“What?” he barked as the bloody awful noise finally stopped.
“Pizza delivery.”
“I didn’t order any. Fuck off.”
“It’s me. Joey. I’ve got a special order for you. Double crust.”
Pete laughed. “Why didn’t you say? Come on in.”
He pressed the button to open the side gates and went to stand outside. Shit, was it still daytime? He shook his head, trying to clear his muddled brain. Within minutes a white van drew up and reversed in the drive so that the rear doors were close up against the stable block housing the recording studio. The van had Domingo’s Pizzas – We’re the Best! emblazoned on the side.
Joey jumped out from the driver’s side and went to the back of the van. He opened one of the rear doors and dragged out two young girls; they both had their arms tied behind and were gagged with gaffer tape. Joey pushed them into the studio, shut the van door and followed the girls in. Pete’s heart beat faster. This was more like it. These two might be worth a few nights at least. Smiling, he went back inside and shut the door.
“Well, what do you think of my latest method of delivery? Pizza vans go everywhere and no one ever notices them. When you said you had people in the main house I thought I’d better make sure they couldn’t spot the girls arriving.”
“Smart thinking,” Pete said as he walked around the two girls who’d crawled to the centre of the room. They pushed up against each other. Big eyes pleading. One pair blue and the other brown. Not bad, he thought, not bad at all. The blonde was a bit scrawny, but pretty enough to do the job. The dark one, though, was a real looker. And she wasn’t showing any fear either. He’d soon change that. What a pity he couldn’t use her face on the new album cover, she’d have been ideal. Still, she’d be perfect for other things instead.
“You’ve done well, Joey. I’ll take ‘em both. How much?”
“Five hundred each.”
Pete spun round. “Are you fucking mad? I’ll give you five hundred for the pair, you robbing bastard.”
Joey grinned at him. “Pete, you won’t get fresher than this, my friend. Not unless you went out and caught them yourself and you can’t do that, now can you? Be reasonable. I have transportation costs and other expenses. But I’m a fair man; let’s say eight hundred for the pair.”
“Six hundred and it’s a deal.”
“Seven-fifty and we can shake on it.”
Pete walked over and held out his hand. “Done!” He pointed at the girl in the corner. “She hasn’t moved for a while. You can take her away with you when you go.”
Joey walked to the naked child and crouched down next to her. He reached out and felt for a pulse. “She seems to be alive. What did you give her?”
“I can’t remember. A bit of everything, I think. Why has she gone all zombie on me? None of the others did.”
Joey stood. “Maybe she had a bad reaction. Who knows? This is gonna cost you, Pete. Loss of earnings from her is going to hit me hard.”
Pete laughed. “You must be joking. You think I don’t know you supply all the weirdoes around here? I bet you’ve got a queue of them just waiting to fuck a zombie. Go on, tell me I’m wrong.” Joey didn’t answer. “See, I knew I was right. You should be paying me, not the other way round. I’ve turned her into an asset. You can charge extra for her from now on.”
He pulled out his wallet and counted out the money. “Best if you push off now. It’s going to look odd if the van stays outside too long. Pity you didn’t bring some pizza with you. I’m hungry.” He grinned at the girls. “Never mind. I’ll eat later. These two can take my mind off food.”
He waited while Joey scooped up the unconscious child and then opened the door. He scanned the grounds, but no one seemed to be around. Opening the van doors, he nodded to Joey to bring the brat out.
“Don’t forget to hoot when you reach the gates,” he said as Joey climbed into the van. “Last time the gates stayed open all day. Any fucker could’ve wandered in.”
As soon as Joey drove off, Pete went back inside and closed the door. Pulling the blonde one to her feet, he undid the knots tying her hands.
“Come and make friends with me, baby.”
CHAPTER FIVE
7th October (late morning)
Paolo walked into the station with Lydia’s words hammering in his head. No way could she stop him from seeing Katy. No way. But a tiny seed of doubt wormed its way to the top. What if she could? What if her solicitor managed to convince the courts that he was holding back Katy’s recovery in some way? Was it possible? No, he told himself, over and over, but that didn’t stop him fearing that Lydia might, just might, find a legal loophole that would keep him away from his daughter.
