by Jack Probyn
‘I’ll still put him on my radar.’
‘He’s on mine too.’ Bridger breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth. Slowly. Carefully. As if doing it drastically would piss off The Cabal somehow. ‘So, do I get my cut?’
‘You’ve still not convinced me.’
‘What do you—’ Bridger started, preparing himself to release a torrent of anger and frustration, but then thought better of it. This man was the source of most of his income – triple his basic salary from this one job alone – and he wasn’t about to burn his bridges over it. If he played his cards right, there would be more.
‘I tried to delay Pemberton for as long as I could, but Tanner was all over me,’ Bridger continued. ‘The keys. The golf course. He was even wearing the same fucking watch as me. Candice mistook him for me – she thought he was the one who was supposed to be getting them out. And he even had a little friend to help him as well. Danika. Danika Oblak. She was constantly feeding him information on the phone.’
‘I’ve heard her name before. It’s cropped up in a few human resources meetings.’ There was a pause. ‘What about Mark?’
‘He tried to get her onside but couldn’t get anywhere with it. He’s invited her out for a drink to see if he can do it that way.’
‘She on the turn?’
‘Doubt it. Maybe. Have to see what sort of magic Mark can pull out of the bag.’
‘And what about this other one? Tanner. Same story for him? Can he be swayed?’
Bridger hesitated before answering. In the distance, to his left, a green Austin Mini Cooper pulled out of its parking space, turned right, drove along the road, past Bridger, and headed towards the car park’s exit. As the car passed, Bridger busied himself with something in the footwell.
‘He’s gone to Pemberton about us, Mark and I. Told her about the letterhead, the delays, the unlawful interview on Michael. He even told her about the poxy watch.’
‘Is it a problem?’ The Cabal asked.
‘But the little shit still doesn’t know anything about the little push I gave him.’
‘Is it a problem?’
‘No. Nothing to worry about. Mark’s covered his tracks and so have I. Meanwhile Pemberton’s backing us to the hilt. She dismissed it as soon as he said it. She’s conducting a minor investigation, but it’ll be over soon when they find nothing. It’s nothing we can’t handle ourselves.’
‘Sounds like he’s going to be a bigger problem than you thought. You sure he can’t be swayed?’
‘Tanner’s different,’ Bridger said. ‘He’s too keen. Too eager to do his job. But he’s a good detective. Thinks of things in different ways. And he’s not afraid to voice them either. He’d make a very good asset, but you either want to cut him loose straight away or win him over. There’s no middle ground.’
‘I do like a work in progress.’
‘That one will be one of the hardest grafts of your life.’
‘Good. But don’t think it’s over for you. You’re still not done.’
Bridger’s brow furrowed and the muscles in his face tightened. ‘What?’
‘You’re not finished. Not yet. The brothers are about to do time. A lot of it. It was your job to get them out of the country. You’ve made a mess of it. Now it’s your job to get them out of jail.’
Bridger sighed. Now he was in The Cabal’s debt, and that was the one place he didn’t want to be. ‘And then I’m done with this job?’
‘And then you’ll get your cut.’
‘What about Mark? Do the same rules apply?’
‘Leave Mark to me. There are things that he’s probably not telling you. You need to keep an eye on who he’s getting close with.’
‘But I—’
‘By the same token, I think it’s in your best interests to find yourself some new talent within the team. You might need it because it’s going to get dirty. Oh, and don’t get caught. Someone a lot worse than Jake Tanner might make life a misery for you.’
EPILOGUE
Following their arrest, Michael and Danny Cipriano were charged with two counts of murder, aggravated assault, armed robbery, possession of a firearm and conspiracy to pervert the course of justice. They are currently being held in remand in HMP Belmarsh where they are awaiting trial. DS Bridger is in charge of the investigation.
Danika Oblak left her husband and two children and now lives in Guildford as a full-time member of Surrey Police. She’s started drinking heavily.
DCI Nicki Pemberton was rewarded with a bravery award for her tactical and strategic decision-making during Operation Corkscrew as the investigation was designated. She continues to live with her husband and children in their home in Liphook.
DI Mark Murphy was lauded for his precise and accurate help throughout Operation Corkscrew. He has since dropped DCI Pemberton and made DC Oblak his next ‘conquest’.
After DC Tanner raised concerns regarding DS Bridger’s and DI Murphy’s conduct during Operation Corkscrew, DCI Pemberton was in charge of investigating the complaint. No further investigation was made, and both DS Bridger’s and DI Murphy’s records remain untarnished.
Meanwhile, DS Elliot Bridger continues to work for The Cabal in secret.
***
Jake – and some old enemies – return in The Community. Out now.
—————————————————————————————————
“Play with murder enough and it gets you one of two ways. It makes you sick, or you get to like it.” - [Dashiell Hammett, 1929]
CHAPTER 1
THE BLACK DOOR
Steven and Jessica Arnholt weren’t afraid to share the darker, seedier side of their relationship with others. In fact, it helped. When it came to the bedroom – and what happened behind the four walls – there was nothing that they kept hidden. Tonight, however, was different. Jessica wasn’t ready for what was about to come her way, and when her husband asked whether she was, she felt compelled to lie. She had no other choice. In his hands he held two glasses of red wine, the liquid as dark and deep as blood. One glass for him, one for her.
