shadows, Sanders watched him depart. Phones were a strange thing for people like Jeremiah and Charles Baronaire. Their voices could project across the phone-lines and via walkie-talkie, but any attempt to record them ended in failure and white noise. Sanders doubted it was ever something Baronaire had ever considered, and wondered whether the man was unconsciously controlling what people could see and hear about him. Perhaps in that regard it was better Baronaire never considered such things, for this way Sanders could at least maintain a level of control upon him.
“I just hope you know what you’re doing, Charles,” he said to the empty desk. “You bring this organisation down and there’s gonna be hell to pay.”
CHAPTER FIVE
It seemed the buying and selling of shares was a good business, if the size of Doldress’s house was anything to go by. It was probably the same size as Arlene’s, certainly had some of the same precautions. There were even security guards patrolling the perimeter; clearly Doldress expected trouble since the collapse of his court case. There was no sign of anyone petitioning at his gate, however, but then it was a bright sunny morning and Baronaire supposed anyone who had a problem with Doldress’s release would more than likely be picnicking in the park right about now.
He checked his watch. It was quarter to eleven. Crystal should have just arrived, or at least be arriving at the gates soon enough. Baronaire was stuck in a tree, watching the place through binoculars. Turning into a mist and floating through the fence was all well and good, but daylight tended to hamper his abilities somewhat. Cursing the bunker for not having any windows, Baronaire knew he was a fool for telling Crystal he had his ways in. He had even had to drive all the way over here, which had made him later than he would have liked. Still, he was a resourceful man and if he needed to get into the house, then quite frankly he would get into the house.
One of the security guards passed him by with a dog and Baronaire saw his opportunity. Just about his only power that actually worked during the day was in influencing lower animals, but even that was hazy at best. Concentrating hard, he sent a confusing message to the dog, which started barking at his tree. That really didn’t help him any. He sent another command and the dog ran to another tree, dragging the poor guard along behind. Baronaire seized the opportunity and leaped from his branch, into the compound beyond the fence.
Keeping low, he hastened to the house. There was an open window on the second storey, but there were no handholds and so he looked about for something easier. Following the wall cautiously, Baronaire found an open window at last and peered through to make sure there was no one inside. Carefully he prised the window open further and slipped through. His trench coat caught on the latch and he went to tug it, but stopped in horror at the very thought. Taking the coat in tender hands, he removed it from the latch and drew it inside after him, smoothing down the creases.
He was in a utility room which was larger than his flat. Baronaire had few needs, however, and Sanders took care of all that. He didn’t draw a paycheque, and his library card fed his book habit. Sanders paid for his TV licence, although Baronaire didn’t really watch it all that much. It was times like this, wandering aimlessly through some creep’s utility room, that Baronaire wondered whether he was on the right side of the law after all.
But then it was up to people like Baronaire to make sure people like Doldress paid for their crimes.
He progressed quietly through the various rooms on the ground floor. Antique statues lined the hallway, a thousand pairs of shoes which likely belonged to Doldress’s wife took up most of one wall. Baronaire wondered then where Mrs Doldress was right now. He supposed she wasn’t in the house, which was why hubby was so eager to change his appointment with Crystal. At least Baronaire hoped she wasn’t in the house. Turning a blind eye was one thing, but forcing herself to ignore all the screams was something altogether different. But then, the house was so vast, perhaps the screams didn’t carry that far.
He heard voices then, his senses also not being that much dulled by the daylight, and crouched low as he focused on their direction. He heard a door close nearby and a large suited man walked past Baronaire’s position. Baronaire could see a gun tucked into the man’s belt and doubted the possession was legal. That was something to arrest Doldress for, but it wasn’t enough. If Nields could get him off a murder rap, possessing illegal firearms would be a snap.
Keeping low, Baronaire headed for the door the security guard had closed, and listened in. He could hear two voices inside: one male, one female. He was certain the female was Crystal. They were discussing nothing much of anything, Doldress appeared to be pouring drinks for each of them. Baronaire wished he could see through the door, but even he had limitations. Glancing about, he could see no other means of ingress, and followed the corridor about the room, hoping for another door. The room was larger than he had expected and he could find nothing. But then he stopped, realising he was going about this all wrong. Doldress and Crystal were presently in a drawing room, so far as he could determine. Baronaire was very doubtful that would be where they would do business, which meant all Baronaire had to do was keep one step ahead of them.
