Strange Affair

by Peter Robinson

  Annie listened, interested in Dr. Lukas’s story but curious as to where it was leading. Before long, their food was served and Dr. Lukas poured more wine. As if reading Annie’s mind, she smiled and said, “You might be wondering where all this is going, but please indulge me.” She talked more about her childhood, the state school, unsanitary living conditions, her ambition to become a doctor. “And here I am,” she said. “Ambition fulfilled.”

  “You must be very proud.”

  Dr. Lukas frowned. “Proud? Yes. Most days. Then, about a year ago, a man came to see me at my home. I remembered him from school, from the building in L’viv where his family lived, close to mine. He said he had heard I was a successful doctor here through his parents, who had read an article about me in the local newspaper. It’s true. Many people left Ukraine, but their stories continue to be of interest to those who have not experienced the world outside.”

  “What did he want?”

  “When he was at school, he was a bully. When he got older, he and his gang terrorized the building we lived in, extorting money, burgling apartments, selling black-market goods. Nobody was safe from him. Then suddenly he was gone. You can imagine how relieved we all were.”

  “But he turned up here, in London?”

  “Yes. He told me he traveled all around Europe, learning the ways of the free world, the free economy, and his training in L’viv served him well.”

  “He’s the man who sends the late girls to you, isn’t he?”

  Dr. Lukas said nothing for a moment. She had turned pale as she was talking, Annie noticed, and her bouillabaisse sat mostly uneaten in front of her. Finally, she whispered, “Yes. That’s what he is now. A pimp. When he first came to see me it was because one of his girls had problems with her periods that made her unreliable. Then he realized what a good idea it would be for me to be their unofficial doctor, so to speak. And that was the start of it all.”

  “And this has been going on for a year?”

  “Yes.”

  “And how many girls have you seen during that time.”

  “Maybe fifteen, sixteen.”

  “All pregnant?”

  “Most. Some had sexually transmitted infections. One had a bad rash in her pubic area. One girl was bleeding from her anus. Whatever it was, he brought them to me at the center after it was closed for the day. I would get a phone call telling me to stay late.”

  “Why did you help him?” Annie thought she knew the answer to the question as she was asking it, but she needed to hear it from Dr. Lukas. A noisy party across the room broke into gales of laughter.

  Dr. Lukas looked over at them, then she turned to face Annie, her expression somber. “He told me he would kill my parents back in L’viv if I didn’t do as he said or if I told anyone. I know he can do it. He still has contacts there.”

  “What’s changed?”

  “My parents are no longer in L’viv. They have left for America to live with my brother in San Francisco. I was waiting to hear the confirmation that they have arrived. They telephoned me today.”

  “What about you?”

  “I don’t care about me,” said Dr. Lukas. “Besides, he’s not going to hurt me. I’m far too useful to him alive.”

  “If it’s any consolation,” Annie said, “he’ll be in jail.”

  Dr. Lukas laughed. “Yes,” she said. “Running his empire from a cell. And on the outside someone will replace him. Another monster. The world has no shortage of monsters.” She shook her head. “But it’s gone far enough. Poor Jennifer…that man…”

  “Roy Banks was his name. What about Carmen Petri?”

  Dr. Lukas gave Annie a curious look. “That was the beginning of the end, really. Carmen.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Until Carmen, I could turn a blind eye, could even believe that what I was doing was good and that the girls had better lives as prostitutes here than they would in their war-torn villages and towns back home. I didn’t know the truth. Like everyone, I thought they chose to do what they did, that there must be something wrong with them to start with, something bad about them. I was naive.”

  “How did Carmen change this?”

  “The girls wouldn’t talk. I asked them about their lives but they refused to tell me anything. They were too scared. Carmen…she was a bit more confident, more intelligent…I don’t know. Perhaps it was even Jennifer, the way she was kind to her. Whatever the reason, Carmen did let something slip.”

  “What was that?”

  “She told me that one of the new girls had been locked in a small room and beaten because she refused to perform some vile sex act. She also told me that the girl had been on her way home from school in a small village in Bosnia when two men abducted her by knifepoint and forced her into prostitution. She was fifteen. That was the first time I realized that these girls didn’t start out one step from prostitution in the first place, that there was nothing ‘bad’ about them. They were normal girls, like you and me, and they were forced to do what they do. Like me, they fear for their families back home. Those who have families. These poor girls…He has them smuggled from Bosnia, Moldavia, Romania and Kosovo. Many are orphans because of the wars. When they have to leave the orphanages at sixteen, they often have no money and nowhere to go. His men are waiting for them on the doorstep. The girls are terrified of him. They won’t talk about what happens, but I’ve seen bruises, cuts sometimes. I didn’t ask questions, and I am not proud of that, but I saw. Then Carmen…she spoke out.”

  “When was this?”

  “A week ago last Monday.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “Nothing, as far as I know.”

  “She’s not dead?”

  “I don’t think so. I can’t see why she would be.”

  “But if they thought she told you and Jennifer what was really going on…?”

  “I don’t think they knew what she told us, and she’s too valuable to them.”

