by Martina Cole
Most big faces took dogs from him after he had trained them. They knew they were getting the best, better than any MoD-trained animal and that was a fact. His dogs were trained with simple phrases and kindness. They would die for him or their new owners.
Any scrapyards that had dodgy dealings got their dogs from him. Colin was the acknowledged genius of dogs, an accolade he treasured even though it made for some poxy jokes when he was out with his bird Rosalie.
When he saw three men get out of the white van, he admired the way the dogs’ hackles rose in warning. His eyes widened as he saw the men had shotguns, pump-action shotguns, and as they started to shoot at the dogs he rushed from the Portakabin without a thought for himself. By now the gates were hanging off their hinges and his precious dogs were all on the ground, dead or dying.
‘You bastards!’ Colin’s voice was thick with tears and snot. He was stunned by the carnage around him, too heartbroken to be afraid.
The noise of the gunshots had been deafening. Now all he could hear was the buzz of traffic from the A13. He saw a woman pull a pushchair up the kerb and deliberately not look in his direction. She hurried away as fast as she could, clearly not wanting to attract any attention to herself.
Then he saw the men going into the Portakabin. Just ignoring him.
Running to his car, Colin opened the boot. Inside there was an AK assault rifle he was looking after for a friend. He got it as far as his shoulder before he was lifted off the ground by a single shotgun blast and thrown on to the chain-link fencing, his stomach flying through the air before him. He landed heavily, hanging by his jumper, and twitched a few times before death finally overtook him.
The whole scene looked like an abattoir.
Jacky Gunner shook his head in amazement as they walked towards the white van.
‘Fucking hell, Joey, this is getting out of hand.’
Partridge didn’t answer, too busy wondering why their rescuers had not attempted to take off the handcuffs that bound the pair of them. He had a fleeting suspicion they were out of the frying pan but heading quickly towards a very large fire.
Chapter Seventeen
Suzy Harrington was tall, blonde and ugly, but there was something about her merry countenance that made people like her.
Suzy had a finger in every pie on the estate, that was a fact. She also had a finger in many other pies that no one here knew about. She could get you a bit of puff, a few Es or a nice bit of high-grade sniff. Her different businesses gave her a lucrative living and she dressed well, drove a nice car and went on foreign holidays frequently. Her flat was well decorated and always pristine. She was proud of her home, it was a real status symbol.
Today she was dressed to kill, and she knew it. As ugly as she was, and she had no illusions about that, she had good dress sense and used it well. In a dark blue suit, with sheer tights and black suede shoes and bag, she looked smart and sophisticated. Her long blonde hair was tied back demurely and her make-up was carefully applied.
She unlocked her five-year-old BMW and waved at her neighbour in friendly fashion.
‘All right, Sheila?’
It was the equivalent of hello to them.
‘All right, Suze. You look nice. Going somewhere posh?’
She nodded and jumped into the car.
David Reilly watched her from his vantage point in the doorway of the flats opposite. He was frowning. When she’d driven off he stood for a while longer, smoking a cigarette. All the time his eyes were trained on the opposite entrance as he clocked who went in and who went out.
Robert looked at the children playing on the floor. Kathy Collins appeared nervous and he smiled at her in a friendly fashion.
‘Where’s Rebecca today?’ he asked.
‘Out playing.’
‘Can I see her, please? You know I have to see each one of the kids for meself because of me report.’
Her eyes filled with tears. ‘She’s staying with me mate.’
‘What mate?’ Robert asked pleasantly.
Kathy leaped from her seat. ‘Fucking hell, Robert, what’s this - the bloody Spanish Inquisition? What’s the problem for fuck’s sakes.’ She looked agitated, wiping a hand across her mouth over and over again.
‘What are you on this time? A speedball, what?’
‘Me usual skag if you must know. But I am stressed out today. That’s why I let her stay at me mate’s.’
‘So who’s the mate?’
Kathy licked dry lips and looked around the room nervously.
‘Where is the child, Kathy, for the last time.’
Standing up, Kathy walked through to the kitchen. ‘She is staying at me mate’s. How many times have I got to repeat meself!’
Robert closed his eyes in consternation. ‘And who is this mate then?’
Kathy stood in the doorway, wiping at her nose in an agitated fashion. ‘You don’t know her. She lives near me mum.’ She warmed to her story. ‘She was me mate at school. She offered to have our Becky for a few days so I could have a break, like.’
Robert smiled. ‘So what’s her name then?’
‘Lisa Buck.’
She tossed her hair like a recalcitrant child as she walked back into the kitchen once more. She banged the kettle on to the counter after filling it and Robert sighed.
‘Lisa Buck?’
There was a question in Bateman’s voice which was not lost on Kathy.
‘Ask me mum if you don’t believe me.’
Robert followed her out to the kitchen and leaning against the door he said seriously, ‘Don’t worry, Kathy. I will.’
Sharon Pallister was in pain. She put a hand to her throat and felt the gaping hole there. She was too afraid even to cry. Instead she tried to crawl to the phone in the hallway.
