by Vince Vogel
“The girl Jess. The one you took to see Charles Carter.”
“Who’re you with?”
“I’m with the girl,” Dorring stated coolly. “I’m with every girl. Every girl you ever raped, mistreated, abused, or sent to be abused. I’m with all of them, Darren Crosby, and we want answers.”
“Well, I ain’t got any.”
Crosby turned away and looked out the window. Behind him, Dorring was getting something out of his pocket.
“You know,” Dorring said, “the skin of the hand is easily removed. Comes off like a glove.”
Crosby turned back to him from the window. Dorring was holding a scalpel in his hand. It sparkled in the glow of the dome light.
“That supposed to scare me?” Crosby said. “You’re wastin’ your time, if it is.”
“No,” Dorring replied coolly. “This is supposed to scare you.”
He leaned forward. Crosby couldn’t move an inch away from him. His fingers struggled as Dorring grabbed them. His own fingers were strong. They gripped Crosby’s and clamped them tight. Threatened to break the bones if they persisted on struggling. Then, where the tape ended at the base of the hand, Dorring began cutting into the epidermis, pushing the knife in about three millimeters and slicing along. Blood oozed out of the cut he made as he went all the way around the hand, pulling the knife along the palm and back around to where he started. The whole time, Crosby stamped his feet down in the footwell and rocked his head back and forth with all his might. The pain wasn’t terribly acute. Only a stinging, tickling sensation when the blade went too deep. Nevertheless, it wasn’t the pain that made the ordeal unbearable. It was the sight of his hand being mutilated.
Dorring shifted the blade and made a second cut from the original that traveled up the side of the hand from the wrist bone to the end of the little finger. Crosby would soon learn that the most painful part was coming up.
Once the cut was complete, Dorring began paring the skin from the muscle, cutting away the hypodermis tissue that connected the dermis to the muscle and tendons. Crosby stamped and rocked and spat and groaned and screamed the whole way through as Dorring flayed the skin from the hand. This was unbearable torture.
“Imagine having your whole body flayed,” Dorring said as he worked away at the hand. “During the Japanese occupation of China, when the Imperial Japanese Army turned up at a village, they used to round up all the men. Then they would select the strongest, tie them to posts and then go about flaying them. There they would leave them as a warning to the whole village. Some of those men would last days screaming upon those posts, their skinless backs exposed to the elements and the crows.”
Once he’d separated much of the skin, Dorring began stripping it away, tugging at it and folding it back. It was a struggle. The skin was on there tight. He had to keep going back to it with the scalpel. Strip back more hypodermis to free the dermis from the muscle and bone of the hand. The blood didn’t help either. Made the job slippery and Dorring kept losing his grip. Several times, he tore the skin in the wrong place. But eventually, and after much struggle, he did it, holding the bloody rag of skin in front of Crosby, who sat trembling, a frost of sweat covering his face.
“Fuck you,” he mumbled, refusing to look at it and merely staring at the withered remains of his hand.
“Unless they can get to it quick and replace the skin,” Dorring said, “you’ll lose the hand. It’ll make raping little girls a lot harder.”
Outside on the bench, Tina had found it impossible not to gaze back at the car as the sounds of Crosby’s screams echoed over the sound of the water and the birdsong. Otis had offered to go for a walk, but the girl had told him it was okay. “I’ve heard much worse come from people what didn’t deserve it like him,” she’d said.
Now they sat watching the water, Tina stroking the dog’s chest as she sat between her legs.
“She’s a lovely dog,” the girl remarked.
“She belongs to Jess,” the old man said. “I’m only keepin’ her till Jess can take her.”
“Jess told me about her dog. You got her when she was little, didn’t you?”
“Jess were only six months. They was inseparable. Every child needs a dog, my ma used to say.”
“She’s old now, though,” Tina remarked, regarding the dog.
“Yeah. Fifteen, like Jess. I don’t know how she’s lasted so long. Maybe it’s the hope of seeing her mistress again.”
“I hope they get the chance to be reunited,” the girl said.
“I hope so too.”
They went silent for a little while. More screams reverberated from the car.
“Is it true you live in the country?” Tina asked Otis, wanting to phase the sound out.
“Yeah. Does Jess talk about it?”
“Only what she can remember. She said it was beautiful. I’ve never seen the countryside.”
Otis turned to her with narrowed eyes.
“You lie,” he said.
“Honest. Never been outside London. Gets to feel like I’m trapped here. Like there is no rest of the world. Like the world ends outside the M25 and you just drop off the edge. This mucky old river and them docks is the most countryside I ever seen.”
“Didn’t your parents take ya?”
“I never knew them. My mum put me up for adoption when I a day old. Left me with nothin’ except the smack addiction I was born with.”
“I don’t get ya.”
“What’s there to get?” Tina asked, turning to him from the water.
“Smack, for a start.”
“Heroin, Otis. You know what that is, right?”
“Yeah. I know that. Even in the countryside, we get that.”
“Well, my mum was an addict when she was pregnant with me. Jacking into her veins while she held me in her womb. I never got why she didn’t just get rid of me straight away. Why she wasted nine months carryin’ me if she never even wanted me.”
