I slapped him hard across the face.
Poor, poor stupid Duncan. He made the mistake of losing both his temper and his memory. It should have occurred to him that if I could make two thugs leave the building I could handle one tall, obnoxious man. As he got ready to hit me back, I did a little twirl around him and put him in an arm lock.
“Owwww! Fucking—’
“Keep twisting and you’ll have a nasty spinal fracture,’ I told him. “Who makes these videos?’
“Fuck you!’
“Who makes them?’
“Silky Pictures!’
“We’re Silky Pictures,’ I reminded him. “You wouldn’t swipe the packaging stock if we made that filth. And the credits on these say Ladrão Films.’
“Ladrão is part of Silky Pictures. Not this Silky, the head company in Brazil—ow! Come on, lemme go!’
“Explain,’ I said, gritting my teeth. “Luis doesn’t have a clue what you’re doing, does he?’
“Luis don’t know shit! Ow!’
“Luis knows a few things,’ I insisted. “He talked to one of those men in his office.’
“Course he’d talk to them—they’re with the parent company! But he didn’t know about the Ladrão releases. I mean he knew they were sold in the UK, yeah, but he didn’t want any part of them. He figured they got somebody else bringing ‘em in.’
“Here’s a headline for you, idiot,’ I said. “He’s figured out it’s you. He’s been on to you for a while!’
“Fine, I am gone after tonight! Will you fucking let go already?’
“No,’ I said. And I was busy thinking: Maybe Luis had told me the truth. Maybe he had been arguing over a documentary division. So what were those men threatening Duncan about?
I was just about to ask him again when Nicole rushed in, still cradling her head. She looked bewildered by me physically humbling the director, his arm twisted behind his back, down on his knees. But she was frightened over something worse.
“You all right?’ I asked. “What’s wrong?’
“They’re coming back, they’re coming back!’ she squealed, and then she was running to the back exit.
“Shit!’ I muttered—and let go of Duncan. I took two steps to follow Nicole, wondering if she’d managed to phone the cops, and then Duncan was saying fuck this and pushing past me. Heading for the back exit.
Like a dummy, I stood frozen for an instant with all my questions pending, like why did the guys come back? I could chase after Duncan and might get a couple more answers, but I doubted even he knew how those two bad guys knew my name. I didn’t feel in imminent danger because they could have shot me before and didn’t. This might sound silly, but it happened in all of two seconds.
I literally turned on my heel to face whoever was storming ing back in, looking for a potential weapon, when a foot sliced the air and clipped me across the temple—
Boom. Purple light bursts. Red. Mauve. All the fireworks colors, Bonfire Night coming early in my head. Then a big, rude slap of floor and darkness.
♦
I woke up to the crackle of pages being flipped and flipped again, someone bored, browsing through a catalogue.
I couldn’t seem to focus—or for that matter, move my head. For the moment, this was a good thing, because I was staring into two huge gray fuzzy circles, which weren’t circles at all, but points.
Two hypodermic needles, connected as a pair, and for the sake of just this kind of torture.
They were shoved perilously close to my eyes, so close I could just feel the brush on my lashes as I blinked.
Oh, God.
Oh, God, oh, God, I’ve got needles aimed right into my eyes.
Sick, twisted, sadistic—
Calm. Yourself. You can still see. Not hurt yet. So think.
I realized they had stretched a length of electrician’s tape across my forehead and fixed it to the wall. My wrists were taped as well to the armrests. Struggle and—
“I wouldn’t move around so much,’ said a bored accented voice. Another flip of catalogue page. “You are liable to scratch your corneas.’
Couldn’t help it. Exhaled in a whimper of blind dread, panic rising. Worse, my forehead started to bead in perspiration, which loosened the tape on my forehead, but even a millimeter of shifting my skull off the drywall promised agony. Stay. Still. For now.
“That’s smart, that’s good,’ purred the voice.
