by Adam Carter
“What does he know?” Jeremiah asked, his voice tight. He could only assume that Sanders had sent her to interrogate him, but he had to be sure.
“What? What does who know?”
“The old man.”
Lin laughed: a shallow sound if ever he’d heard one. “I don’t know what you mean.”
And it was in that instant that Jeremiah knew he was right. He moved far more quickly than any ordinarily human could, grabbing her arms beneath the shoulders. She gasped, terror briefly flooding her face, before being washed away with remembrance of who he was. He was a colleague, a friend, once something more than that. He would not hurt her, she knew.
But she was wrong.
“I don’t care what he suspects,” Jeremiah told her in a low, deep tone. “I want to hear what he knows.”
Lin tried to break away, looked to Julia for help, as though the maid would help her over her master. Julia was still stoking the fire, apparently oblivious to the situation. Jeremiah tightened his grip and Lin gasped, struggled more, but in vain. “Let me go!”
“You stupid woman, you have no idea what you’re trying to deceive!” He stared into her eyes, hard, and Lin’s body froze and trembled at the same time. Her gaze was locked, her frightened eyes stared wide, and Jeremiah pushed harder than he ever had into a friend. It was true he considered Lin a friend, but at that moment in time she was also an enemy. And if Sanders had indeed sent her it meant his life was in jeopardy.
Images flooded into his brain. They were half-formed, with snippets of sound and blurry vision. They were memories, which are never very specific, although always are they pure. He gained an impression from her brain, and knew at once that Sanders knew nothing for certain. They still had time to find Dalton and end this before Sanders could become fully prepared.
He broke away and Lin collapsed. He let her fall, gazing down upon her limp, unconscious body, a slow trickle of blood streaming from one nostril. Even the sight of blood did not stir anything within him this night, however, for he had far too much to think about.
“Julia,” he said without looking at her, “I need Detective Lin driven home. I’ll write down the address for you. Undress her, bathe her, make her bins seem as though she ate a TV dinner. Then take the rest of the night off. You’ll have earned it by then.”
“A night off and a TV dinner. You spoil me, Jeremiah.”
He looked at her sharply then and she lowered her gaze. She said no more as she took Lin’s meagre weight over her shoulders and carried her from the room. Jeremiah was left alone with his thoughts, and those fast fading of Lin. It wasn’t Sanders who bothered him so much, though; Sanders didn’t know enough to pose a problem yet. It wasn’t even Lin that troubled him; she would awaken to think she had completed her mission, discovered nothing and gone home to bed – he had tweaked her mind enough for that much at least. No, it was Julia who worried him presently. She had never been the quietest of individuals, but always was she reserved. She did not like what he did, but she never questioned or complained. Never before had she made a comment like that. Never before had she seemed to relish in the dirty tasks he gave her. It was seldom that he asked anything like this of her, and he could only despair at the thought that she had grown a taste for it. Subterfuge was a staple of his life, but it did not have to be a part of hers.
He sank into his chair once more, almost wishing they were not moving against Sanders after all. But it was why they had joined WetFish, and it was the only way to stop Sanders from eventually hunting them both down and killing them in their sleep. If there was another way to end this Jeremiah almost believed he would take it. He knew Baronaire certainly would. And for the sake of Julia perhaps even Jeremiah at that moment would have also.
Only for the sake of Julia. For that girl he would have moved the Earth itself.
CHAPTER FIVE
The rain pounded the pavement, attacking what little was left of the winter’s ice. It was such a harsh assault that the watery bullets were leaping back up after they had struck, recoiling at the armour the world possessed. Rachael sat within a bus shelter, safe from the majority of the rain but still feeling the freezing chill. She often envied Baronaire his inability to feel extreme changes in temperature; but sometimes she wondered how it made him human to be unable to feel anything. When she had first met him they had not got along, but the time they spent together was rich and pure and they had shared all their deepest, darkest secrets. There was nothing they did not know about one another, and Rachael felt she had at last found someone who could understand her, purely because he was someone even less human than she.
