by Ian Jarvis
‘That’s Sergeant Gruner,’ said Adler. ‘He’s Serbian and rather strong. He’s been charged with watching you. If you try anything unwise, he’s the one you’ll be dealing with. Good luck.’
‘Has he taken his steroids today?’
‘Come along.’ The Colonel opened the glass doors and stepped out. ‘I’ll show you around and explain the situation.’
Rex walked by Gruner, giving the man a sardonic smile. Adler paused to speak quietly with her Sergeant and then followed. The terrace was edged with a stone balustrade and wide steps led down from the front doors of the house to a lily-covered moat, a stone bridge providing access to the gardens.
‘Oh, lovely,’ said Rex, looking back at the Georgian mansion. ‘You live in Downton Abbey and you have your very own moat.’
‘Yes, it’s quite deep,’ said Adler. The house is effectively an island, which I suppose is the entire purpose of a moat. The rear walls and those on the eastern and western sides rise straight out of the water.’
‘Really?’ Rex flicked cigarette ash. ‘The damp treatments must cost a fortune.’
‘Thanks to Ligeia, money isn’t a problem. We have fifteen staff working in the house, the kitchens and the gardens, along with our own resident doctor and my Entertainment Director. Then there’s the security. My core team of twelve have been with me for years, but an extra twenty have been hired to police the grounds here and oversee the security at the British concerts.’
‘Thirty-two paid security?’
‘As I say, money isn’t a problem, but it was for Lord Cantlemere. He died owing millions and his son attempted to pay the debt by turning this place into a tourist attraction. It’s in a good spot, between Richmond and Kingston-upon-Thames, but his plans didn’t work and eventually he was glad to sell relatively cheaply. What he did, however, made it perfect for Ligeia.’
They walked over the bridge, where Elva sat on the wall smiling at Rex, her cross-legged pose and elfin appearance reminiscent of a pixie on a toadstool.
‘Hello again,’ he snorted, tossing his cigarette stub into the moat. ‘Hey, thanks for the other night. First you fucked me and then you really fucked me. How does it feel to be part of a kidnapping, you sick little shit?’
Confused and distressed at his tone, the girl jumped down from her perch and headed for the house.
‘Oh, dear, you’ve upset her,’ said Adler, leading Rex across the lawn. ‘We found our mute friend in Prague when Ligeia was performing there. She was probably some Irish backpacker who did too many drugs and ended up living rough. At any rate, she was begging in the street and Ligeia spotted her from the car and made us stop. For some reason, she took an instant shine to her and wanted Elva to live with us. I made a similar proposal to the one I gave you, but she turned down the money and came anyway.’ The Colonel nodded to the house. ‘Who can blame her? This place is preferable to sleeping in shop doorways.’
‘How do you know she’s Irish? Was her accent that obvious?’
‘You really are quite the comedian.’ Adler walked him around a high rhododendron hedge. ‘Ligeia communicates with her. Elva taught her signing and she learnt surprisingly quickly.’
Rex jumped at the sound of screeching birds. A row of aviaries and cages stood behind the high shrubs.
‘The private menagerie,’ said the Colonel. ‘Young Lord Cantlemere hired out Charlington Hall for weddings and functions, but his idea was to attract the paying public with a small zoo and funfair.’ She motioned past the parrots and cockatoos to the larger enclosures ahead and the big tiger in one of the cages. ‘Cantlemere sold the few animals he had, but we’ve bought one of our own.’
Alarmed at Rex’s appearance, the birds shrank away from him and even the tiger edged warily back, its lip curling in a rumbling growl.
‘Ligeia loves tigers,’ said Adler. ‘We acquired this one for her and she’s named him Mister Tigsy.’ A building ran along the rear of the cages and the cat vanished through a hatch into its indoor quarters. The Colonel eyed Rex inquisitively. ‘He didn’t seem to like you, did he? Neither do the birds; just listen to them going wild. I wonder why?’
Rex ignored the question. Animals sensed his supernatural aura and wouldn’t come anywhere near him since he’d become a wolf. ‘You actually bought her a pet tiger?’