“Bloody hell,” the old man muttered while shaking his head. “What is the world comin’ to?”
“Shit,” Tina answered sincerely, as if it was the only answer there was.
“I mean, you’re fourteen, right?”
“Right.”
“Fourteen and probably more street smart than I’ll ever be. When I were that age, I were runnin’ aroun’ in the fields playin’ fox and hounds. Messin’ about with me mates. I’d not even kissed a girl yet.”
“Sounds lush.”
“It were wonderful. Innocence.” He turned to her. “You ever even known innocence?”
“Not something the world’s ever shown me, Otis,” the teenager said despondently.
Back inside the car. The sweat was so thick it was dripping in lumps into Crosby’s eyes and stinging them. He’d refused to say anything other than ‘Fuck you’ since his hand had been skinned. Now he was watching as Dorring reached the thumb of the skinless hand with the secateurs. The four fingers were already gone. Nothing but stubs that oozed blood. Dorring glared into the side of Crosby’s face as he squeezed the handle, reached the bone of the thumb and snapped it through. Another scream and the sound of the removed digit hitting the footwell.
“Next hand,” Dorring said, placing the secateurs down and taking the scalpel once more.
Crosby began breathing heavily. He shut his eyes tight and cried out into the car. It wasn’t pain anymore. It was one of utter frustration.
“They’ll kill me,” he pleaded.
“I’ll kill you,” Dorring retorted. “But not before I strip you down, piece by piece. So it’s either a guaranteed slow and painful death here and now with me in this car. Or the possibility of one later on with them. That one will probably be much quicker than the one I’m offering you. Hell, it might not come at all. You never know, I might get to them before they have a chance to get to you. Now tell me everything you know about Jess Rawly and if I think you’re leaving anything out, we’ll continue the deconstruction of Darren Crosby.”
It
was like being trapped in a car with the devil. Crosby had known some sick bastards in his time. The Ring was full of them. In fact, in his more sober and reflective moments, he admitted that he was one too. But this devil next to him, this blond evil, he was somehow worse. And he was never going to go away. Crosby came to some inner resolution and the whole of him sighed. Everything became apparent and it was a simple decision. He had to tell this man everything, like he’d asked for. Because not to do so would mean being dragged to hell kicking and screaming. He was due hell, he admitted that, but he wanted to put the experience off for as long as possible.
“I only know the people I work for directly,” he said.
“Okay. We’ll get to that. I want to know where Jess Rawly is first.”
“She got away,” he said in a trembling voice.
“When?”
“I picked her up from the Belgravia. They called me the moment Carter was killed.”
“You know who killed Carter?”
“No.”
“What were they saying at the Belgravia?”
“Huh! If only you knew those people. They only speak to me when necessary. I bring the girls through the back of the place. Escort them in, then leave. Wait till they call me up to collect them. They called. I went inside and they had the girl waitin’ for me downstairs. She was shaken, but I thought nothin’ of it. It was only later I found out that the bloke had been killed there.”
“Could it have been the girl that killed him?”
“I didn’t see any blood on her or nothin’ like that. But she weren’t talkin’. She was in shock. An’ them lot never told me nothin’. I got there and they handed me the girl. Told me to go and that was it.”
“Then what?”
“We drove into the city. On the way back to the place.”
“Rigsby road?”
“Yeah.”
“How was she?”
“She was in a bad way. I gave her something before we set off. A sedative. Often they’re like that afterwards. Then she felt sick. Started bangin’ on the back of the van. I fucked up. I let her into the front with me. Opened the window for her. That’s when she ran off. Climbed out the fuckin’ gap while we were stopped in traffic.”
“Did you chase her?”
“Sure I did. Pulled the van up to the curb and went after her. But she lost me.”
“Where was this?”
“Fulham. Dawes Road, near the college. She ran off down the alleyway that’s to the left of the building. Leads to the river. That’s where I lost her. She just disappeared.”
“So she’s out there all alone?”
“Yeah.”
“And people are looking for her?”
“Yeah.”
“Who?”
“Other members of the Ring.”
“Okay. We’ll get to them. But first, tell me how Jess ended up in your possession.”
“How’s a girl like you end up in a place like that?” Otis asked Tina as they sat on the bench, the girl stroking Bess’ chest as the dog sat between her legs.
“I ended up on the streets when I was eleven,” the girl answered. “I’d been in care my whole life. Going from one foster parent to the next. Stayin’ till they got tired with the abuse I gave them or I got tired of their abuse. In the end, they shoved me in a care home. I ran away from that when I was eleven and ended up on the streets. I managed to survive for a few months. That’s when this bloke found me. Offered me food and shelter. I thought he was from some charity or that he was a good samaritan. But I soon realized that he weren’t. He was with them. Ever since, I’ve been locked up. Driven to posh places. Made to… You know. Stuff.”
Otis was glaring at the river. His fists were clenched tight.
“And they hurt you, yeah?” he asked her.
“Yeah,” she said, her eyes going blank. “They hurt me.”
“They hurt Jess?”
“Yeah. They hurt Jess.”
