Operation WetFish, Vampire Detective: Ultimate Omnibus Volume 1 of 4 (Operation WetFish, Vampire Detective Ultimate Omnibus)

by Adam Carter

  Rachael rubbed his head affectionately and Blackie began to roll around, thinking it was time to play. But it wasn’t time to play. Rachael needed to get out, away from all this madness, away from her life. What she would do she had no idea, but this boss of Baronaire’s was clearly not getting anything done.

  Her mind kept going back to that terrible night, when all of this had begun. She couldn’t believe what had happened, even now, and the more she remembered it the more she wished she had just gone straight home and hadn’t got herself mixed up in all of this to begin with.

  It had been raining. There were few people on the streets, and even the working girls were finding shelter whenever they could. There was never much business during storms, for even kerb crawlers tended to stay at home where it was warm. It was true that being cold stilted sexual desires, and Rachael was wondering what she was even doing on the street waiting for business that simply wouldn’t come. She had not been working the streets long, certainly not long enough to have formed a proper client base. She noticed that most of the girls on the street huddling under shelter with her were relatively new as well and likely had the same problem. There was a chill wind which didn’t help, even when it wasn’t blasting them with rain, and Rachael was half tempted to just call it a night.

  “Maybe God’s trying to tell us something,” one of her companions said with as much a smile as she could muster through chattering teeth. Vicky Klein was nineteen, slim, with dyed blonde hair and a genuine warmth to her soul. She had started this life the same day that Rachael had, almost a month earlier. It wasn’t much of a career, certainly not a way of living, but the two women had stuck together, looked out for one another, and promised one another that they wouldn’t be doing this forever. They were paying bills, that was all, and eventually they would get a proper job. Vicky was at college, building up student debts, and Rachael had always envied that of the two of them it would be Vicky who would be going places. Rachael’s education had ended at school, and her grades had not been endearing enough to land her a regular job. She had temped for a while, although nothing substantial had come of it and she found herself spending more time out of work than in. She had eventually stumbled across a woman in a bar one night, who had offered her a more permanent job. At first Rachael had told the woman where to shove it, but Tammy had left her card and Rachael had for some reason tucked it into her purse.

  And one night, when she was particularly low and had been turned down for yet another interview, she had called the number.

  It had been frightening. Tammy had set up everything for her first time, not making Rachael engage in streetwalking, and instead arranging for one of her trusted clients to employ Rachael for an hour. It was an experience Rachael would always remember so long as she lived. She had been tense, terrified and had almost vomited on several occasions. But once it was done it was done and she had collected her money and the guy was gone. Tammy came to sit with her afterwards, brought her some brandy and asked how it had gone. Rachael had told her the truth and Tammy had smiled and said it would get better, easier. She also advised Rachael to take the money upfront, every time.

  The next day Rachael had met Vicky, who had also started work the night before, and the two had become fast friends. Tammy looked after them, was always on call if they needed anything, but that second night they had to work for their money. Rachael had no idea how to dress like a prostitute, but Tammy had shown her, teaching her all the tricks of movement and speech. It had still been hot out, even in the evenings, and so Rachael and Vicky had worn low-cut tops and tight butt-clenching shorts. Their legs were bare, although Tammy had told them when winter came they would need some special warm stockings she could recommend.

  Rachael and Vicky had spent an hour on the streets without attracting much attention, although finally they had both found business and Rachael was pleased at how the other girls working the streets took notes of car registrations and descriptions of each other’s clients. The girls looked after one another, Tammy had told them, and it seemed it was the truth.

  Standing under the shelter, the wind howling about them, Rachael was rather wishing someone else was looking out for them.

  “Let’s get out of here,” she said to Vicky. “No one’s coming tonight, Vik.”

