by Adam Carter
Baronaire was beginning to understand. “So now the kid has no mother.”
“Yeah. And knows what her mother did for a living. That was the thing Glory always said would kill her. She never wanted her baby to know what she did, she was always so ashamed. But she needed money, and the pay was good. Now not only does her kid know, but the case was so high profile the whole country knows.”
“Sarah Reynolds,” Baronaire said her real name. He had forgotten Glory was her pseudonym. “I’m confused though. Why don’t you off Doldress yourself if you hate him that much?”
“You kiddin’? The man has connexions. Anyone kills him they’re in for a whole world a hurt. I’d’ve quit after Glory died, but he’d know why I left. Even now, so long after, he’d know.”
“So what connexions does he have? I thought the guy bought and sold shares? Thought he made his millions from the stock market?”
“Oh he does. But he’s into a lot of other things as well. Legitimately he can prove where every penny came from, but that’s not the half of it. He meets with big people sometimes. Drugs, everything comes down to drugs. He deals with getting them into the country, arranges couriers, that sort of thing. Nothing he could ever be pinned to, the stuff never passes through his hands or enters his property. And the guys he meets with? All big traders on the stock market too, so if he was ever questioned about it, his alibi’s already sorted. Plus he has a good lawyer.”
“I know. That’s where the problems began. I need to catch him with the drugs. I can put him away for that.”
“Not possible. But you could maybe go for the kids.”
“Kids?”
“Videos. I told you, he’s a sick man.”
“He funds the distribution of child pornography?”
“Pretty much the same way he does the drugs. Only here you could take him. It’s his weakness.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s a sicko, yeah? He just can’t help himself.”
Baronaire tried not to smile. “You mean he sometimes goes to watch the videos being made?”
“Yeah.”
“Gotcha.” His face fell when he suddenly remembered why he was here to begin with. “Uh, which room is he gonna use? I need to get Crystal out of here.”
“She came with you?” Joe asked. “I wondered why she’d suddenly changed her mind. You know what he’ll do to her when he realises she’s working with the cops?”
Joe was becoming angry now and Baronaire could hardly blame him. “Fine, so I won’t go in as a cop.”
“What you gonna do?”
“Just don’t hit me too hard.”
Baronaire left the room and back on the landing once more Joe directed him to the room he wanted. As he approached the door, Baronaire could already hear voices coming from within and knew he was far later than he wanted to be. He did not stop to listen to the voices, but simply kicked the door with all his strength. Even during daylight hours that was formidable.
Doldress was pouring himself another drink, Crystal was in a state of half-undress, and shrieked at his entrance, clasping her shirt to her chest. Thankfully Doldress had yet to get any of his equipment out, because that was something Baronaire could really have done without seeing. Doldress himself panicked, reached for a large stick with a flat end, dropping his drink on the carpet.
“Crystal!” Baronaire raged, talking as though he had a mouth puffed up by heavy bruising. “What I tell you ‘bout this, eh? You my girl, Crys, you no need to ...” Fortunately Doldress chose that moment to whack him with the stick, because even Baronaire was cringing at his own accent, whatever it was supposed to have been. The stick caught Baronaire on the arm, but as Doldress brought it back to strike again Baronaire caught it and the two men struggled. Then Baronaire realised it was a paddle and he was holding the business end.
Something hit him from behind and Baronaire went down. He was up again in a second, but a fist struck him clean across the face. He returned blows, but there were three guys pummelling him now, while Doldress stepped back in a fury. Baronaire was vaguely aware of Crystal both screaming and whimpering, but he was more focused on the blows at the moment.
The pounding stopped and Baronaire was hoisted to his feet, a guy holding either arm. Joe was standing before him, and Baronaire could distantly hear him telling the other guys he’d had enough. They brought him before Doldress, who was fuming.
“Who is this?” he demanded: of Crystal, of Joe, of anyone who might have had an answer for him.
“Jack Daniels,” Baronaire managed between his split lip. He wasn’t bleeding much, but no one seemed to have noticed. “That’s my girl, sucka, and ain’t nobody touchin’ her.”
Doldress hesitated. “And that accent is?”
“Hector,” Crystal pleaded with Doldress, fear and confusion waging war across her face, “please don’t kill him.”
“Kill him?” Doldress asked. “You been watching the news too much, Crystal.”
“I watched the news too, sucka,” Baronaire said, wishing he’d stop saying that, although the pounding to his brain seemed to have befuddled him more than he realised. “Sarah Reynolds: ain’t no way my Crystal’s turning into her, fool.”
Doldress seemed really confused now. “I’m sorry ... you’re the white, well-dressed Mr T?”
“God, my head hurts.”
“Look,” Doldress said, throwing up his hands, “I can’t afford this right now. I’ve only just got out, I can’t deal with having this type of publicity. Joe, throw him out. Throw them both out. Well do it!”
“Hector?” Crystal asked, but he grabbed her by the arm and tossed her into Joe, who caught her gently.
“Go!”