‘We give Ligeia anything she wants; anything to keep her content. Since the first album went on sale, money isn’t an issue.’
‘Anything she wants? Like me, you mean?’
‘Exactly.’
‘You’re out of your mind. Just playing the devil’s avocado, if I’d taken up your offer and come along with her, what was I supposed to do here?’
‘Simply keep her happy.’ Adler grinned at him. ‘This is a very important time and everything is unbelievably hectic. Tomorrow we’re holding the press conference and then we have the O2 concert tomorrow night. We have a flight from there to a concert in Miami, and then on to California where we’re relocating. Ligeia then goes straight into her American tour.’
‘Ooh, busy, busy, busy.’
‘Indeed. Then suddenly, immediately before all that, she met you. She wanted you and came to me sobbing when you turned her down. She fixated upon you, Rex, and that’s one of the reasons I brought you here.’
‘You kidnapped me to keep your singer happy?’ Rex laughed harshly. ‘But this is completely insane. Music star or not, you don’t have to pander to her every childish whim.’
‘Actually I do. She wants you here and I’m making sure she has you for now. I really do not want her upsetting at this critical moment in her schedule.’
‘I honestly can’t believe this. You said keeping her happy was one of the reasons you brought me here?’
‘Yes.’ Adler narrowed her eyes. ‘Why did she fixate upon you in particular? She’s never done this with a man before and there were plenty of other good-looking idiots in that sleazy club.’
‘Well, I am pretty unique. The Rex Grant charm and sex appeal are both legendary in the London clubs where I...’
‘The crucial point is you’re able to resist her. She asked you to come with her and you refused. How are you able to resist Ligeia?’
‘What?’ Rex shook his head. ‘What the hell are you talking about?’
‘Well, there we have the main reason for you being our guest. I need to understand how and if you genuinely don’t know, I’m sure the Padre will be able to tell me soon enough.’
‘Who’s he? Your chaplain or something?
‘Padre is a private joke. A nickname for Mister Lafont who supplies a form of spiritual assistance.’
‘Are you really a female Colonel, as you claim, or is that some nickname too?’
‘I’m a Colonel and Gruner really is a Sergeant. He’s been with me for many years, as have my team.’ Adler gestured again to the large men positioned around the grounds. ‘They’re my military unit from the days when we operated as Red Globe Security.’
‘Mercenaries?’
‘An unpalatable term, but my extra security staff are indeed all mercenaries. We’re dispensing with them tomorrow before we leave for America. It won’t be difficult to find new guards for the California estate. My core team of twelve were freelance military advisors who provided private security and assistance overseas. That’s all in the past, however, and we’ve since moved into the music business. The name is now Red Globe Management.’
‘Seriously?’ laughed Rex. ‘You’re telling me there are female mercenaries?’
‘Not many, but yes. Believe me, some are extremely proficient.’
‘But your bunch have gone from being mercenaries to managing pop stars?’
‘Just one star. All my life I’ve been able to spot opportunities and I always take them. Where other people deliberate, I simply snatch the moment and Ligeia was mo
st definitely one of those moments.’
Bewildered, Rex slowly rubbed his eyes. ‘This all sounds so crazy.’
Adler nodded. ‘I believe we’ve established your feelings.’
The rhododendron hedge ran around the menagerie, screening it from neighbouring properties and river boats, and walking through an archway in the tall shrubs, they arrived at a similarly concealed funfair. A carousel stood next to a bright red Chinese pagoda and a larger fairground building with fake spiders climbing an exterior painted with garish monsters. Ligeia sat on one of the carousel horses, spinning to the sound of jolly organ music.
‘This was the beginnings of Lord Cantlemere’s tourist dream?’ Adler laughed. ‘Those cages back there and these few old rides from a travelling fairground. He hoped to buy adjoining land and build something grander, but huge pay-outs to the right people were needed to gain planning permission and after that his money ran out. It isn’t much; just a hall of mirrors, a ghost train and a merry-go-round, but Ligeia likes it as you can see. She loves this and the river. Being near water makes her happy.’