  “I think you’re right,” Vicky agreed and they informed the other girls of their decision. Bidding them farewell the two ran through the rain. Vicky’s flat was the closest of the two and they headed for this. They were both soaked through by the time they reached it, their thin clothes clinging uncomfortably, their sodden hair matted across their faces, their make-up streaming down their faces. They took the stairs slowly, their bodies heavy, leaving large patches of wetness clear across the landing. Vicky fumbled with her key, her hands trembling with the cold, although finally she got the door open. Once inside she went straight to the radiator to turn the heating up, telling Rachael to find herself a towel to dry off while she put the kettle on.

  Rachael disappeared into the bathroom and found one for each of them. She stripped off her wet things and dumped them in the bath to dry out, viciously rubbing herself down in an effort to both get dry and warm. She was just attacking her hair when she heard voices from the hall.

  Vicky was arguing with someone, a man. She was saying how cold and tired she was, how all she wanted was a cup of cocoa inside her and a nice hot bath. The male voice grew angry and Rachael heard a crash. Her eyes widening, Rachael panicked. She didn’t know what to do; standing there naked save for a towel she had no way to defend herself. Her eyes roved the bathroom, but there was little in the tiny room and attacking a man with a toilet brush seemed hardly appropriate.

  There came more noise then, struggling, another crash, and Rachael realised she would have to do something. Wrapping the towel firmly around her body, Rachael headed out unarmed into the hall. She could hear the noise coming from the living room now and tentatively peered around the doorway. The room was a mess; the table was broken down the middle and the fishbowl had been shattered, water awash across the bare wood floor. Vicky lay unmoving upon the floor, her wet hair plastered to her face, the water about her head turning a sickly red. There were cuts upon her arms as well, a shard of glass impaled in her shoulder.

  Above the prostrate form there stood a man. He was wearing a suit and was breathing hard, his own hair wet with sweat or rain, Rachael could not say. There were deep scratches upon his cheeks where Vicky had tried to defend herself, and his eyes were wild.

  Rachael gasped and his eyes snapped towards her. He grabbed something and charged.

  Rachael screamed and ran back to the bathroom, slamming the door and bolting it seconds before he would have reached her. She backed away, aware there was nowhere to go in the tiny room, and the door thundered with impact after impact. The man was screaming now, shouting obscenities, promising to hurt her just as soon as he made it through the door. Rachael felt bile rise in her throat, but she had no time to be sick. She looked about for something she could use, anything, but there was nothing. Even the window was too small for her to squeeze through, although she pushed it open and pressed her face against it. She shouted as loudly as her lungs could wail, screaming for help. She screamed until her throat was hoarse, and tears flowed down her face, but no help was coming.

  And then she sagged against the wall, her body wracking with sobs, shuddering with the realisation that she was about to die.

  She lay there for a minute, an hour, she had no idea. Finally there came a voice at the door and Rachael recognised it as Tammy’s.

  Rushing to the door, Rachael unbolted it and flung herself, crying, into Tammy’s arms.

  It took half an hour for Rachael to calm down enough to know what was going on around her. She was draped in a towel and Tammy was holding a hot drink between Rachael’s hands. Vicky’s body had been removed, and Rachael was just coming to the understanding that her best friend was dead. There were other people in the flat now as well, two
men she did not know. One was around fifty, with hard eyes and an angry scowl. The other was probably thirty, wearing a trench coat and a placid expression. They were presently talking together quietly and now Rachael’s cognisance was returning she was beginning to wonder just who they were. Cops was her first thought, although they weren’t taping off the crime scene or anything that cops usually did.

  The older of the men spoke with Tammy. Rachael only caught snippets, but she figured her screams had forced her attacker to flee. The older man kept glancing Rachael’s way and she self-consciously clung the towel closer to her, even though his gaze wasn’t lascivious in any way.

  Finally, Tammy nodded her agreement to something and the older man approached Rachael. “Miss Webster, I’m sorry this happened. It shouldn’t have and I’m sorry. But we’ll get the man who did this. From your description we already know who we’re looking for, and we’ll have him by the end of the night. Don’t worry, Miss Webster, he can’t run far. In the meantime I’m going to have my colleague here look after you. We have a safe house you can use until this is all blown over. Charles?”