Joe nodded slightly. “Yes, Mr Doldress.” He grabbed Baronaire. “I got him, boys. You guys get back to patrolling the perimeter and maybe you won’t let any more wackos in today.”
None of them spoke until they had made it back to the street. Crystal was too terrified to talk, Baronaire trying too much to sort his brain back into some semblance of cohesion, and Joe too relieved it had worked.
“You did good,” Joe told him. “You’re a nice guy, whoever you are. Sorry about this.” He punched Baronaire in the stomach, turned and headed back into the grounds.
Baronaire leaned against a tree and tried to work through the pain.
“Did we get what we needed?” Crystal asked.
“Yeah,” Baronaire said, wiping his mouth. “I got an angle.”
“Great.” She held out her hand. “Money?” she asked when Baronaire frowned.
“Oh.”
“Oh? Oh you don’t have my money?”
“I got something better, Crystal. A tip. Get a decent job.”
She kneed him between the legs and Baronaire collapsed at last. “Jerk,” she said, turning, raising her head high and walking briskly away.
Baronaire groaned, deciding to stay where he was for a while. Perhaps Sanders had been right after all. Maybe he should have brought in some backup.
CHAPTER SIX
A quick trip back to the bunker gained Baronaire some answers. The database had nothing on either Nields or Doldress, otherwise he would have used it against them already, but there were several operations in the works to shut down various child pornography rings; there were always operations in the works to shut down child pornography rings. Baronaire may have been many things, may have – by human standards – committed especially vile atrocities, but even he knew where to draw the line. From the bunker’s database he managed to obtain information on several planned stings, but was having trouble narrowing it down. He could think of no clue in how to figure out which Doldress may have been involved in.
“Working again, Charles?”
Baronaire closed his eyes. He had been hoping that if he kept his head low, Foster wouldn’t have realised he had come back. More than that, he hoped she was out.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in court?” he asked.
“I’m mo
nitoring. Besides, my turning up to every court case I’m assigned to would look a bit suspicious. Especially if all of my guys ended up being given the death penalty.”
He had to admit she had a point: he just didn’t tell her so.
“What you working on?”
“Same thing as before,” Baronaire replied tiredly. “And, same as before, I’m not supposed to tell you.”
“Want a coffee?”
“No. Thank you.” Baronaire did not drink coffee: he was thinking of telling her that one day.
“Can I have a look?”
“No.”
But she was already peering at his screen.
Baronaire wondered whether anyone would mind if he just killed her and shoved her body in a broom cupboard or something. Certainly someone would miss her in about two seconds: the silence would be deafening.
“Nice,” she said, some of her joviality draining from her now she could see the content of his case. It was the first time he hadn’t seen her veritably bubbling over with jollity. “’Bout time someone closed them things down.”
“I’m not closing them down, I’m just trying to pin someone to one.”
“Thought you weren’t supposed to talk to me about your case?”
Baronaire was so frustrated he was willing to accept any help he could get. “Hector Doldress is linked to one of these rings. If I can find out which one, I may be able to get him sent down this time.”
“Doldress? The guy who killed the hooker?”
“Yes.”
“Budge up.”
Foster nudged him out the way with her backside and proceeded to type away at his keyboard. He was about to ask her just what she thought she was playing at when he realised there was pertinent information coming up on the screen. Dates, names, places ... One by one the list Baronaire had compiled was dwindling until there was only one location remaining.
“How did you do that?” he asked, awed.
“Cross-referenced everything we know about Doldress with everything we know about these rings. There are stings waiting to go ahead, right? That means the police already know several of the people involved behind the scenes. Turns out the people who run this ring,” she placed her finger upon the screen, “all bought shares in the same companies Doldress did recently.”
“The guys who meet at his house.”
“Maybe, I don’t know. But of them all, this one’s your best guess.”
“I ... didn’t know you could do that.”
“Sanders only hires the best, Charles. I don’t just make the coffee, you know.”
“Thanks,” Baronaire said, memorising the information in seconds and shutting down his computer. “I owe you one.”
“You mean that?”
He was just throwing on his trench coat when he realised what he had said. He really didn’t want to go to the cinema. “Sure: next time you need help on a case, let me know. Just don’t tell Sanders.”
“OK,” she replied with a pout and Baronaire hastened off before she could add a very loud rider. “I won’t tell Sanders about our little secrets.”
Baronaire did not meet the eyes of anyone on his way out. That broom cupboard was looking more attractive by the moment.
*
The building wasn’t as Baronaire had expected. For some reason he had expected a large house, much like Doldress’s, or one out of the way, in the country maybe. But then he supposed if they were going to use a house to film filth like this, they wouldn’t be able to use it for anything else because they’d be leaving evidence all over the place that they were connected to it. Even scum making millions from the drug trade would likely think twice about buying a massive house purely to fund activities which wouldn’t make them break even on the property for a while.
Instead he found himself at a warehouse. It shouldn’t have surprised him really. The interior was huge, formed of four silos, and if the scum rented only the one silo they would have the privacy and space they needed. Still, the costs involved would have been tremendous, but at least with it being a warehouse no one would raise eyebrows when vans or trucks moved in and out on a constant basis.