But underneath the high heels and the too-short skirt; underneath the veneer of filth she had to maintain in order to earn some money; despite every torment she had put her body through, every needle of despair she had shot into her veins ... underneath all of that she was still human.
She wasn’t even sure what Charles Baronaire was any more.
“Waitin’ for a bus?”
Rachael looked up as someone darted into the shelter with her. It was only a small area, but the bench was dry enough, and ordinarily would Rachael have welcomed the company. Tonight she did not even smile as Tammy shook the water from her hair.
Tamara Uddin was a young woman of average height and average looks. It was her smile which brightened her face, made her seem a lot prettier than she was, which wasn’t to say she wasn’t pretty anyway. Tammy had a shining soul, Rachael had always felt. She could walk into a room and people would be happier just to see her. Tonight Tammy was dressed similarly to Rachael – low-cut top, high-rising skirt – and looked just about as freezing.
“God, where’d this rain come from all of a sudden, eh?” Tammy asked, shaking her head at the storm.
Looking at her back, an unseen scrutiniser, Rachael suddenly realised she could not do this. She couldn’t betray Tammy. It turned out there was very little Baronaire wanted to know about Tammy anyway. It was more that he wanted to use Tammy in some scheme, as bait it sounded to Rachael. Rachael had agreed, but sitting here now, looking at the kind, innocent woman before her – the only person who had taken her in and helped her sort her life out – Rachael just couldn’t do it. She wouldn’t betray Tammy, not even for the man she loved.
She felt a sudden shiver pass down her spine. It felt like a finger and she jumped, but she could see it was only a trickle of rainwater which had found a crack in the shelter.
“You OK, Rach? You’re a little jumpy there.”
Rachael was on her feet without even realising she had left the bench. It was rain, she told herself, it wasn’t a finger. Her thumping heart screamed otherwise. And the storm hadn’t suddenly come out of nowhere. Baronaire wanted these two women to talk and there was no better way to do that than have a storm explode from the heavens and keep the punters at home.
“Rach?”
“I’m fine,” she snapped, regretting it instantly. She purposefully did not meet the other woman’s gaze, although Tammy wasn’t fooled for a moment.
“There’s something wrong, honey, I know that look. If it’s client trouble just tell me and I’ll sort it.”
“It’s not client trouble.”
“Charles, then? He giving you grief? If he is, I’ll gladly sort him, too.”
Rachael closed her eyes but she could still see the fierce look in Tammy’s eyes as she stood there with her hands on her hips. Rachael had come here to betray her friend and all Tammy was doing was offering her help.
“I have to go home,” Rachael said, walking out into the rain. Lightning flashed and Tammy grabbed her by the arm, drawing her back into the shelter.
“I’ve never seen you like this before, Rach.” Concern almost cracked her voice. “Talk to me, hon. I can help, I know I can.”
“And if you don’t, you know people who can?” Again Rachael regretted her words as soon as they had left her mouth. It was not well-known amongst the girls that Tammy worked in conjunction with the police,
although they did tend to get the impression they had some form of guardian angel watching over them. The last thing Rachael wanted to do right now though was press Tammy for answers about that protection. Especially since that was the very thing Baronaire wanted from her.
Tammy was frowning now, although not necessarily in a bad way. She had released Rachael’s arm, the warmth of the other woman’s touch being replaced once more with the bitter chill of the wet evening. The cold returning to claim its own. Tammy said nothing. Rachael’s outburst had come from somewhere but it seemed she wasn’t petty enough to press for it. If Rachael wanted to reveal its origins she would do so. One of the best things about Tammy was that she never pressed for anything.