  The man in the trench coat seemed perplexed at the request. “You want me to look after her? Ed, don’t be ridiculous, you need me on the hunt.”

  “I’m more than capable of tracking down one man, Charles. Tammy, pack Rachael some clothes and get her ready to move.”

  “Sure,” Tammy said. “Thanks for this, Sanders. I still can’t believe it happened. I didn’t know whether to call you or what.”

  “You did the right thing,” Sanders said, placing a gentle hand upon her shoulder and offering her a sincere smile. When he removed the hand the smile also vanished, as though the two were prerequisites of one another. “Charles, I’ll keep you updated.”

  The man in the trench coat was clearly not happy with the situation, although he approached Rachael slowly. “I’ll look after you, miss,” he told her. “You can trust me.”

  Rachael didn’t know whether she did, whether she even wanted to. She had no idea who these people were that Tammy had brought in, but she trusted Tammy and if Tammy trusted them she didn’t see she herself had much of a choice in the matter.

  Curled up on her bed, Blackie still staring at her with those big questioning eyes, Rachael wondered what it was all for. Sanders had said her attacker would be caught that night, and it had now been two weeks. Sanders had supplied Baronaire with further information and Baronaire had in turn passed it onto Rachael. She was under the impression he wasn’t hiding anything from her, but she really didn’t know for certain. She knew the man who had killed Vicky was called Dale Johnson, but aside from that she knew nothing.

  She only knew Vicky was dead. She would never finish her college course, never pay off her student debts, would never make something of herself.

  And now Johnson was coming for her, to kill the only witness to his murder.

  She looked at Blackie and steeled herself, gaining strength from the animal. She had cowered in this house for two weeks and Tammy’s friends were accomplishing nothing. It was time for her to stop cringing every time she heard a door creak and take matters into her own hands. If they weren’t going to find Johnson, she would have to make a run for it. She would travel north, head for Liverpool or Birmingham or somewhere. Start afresh, where no one knew her.

  Her mind made up, Rachael packed a bag. She had food in her room; not much, but she didn’t want to risk sneaking downstairs in case she disturbed Baronaire. Shoving some clean clothes into her bag – the safe house was providing everything for her – she slung the thing over her shoulder and looked at Blackie. “I’m off. You fancy coming for a trek around the country, boy?” The dog wagged his tail, but did not bark. Of this Rachael was grateful: she didn’t want Baronaire alerted by anything.

  Moving across to the window, this time she found it was large enough for her to squeeze through. This time she would not be shouting for help like some damsel in distress. She was taking matters into her own hands and leaving while she was still alive.

  Penning a quick note to Baronaire – he was a decent guy and she felt a little bad about leaving him like this – Rachael stepped out the window and clambered down the drainpipe, landing lightly upon the floor. Blackie was already by her side, somehow having scaled the drainpipe with even more ease. Shifting the weight of her backpack, Rachael headed off into the night, not once looking back. She did not want to face the temptation of having her emotions rule her decisions. She just wanted to be gone.

  She didn’t want protecting. She just wanted to stay alive.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  It was early evening when Baronaire heard a car pull up outside. He was at the door almost before the bell was sounded, making the woman outside jump. She regained her composure instantly and Baronaire appraised her just as quickly. She was a young woman of Chinese origin, dressed in casual attire and forcing a smile to cover her sudden fright. “Mister Baronaire,” she said gaily. “So good to see you. I hope you don’t mind me dropping by like this, but I ...”

  “She’s upstairs.”

  The woman’s smile vanished and her voice lowered. “I had a spiel prepared, Baronaire.”

  Baronaire shrugged. “Come on in, we can talk in the kitchen.”