Paolo walked through the main room, nodding to his team, but not really seeing them. Dave Johnson stood up and followed Paolo into his private office, closing the door behind them. His body working on autopilot, Paolo moved to his desk and sat down, barely aware of Dave settling himself in one of the visitor’s chairs.
“The girl’s body has been taken for post mortem. Dr Royston said she’d be doing it tomorrow morning if we wanted to attend.”
Paolo forced his mind away from Lydia’s threat.
“Thanks, Dave. I think we should both go. Poor kid deserves that someone cares about what happened to her. We’ve got to find out who’s bringing these girls in. They’re getting younger and younger. How old was that one uniform picked up last week?”
Dave checked his notes. “The interpreter said fourteen, but she’d been working the streets for at least a year, so must have been put on the game no older than twelve or thirteen. From what we can work out she’d been abused in a private paedophile ring from about eight or nine and then put to work on the streets when she was too old for the perverts. I’d like to get the bastards in a private room and–”
“And then they would be able to claim police brutality,” Paolo interrupted, “and most probably end up being seen as victims instead of the scum they are. Keep your temper in check, Dave. You can’t want to see them put away more than I do, but we have to work by the book on this. Okay?”
Dave nodded, but Paolo wasn’t sure if that was just to shut him up. He decided to keep an eye on his DS if, no, when they found out who was behind the influx of teenage prostitutes flooding the Bradchester streets.
“What did the doctor have to say about Katy, sir? Any improvement?”
Paolo shook his head, trying to shrug off his fears over Lydia’s threat. “Not really. The psychiatrist is convinced Katy will recover fully in time, but she still hasn’t said a word since she came out of her coma and that was nearly three months ago.” He knew if he thought too long about how she’d ended up in a coma he’d go out of his mind. “Sorry, Dave, not a good day to talk about it.” He smiled, trying to ease the tension he felt whenever he pictured Katy being strangled. If he and Dave had arrived just two minutes later, his daughter would have been dead. He shivered. “Anyway, back to the case. Where was the girl found?”
“Curled up in a shop doorway on Zephyr Road. You know that section of boarded up shops near the station end? She was found by one of the older hookers who called for an ambulance. By the time they arrived the kid was dead.”
“Do we know who called it in?”
Dave shook his head. “I’m on my way over there when I leave you, sir, but you know what they’re like, not liable to tell me anything worthwhile.”
“No, but some of the older women do at least try to keep an eye on the young girls. You might hit lucky and discover who the kids are working for. See if you can find a few of the old-timers to talk to.”
“Will do, sir.” Dave picked up his files and made for the door.
“Dave!”
“Yes, sir?” he said, turning back to face Paolo.
“I meant to tell you, I saw Rebecca the other day in town. She was getting tickets for the Pete Carson concert on New Year’s Eve and asked if I wanted to go with the two of you. You’ll be
pleased to hear I declined.”
Dave laughed. “I wish I could decline.”
“Why? Not your type of music?”
“Not really, but Rebecca reckons we should support the local talent. Talent? He might have been good twenty-odd years back, but too many of these old rockers are making comebacks and most of them would be better off drinking cocoa and dreaming of the good old days.”
Paolo smiled. “My ex-wife and I went to see The Vision Inside before we were married. Pete Carson, or Gunnar Tate Reed as he was then, was really good, great voice, but his real genius was in song writing. He’s written for many of the top names over the years. As for The Vision Inside, they sold millions back in the day. That’s how he was able to buy that massive place out near Bradchester Woods. When he first moved in the locals were up in arms, fearing he’d be having wild parties and so on, but you never hear a peep from him. I believe he converted his stable block into recording studios. They must be expecting a big turnout as his comeback gig is being held in the football stadium. If his voice hasn’t broken down, you’ll enjoy the concert.”