The woman watched her, completely unfazed by the horrific injuries she had just inflicted on the girl. As Sharon reached up for the phone the woman kicked out at her, a heavy blow that landed in the girl’s ribs. She bent over her victim, her garishly made-up face almost touching Sharon’s.
‘You are winding me up, you know. Why don’t you just fucking die and be done with it?’
The young woman was beseeching her, gurgling her words, ‘Please . . . please don’t do this to me.’
The woman laughed cruelly. Then, walking to the bedroom, she took a small boy from his cot and walked back to his mother, the child snuggled in her arms. The woman jiggled him as if trying to comfort him, her face gentle as she looked down on to his soft downy head.
The girl watched as her life’s blood drained from the many wounds on her body and she felt faintness overcoming her.
‘Say bye-bye to Mummy, lovely.’
The woman held up the child’s arm and waved it in a parody of goodbye. Then, after ripping the phone line from the wall, she opened the front door and was gone.
Fear of what would happen to him made Sharon’s heart beat faster, which in turn sent the blood pumping more fiercely from her wounds. She lay on the carpet, eyes closed in resignation as she realised that she was going to die in her flat alone.
Lucas Browning was interviewing once more. This time it was a young girl who was obviously still at school. He listened to her grating voice and gave her the once-over. He was tempted, very tempted.
He saw her lip curl in disgust and it angered him. He shifted one heavy naked leg and broke wind loudly, enjoying the look of utter disgust on the girl’s face.
‘Have you ever worked in this line of business before?’
She nodded, not so cocksure as she had been when she’d breezed in. He had seen hundreds like her. Schoolgirls who had got laid at twelve and lost sight of the real reason for having sex at an early age. They saw prostitution as glamorous and exciting. Saw it as a means of leaving home and making some real money. Oh, he was weary of it all.
He opened his legs and saw her eyes trained on his flaccid member. Lucas stifled the laughter that was bubbling up inside him. He knew she was scared now. Knew she
had pictured sleeping with handsome businessmen who would shower her with gifts and secretly fall in love with her until she reciprocated. He thanked God daily for American TV and films, full of schmaltzy shite that was just the push these silly bitches needed to flash their little clouts and make him money.
But Julia Roberts this one definitely wasn’t, though she obviously thought she was something special.
Didn’t they realise that they were expected to sleep with anyone who had the money? And that meant old, young, smelly or ugly, or a combination of the lot.
He smiled gently. ‘We expect our escorts to have a working knowledge of fellatio, that’s sucking cocks to you, and also anal sex,’ he told her. ‘That’s where the big money really is. I often have the girls give me a going over so I can judge them, see where they’ll be best utilised. I take it you have practised safe sex?’
She didn’t answer. Her face had taken on a greenish tinge and he suppressed the laughter inside him once more. He saw her look towards the doorway and grinned.
‘You go, my dear, when I tell you that you can - and not before.’
She was really frightened now. It took the superficial maturity from her face and made her look just what she was: a little girl plastered in make-up, trying to be an adult. The worst kind of adult - one who would debase themselves for monetary gain.
‘How old are you exactly?’ he said nastily.
‘Thirteen and a half.’
Lucas laughed aloud. ‘And a half? A whole thirteen and a half? Why, you’re far too old for most of my customers but I suppose I could fit you in. Have you discussed this with your parents? I take it they know you are here?’
She shook her head. ‘I’m supposed to be at school,’ she whispered.
‘And where are you from?’
‘Leicester.’
He smiled. ‘I thought I knew that accent. So what time were you supposed to be home?’
She didn’t answer. He looked at her for long moments.
‘Are you in care, dear? You can tell me - I can find out anyway quite easily.’
She nodded almost imperceptibly and he grinned again.
‘Well, why didn’t you say that before! I have lots of girls like you and I take good care of them, believe that much of me.’ He picked up his stick and banged on the ceiling. A few minutes later an old man walked into the room and the girl looked at him in terror.
‘Take this one, Petey, looks like we’ve got a chicken ready for the pot. Get the make-up off and see what’s underneath it.’ Then, staring at the girl, he said, ‘This is what you wanted, dear, surely? I always think it’s nice to get what you want now and again, don’t you?’
Petey was laughing as he dragged her from the room. Lucas watched her body language and sighed happily. She would be a good little worker, he had a feeling about that. The kids from care were always nicely desensitised well before he got hold of them. It was another perk to thank the government for, along with Social Security and housing benefit, both of which he claimed religiously every week.
Kerry Alston watched as the other women showered and preened ready for their visitors. Her own heavy build was gradually dwindling as she found it harder and harder to eat the slop that passed for food in the prison system.
‘Ain’t you going to shower again, you filthy mare?’ The voice was high-pitched and came from a spindly sharp-eyed woman under the last shower head.
Kerry didn’t answer her, she knew it was useless. Instead she slipped past to walk back to her cell.
‘What’s the matter, nonce? Not young enough for you in here, I suppose, eh? What to see some photos of me kids? Make you feel more at home like, you fat bastard!’
Kerry felt the hand of fear clutch at her innards as she realised what the woman was saying. She looked around her to see if anyone else had heard the jibe.
No one was taking any notice.
She scurried back to her cell and stepped inside - to find a reception committee waiting for her.