Hastening to the stairs, Baronaire vaulted up to the landing. There were of course several bedrooms and no indication of which Doldress would be using. Probably not his own, that would be just disrespectful; but then he doubted Doldress had much respect for anyone. Still, his wife would not condone what he did, even if she did ignore it, and Baronaire knew someone who was strong enough to say no to Doldress, and make him hire women outside of his marriage, was strong enough for Doldress to be afraid of her.
The deduction did not, however, help him any.
He dropped down as a security guard moved across the landing. If it was night, Baronaire could simply make the guard tell him what he wanted, but it was no use wishing for the Sun to drop. Baronaire was physically fit and more than capable of taking this one guy down. However, the noise factor was something to consider. Still, it was a big house and if he didn’t start taking some risks Baronaire wouldn’t be getting anywhere.
The guard passed him by and Baronaire rose, grabbing the man from behind and encircling his throat with his arm, choking off any cries. He dragged him into the shadows, cutting them both off from any other patrols, and spoke in a harsh whisper directly into the guard’s ear. “I don’t want any trouble,” Baronaire said, “so just give me what I want and I let you live. Understand?”
The guard was struggling, yet Baronaire’s hold upon him was tight. Ambush seldom relied upon brute strength, and the various martial arts agreed that position and leverage was far more important than simple muscle. The guard was strong, but Baronaire was strong enough to maintain the hold, and that was all that mattered.
Finally the guard ceased struggling. “What do you want?”
“Doldress has a hooker here. Which bedroom are they going to use?”
“So you can kill him?”
“No,” Baronaire said snidely, “so I can watch. I get my jollies breaking into sicko’s houses when I know they have company round.”
“You a cop?”
“Everyone’s favourite phrase this week.”
The guard struggled briefly, testing Baronaire’s hold. “’Cause if you were gonna kill him, I got no problem with that.”
This was something Baronaire had not expected. He assumed the guard would fight the interrogation, but now the man was agreeing with him Baronaire’s tactics were switching. “Why would you want me to kill your boss?”
“Glory.”
“That’s an odd reason.”
“If you are a cop, you’re an idiot, you know that? Glory was the name of the girl he killed.”
“Oh. Why do you care about her?”
“I’m the guy who ...�
� There was a noise then and another guard appeared across the landing. The man Baronaire was holding slammed backwards and Baronaire’s back struck a door. They both went tumbling.
“Hey!” the other guard shouted, hurrying over. “Joe? Joe, you OK?”
Joe made it to his feet before Baronaire and filled the doorway with his huge frame. “Sure, Mike. Tripped over that damn carpet again, fell through the door. I gotta tidy up in here, cover for me.”
“Sure thing, Joe.”
Baronaire watched the exchange with curiosity until Joe closed the door. They were inside a bedroom; a large, lavish affair which was likely one of the smaller chambers. Thankfully the room was otherwise vacant.
Joe’s demeanour was pensive, nervous: he didn’t want to be found talking to the law. But at the same time there was an anger within him Baronaire could relate to. This man wanted to talk, there was no doubt about that. “Go on,” Baronaire prompted.
“I bring the girls here,” Joe said, pacing the room unconsciously. “It’s part of my job. Mr Doldress only wants the best girls, from the best establishments. None of them street whores, you know what I mean? So I have to go to these brothels and I have to talk to these girls. Like an interview I suppose. I have to make the decisions for which ones will suit Mr Doldress. He’s a psycho, so it wouldn’t do for him to hire a girl and then for her to be squeamish about what he wants to do, right?”
“Glory,” Baronaire said. “You knew her, didn’t you?”
“Glory was a nice girl. No idea what she was doing working that trade. She had a kid which lived with her folks up north somewhere. They didn’t know what she did, thought she’d come to London to be an actress or something. That was her dream, but actress jobs aren’t too easy to come by and Glory needed money. Most of it she sent home, back to her kid. Always used to send her postcards, letters. She showed ‘em to me once. ‘Remember Mummy loves you’. That’s how she’d always sign off. Yeah, she loved that kid all right.”