‘Thanks,’ Jessica said, taking the glass from him and placing it down on the desk beside her. She rolled up the sleeves of her blue tartan shirt and sat on the chair, tying her long, auburn hair off her face and into a ponytail. ‘What time’s he coming?’
Steven checked his watch. A long, sinewy forearm and skeletal fingers extended through the red tartan shirt he wore – the same brand and material as hers. His skin looked a ghostly white against the red.
‘In about five minutes,’ he replied.
‘Is the room set up?’
The sides of Steven’s mouth flickered. He took a sip of wine and licked his lips, wiping the excess from his skin. ‘I finished it earlier. Let me show you.’
Jessica took his hand and travelled with him through the gallery. On the left wall was a new piece of artwork that she didn’t recognise – which now explained where Steven had been disappearing to for the past three days. Jessica paid it little heed though, as there were more important things to focus on than admiring his work and realising he wasn’t having an affair. Her mind was too distracted. She felt apprehensive. Nervous. Afraid. She’d experienced a night like this before – countless times, in fact – but she had a feeling that tonight was going to be different; the full moon was on show and she knew, particularly for Steven, it would awaken the beast. His beast.
Steven came to a stop by a heavy black door that led to the basement. He lifted the handle and pushed. A black wall stared back at them, lit only by the dancing light of the candles that hung intermittently on the wall. Jessica went first. Her feet landed delicately on the steps and her fingers clawed for what grip they could find on the brick, using the grooves and cuts in the cement for guidance. As she reached the final step, a deep red swathed her.
What had, hours ago, been her husband’s art room was now his dungeon. Along the back wall was a row of what Ste
ven liked to call ‘his toys’. Dildos. Whips. Beads. Spankers. Blunt objects. But there was a new addition. To the right of the other objects were a set of kitchen knives. She daren’t ask what they were for… not yet anyway; she was too absorbed by the magic of the entire room. Her body tingled at the sight of it all.
In the centre of the space was a large table, with four chains placed in each corner. It had been crafted to her exact measurements, and they allowed no room for manoeuvre: once she was locked in, she was locked in until released. On the right-hand side of the room were two poles, and at the top of them, another set of chains; one for each hand – or foot, depending on Steven’s preference.
Jessica took another sip of wine.
‘What do you think?’ Steven asked.
‘It’s nice. I sense plum with a tiny kick of cherry… right?’
‘Not the wine,’ Steven said, puffing out a small laugh. ‘I meant the room. I think it’s the best it’s looked in a long time.’
Jessica pointed to the blades hanging from the wall. ‘What are those for? Do you want him to kill me?’
‘Don’t worry,’ Steven said, placing a hand on her shoulder. ‘They won’t do anything other than make you sore. They’re blunt. I wore them down earlier while you were at work.’
‘They better be. I don’t want him to kill me.’
‘He’ll do exactly as I tell him. And exactly as you’ll let him.’
She looked him deep in the eyes. They had turned a darker brown than usual. And that was when she knew his sadistic tendencies had begun to consume his mind and body. It wouldn’t be long until his entire personality changed.
‘Yes, master.’
Steven opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by the sound of a doorbell ringing on the gallery floor. Saying nothing, both Steven and Jessica headed upstairs; Steven pulling Jessica by the arm, stretching her skin as he gripped her tightly.
The harsh fluorescent light blinded her as she climbed the final step. On the other side of the gallery window was Lester Bain, their victim. He was a small man, balding, and the little hair that remained on his head was the colour of straw. She’d never bothered to ask how old he was, but she was certain he was either in his late thirties or early forties, though Lester’s physique belied his real age. He had the body of a twenty-year-old. Sculpted. Muscular. It was clear to see he looked after himself. It was just a shame that he repulsed her as soon as he touched her.
Lester gave a quaint little wave as the light from inside the gallery illuminated his face.
‘What are you waiting for?’ Steven asked her. ‘Open the door, you stupid bitch. We can’t leave him waiting too long.’
‘Yes, master.’ Jessica bowed her head, placed her glass on the desk and opened the door for Lester.
His aftershave was strong, but she’d become immune to its power. Lester entered the building and removed his shoes – it had been a common courtesy he’d insisted upon the first time they’d all met.
‘Jessica, my darling,’ he said, kissing her on the lips. His hand wandered down her body and found its home on her breast. He squeezed hard.
‘Lester!’ Steven called from the other end of the room. ‘Don’t get too carried away with yourself. We have to wait. Trust me. It’ll make it all better.’
‘Is tonight the night?’ Lester asked, his voice endearing, like a child’s.
Steven nodded. ‘The very one. We wanted to surprise you. I hope you’re prepared.’
‘I’ve waited three long months for this.’
Steven raised a glass. ‘Red? Or we have white if you’d prefer?’
Lester released Jessica’s breast as though it were an inanimate object that he held no emotional attachment to and started towards Steven. ‘Red please.’
