The Killing Moon

by Michael Robinson

  Roxy knocked on the door twice and was quickly answered by Billy who came to the door in a pair of jeans and Jesus sandals on his feet and a bare yellowish chest covered in dark blotches. Roxy made a mental note of the time as she was paid for the hour and once she had put the £120 in her purse, she pulled out her mobile phone to ring Jessica. The phone rang twice before Jessica answered with a curt, "Yep."

  Roxy just replied, "Safe and happy."

  Jessica then continued, "Have you been paid?"

  "Yes," replied Roxy.

  Then Jessica added, "Have you got the package?"

  Roxy then lowered her phone to her chin and said to Billy, "Have you got the package?"

  Billy then threw his arms in the air confused and said, "Oh yeah, yeah! I forgot." Billy then disappeared into the spare bedroom and returned within a minute holding a brown envelope.

  Roxy then continued on the phone to Jessica, "Yeah, I've got the package now."

  "OK, see you in an hour."

  Roxy hung up the phone, put the package in her handbag and pulled out some latex condoms then said to Billy, "In here or the bedroom?"

  Chapter Fifty

  The Sheraton Grand Spa was a 5-star hotel in the middle of Festival Square in Edinburgh. It was a sunny Saturday afternoon and initially the square was packed with the usual tourists from all over the world. The tranquillity was soon broken however, when from the corner of the square a group of twenty or so Hearts football hooligans descended onto the square, fuelled on alcohol and amphetamine like a pack of wild dogs.

  It was derby day at the start of the 'friendly' football match, and Hearts were due to play Hibs within the next two hours. Before that however, two rival football firms had arranged the usual punch up before the match. This was normally on the outskirts of the city, however the police were getting wise to the normal locations of the fights, so the firms both agreed to meet in Festival Square.

  The violence between Hearts and Hibs, although not as brutal as the Glasgow rivals (Celtic and Rangers), was totally fuelled by sectarianism. Almost a civil war between two theologies. The Hearts firm looked with complete contempt at anyone who was in their path, in fact the lucky tourists were the ones who only got death stares, others would be spat at, tables would be turned over at the coffee shops and all the time the police were nowhere to be seen, as they were totally overstretched.

  A few metres away from the entrance of the hotel, in a shop doorway, lay a vulnerable tramp obviously down on his luck and sleeping on cardboard with nothing but a blanket and a red sweater to protect him from the elements. Ian, one of the Hearts' hooligans, thought it was a great opportunity to try and impress the lads, he unzipped his fly and began to relieve himself all over the pathetic individual laying in the doorway.

  As soon as the tramp knew what was happening, he swore to himself in an English accent, but instead of retaliating, he pathetically picked himself up, tried to get away from his assailant and did his best to prevent his bed from getting any wetter. Ian and the firm thought this was hilarious as the dejected tramp started to retreat from the square.

  At the same time Amy was leaving the steps of the Sheraton Hotel, where she had spent the night with a client. It wasn't a bad job in the sense that there was nothing too taxing, however the client was a short, fat, bald, fifty-year-old business man. Even though he had extended twice the night before and wanted to extend further. Amy couldn't be arsed with any more acting, she felt that she had done enough to pay the bills and keep Jessica happy. She made her excuses to leave.

  All of a sudden Ian spotted Amy leaving the hotel and he had found a new victim to intimidate. He looked up and pointed at Amy and shouted "Slag" and again he shouted "Slag, slag," as if on cue the rest of the firm joined in on a chorus of "Slag, slag, slag." Soon the crowd of hooligans surrounded Amy and started to belittle and mock her and Ian slapped Amy on the behind. Amy screamed and looked up at the hotel concierge only to see him locking the doors.

  Amy was well and truly on her own as the bunch of Neanderthals surrounded her. All Amy could do was lash out and she threw a punch into Ian's face and continued to scream for help. The tramp that was walking away turned around after hearing the woman in distress. Within a second, he had dropped his blanket and started to run towards the crowd like a juggernaut down a clear track.