I strained my peripheral vision and just managed to catch a faint glimpse of who was talking. I recognized the guy. One of Luis’s visitors to the office during daylight hours, the one who came with Mr. Heavyset. Same bleached blond hair, same neatly sculpted stubble, as if Brazil had suddenly decided to have a Wham revival.
They had dragged me into the large spare room that Silky Pictures staff sometimes use for filming. Adrenaline made me see out of the corners of my eyes in Panavision, desperately looking for a means of escape. Bastards had jerry-rigged the needles to a lighting fixture on casters, the lock flipped down to keep the wheels in place.
Should have taped my legs, assholes.
Georgie—I dubbed him this for his fashion inspiration, since I didn’t know his name—turned another page. Very smug, he announced, “We planned to use this trick on McCullough, maybe shove one of these needles up his dick, but you interfere. Why is that? Why you let him go?’
“I wasn’t letting him go at all,’ I said. “I interrupted your goons, and you decided to interrupt me back. What do you want him for?’
“Listen, bitch, you’re the one about to go blind. Who are you working for?’
“I work here.’
“Bullshit.’
“My name is Teresa Lane, and I’m an editor and director here,’ I said, trying not to blink so hard.
“More bullshit,’ said Georgie. “Your name is Teresa Knight, and you make trouble. Cunts are supposed to work in front of the camera here.’
Charming.
“With that attitude towards women, you and Duncan must get along real well,’ I said, trying to control my breathing, stay calm. “Who are you? His partner in Ladrão Films?’
“You talk a lot, but you don’t tell us anything we don’t know,’ said Georgie. “And you better believe you are going to make yourself useful.’
Coarse laughter and giggles from Gun Happy and Heavyset. They were back as well. Then Gun Happy strolled over and pulled up my top. I was frozen there, needles in front of my eyes, as he began pawing and fondling my breasts. So going to hurt you when the moment comes!
He spoke in Portuguese to Georgie, a question as he reached for the button on my trousers, and Georgie answered back, something disdainful. “Naw, she can’t get me hard,’ he said, switching back to English. “Hey, look at this—’
And Gun Happy moved away from me to look.
In my peripheral vision, I caught a bit of the catalogue as I heard Georgie tap a page and read out: “Jacobean Full Tester Bed, barley twist posts, start from six thousand, eight hundred fifty pounds.’
Oh, for pity’s sake. He was browsing through the Tudor House catalogue, checking out reproduction furniture. He put that one aside, and I heard another stream of quick Portuguese as he picked up a catalogue for Madura home furnishings. Throw pillows. He was showing his goons throw pillows.
“Did the whole metrosexual thing get to Brazil late or what?’ I demanded.
“Cunt, you better show some—’
“I don’t like that word!’ I said.
That was the instant my kneecaps lifted, came together, and locked on the pole of the light fixture. Couldn’t move my head—so move the needles away. I was flexible enough for the maneuver, but do it wrong, and I would be in a lot of pain.
Of course, they rushed to intercept me, Gun Happy and Heavyset. Counted on that. The pole capsized and swung clumsily to my left, and I unlocked my knees and let it fall, tripping Gun Happy as he moved too slowly. Their taped-up torture device with the needles fell, and one stabbed him right in the ar
m. Good. Teach you not to feel me up.
Heavyset went to punch me directly in the face, but I could move my head now, and his knuckles bit wall. Made a nice hole in the plaster, probably didn’t feel very good. As he grunted over that, I tore one wrist free from the armrest and socked him one in the kidneys. Nobody recovers from that very fast.
But now Georgie saw he had to bust his arse and get out of his seat. He was more vicious than the others. I barely saw his leg do an impossible curve in the air, and even as I jumped up from the chair, clawing at the tape still binding my left arm, he booted me back into it and then kicked it over. The wooden backing and the armrest took most of the impact, but it wasn’t a fun ride down. He was about to stomp on my head, but had forgotten again that no, my legs weren’t tied, and I wasn’t helpless.
I tripped him, and his head collided with the edge of a desk. I scrambled up and kicked him into the little cart we use for the cameras on a very short dolly track, and he rolled fast away from me.