The hot water hit her in the face, blinding her, and the broom handles rained down on her prostrate body with the express intention of breaking bones. As she lay crumpled on the floor in fear and pain she heard a low chuckle. It was a PO on the landing outside observing everything through the spy-hole in the heavy metal door.
Kerry realised immediately who it was who had told everyone what she was in for. Even though she’d expected it, the shock was still enough to make her cry out in despair.
‘Kerry was done in Chelmsford, have you heard?’
Jenny shook her head. ‘I half expected it, didn’t you?’ she said to Kate.
‘I suppose so. She’s bad, though - burns and a hiding. Very violent by all accounts. But then, the attacks for molesting always are. I suppose it was a screw who grassed her?’
‘Got it in one. Might make her a lot more amenable, though.’
‘We can but hope.’ Kate lit a cigarette and drew on it deeply. ‘What else has happened?’
‘I’ll get some coffee and fill you in on the details. Are you around for a while?’
They were using a form of code with each other. Even the most mundane sentence had a hidden meaning that would escape any casual onlooker.
‘Yeah, I’ve time for coffee and a chat. I want to have a final go at Jeremy Blankley today. Maybe this thing with Kerry will give us a handle, eh?’
‘Could do. Can I get you a sandwich or anything?’
‘OK.’
Kate smiled as the heavy-set woman stamped away. She liked Jenny more and more. She was a big woman in every way. Big-boned, well-padded and with a heart the size of the Albert Hall. She was also a loyal friend and that was something Kate needed desperately at the moment.
When Golding stepped into her office and shut the door, she looked at him quizzically.
‘Can I help you?’ Her voice was sarcastic and this was not lost on him.
‘Ma’am, a young man called Colin Forbes was shot dead today in East London. He was a dog breeder. I thought you should know.’ Golding’s voice was loaded with meaning.
‘What are you trying to say?’
He smiled and it changed his whole appearance. ‘I didn’t know you worked with Benjamin Boarder, ma’am. He’s an old mate of mine from years ago.’
He walked from the office and left Kate wondering just how deep the ties between police and villains ran in her station. Not that she could say or do much about it; she accepted the fact. But it never ceased to amaze her. Look at her own life!
Then the full force of what he’d said infiltrated her mind and she groaned aloud. That meant she’d lost her two hostages, Jacky Gunner and Joey Partridge. And a boy had paid a high price for harbouring them.
The worst of it all was, she couldn’t back out now no matter what happened. She was in too deep.
When Jenny came back with the coffee and food she saw a strained and worried Kate before her and wondered what could have happened in the last fifteen minutes to change someone’s mood so radically.
Jeremy Blankley picked up on the change in his persecutor almost immediately. As Kate came into the small interview room, the first thing she did was send the young PC off for his lunch. Her face, normally good-looking and open, was like a closed book, and he could see she was just keeping her temper in check.
‘Kerry Alston was seriously scalded and beaten today in Chelmsford women’s prison,’ Kate told him bluntly. ‘They found out why she was on remand.’
She was savagely pleased to see him blanch.
‘So you had better decide whether or not you’re going to open your trap to me. Wise up and maybe, just maybe, I’ll have you segregated.’
He stared at her dull-eyed.
‘I want names, dates, and I want them today. I want to know all about your brother and what you were both into. I understand you had a lot in common - a love of young children being the main thing. But first I am going to give you a few minutes alone with two of my younger officers. One is a body builder and the
other is a PE instructor. They are going to give you a small taste of what you can expect in a big boys’ prison, Jeremy. You’d better think hard while they do because I am at the end of my tether here.’
She pushed back the door and it clanged noisily against the wall. Two men walked in. Jeremy saw muscles and gleaming teeth as they smiled at him. Even though he called out Kate didn’t look back. Instead she locked the door from the outside and walked slowly to the canteen.
As she passed her team they all smiled at her knowingly. Inside she was ashamed of what she had done even while a small part of her rejoiced. Blankley was getting his payback, and in this new world she was inhabiting it seemed that was what it was all about. Whether you were Filth or criminal.
After today there was no going back to how it used to be. She had stepped outside every boundary and guideline now. There was nowhere left for her to go.
As she drank her coffee and smoked a cigarette she pictured Patrick’s face and concentrated on that.
He was all she really cared about.
Jenny brought Robert into her office.
‘What can we do for you?’ she asked, smiling at him. She had taken to this man.
‘I was hoping to talk to Miss Burrows as well,’ he told her politely.
‘She’s really up to her eyes in it at the moment,’ Jenny said, ‘so you’ll have to make do with me, I am afraid. Sit down and tell me what’s wrong.’
‘One of my clients, Kathy Collins, well . . . she seems to have mislaid her youngest daughter Rebecca. I can’t locate her and I can’t prove she has done anything with her. All I know for certain is, according to her she is letting the child stay with a certain Lisa Buck.’
He bit on his lips.
‘Kathy is an addict - most of my clients are. She has four kids and she has trouble from the minute she gets up in the morning. Her life is a nightmare - although she stumbles through it somehow. But I have a bad feeling on me about her and about the child Rebecca.’