  The tramp in fact was Rob Foster and he pushed into the crowd and threw a punch into Ian's temple, knowing full well it would knock him unconscious. Ian fell to the floor like a disregarded hand towel. One or two of the firm saw what happened to Ian and started to turn their attentions towards Rob. Rob was just up for a fight, even if he knew he could not take on all twenty of them. Amy was still being molested by the rest of the firm, but as if by a twist of fate, across the other side of Festival Square had arrived the Hibs firm.

  When the rival firm saw each other they both charged like a force of nature and soon both firms were concentrating solely on knocking the living daylights out of each other. Rob saw his chance he grabbed Amy by the wrist and pulled her away from the chaos. "Wait!" she screamed, and bent over to retrieve her handbag which had fallen to the floor. Rob screamed at her, "Come on for fuck's sake," and then continued to pull her away. Rob was obviously a fit guy as she struggled to keep up with him as he dragged her by the wrist.

  Towards the side of the hotel was a side street, Rob pulled Amy for all he was worth, hoping to find a service entrance to the hotel. His luck was in. Halfway down the alley was a fire door which had been left open, Rob quickly pulled Amy inside and slammed the fire door shut leaving the commotion behind. The large room they had entered was a banquet hall however the room was empty apart from a few tables and chairs. "Come on," he said. "We can't stay in here." Soon Rob and Amy were walking together until they found an old store room beneath the bottom of the hotel; it was a large room filled only with tables and chairs. Rob shut the door behind him again and turned on the light. "You okay love?" he asked.

  Amy sat down on a chair and began to cry. "Listen, I don't know who you are, but thank you for helping me out"

  "That's okay." Rob smiled. "It looked like you were having a bad day."

  Amy heard Rob's accent and said, "You're English."

  "How'd you guess?" Rob replied sarcastically.

  "You must have a lot of bottle to be English sleeping rough in Edinburgh on derby day. Either that or you're completely nuts."

  "I'm probably the latter, love," Rob replied.

  Amy then began to regain her composure, she looked at Rob's clothes but noticed how athletic his body was, despite the rags he was wearing. "So how long have you been sleeping rough?"

  "Just a few days, I've come up here to get myself some work, I'm looking to get some money to get me abroad."

  "What sort of work do you do?"

  "I was up in the army until recently, but I had some problems so I had to get away for a bit."

  Amy thought for a moment and said, "I might be able to help you there, I know someone who is looking for a bodyguard."

  "Okay sounds good to me, but in the meantime, I think we better get out of here. Let's go round the back of the hotel and see if we can get a taxi, you can fill me in on what you need."

  Rob held out his hand, "My name's Rob," stopping short of giving his last name.

  Amy took his hand and said, "Roxy, however my friends call me Amy."

  At that moment Rob knew exactly what Amy meant, meaning he knew what work she did. Soon they both were in a taxi as the riot police were dispersing both firms outside the hotel. Being away from the scene of the trouble and leaving the area was a relief to Rob, however he told himself soon he would need his medication if he was to function and ultimately get Charlotte's little girl back. Rob felt Amy could help him.

  Chapter Fifty-one

  An hour or so later Jessica, Amy and Rob were sat in a pub called Biddy Mulligans in the grass market area of the city. Amy had filled Jessica in on what Rob had done for her that afternoon. As Jessica was
looking for a new driver/body guard, initially Jessica thought this was music to her ears. All three parties discussed the role, and although Rob was jittery from the lack of sleep, he was pleased with the progress he was making. Also, the second pint of Tennant's, that Amy had bought him, was going down nicely.

  Rob realised that he was talking to a madam that knew her job very well, and by all accounts Jessica enjoyed bragging about when she came up from London twenty years ago and opened the agency. Against all odds the agency had been a success. However, Jessica failed to disclose that she was a heroin addict, albeit a functioning one. At this point another opportunity presented itself to Rob, he turned to Jessica and asked, "Can you get me a passport?"

  Jessica looked at him inquisitively. "So what do you need a passport for then, darling?"