“Now how about you tell me who you work for?’ I said. “Who’s behind Ladrão Films?’
Blinking fast. Couldn’t help it. Needles for God’s sake. Needles close to my eyes. You’re fine. You are fine. Ugh.
Georgie boy staggered up, cradling his bleeding forehead. “There is no Ladrão Films here after tonight, bitch. We’ll be long gone. You never find us.’
So. They’d come tonight to pack up shop.
“Your mate Duncan is a loose end,’ I said. “You slapped him around to make sure he kept his mouth shut. Planned to kill him, didn’t you?’
Georgie grinned. “Why pay off a loose end? He can be a dead end.’
I doubted it. Duncan was running for the hills by now.
“Must have something bigger than porn movies you want to hide,’ I said.
Why else come in the middle of the night to get rid of Duncan and change things so there would be “no Ladrão Films after tonight’? I’d always suspected that with MI6 involved, something else was going on, and these thugs confirmed it for me.
“Come on,’ I taunted. “You’re a big macho psychopath— you want to brag, don’t you?’
There was a good ten feet between us for the moment. He’d kicked me unconscious before, but now he had a lovely red lump on his forehead from colliding with the desk, so neither of us was in fighting shape to reengage. I wasn’t sure I could take him. I wasn’t sure how this would end at all.
At least I got a good look at him. Like Luis, he looked to be in his late thirties, with a high forehead and aquiline nose, hazel eyes that glowered now, and teeth that were a little too perfect, perhaps all redone. All this and that ridi cu lous sculpted stubble beard and blond hair.
He barked something now in Portuguese at Gun Happy, still sitting on the floor. Heavyset was in a lot of pain from the kidney punch. But I don’t think Georgie was telling them to get me, and they weren’t ready to have another go. Gun Happy got to his feet and picked up the box of Ladrão DVDs sitting in a corner, the ones Duncan had wanted to leave with. And then he took them out of the room.
I let him. I still had Georgie standing there.
“We are leaving now,’ he informed me, snapping his fingers at Heavyset. Georgie pulled out a gun, and I thought I would have to dive for cover behind a stack of equipment. But just like earlier, the gun was only used to keep me from trying anything. I didn’t understand these guys—Georgie would indulge his sadism to learn something, and he’d been prepared to kill Duncan, but not to kill me.
“You accomplish nothing,’ he sneered, retreating a step with the gun pointed at my head. “You learn nothing. Go tell your client how you’re a useless woman.’
Knew my name. And knew I at least did detective jobs. What the hell was going on? Had to learn more.
“Grew up poor, didn’t you?’
That stopped him.
“What?’
He gave Heavyset a nudge to keep moving, and he holstered his automatic. I was trying to goad him into revealing something I could use, something to salvage the evening.
“You grew up poor, wherever it was, right?’ I asked again. “Portugal? Brazil? It’s why your taste is so stunted, so…ugh. Don’t get me wrong, there are folks who work their way out of the slums, get rich, and they learn. They know what to buy that’s elegant or at least decent. But there’s a certain type who never get over it. Over having nothing. And they think this faux-Tudor rubbish and a bunch of cream accent pillows will cover the stink of being an upstart.’
I let out a cruel giggle—I was sure he didn’t let too many women laugh in his face, and I owed him plenty for the needles. Yep, he was staring at me, all right.
“I mean really! That sad shit you’re checking out like you want to buy your Christmas presents early? So desperate to look rich! I’m middle-class, and even I can smell where you’re from a mile away.’
He was shaking now with rage, on the verge of exploding forward. Better be ready to block and counter.
“Kind of pathetic.’ I shrugged. “You don’t honestly think that’s what people with money buy, do you? But then you’ll never know, because they don’t—let—you—in.’
He took a step, another, and then his lips flickered with the smile of a great comeback prepared. Only he didn’t offer it. He merely said, “You are cooked, bitch. I don’t need to give a shit about you no more.’
I didn’t know what he meant by that, and it struck me as a peculiar thing to say. After a few seconds, I heard the front door, and I was happy he and his mates were finally gone.