“You reckon? Listening to some old bloke who should have stayed retired isn’t exactly my idea of the best way to see in the New Year.”
Paolo laughed at the look on Dave’s face. “That’s the price you pay for true love.”
Dave grinned back. “Yeah, right. I’d best get over to Zephyr Road.”
“Good. Ask George to tell CC to come in here when she gets back, would you? She’s been to the social services hostel with the interpreters to see if we can get anything more out of the girls we’ve taken off the streets. When you get back we’ll have a meeting in the general office about last night’s, or rather, this morning’s arrests. I don’t know about you, but I can barely keep my eyes open.”
Half an hour later, a tap on the door signalled the arrival of Cathy Connor. She stuck her head into the room and Paolo thought he was hallucinating. Her cropped hair stood up in luminescent green spikes. He thought he’d seen every conceivable style over the last few months, but this one took his breath away. He wondered if she’d chosen the colour just to annoy those who felt women police officers should blend into the background.
“My God,” he said. “Not planning to go undercover any time soon, hey?”
She laughed and closed the door. “No, sir. Do you like it? I thought I’d give our local thugs a sporting chance and let them see me coming.”
“Give them time to run away?”
“Exactly, sir. Can you believe it? The last pimp I picked up has put in a complaint against me. Me! I ask you, do I look like I could hurt a six foot ex-rugby player?”
“No,” Paolo said, grinning back. “I expect that’s why he didn’t give himself up when you went to arrest him. Did you break anything?”
“Just hurt his pride, sir. No broken bones.”
Paolo signalled for CC to sit down. “Were you able to get anything from the Albanian girls this time?”
“Nothing. Not a fecking word. They are shit scared of all men, even our interpreter, and you know how gentle Gazmend is with them. They don’t even open up when he leaves the room and it’s only his wife talking to them. I suppose it’s not really surprising when you consider what they’ve been through. Most of them will be fighting a drug addiction for the rest of their lives.”
Paolo sighed. “They’re all Albanian. You’d think we’d be able to get some sort of hint about who smuggled them in.”
“I asked Gazmend about that. He seemed to think whoever it is must have a hold over the girls’ families back in Albania, which is why they won’t tell us how they came to be in the UK.”
“Did he give any clue as to who we should watch?”
Cathy shrugged. “Not really. According to Gazmend, the entire Albanian community is ashamed of what is happening, but no one knows anything. Of course, it’s possible that even if someone knew who was involved they might keep it to themselves. Who knows what might happen to those back home if they upset the Albanian Mafia here? From what I can understand, it’s very easy to make enemies disappear over there. I mean, sir, would you put your family in danger if…oh shit, sorry, sir. I didn’t mean…I wasn’t thinking…”
“I know you didn’t, CC. Don’t worry, I didn’t take it the wrong way.” Paolo rubbed his face. God, he was tired. “I’ve heard the same stories about the families of informers being wiped out. I have no idea how we’ll do it, yet, but we need to get the local Albanians to shop those trafficking the kids.”
“Let’s hope Gazmend can get through to them. He says he’s working on some of the best connected families to see if he can get them to encourage others to cooperate with us.”
Paolo nodded. “Good. What do social say about getting the girls home again?”
Cathy scowled. “No fecking joy there, sir. The girls won’t say who they are, so the Albanian authorities won’t accept them. Apparently, the best we can hope for is that an Albanian orphanage will take them in, but I’m worried they’ll end up in a worse case over there. I mean, some of their institutions look dodgier than being out on the street.”
“I know,” Paolo said. “I saw that documentary too. Those poor kids were in a desperate state. Let’s hope the girls will be allowed to stay here. I know our system has flaws, but at least we do something about it when the stench is uncovered.”
She rose to leave. “Dave tells me they found a dead kid. One of ours?”
“I don’t know for sure yet, CC, but it looks like it. She was dressed for business. Seems she might have taken an overdose of whatever she was on. We’ll know more tomorrow after the post-mortem.”