A shiver ran through the old man like a sudden convulsion. Tears filled his eyes and began falling down his face. Tina scooted along the bench, leaned up to him and placed a skinny arm around his shoulders, resting her head in the crook of his neck.
“Tell me about Jess,” he sobbed. “What’s she like?”
“Three years ago,” Crosby said, “my boss—the only bloke I know above me—brings her.”
“Who’s your boss?”
“Bloke named Carlton James. The only one I know by name that’s above me. Everything else is secret. The guys you killed back there, they’re below me. They know less than I do. It’s all chain of command.”
“You got a telephone number for Carlton?”
“It’s on my phone.”
Dorring had his phone.
“And who is Carlton James?” he asked next.
“I have no idea.”
“How’d you end up working for him?”
“I used to work for a brothel. Did all right in it. Then this bloke comes up to me.”
“James?”
“Yeah. Offers me a job. Gonna pay me legitimately and everything. Much bigger than the brothels. Says he’ll employ me through some property management company. Just doing the same thing for them as I did for the brothels. Trafficking girls about to clients. Keepin’ an eye on them.”
“So James turns up three years ago with Jess.”
“Yeah. Turns up with this blonde girl who doesn’t speak.”
“And that’s it? You have no idea how she got to be with him or where she came from?”
“No. Trust me, in this game, you don’t ask questions.”
“And you’ve only had her for three years? Not ten?”
“Three years.”
“Could James or any of his associates have had her any longer than that?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. Like I said, I don’t ask questions.”
“What about this Ring you keep going on about? Who are they?”
“From what I get—an’ I don’t get much—they’re some massive network of… You know…”
“People like you,” Dorring said. “Perverts.”
“Yeah. Basically. But they’re very powerful. Probably even people from the government in them. An’ I reckon you might’ve bitten off more than you can chew on this one, old mate. I’m nothin’ compared to what’s gonna be comin’ after you.”
Dorring ignored the obvious threat.
“Is Carlton James a part of them?” he asked.
“Yeah. He works for them. One rung higher up the ladder than me.”
“And who else are they?”
“I have no idea. They keep everything at levels. All I know is Carlton above me. The guys working under me, know me. That’s all. No one knows how high it gets until they’re at the top.”
“And how high do you think the Ring goes?”
“Very high. Put it this way, any time we get crossed, need anything sortin’ out. No matter if it’s the police, gangs, girls, clients. No matter what, it always gets sorted. People disappear and no one asks questions. Police reports go missin’. Evidence too. Girls are taken into custody—police custody—and they go missin’ again. So if you think you’re gonna bust this thing open, you’ve another thing comin’. Because they’ll know about you now. The ones higher up—guys I couldn’t even point out to you in a room—they’re on their way. That place you hit. There’s cameras inside. They’ll have seen you. They’ll know you.”
“We’ll see.”
“No, you won’t. You’ve done nothing but free a few girls and taken me hostage. You’ll go after Carlton. Maybe you’ll get him. Get the name of the next man up the ladder. But at some point, they’ll get to you. And the longer you spend trying to climb, the closer they’ll be.”
“She’s always been so sweet,” Tina was saying as the old man sat listening. “After all the terrible things that’s happened to her, she stayed sweet.”
“What terrible things?”
“I don’t know exactly. All she ever t
old me was that she was taken when she was little.”
“Who? That man in the car with Dorrin’?”
“No. Not him. Not Daz. She’s only been at that place for a few years, I think.”
“Did she ever tell you where she were before?”
“No.”
“But youse are friends?”
“She wouldn’t tell, Otis. Didn’t want to talk about it. Just said she’d been taken.”
“But ya talked. She told ya about me.”
“Yeah. But that’s different, Otis. Sometimes people don’t like to talk about horrible things what’s happened to them. Prefer to keep it inside where they can pretend it’s small. Jess was the same. She used to go numb when you asked her. Stare off into space and say nothin’.”
“So how’d she end up where you were?”
“I don’t know. She never said.”
“But you must remember her comin’? Didn’t you hear nothin’?”
“All I know for sure was that one day she was there.”
“You must remember how she got there?”
“They drug us, Otis. Keep us from makin’ a racket or causin’ trouble. Sometimes a whole week can go by an’ you don’t know it. So when I say one day she was just there; I mean it. I might have asked or been told how she’d got there, but I couldn’t remember after. Mostly we don’t talk about that sort of stuff. We talk about other things. Good things. Like stories. Mr. Chicken and Mr. Fox.”
Otis smiled and his face loosened a little. He was about to say something more, but at that moment, he spotted Dorring walking towards them from the car.
“I’ve got everything I need,” he said to Otis when he reached them.
“What’d he say?” the old man asked. “Where’s Jess?”
“She ran out of his car. She’s somewhere on the streets.”
“Where?”
“Fulham. Near the college. But she won’t be there now.”
“How’d you know?”
“London’s a big place, Otis. She’ll have run. Hopefully, she’ll get picked up by the police.”
“But what if she don’t? What if those blokes find her?”
“We need to give the information to the police,” Dorring said. “They’ll have a better chance of finding her.”