by Linda Coles
“Have I screwed up? Do you hate me for interfering?”
“Actually, no. The opposite.”
Stunned, Griffin prodded for more. “What do you mean? You’re not angry with me?”
“No, I’m not angry. I’m touched you would do that for me. And I’m impressed that you know how to do it, and a little scared of that too at the same time.”
“Actually, I’m not that talented to do it myself. I know someone who is though. But the file has gone from most people’s viewing access so that’s a good thing, right?”
Vee walked slowly towards Griffin as she spoke. “Right. And thank you for doing that for me. I really do appreciate it.” She was level with him once again. Even though she was a good foot shorter than Griffin, the way she looked up him left him in no doubt what she wanted. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him gently towards her, brushing his lips with a kiss. Like Vee, it was perfect. Whispering, she added, “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while. Now you’ve given me a reason.”
Griffin was stunned into silence. She liked him? Well, obviously – she’d just said as much.
“So you’re okay with me interfering?”
“Yes, and I wouldn’t call what you did interfering. More helping a friend in need.” She hooked her arm through his and they carried on towards the station entrance. “Come on, we’d better hurry. We don’t want to miss the train and be late.”
Griffin’s stomach was riot of nerves. Now he was back to his original quandary: while he’d wanted to kiss Vee for some time also, what he was hiding made it awkward to get too close to her. How was he now going to keep her at arm’s length without offending or concerning her? In his past experience, women either ran a mile at their discovery or ran a mile because he wouldn’t move to the next stage. Either way, they didn’t hang around for very long after. And he really didn’t want Vee to go.
The fact that he’d finally found the solution he’d been looking for meant that the end of all that was in sight, but it also posed another problem: how could he get away for a couple of weeks, minimum, without anyone knowing where he’d gone? Without Vee in the picture, he could have left his job and simply taken off to do what needed doing – Jan would never have given him the time off, of that he was sure. But he knew Vee would never approve of his doing that, and would have been angered and hurt if he vanished suddenly. No, he couldn’t think of life without Vee.
Once on the platform, they caught their breath while they waited for the train. It was Vee who spoke first.
“I probably got off lightly.”
“You got off lightly?” Griffin said, confused. “What do you mean?”
“Well, when my ex posted that video, we’d just split up. But I never told you why we’d split up.”
“Oh? Why did you, then?”
“Because of what I’d inadvertently seen on his laptop. Now, don’t get me wrong – everyone has exes, I know. But mine had kept video copies of him and his exes having … fun … together, and I didn’t like that.” She made quotation marks with her fingers in the air around the word ‘fun.’ “And some of the fun was a long way short of my kind of fun.”
Griffin was intrigued. “Go on.”
Vee checked for nearby eavesdroppers before she carried on with what she was about to describe. “He had a fetish, and not what I’d call a regular fetish like kissing feet or wearing someone else’s undies or something. He liked feces – can you believe that? I’ll leave the rest to your imagination.” She shuddered involuntarily. “Urgh. Gross.”
Griffin couldn’t quite believe his ears. He’d heard of people enjoying that kind of thing but he didn’t know anyone personally who was into it. He didn’t think so anyway, but how could anyone be sure?
“And that’s what you saw on his computer?”
“Yep. He’d hinted at us doing it but I’d always resisted. Then he got to be quite uptight about me not getting involved and we argued all the time, so I ended it. I told him he could have his fun without me and that he’d obviously found others to take part with in the past. Finding someone new wouldn’t be too hard.” Then, almost as an afterthought, she added, “Though I have to say the women in the videos looked almost comatose, like they weren’t really present. I wondered if they’d been drugged, or were high maybe.”
“And what did he say to that, to finding someone new?” Griffin was all ears.
“He said he’d manage. He’d found an online group of like-minded people. I told him to go forth and multiply with them.”
Griffin assumed such a group wouldn’t be visible on the surface web, but more likely something a little darker. Particularly if, as Vee said, the women weren’t exactly participating fully. His interest was piqued, yet he was disgusted at the same time.
“What was the name of the group? Any idea?”