“Well, whatever happens to the girls I saw today, they’re better off with social than they were a few weeks ago on the streets. I’m off to sort out some tickets for the Pete Carson concert.”
“You too? At this rate I’m going to be the only person in Bradchester not going.”
“You should go. Give yourself a bit of a break. You shouldn’t be stuck at home on New Year’s Eve.”
Paolo looked at the kindness in Cathy’s eyes and felt his chest tighten. He had to get rid of her before he ended up in tears. Wouldn’t that be great? Breaking down like an idiot just because someone was being nice. He managed to pull himself together.
“I might just do that.” He smiled. “Pull down the blind and close the door on your way out, CC. I need to work on these reports and don’t want to be disturbed.”
As the door closed, he felt the first tear trickle down his cheek. Dropping his head, he let the tears flow. It was time to let out the emotions he’d been holding back. Time to move on and take control of his life again.
He was alive and so was Katy, which was more than he could say about the poor kid waiting on Barbara Royston’s slab. He’d find out who put her on the streets and make sure the bastard paid for every child he’d ruined.
CHAPTER SIX
7th October (early evening)
Pete stood up. The blonde lay on her back, a glazed look in her eyes. He just needed a hit and he’d be ready for the dark one. He flopped down on the sofa and sighed. It was a pity the blonde hadn’t put up more of a fight. She’d been a bit too passive. Too roll over and give in to make it fun.
He reached forward for the coke, glancing over at the dark one as he did so. Ah, that was better. She looked as if she had a bit more fight in her than the blonde who’d now dragged herself off to the corner and was snivelling. What was it with that corner? They all ended up there.
He finished cutting the coke and rolled a twenty. As the drug hit his system the world righted itself once more. Yes! Now he was ready to go again. Standing up, he moved over to where he’d tied up the dark-haired brat and was delighted to see the look on her face. Terror and defiance mixed. That was the best combination. He could almost smell the fear coming off her; it added spice that she was trying to hide it by glaring at him.
But the sobbing from the blonde was distracting. He picked up a box of ti
ssues from a side table and threw it towards the kid in the corner.
“For fuck’s sake shut up. And get yourself clean while you’re at it,” he said, using mime to show she should wipe between her legs. The blonde made no attempt to touch the box, but at least she stopped whimpering. Was that a bit of hatred he could see in her face? Great. She might be more fun next time.
He turned back to the dark-haired girl and stood directly in front of her, stroking his prick until he was hard again. He grinned. This felt so good.
“Look what’s coming your way, little one.”
Her eyes widened in horror. No sign of defiance now, just pure fear.
“You’re giving me a better high than the fucking coke, baby. You are going to love me inside you, I promise,” he whispered as the bliss of anticipation washed over him. It was time.
Blood throbbing through his veins, he knelt down and reached for the ropes tying her to the chair. He wanted her now. Now, fuck it! Why couldn’t he get the knots undone? As he struggled, he heard a scrambling noise and turned his head. The blonde stood right behind him. She raised her hand.
“What the–?”
Pete came round wondering what shit he’d taken. Whatever it was, it must have been bad. His head felt like it had been split open. As he sat up, nausea hit and he retched, spewing his guts onto the polished wood covering the studio floor.
When the heaving finally stopped, his memory returned. The blonde had whacked him with something. The bitch. She’d pay for that. He looked around for her. Where was she hiding? And where was that draft coming from? He managed to focus on its direction. The studio door was wide open. That couldn’t be right. Why was it…? Then it hit him.
Shit, the girls were gone.
He hauled himself to his feet, wave after wave of nausea making him want to throw up again. Staggering towards the door, he tripped and fell over the shattered remains of something ceramic. He put his hands out to break his fall, screaming as one of the larger pieces sliced into his left palm. The bitch had hit him with a fucking ornamental bowl! Cursing, he got up again, pulling the shard free and wiping the blood off on his leg.
Someday Never Comes (#2 - D.I. Paolo Storey Crime Series) Page 3