  “But they must have found out something.” Annie said. “Jennifer and Roy Banks are dead. When Jennifer told Roy, he must have started digging, asking questions. He had contact with people who…well, let’s just say he knew criminals.”

  “Perhaps I am wrong then. I don’t know. All I know about Carmen is what she told me. She got pregnant, so he sent her to me. I suppose the only unusual thing is that Carmen has decided to have the baby. She’s a devout Catholic and she refused to have a termination.”

  “That’s permitted?”

  “In some circumstances,” said Dr. Lukas. “It would depend on the loss of income. Carmen is one of the special girls, blessed with good looks and a fine figure. She is also a very intelligent girl and she speaks English very well. She was never a street prostitute, more what you would term a call girl.”

  “So how is he going to make for his loss of income?”

  “I can only guess,” said Dr. Lukas. “There are some men who like to have sex with pregnant women and are willing to pay extra for it. That way she would have fewer customers but make as much, or more, money.”

  Annie’s stomach turned. She could understand why Dr. Lukas wasn’t eating. She’d lost her appetite as well. “And the baby?”

  “Adoption. She spoke about the way they were taking care of her and feeding her well for a Mr. Garrett, who I assume is paying good money for Carmen’s baby.”

  “Will you tell me the pimp’s name?”

  “His real name is Hadeon Mazuryk. He calls himself Harry. His nickname is ‘Happy Harry’ because he looks eternally sad. He is not, of course, it’s just a freak of physiognomy.”

  “Do you know where he keeps the girls?”

  Dr. Lukas nodded. “There’s a house near King’s Cross. I went there once. An emergency. You must be careful, though.”

  “Why?”

  “He has a gun. I’ve seen it.”

  Banks had raided Roy’s wardrobe again for suitable attire. He didn’t think he would get far in the Albion Club wearing jeans a
nd a casual shirt. Trousers were a problem. Roy’s didn’t fit him and he had brought only one pair of trousers, which didn’t match any of Roy’s jackets. In the end he just had to hope the place was poorly lit so that black and navy blue didn’t look too bad together.

  The man on the door, looking rather like a cross between a butler and a bouncer, asked him for his membership. Banks flashed his warrant card.

  “Police? I hope there’s no trouble, sir?” he said.

  “None at all,” said Banks. “Just a few questions and I’ll be out of your hair.”

  “Questions?”

  “Yes. Were you on duty here last Friday?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Do you remember Roy Banks arriving with Gareth Lambert?”

  “Such a tragedy about Mr. Banks. The perfect gentleman. Who could do such a thing?”

  “Who indeed? But did you see them arrive?”

  “Yes. It would have been about ten o’clock.”

  “And were you here when they left?”

  “They didn’t leave together. Mr. Banks left first, at about twelve-thirty, and Mr. Lambert stayed much later. Perhaps three o’clock, something like that.”

  So Lambert was telling the truth about that much, at least. “Did they leave alone?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Do you know where Mr. Banks went after he left?”

  “Mr. Banks didn’t say. He just bade me good night as usual.”

  “You didn’t call a minicab for him?”

  “There are always plenty of taxis on The Strand, and there’s a taxi rank at Charing Cross.”

  “Right,” said Banks. “Okay to go inside?”

  “Please try not to upset the members.”

  “I only want to talk to the staff.”

  “Very well.”

  Banks was surprised when he got inside the club. The door opened into a spacious low-ceilinged bar, and where he had been expecting dark wainscoting, chandeliers and waiters in burgundy bum-freezers, he found tubular fittings, halogen lighting and waitresses in pinstripe suits, with trousers rather than skirts. Fan-shaped splashes of color from well-hidden lights decorated the walls in shades of blue, pink, green, red and orange. The chrome tables were high, with matching leather-topped stools. This definitely wasn’t one of those old gentlemen’s clubs where the right sort of people stay over when they are down in the city for the weekend; it was primarily an up-market casino with bar and restaurant facilities, the sort of place where you might have found James Bond fifty years ago. Now it played host to a hip young crowd of stockbrokers, investment bankers and the occasional old smuggler like Gareth Lambert.

  As it turned out, the dress code was also a lot more relaxed than Banks had expected—he had never been to a club before and he still thought in terms of Lord Peter Wimsey and Bertie Wooster—and he was surprised to see that not everyone was wearing a tie or a suit. Business casual was in. The place wasn’t very busy, but a few people sat around drinking and chatting, and a group of Japanese businessmen had the one large table by the far wall, where they were entertaining some expensive-looking women. Most of the people in the place seemed to be in their thirties, which made Roy and Lambert slightly older than the average member. Nobody paid Banks any undue attention. There was no music.

  Banks took one of the stools at the bar and ordered a bottle of Stella. The price was every bit as outrageous as he had expected. The bartender was a woman in her late twenties, by the look of her, about the same age as Corinne and Jennifer. She had very fine short hair dyed pink and blond. She smiled at Banks when she took his order. She had a nice smile; dimples, too.

  Banks showed her his card. “Do you work here every night?” he asked.

  “Most nights,” she said, scrutinizing the card more closely than the doorman had. “Yorkshire? What brings you down here?”

  “Cases can take you all over the place,” Banks said. “People move around a lot more than they used to.”