Chapter Sixty-Seven
“He’s had a good night and he’s resting. I’m sure he’d appreciate a visitor.” The nurse smiled encouragingly at Amanda; she must have assumed Jack was her father, or maybe her uncle. While Amanda didn’t exactly look young for her age, Jack looked much older.
“Thanks. He’s made of tough stuff, is Jack,” she said then headed to his room. When she popped her head around the door, she watched him for a moment before he became aware of her presence. ‘The Chase’ was firing questions on the TV, though Jack didn’t appear to be watching it. He seemed to be daydreaming. Amanda smiled and carried on into the room, taking a seat in the chair by the window.
“And how are you feeling, Jack? You look a lot better than when I saw you last.”
“That’s because I feel a lot better than when you last saw me. And by all accounts, I am a lot better than I was yesterday.” He smiled appreciatively at her visiting him. “I hope I didn’t ruin your suit.”
“I was going to buy another one soon anyway. You just brought the day forward.”
Amanda told him she had thrown the whole thing in the bin rather than remember it as her ‘puke suit.’
“Wasteful woman. There was plenty of life in it yet,” he said, but there was no bad feeling in his words. His eyes twinkled a little.
“So you’re on the mend, then. That’s good to hear. You gave me quite a fright. A bit of notice wouldn’t have gone amiss. At least I could have steered the car a bit easier.”
“I’ll do my best next time my appendix decides to explode on me. Not that I have an appendix anymore. And I thought it was the pickle. Not a very good detective, am I?”
“You’re not bad, actually, Jack. And maybe while you’re lying here you can solve the case for us, put your brain to good use. I even brought an old laptop for you to play on, do a little surfing.”
“Oh? And what am I looking for in particular?”
“I got Ruth to install a TOR browser on it.” She opened the laptop bag and pressed the ‘on’ button. It slowly awakened. “It’s a bit slow, but it is an old one.” They waited for the old machine to fully awaken. A row of icons popped up along the bottom. “Here, look at the bottom. That’s where you’ll find the browser you need to use. It makes everything anonymous; no one can see you.”
“And back to my previous question: what am I looking for?”
“Fetish groups, I’m thinking. There’s no manpower to do this back at the office and since you’re not busy, it won’t hurt, eh? You might even learn a thing or two.” Amanda winked animatedly, though Jack didn’t look so amused. He gave her a sideways look. “Start with the ones we know about – hair,” Amanda went on, “and see if there is anything related to exchanging it for something. I’m guessing there’s a group out there, probably more than one, and Chris Smeeks is involved somehow. He could be the main guy, or he could be the host and nothing more, but he’s involved. We just have to figure out how. No coincidences, remember?” Amanda placed the laptop rather roughly on Jack’s extended legs and then sat back.
“Hey, watch my stitches!” he yelped.
“Stop crying. Your legs are no
where near your stitches. And while I’m thinking about it, where’s your phone?”
“It’s in the bedside drawer. What do you want that for?”
Amanda opened the drawer and took it out. “I’m setting something up for you. What’s your pass code?”
“1234. And what are you setting up?”
But Amanda was already busy downloading what she needed. Once it was done, she opened the app and began her search. Jack watched as her face broke out into regular grins, a few seconds apart.
He tried again. “What are you doing, Lacey?”
“Oy! I thought you didn’t call me by my surname.”
“It’s the only way to get your attention.”
“Shush, I’m busy. Hang on and I’ll tell you.”
He watched as she took a set of earphones out of her bag and fiddled with his phone again. A pinprick of a blue light glowed from the screen.
“Okay, here we go.” She leaned in, showing him his phone and the green Spotify app. “This is your music,” she said, pointing, “and these are your headphones. Put them on.” She pressed play on the short playlist she had created. ELO’s ‘Hold on Tight to Your Dreams’ filled his ears, and Amanda watched as a huge grin spread over his face. He needed a shave. Again. His fingers tapped on the bedrail; he was clearly enjoying this. She let him listen for a minute or two then pressed pause. He took the headphones off.
“I thought you’d like a musical accompaniment while you work. And you can add more music in. Let me show you how.”