  Rob had to think fast, despite feeling hazy from the alcohol. "No particular reason just I left Hull so quickly that I forgot to pack my passport and it would be a hassle to have to go back and get it, especially if I'm working for you now."

  Jessica took a drag on her cigarette before she answered. "I can sort that out for you, darling, but it may take a week or two, how long are you thinking of working for me?"

  "Two or three months," replied Rob. "Just long enough for me to save up some money for me to get to Australia, I have a mate there from the army who has a security firm, he has offered me some work."

  Jessica knew instinctively Rob was lying, and as a result of her body language, Rob knew that Jessica has sussed him. To diffuse the situation Rob asked to be excused and made his way to the gents.

  As soon as he left ear shot, Amy turned to Jessica and asked, "So what do you think? Is he going to be any good to you?"

  Jessica smiled and said, "I think he's facking beautiful I'm going to contact the girls tonight and tell them we have a new minder, however I don't buy this shit about going to Australia, he's on the facking run that one." Then she added "As long as he doesn't get arrested while he's working for me, I don't give a shit!"

  A few minutes later and Rob returned, and sat at the table, Jessica said, "Okay, so you start tonight, I have a few jobs booked already and for the time being you can use my car to drive the girls. I take it you haven't got a phone?" Jessica asked.

  Again, Rob lied. "Like I said, I left Hull in such a hurry, I left it on charge when I was rushing to catch the train."

  Jessica ignored the lie and opened up her handbag, inside were three phones. She handed the cheap looking one to Rob along with a cheaper looking charger. "Right you can use this for now, where you going to be staying?"

  "Well I'm not one hundred percent sure yet, but I'll find somewhere."

  Jessica turned to Amy and said, "When we leave here take him to the Rock, off Princes Street he can stop there for now." Then Jessica turned to Rob and said, "Book yourself in but don't use your real name, it's a youth hostel so no one will ask many questions anyway, you won't have to pay until the end of the week."

  Then Jessica added, "I've got a job booked in at seven with Lexi. It's an easy job. It's just going to The Guards Hotel for an hour."

  Then Jessica handed Rob a set of car keys. "I'll make sure the car is outside the hostel at half past six, I will ring you at six with the address for Lexi. Once the job is over, you collect yours and my money and we will take it from there, there's a sat-nav in the car."

  Within five minutes all three parties had finished their drinks and left the pub. Amy took Rob in a black cab before dropping him outside the Rock Youth Hostel on Johnston Terrace.

  Amy turned to Rob and said, "I'm going to feel a lot safer with you driving us, but watch it, Jessica can't be trusted."

  Rob's ears pricked up. "How so?" he replied.

  "Just if she can save her own skin she will do," replied Amy. "I've got a job booked in later tonight, hopefully I will see you then, thanks for saving me."

  Rob stepped out of the black cab and watched it pull away, before entering the hostel. He gave a false name and made his way up to the ten-bed dorm. On the side he found a plug to charge the phone, then rested on one of the bunk beds. Before he dozed, he had to think where and how he would get his meds. Soon the alcohol and lack of sleep came over him. Within five minutes he was fast asleep.

  Chapter Fifty-two

  An hour after leaving the pub, Jessica was sitting in the office of DCI Steve Johnson, at Edinburgh Central Police Station. Both DCI Johnson and Jessica were on their second line of cocaine as they discussed the matters which were concerning the madam. To say DCI Johnson was a corrupt copper would be putting it lightly. Although he had initially come from a middle-class background, after he left the university with no debt, he joined the Scottish police force.

  For the first year or two on probation, Johnson kept his nose clean. However, soon in to his promotions he found a way to work both the legal system and the criminal fraternity. Johnson however, was a clever and devious bastard, and rarely did he make mistakes.

  When the detective inspector in charge of him realised Johnson was a corrupt copper, it didn't take long for the rumours to spread around the station, and this quickly filtered back to Johnson. The upshot was the DI who started to investigate him was soon blackmailed when the inspector's seventeen-year-old son had ten kilograms of cocaine and a stack of child porn DVDs found in his student digs.