Still looking away, Rachael fought with her loyalty to Tammy and her responsibility to Baronaire. She didn’t owe Baronaire anything; he’d saved her life when they had first met but that had been his job. Someone was trying to kill Rachael because she had witnessed another working girl being killed. Sanders had provided Baronaire as her personal bodyguard, and it was Tammy who had asked Sanders for help. Rachael did not at the time even know they were police officers, but Baronaire had no secrets from her any more.
“What do you know about Sanders?” Rachael asked at last, her voice small, her eyes fixed on nothing. “I mean, what do you really know?”
“What do I know? I know enough. Why?” It was impossible for Tammy to talk without a certain degree of friendliness to her tone, but at that moment it was dripping with more dampness than the shelter.
Rachael at last met her eyes, and could see Tammy wasn’t angry, just extremely wary. “Is he a good man, Tammy?”
Tammy considered the question, stared into the heart of the storm herself. She seemed to be staring so hard and for so long that Rachael wondered whether she was trying to commune with the adverse weather. Finally she looked back to Rachael and her eyes shone with determination. “He’s a good man. I don’t know what he wants, ultimately I mean. But he treats us right, Rach. Why?” The question was the most forceful demand Rachael had ever heard.
“I wish I knew for sure,” Rachael said. “Charles, he ... I’m not so sure he and Sanders get on all that well.”
“No. I don’t think they do.”
This surprised Rachael. “Sanders has mentioned it to you then?”
“Warned me, more like.”
“Warned you? About Charles?”
Something within Tammy seemed to soften and she even managed a smile. “We’re not getting any work tonight, hon. Why don’t you come back to my place and I’ll get some tea on.”
Rachael nodded weakly. She couldn’t stand the thought of Tammy being such a cordial host when she intended to betray her, but she wasn’t even sure yet she actually intended to do that. “Sure,” she said, trying not to sound too nervous. “Let’s get out of the storm.”
*
The flat was not what Rachael had expected. She and Tammy were on friendly terms, but Rachael suddenly got the impression they were not friends. They got on well, they looked out for one another, but it was seldom they socialised outside of work hours. And certainly Rachael had never been back to Tammy’s flat since that dark first day.
It was larger than the old place Rachael remembered, all that time ago when Tammy had rescued her from the needle, but it seemed Tammy had moved into better accommodation since those bad days. The furnishings were not cheap-looking and the pictures on the walls and ornaments dotted about the living room lent it a homey air Rachael’s own abode lacked. Rachael could not say how many rooms Tammy’s flat possessed, although she knew she lived with another working girl called Holly, so assumed there had to be at least two bedrooms.
While Tammy was in the kitchen making the tea, Rachael took a stroll around the living room. The blue wallpaper lent the room a mellow, soothing appearance, and the carpet, while not new, had indeed only been laid in the past five years or so. Rachael stopped beside the television, which had a cordless remote control and everything – it was the mid-nineties, where all things were possible. Her attention, however, was drawn to the circular fish tank sitting beside it, several small multi-coloured denizens darting around freely amidst the fake ancient ruins and reeds.
Tammy returned to the room then and set two mugs upon the table. She had changed into jeans and a T-shirt, and tossed Rachael a towel while she scrubbed vigorously at her own hair. Rachael accepted it gratefully and tried to dry herself off. Tammy had offered her some clean clothes when they had first arrived, but in truth Rachael wasn’t soaked through enough to bother about that. Getting wet was a hazard of the job and Rachael was more worried about dripping on the carpet.
“So,” Tammy said, sinking into a comfortable armchair and crossing one leg over her knee, taking her steaming mug into eager hands, “what do you want to know about Sanders?”
“I don’t want to know anything. Not exactly. I just ...” Rachael sat down, her towel in her lap, and stared at her tea. “God, Tammy, I don’t know what to do.”
“Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”
“It’s Charles. He ... Do you know anyone called Jeremiah?”
Tammy shook her head. “No. Do you?”
“I’ve never met him, but Charles knows him.”
“Works with him?” Tammy took a sip of her tea, her eyes never leaving her companion.