Jessica closed the door behind them and locked it. She gave one final look at the world outside – the normality of it all; the world that had no idea what would go on behind these four walls; the world that would judge them if they did know. There was no turning back now.
Steven called her name. She turned towards him and then rushed over. Her masters were standing in front of a five-foot-wide painting.
‘I was just showing our guest my new work,’ Steven said.
‘I think it’s wonderful,’ Lester added.
‘He’s a talented man, my—’
Lester slapped her across the face with the back of his hand, knocking the glass from her grip. It smashed into hundreds of pieces, wine spreading across the floor, soiling her shoes as well as Lester’s white socks.
‘Now look what you’ve fucking done!’ Lester screamed in her face. ‘What have I told you about talking out of turn? Go and clean it up now.’
Jessica immediately complied. She rushed through another door that led into a kitchen area, grabbed some cloths, a dustpan and brush, and returned to the gallery. As she bent down to pick up the glass and mop up the wine, she eavesdropped on their conversation.
‘As I was saying,’ Steven continued. ‘I wanted to go for something slightly different. I wanted something that would make a commentary on life.’
‘I have to say, it’s hyperreal. I’d love to feature one in one of my properties,’ Lester said. He tilted his head and glanced at Jessica on the floor. ‘At a nominal fee, of course.’
‘Naturally.’
Lester returned his attention to the painting. ‘Now, you know I don’t know much about art – and I would say, in my immodest opinion, that it looks a lot like all your other works – but this one is my favourite.’
‘My art shows the perfection of life. The order. The normality of it. The banality. A complete contrast to our little secret.’
‘Speaking of little secrets,’ Lester began, ‘The Community has just reached fifteen thousand members. We hit the figure earlier this afternoon.’
‘If that isn’t something to celebrate, I don’t know what is!’
Steven and Lester’s glasses clinked together while Jessica carried the filled dustpan and sodden cloth back to the kitchen area. She returned empty-handed.
An awkward moment fell on the three of them as both men stared at her. Lester’s eyes bore into her skin, and the sensation that he was undressing her with his eyes – which, she knew, he was – made her feel even more apprehensive. In the few months since they’d started their Communion with Lester, it had only been foreplay. Handjobs. Blowjobs. Heavy touching. All of the stuff that Steven allowed her to perform. But now Steven determined that they had teased Lester enough – it was time for the Full Communion. Intercourse. She didn’t want it, but she had no say in the matter. She was submissive, and it was Steven’s choice. But of all the other Community members they’d been with, Lester was the first that made her skin crawl. There was something different about him – something she didn’t like.
‘Well?’ Lester was the first to speak. ‘What are we waiting for? Shall we begin?’
Steven checked his watch. ‘I think it’s about time.’ He turned to the black door and gestured for Lester to move first. ‘Please. Follow me.’
CHAPTER 2
BETRAYAL
Lester was hard. He could feel it all ready, bulging in his trousers. His palms were turning moist, and a thin film of sweat had formed at the crease of his neck.
Steven opened the big black door that Lester had come to love in recent months. His pulse skipped.
‘After you,’ Steven said. ‘I’ll give you the tour while Jessica gets ready. I’ve prepared it a little differently this time.’
Lester grinned. ‘Now you’ve really got me excited.’
He crossed the threshold into the stairwell. As he descended the steps, he let his imagination loose. He imagined tying her up, pinning her tightly so she couldn’t move, whipping her, beating her until he drew blood, penetrating her, not knowing when to stop, not knowing if to stop, not knowing how to – all manner of depraved things.
He reached the bottom of the steps and observed the apparatus hanging on the wall and danglin
g from the ceiling, his mouth agape. It was everything he’d imagined it would be. More. Beyond his wildest dreams.
‘You approve?’ Steven asked, placing a comforting hand on Lester’s back.
‘Yes,’ Lester said, almost chuckling with excitement.
‘I wanted to tailor it to you and your preferences.’
‘It’s… it’s a work of art.’
Steven puffed out another laugh and adjusted his glasses on his nose. ‘It’s my day job for a reason.’
Lester moved about the room and paused by Steven’s toys. He reached for the blades that dangled from the wall.
‘You know, I’ve been thinking about your wife for many weeks now. I’ve been planning this in my head from the first moment I contacted you.’ Lester’s finger ran up and down the knife’s edge.
‘I sharpened that one earlier. The others are blunt. I want you to use it on Jessica. Gentle, but not too gentle. Heavy, but not too heavy.’
‘I’m sure I can find the happy medium. And she consents?’ Lester asked, stabbing his finger on the tip of the blade. He made a mental note of which one it was.
‘She will do as I tell her. I told her they were blunt. If she knew they weren’t she’d refuse. It’s better she finds out this way, while her emotions and excitement are up – that way she can’t get out of it. Once we begin, she’s all yours.’
‘This just keeps getting better and better.’
Lester moved along the wall and grabbed a paddle. He ran it over the palm of his hand, the blunt spikes massaging his skin and teasing his sensory reflectors into action. He finished admiring the sensation and then pointed to the large desk in the middle of the room. ‘Where’s the camera? I want to make sure this gets thoroughly documented. For all our records.’