‘And you do everything it takes to keep her happy,’ muttered Rex, watching the girl.
The Colonel turned to the huge Serbian who had been following them. ‘Sergeant Gruner. I believe you’ve met our friend Mister Grant?’
‘I feel close.’ The bald man grinned. ‘I organised his guest accommodation in the cellar yesterday, undressed him and put him to bed.’
‘I don’t think we need you,’ said Adler. ‘There’s no reason to shadow our guest so closely with the team around. I wonder if you’d take care of that business I mentioned back there on the terrace?’
Rex watched Gruner head back to the menagerie building. So this twat organised his “bedroom”, did he? He obviously hadn’t been trained by the Balmoral Hotel staff. He didn’t leave any chocolates on the pillow.
Chapter 15
Few men in the Parachute Regiment had liked Corporal William Baxter, or Bastard Baxter as he’d been known. The soldiers had also christened him Bastard Billy, Billy the Bastard and several other names, all with a common theme - they had bastard in the wording. This wasn’t in any way connected to his parents being unmarried, but because the Corporal was an absolute bastard.
Leaving the army had come as a relief to Baxter. He’d hated the military progression into the twenty-first century, the enlightened views that had crept in and the new attitude to human rights. The Corporal despised all Muslims, but this gradually became unacceptable and investigations were held every time he shot some Afghan or Iraqi civilian he didn’t like the look of. Baxter had moved straight from the Paras into the lucrative private sector, where “military advisors” could kill without red tape and for a lot more cash than the British government paid. For the last three years his skills had been put to use in Africa and it was refreshing to wipe out villages on the orders of dictators without BBC journalists and hesitant, career-conscious officers breathing down his neck. Derogatory bastard nicknames were still occasionally invented by some of the other mercenaries, but they didn’t stick for long. About as long as it took for him to hear of it and take out his gun.
Some six months ago, Sergeant Gruner had recruited a squad of twenty mercenaries, including Baxter, as private protection at Charlington Hall. Compared to the Corporal’s usual contracts, it was mundane security work, but the pay was triple. Unfortunately, it was a temporary arrangement and the squad were receiving their final payment tomorrow when their employer relocated to America. Colonel Adler had headed Red Globe Security, a famous name in Baxter’s world, but a year ago she’d bizarrely and inexplicably moved into the music business. To begin with, the Corporal had disliked the idea of working for a woman. In his opinion, tarts had no place in the military, but he’d grown to respect her professional skills and cold efficiency. Baxter had decided to speak with Gruner and try for a permanent position on Adler’s team, now known as Red Globe Management, and as luck would have it, the Sergeant had just asked to see him. This would be the ideal time to enquire.
The concrete menagerie building was single-storey and eighty feet in length. Baxter walked along the rear corridor, wondering why he’d been told to meet here. A sequence of doors split the passage into compartments, presumably to contain any animals which might escape from their indoor quarters. Metal doors on his right provided access to these chambers, but all were empty. The corridor terminated in a large tiled workroom, which also housed the tiger’s indoor cage, and he saw Gruner busy at the bars with a lengthy cattle prod.
‘It’s Corporal Baxter,’ he said. ‘You wanted to see me, Sergeant?’
‘Come in, Corporal,’ said Gruner, without turning.
The sliding exit to the outdoor pen had been bolted shut and the Sergeant poked the pacing cat, herding it into a small tiger-sized cage that was clamped onto the door of the enclosure. The electric prod crackled on its flank, the tiger hissed and bolted inside and Gruner dropped the door.
‘Got you,’ he chuckled. Unclamping the cage, he pulled it away from the door, turned it on tiny wheels and rolled it into the centre of the room. The angry cat tried lashing out, but the space was cramped and the bars were too narrow for its paws. ‘Ligeia calls him Mister Tigsy. Have you been this close before, Corporal?’
‘I can’t say I have,’ said Baxter. He saw there were electric motors on one side of the cage linked to pistons. ‘I’ve always fancied an Indian safari shooting these things. I reckon it’d be good fun.’