The Sun was shining gaily outside when Baronaire arrived, alone, and he performed a brief but thorough check of the perimeter. He wished he could have brought a firearm with him this time, but Sanders seldom allowed his officers such things. However, if he did have to maim a few people before legging it, he very much doubted anyone would care. There were people in the warehouse, but not many, and they were all busy setting up sound equipment, cameras and various degrees of bedding. Baronaire kept himself one level above where the men were working, and from there he had a good view of the warehouse floor.
He waited half an hour before the main doors opened and a van pulled in. Baronaire figured this was how they got the kids to the warehouse. The driver got out, and a man separated himself from the workers to start giving orders. Baronaire had already pegged this guy as the one likely in charge, and a part of him wished he could just shoot the creep in the head and be done with it. It was probably best for the assignment then that he wasn’t armed.
A commotion started at the van then and Baronaire saw smoke billowing out the back. The doors were still locked and the van rocked as those trapped within were frantically trying to get out, but the people in the warehouse were panicking. The guy in charge was shouting for fire extinguishers, while the driver was backing away from the smoking vehicle.
Open the doors, Baronaire was thinking, clutching the rail before him tightly. He watched as everyone continued to run around; a fire extinguisher was found, but the man carrying it tripped and it clattered away.
Just open the doors.
Another man picked up the extinguisher, ran to the van, but found the can empty.
Open the doors and let the kids out!
Further orders were given, and then a dull explosion rocked the van and the smoke intensified. There was a terrible fire within the van, but it was still rocking. There were still kids alive inside, frantically trying to ...
He couldn’t take it any more. Leaping from the rail, Baronaire landed in a roll and shot towards the van. He barrelled through the startled men and reached the back of the van, flicking the latch and tearing the doors open. A torrent of smoke billowed into his face; and something lunged for his throat.
Baronaire fell, hot stinking breath upon his face, a huge beastly form pressing down upon him, fangs snapping at his head. He threw the dog off and rolled to the side, catching a glimpse of the van’s interior. The smoke was drifting away now, the machine causing it having been turned off. Ten very large, very strong men were stepping out of the van, all brandishing pipes and clubs. Baronaire knew he had been set up, but couldn’t help but think back to that bar he had attacked only last night. Maybe this was his payback.
He ran for the door, but the dog bit his foot and he stumbled. One of the huge men punched him in the side of the head and he went down. The others laughed, one of them picking him up and throwing him into a wall. He landed heavily, bringing a cabinet down on top of him. He didn’t make it to his feet before two further hands grabbed him and threw him into the side of the van. Meaty fingers closed about his throat, his head slammed into the metal, and he grit his teeth.
“No names,” the man in charge was saying, approaching slowly while the huge ape held Baronaire prone. The guy in charge wore smart clothes, no suit though, and had a thin stupid-looking moustache and twisted cruel little eyes. “No names,” he repeated, “in case you’re wearing a wire. But our employer didn’t like you messin’ in on his business today. He told me to tell you – I’m not sure what any of it means, mind – he told me to tell you he knows you’re not her boyfriend or her pimp. Said to make that crystal clear. Said you’d know what that meant?” Baronaire gave nothing away. “Anyway,” the man continued, “my employer couldn’t do anything about you before. Cop goes to his house and disappears? Not good. Too many questions. Cop comes to a warehouse to bust a
disgusting child porn ring? Well, that’s nothing to do with my boss, right?”
“Your boss is scum.”
“Maybe so. But a good lawyer can work wonders. Oh, he also told me to tell you he knows someone tipped you off. He knows there’s a traitor on his staff and he’s gonna find him. Not that it matters much to you, ‘cause you’re gonna be dead by then. Luis?”
The large man holding Baronaire grinned and turned malicious eyes upon him.
“No names?” Baronaire asked. “You realise, Luis, he just incriminated you for any cameras watching this place?”
The big man’s face fell slightly and it was all the hesitation Baronaire needed. Kicking out with all his strength, Baronaire caught Luis in the kneecap and the hand about his throat was released. Baronaire fell, rolling under the van since he knew that was something none of these big guys could manage. He came up on the other side and drew a gun he had lifted from Luis’s belt on the way over.
And stared in horror as the van was being pushed over on top of him.
Baronaire leaped, rolling as he hit the ground, bringing his gun about to fire. His first shot took one of the big guys through the shoulder, his second went through a thigh; but it was all Baronaire could manage before diving for cover behind some crates. He moved quickly, not intending to stay where he could easily be found, and the crate behind which he had been hiding exploded. He stopped moving, his back pressed against a crate, and heard the tell-tale sound of a shotgun being pumped.
“Fan out,” he heard the command. “God, I can’t believe you let him ... the boss is gonna have my hide for this!”
Baronaire liked his prey to panic, but these guys weren’t prey. So long as he was running, they were still the hunter, and against ten apes like that there wasn’t that much he really expected to be able to do to turn the tables.
He started moving again, working his way up as much as possible. If he could get to the roof he could break through, then find his car and get out of there.