♦
Now this is where I do a stupid thing.
It was clear enough that Nicole never phoned the police, but instead of calling the cops myself, I rang the number Hodd had given me, ready to declare victory that yes, I had found the link, and yes, I had found the right distributor— not Luis Antunes at all but Duncan McCullough and these creepy guys presumably from Brazil. Plus I had a gazillion questions for him, like how they knew the real me and not my cover.
Would you believe the MI6 number bounced me to voice mail?
I left Hodd a message. I had every confidence that Duncan might elude the bad guys tonight, but that Hodd or the police could track him down. Even if Duncan got imaginative and skipped across the Channel tonight, he wouldn’t get so far that he couldn’t be extradited.
So I didn’t call the police—I went to check the computers as I had originally planned.
Voilà—evidence on Duncan’s machine. Idiot hadn’t bothered to scrub his hard drive, and lucky for me, Georgie and his crew hadn’t thought of it. The machine was full of the nasty hard-core files.
Law enforcement agencies in both Europe and North America have collaborated in the last couple of years to cut down on child pornography and other nasty genres. My guess was that Ladrão, this shell company for the Brazilian Silky Pictures, must have whipped the files across to Duncan, and then he downloaded them onto DVDs for hard copy sale on the street. Cash sales rather than leaving a trail with credit card numbers.
Since Silky Pictures already dealt in porn, perhaps cops who patrolled the Net had failed to distinguish the nasties making their way through corporate e-mails to Duncan, especially if they featured adults. And when cops swooped in on street DVD sales, they usually focused on pirate editions of big Hollywood releases. So the disgusting rubbish Duncan peddled had floated on a bed of slime under the radar.
It still begged the question why Hodd needed me to find the proof. The fact that MI6 was after Luis had always suggested to me they already had their link—something upon which to base their suspicion. Hodd assumed Luis was the distribution brains in London. I had a feeling he’d be disappointed when I told him his target was really a dupe.
How could Georgie know who I was?
He and his thugs certainly weren’t spies, that was for sure.
I went through Luis’s machine as well. What Nicole said stayed with me—that he had suddenly grown worried and told her a burglary shouldn’t be repor
ted to the police, only to him. So. Luis was expecting a hostile visitor like Georgie at some point. Maybe that was why his hard drive had nothing that shed any light on the case.
Except for the jpeg of that mixed-race girl left on the desktop.
I printed off a copy and decided it was time for a candid chat with my boss. I didn’t know how I would dance around the point of who I worked for, but with the ransacking of the office, plus Nicole knowing I had been there and Silky’s film director about to disappear soon, Luis was bound to have his own questions for me the next day. Better I ask mine first. Tonight. I got into the car and drove onto Westferry Road.
The house in Twickenham looked mostly dark, a lamp on but no one visible through the curtains, as if it had switched on with a timer as house security. Another welcoming bulb hung over the front door. But there was no answer to the bell or my loud knocking. Hmmm. They’re both out. I tried calling Luis’s cell, but I got a message that the customer was unavailable.
I stood there a long moment, debating whether Luis was in any imminent danger. But the thugs had come after Duncan, not him. I also thought if Luis could yell at one of them in his office and could advise his staff to calmly, quietly ignore after-hour burglaries at his place of business, then he should be reasonably safe until I could talk to him. Georgie and company must have thought that Luis didn’t have a clue.
I decided the best thing to do was to crash at Helena’s. I’d drive over first thing in the morning to hit Luis with all this before he left for the office.
♦
Helena was in a cheerful mood as I came through the door. She was wearing a black cocktail dress and stiletto heels, having just returned from a no-less-exciting evening. “It’s fun catering an orgy.’
“I thought we had an understanding,’ I said.
“We do, darling, we do! I said come out to the Lotus Eaters Club. I told you! What did I say? That we’d be having a bunch of American guests—’
“American guests, right. And you told me—you used one of their colloquialisms—’We’re having a big spread.’ I thought you meant food.’
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