Gruner nodded. ‘This device is called a crush,’ he said, producing a remote control similar to the ones used for televisions. ‘Vets use them to squeeze large animals into a tight space and prevent them moving. They can then make examinations and work on them while they’re awake, taking rectal temperatures, administering injections, treating small wounds and suchlike.’ He pressed the remote, the motors hummed and the pistons slowly pressed in the side of the cage trapping the cat against the opposite bars. ‘It’s always best to keep them awake. Every time you tranquilise an animal, you run the risk of killing it, as estimating the weight and getting the right dose is tricky.’
‘What are you planning on doing with it, Sergeant?’
‘You’ll see.’ Gruner studied the Corporal for a few moments and smiled. ‘As a child in Serbia I used to enjoy hurting animals. I’d pour petrol over the village dogs, light them up and watch them run. How does that make you feel?’
‘Er...’
It sounded like a bloody good laugh, but Baxter shook his head, unsure of how to react. If Gruner now regretted his childhood behaviour, showing approval could be wrong. If Baxter was hoping to join Red Globe, he needed to get his answers correct. Who knew what kind of personality they were looking for in their recruits?
‘My father used to beat me for this,’ continued Gruner. ‘He said these were the actions of a psychopath, but he was wrong. I’ve since discovered it’s sociopathic behaviour, which is quite different. As I grew older and larger, I discovered I much preferred hurting people.’
‘That makes two of us,’ said Baxter, grinning.
‘Very good.’ Gruner laughed quietly. ‘You were in the Parachute regiment, I believe? When you left, I imagine you were delighted to find dictatorships who were prepared to pay you for hurting people. I know I was.’
‘Absolutely.’ The Corporal nodded. ‘I’d say we think alike, Sergeant.’
‘Occasionally I still indulge myself with an animal like this. Call me a nostalgic fool, but it takes me back to my childhood.’
‘Great.’ Baxter eyed the huge cat with malevolence. ‘Are you going to fry it a little with that cattle prod?’
‘No.’ Gruner unzipped his trousers and positioned himself behind the struggling tiger. Unable to move, Mister Tigsy hissed viciously as he pushed forward through the bars. ‘I’ve found this doesn’t hurt it too much physically, but it’s an ex
cellent form of mental torture. The hatred builds, but the beast is unable to do anything about it. This ferocious killing machine is completely subservient.’
‘Er, right...’
Baxter watched with wide eyes. He’d seen many weird sights during his time as a mercenary, but none quite so weird as this. He was no stranger to rape, but his victims had usually been female and invariably human.
‘I can best any man in a fight,’ said Gruner, thrusting. ‘But obviously I’d be unable to beat the tiger if it were free. This way, I’m the master. Animals need to understand who is in charge and learn subservience. We both know our friend here is faster, fiercer and more powerful, but I have the brain and the technology to allow me to do this whenever I wish.’ The furious tiger let out a deafening snarl. ‘Oh, yes, he knows who’s in charge,’
The Sergeant withdrew and fastened his trousers. Baxter was aware that Gruner hadn’t climaxed, but realised this bizarre episode hadn’t been in any way sexual. It was a basic masculine display of crude power.
‘We’re leaving this place tomorrow night,’ said Gruner, operating the crush wall and allowing the enraged tiger to move at last. Its head whipped around, glaring at the men with ears pressed flat, and its claws raked the bars. ‘People are calling on Saturday morning to transfer the cat to a zoo. A pity, as I’ve come to enjoy these little interludes.’ He turned to the Corporal. ‘But enough of that. You’ll be wondering why I asked to see you.’
‘What? Er, yes, that’s right.’ Baxter had forgotten he’d been requested. Strangely enough, the violation of the tiger had pushed it from his mind. ‘Is there a problem, Sergeant?’
‘I understand you allowed Ligeia to see the prisoner in the cellar earlier?’
‘That’s right.’
‘This was after the Colonel gave orders that no one should go near him?’
‘She asked me to unlock the door.’
‘What? Why would you disobey a direct order?’