“Yes. With Sanders. They ... Sanders doesn’t like them much.”
“And how do they feel?”
“I don’t think they’re his biggest fans.”
“And?”
“And ... And I don’t know.” She took her own mug in shaking hands, and it was only then she realised Tammy’s stony glower betrayed a hint of her own unease. Anyone looking at Tammy in that moment would have seen a strong, determined young woman; but Rachael knew her, and Tammy was frightened.
“I know the name Jeremiah,” Tammy said at last, reading Rachael’s thoughts. “Sanders warned me about him, and about Charles. Told me to stay away from them both, and if either ever offered me money for services I was to turn them down and phone Sanders at once.”
“Charles too? Why?”
“Because Sanders doesn’t want them near me. Or his girls.”
“His girls? I thought we were your girls? We don’t work for anyone, Tammy, least of all a man.”
Tammy seemed to sense her rage, although Rachael tried to calm it. They did not work for a pimp, which meant they got to keep all the money they made. Rachael had known for a while that they were protected by Sanders, but it seemed Tammy was paying Sanders protection money, which equated to much the same thing.
“I don’t pay Sanders a penny,” Tammy said, sensing her thoughts once more. “I don’t quite know why he looks out for us, I never figured that part out. But he does, and I accept that.”
“Can we get back to him warning you about Charles?”
“There’s something about Charles, and Jeremiah. Something dangerous. I don’t know what it is, but Sanders doesn’t want us anywhere near them. When you told me you were seeing Charles, I thought Sanders might have done something about it, but he doesn’t seem to want to.”
“Maybe he doesn’t know about me and Charles.”
“Maybe. But Sanders knows everything.”
Rachael did not answer. She knew full well why Sanders didn’t like Baronaire and Jeremiah. They were powerful men, strange beings both of them. And they had odd sexual habits which set them apart from other men; or at least she assumed Jeremiah was the same. Whatever they were, she had a feeling Sanders knew precisely what they were. It was why he was afraid of them.
“You know, don’t you?” Tammy asked innocently. “You know why Sanders doesn’t trust them.”
“I think there’s going to be trouble,” Rachael said in a small voice. “I think there’s going to be a lot of trouble.”
“Should I warn Sanders?”
“I don’t know. But I’m warning you.” She met Tammy’s eyes at last and within them she foun
d the strength to continue. “Charles ... I don’t even know what Charles wants any more. But whatever it is, I don’t think Sanders is going to like it. And I’m not convinced Sanders isn’t planning something similar for Charles. I intend to stay out of their way. I think you should do the same.”
“Well, thank you for the warning.”
Tammy’s reply was cold, and Rachael could see she wanted more. But Rachael had little more to give. She would not tell her Baronaire intended to kill Sanders, she couldn’t do that. If Sanders found that out he would make his move first and Baronaire would be dead before sunrise. Rachael didn’t want to see anyone die, but if this conflict was inevitable she desperately didn’t want for Baronaire to be the one to fall.
“If Sanders was out of the picture,” Tammy said, “we would have to look out for ourselves. It would mean organised crime moving in to take over our patch. Drugs being dealt on the streets, most of the hookers we work with back on something or other. We’d be lumbered with pimps and dealers and hoods all over again. Are you prepared for that, Rach? Are you prepared, because that’s what we’ll be going back to if you don’t tell me everything you know.”
“There’s nothing else to tell,” Rachael lied.
“Then there’s nothing more to say. Thanks for stopping by. Always a pleasure to chat, Rach.”
Rachael left, stepping back into the rain, but she hardly even noticed. It did not matter if Sanders was no longer there, she told herself. Baronaire would protect her, he would always protect her. She didn’t want to see anyone get hurt, but she could not lose Baronaire. Tammy didn’t understand, she couldn’t understand. She wasn’t in love like Rachael was, she couldn’t possibly know what it was like having to make these decisions, take these choices.