  The woman entered the house and Baronaire made a quick visual sweep of the street before closing the door and bolting it. He followed the woman into the kitchen, listening first at the bottom of the stairs in case he should hear movement. If Rachael had even heard the doorbell she wasn’t stirring. Perhaps she was asleep, he reasoned, or had earphones in. He entered the kitchen to find his guest pacing in frustration. Sue Lin was a strong, even-tempered woman. It took a lot to unnerve her and Baronaire was beginning to worry before she had even said anything.

  “How are the two of you getting along?” she asked.

  “Fine. It’s the neighbours I’m finding annoying.”

  “Which ones?”

  “To the right. Matthews. He’s spooking Rachael as well, which is even worse. I’m going to have to go have a word with him.”

  “Don’t. I’ll do it. You just concentrate on making sure Webster’s OK.”

  “OK? She’s not OK, Lin. You don’t go through what she went through and come out OK. Where’s Johnson anyway? How can one ordinary guy be running rings around Sanders like this?”

  “Sanders isn’t himself.” Lin seemed confused. Baronaire had thought she had come here to provide him with an update but he was getting the impression she was after answers herself. “I’ve never seen him act like this. His impulsiveness allowed Johnson to escape the first time, and since then we’ve been dancing to Johnson’s tune.”

  “Who is he anyway?”

  “You don’t know?”

  Baronaire shook his head. “I was asleep at home when Sanders called me up, said he had an assignment for me that was urgent. We went to a crime scene and I had this girl thrust upon me. Sanders told me to come to this safe house and that it would all be over by the end of the night. That was two weeks ago.”

  “Johnson’s a politician. He’s very high profile, which is why Sanders should be handling this one with a little care. We make one mistake on this and it’s going public. Then we can kiss goodbye to our jobs, and likely our freedom.” She shook her head. “Why Sanders is going to all this effort for a prostitute I’ll never know.”

  Baronaire bit his lip, looked away.

  He could feel Lin’s narrowed eyes burning into him. “You know something, don’t you?”

  “I know why Sanders cares about prostitutes, yes,” Baronaire replied. “Or at least some of them. I’m not sure he’d like me telling everyone though.”

  “Since when did you care about what Sanders would like?”

  “Cute. Are you here to relieve me? Night’s falling and I’ll be better suited to track this man than Sanders.”

  But Lin shook her head. “I just came to see if you were all right. I’m working closely with Sanders on this one and it’s
worrying me. Has Johnson been around at all?”

  “No.”

  “You haven’t noticed him hanging around the area?”

  Baronaire looked at her as though she was an idiot. Lin may not have understood what Baronaire truly was – even Baronaire didn’t know that much – but she knew his senses were far better than anyone else’s. If he had not noticed Johnson hanging around it meant simply Johnson hadn’t been hanging around. “I think Sanders is trying too hard,” Baronaire said. “He didn’t even give me any actual instructions. Rachael doesn’t know who I am, what I do. I know confidentiality’s the key to everything in our line of work, but I’m not even sure I’m allowed to tell her I’m a cop.”

  “Oh. Who does she think you are then?”

  Baronaire shrugged. “A friend of Tammy’s, someone who looks out for the street girls. Maybe she thinks Tammy pays us protection money or something.”

  “Who’s Tammy?”

  Baronaire realised he had said too much and replied, “Doesn’t matter. I’m going to call Sanders, tell him I need relief so I can hunt Johnson. You and I both know I could have him in custody by the end of the night.”

  “Custody won’t do it. Like I said, he’s too high profile. I can’t see any way out of this. If Sanders kills him there’ll be an investigation, and we can’t just arrest him.”

  “So he disappears. He disappears and there’s nothing to trace back to us.”

  “Maybe. Who’s Tammy?”

  Baronaire ignored her. “How about you do us all a favour and cover for me for an hour or two? That way I don’t have to call Sanders and he doesn’t have to refuse my request, and I don’t have to do all this behind his back.”