  There was more than enough leverage for Johnson to blackmail the DI, who within a month had resigned, only for Johnson to be promoted to DI, and sat in the old detective inspector's chair soon after. Four years later, and Johnson had been promoted to DCI. Recreational drug use was not Johnson's only vice. As well as drugs, money, and power, he also had a taste for more exotic sexual exploits.

  Even in his flat, in Stockbridge, in a good area of Edinburgh, he had his own personal dungeon. As a rule, Johnson preferred to be the dominant party, but occasionally he would play the submissive with call girls that Jessica provided. However, it was well known amongst the girls that he liked to be rough, the last time he booked Sophie, she ended in a terrible state. This was the reason Jessica wanted to see Johnson.

  "So what the fack did you think you were playing at, last time you booked my girl?" demanded Jessica, as pleasantly as she dared to.

  "I don't know what the fuck you're complaining at, Jessica. She got well fucking paid," was Johnson's arrogant reply.

  Jessica dabbed her nose, enjoying the buzz of the cocaine. "Yes, I know that, Steve, but she had bruises up and down her body. I had two jobs booked in for her afterwards. She couldn't go on them because she was in that much pain."

  As Jessica was speaking, Johnson started to cut another line of cocaine on his desk, with a generous helping for Jessica. Then he replied, "You tell me that she was a girl looking for new experiences, well, I gave her a new fuckin' experience."

  Jessica replied, "Fucking hell, Steve, she was off for five days. Just be careful in future. Not all the girls are as open minded, and I've got to look after them, plus, you'll get your cut, so it's in your interest to keep my girls healthy."

  Johnson just sniffed, and almost belligerently nodded his head, then shrugged his shoulders. "So anyway," he replied. "Do you have anything new to tell me?"

  "Not much. Business is steady, oh, and it looks like I've got a new minder starting today."

  Johnson looked at Jessica and said, "Who is he? Another smack-rat off the Muirhouse estate?"

  "Not really," said Jessica. "This guy's as hard as facking nails. He rescued one of my girls from a shitload of football hooligans a couple of hours ago."

  "Where's he from?" Johnson asked.

  'Well he says he's from Hull, and he's definitely got a northern accent. But he could be from facking anywhere. I think he's on the run."

  "How so," Johnson asked, the detective in him taking over.

  Jessica continued. "Well for a start, he's been sleeping rough in Edinburgh and he claims that he left in such a hurry that he left his phone on charge in his flat. Load of bollocks if you ask me." />
  "What's his name?" asked Johnson.

  "He just said his name was Rob, also he's asked me to get him a passport."

  "What's he need a fucking passport for?" replied Johnson.

  "He told me he was going to Australia," replied Jessica.

  Johnson sniffed. "Tell you what, I'll look into him, see if there's anything on the police computer, if anything comes up, I'll let you know."

  Jessica replied, "Yeah but don't do anything that's going to stop him working for me, at least for the time being. He looks like he's going to be a facking good minder."

  Johnson replied, mimicking her cockney accent, "Dahn't you facking worry about it, sunshine. Now have another line." Then he added, "So what girls are working tonight then?"

  Chapter Fifty-three

  News of Rob Foster's daring escape from the medium secure hospital spread like wildfire through the tabloids. Also, the way in which he escaped was sensationalised in order to paint Foster as some sort of mad genius. The police were particularly unhappy, mainly because Foster was in their sight when he escaped but still managed to get away successfully. When the senior police officer was interviewed on live TV, it was almost a bone of contention when the newsreader pressed the officer on Foster's successful evasion. It was becoming apparent that Humberside police were taking it personally.

  Another party which took it personally was Simon Grant's family. Not only had they protested that justice had not been served as before, but now the authorities had let this vicious killer escape almost unchallenged from incarceration. Again, Simon Grant's uncle reiterated the words scum and psycho when referring to Rob.

  What made the news story more intriguing was the fact that the Grant family had placed a ten-thousand-pound reward on Rob's head and Simon Grant's uncle had almost implied to the media that Rob was wanted dead or alive, carefully selecting his words.