  “You can say that again.”

  “Actually, I’m making a few inquiries about Roy Banks. I understand he was a member.”

  “Poor Mr. Banks,” she said. “He was a real sweetheart.”

  “You knew him?”

  “Not really ‘knew.’ I mean, not outside of work. But we talked here occasionally. You tend to do that, in this job. He always had time for the bar staff, not like some of our more stuck-up members.”

  “Did he sit at the bar and tell you his troubles?”

  She laughed. “Oh, no. That only happens in films.”

  “What’s your name, by the way?”

  “Maria.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Maria.”

  “What relation are you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Your name’s Banks, too. I saw it on that card. Are you his brother?”

  “Yes,” Banks said.

  “You must be gutted.”

  “I am. But I’m also trying to find out what happened. Did you talk to him last Friday?”

  “Yes. He and Mr. Lambert were sitting at that table just over there.” She pointed to a discreet corner table. “Mr. Banks always made a point of coming over and saying hello and asking me how I was doing. And he always made sure he left a decent tip.”

  “Did he have anything to say that night?”

  A waitress appeared asking for drinks. Maria excused herself for a moment and filled the order with graceful efficiency. “What was it you wanted to know?” she asked when she came back.

  “Just if Roy had said anything out of the ordinary to you.”

  “No. Nothing. Not that that I remember.”

  “Did he seem upset or annoyed?”

  “Not at first. A bit preoccupied, maybe.”

  “Later?”

  “After he’d been talking to Mr. Lambert for a while he seemed to be getting uncomfortable, if you know what I mean. I don’t know how to describe it, but you could sort of feel the tension, even from over here.”

  “Others noticed?”

  “I wouldn’t say that. I’ve always been very sensitive to the vibes people give off.”

  “And these were bad?”

  “Yes. I think so.”

  “Were they arguing?”

  “No. They never raised their voices or anything like that. It was just a sort of tense negotiation.”

  Lambert had told Banks that Roy had been pressing him for contacts in the arms business, but Banks didn’t believe that. “What happened next?”

  “After he used the telephone, Mr. Banks went through to the casino and I didn’t see him again.”

  “Mr. Lambert?”

  “He sat by himself for a while, then he went into the casino, too.”

  “You say Roy used the telephone?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where is it?”

  “There’s a public telephone in the corridor by the toilets,” she said. “Down there.” She pointed directly across the room. Banks turned and saw the phone on the wall. From where Lambert had been sitting, he couldn’t possibly have seen Roy make the call. “Not a lot of people use it because everyone’s got a mobile these days, haven’t they, but he must have forgotten his or the battery was dead or something.”

  Banks thought of the mobile sitting on Roy’s kitchen table. “Was it a long phone call?”

  “No. Just two or three minutes.”

  “How long had he been here when he made it?”

  “Not long. Maybe half an hour or so, a bit longer.”

  That must have been the call he made to Jennifer, Banks thought, sending her up to Yorkshire. “And how did he seem after that?”

  “Like I said, he went into the casino. He didn’t say good-bye, though, and that’s not like him.”

  “Did Mr. Lambert make any phone calls?”

  “Not that I saw.”

  “Could he have done?”

  “Oh, yes. I mean, he went to the toilet. He could have used his mobile there, if he had one with him. But I didn�
�t see him make any calls, that’s all I meant.”

  “Thanks very much, Maria,” said Banks. “You’ve been a great help.”

  “I have?”

  Banks made sure to leave her a decent tip and wandered out onto The Strand. He glanced about him to see if there was anyone watching for him, but if there was, he didn’t notice. According to the doorman and Maria, Roy had left the club around half past twelve. There were plenty of taxis passing by, Banks could see. So what had Roy done? Got in a taxi? Or had someone offered him a lift? It couldn’t have been Lambert, because he was still in the casino. So who?

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The sun was up by the time the operation had been approved by the brass in SO19, the Metropolitan Force Firearms unit at Scotland Yard, and the team had been assembled and briefed. Annie and Brooke gathered with the specialist firearms officers outside the house near King’s Cross, in the narrow streets around Wharfdale Road. The house was part of a terrace, and the SO19 team leader had acquired a set of plans. Young girls had been seen by neighbors coming and going, sometimes with men, at all hours. There were eight officers in the team, all wearing protective headgear and body armor and carrying Glock handguns and Heckler and Koch MP5 carbines. Each man had been briefed on what section of the house he was to secure. Three more men watched the back of the house.

  It was an eerie sight, Annie thought, and there was something slightly unreal about it. One or two onlookers had gathered at the street corners, held back by the uniformed officers stationed there. It was a humid morning and a light mist hung in the air. There was little traffic in the immediate area but Annie could hear horns and engines in the distance. Another day in the big city was beginning.

  In a way, Annie wished that Banks had been granted permission to attend; she would have liked him by her side. But these operations were strictly regulated and there was no way they were letting Roy Banks’s brother be a part of it. She had talked to him on the phone late the previous evening, and he had told her about his visit to the Albion Club. In exchange, Annie had told him what Dr. Lukas had told her about the late girls and Carmen Petri.