For the next while they sat with their heads together as Amanda showed him how to search for the songs he adored and add them to a list to listen to later. Every so often, he’d say “I used to have that on blue twelve-inch vinyl” or “And that was on purple vinyl” or “I’ve not heard that in ages!” It made Amanda glad that she’d taken the trouble; now she didn’t feel quite so bad about asking him to work while he sat.
When he finally took the headphones off, she broached the subject of his house. “Jack, I have something else for you, something I’m hoping you’ll accept in the spirit which it is meant and not be pissed at me. Or Ruth.”
“Uh-oh. What else have you done?”
“I couldn’t help noticing you need little help around the house. So first of all, I’ve organized a lady to go in a couple of times a week and keep on top of things for you, give you a hand.” Jack opened his mouth to object but Amanda waved it shut. “And she’s under strict instructions not to move anything of Janine’s or change anything – just take away the inches of dust. And if it doesn’t work out after four weeks, you can get rid of her. In the meantime, you’ve got stitches and recovery to worry about, not dust bunnies and mice.” Jack sat quietly. Amanda suspected he knew deep down he needed a hand.
“Four weeks,” he said. “I’ll let her clean for four weeks, as you suggest. Then I’ll decide. Deal?”
“Deal. She might even cook your dinner every once and a while. I wish someone did that for me.”
“Well, you’re about to get wed, so you two have no excuse between you. You need to get yourselves organized. Living under one roof would be a start. And you’ve got Wong’s if all else fails.”
“Too true.” The comment about one roof had hit home. “Well, I’m glad that’s settled. Now, I’ve got to go, so let me know if you find anything worth knowing about. If you get stuck, give Ruth a call. She said she’d be happy to be your dark web guide.” She added, “Sort of sounds like a tour guide of the seedy. Could be fun.” She winked again and stood up to leave.
“Thanks for these,” Jack said pointing to his headphones. “I’ll report back later with my findings. The dark web will be under my control in your absence.” He mock-saluted his captain as she turned to go.
Amanda hoped he found something useful or interesting. Other than porn, that was.
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Her eyes fluttered open in the dusk of the room. Drowsy and disorientated, Ellen lay on the silk comforter trying to comprehend where she was and what time it was. Her eyes searched around the room, the part she could see without moving her head, but nothing she observed looked familiar. Her ears tuned in for sound. Nothing, save for the gentle hum of what sounded like traffic outside, wherever outside was. The light in the room was dwindling; a lamp glowed faintly in the far corner. Slowly she rolled over onto her back, then onto her other side, and scanned the rest of the room, blinking to digest her surroundings. It seemed she was in someone’s bedroom.
And alone.
She sat bolt upright, heart pounding with fear now, ears on full alert. Something didn’t feel right. Slowly, she lowered her eyes.
Her ankles were bound together.
But not with cord or rope.
They were bound with a distinctive patterned silk scarf, featuring a design Ellen knew well. Hermes. It was tied artfully around her ankles and arranged like it was all part of a window display, in Selfridges perhaps. She looked closer: her toenails, usually painted a neutral shade, were now a deep rouge, the same colour as the border on the silk scarf. They matched perfectly. Instinctively, she wriggled her ankles to see how tightly she had been tied up and was surprised to feel the give. They weren’t tight at all.
As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she noticed that she was surrounded by rose petals that had been delicately sprinkled on the bed, almost the same deep red. She picked one up to test its authenticity, pressed the soft, silky petal to her nose and sniffed. The strength of the perfume surprised her. Was it a natural scent, though, or something from a bottle? She couldn’t be sure. Forcing herself to become fully alert, she leaned forward to untie her binding and set her ankles free. Whatever had happened to her, whatever had brought her to this room, she knew she hadn’t come here voluntarily.
Shimmying herself off the comforter, she stood on slightly shaky legs and walked around the room as quickly as she could manage. There was a silver teapot and single cup and a small plate of triangle sandwiches, and an envelope was propped up against a milk jug. It had her name on the front. Tentatively, she opened it and took the card out. There was a simple message printed in beautiful handwriting. It read, “Your debt has been settled. I’d advise you to tell no one. It wouldn’t be wise.”
Now even more confused, she went over to the window and peered out. It was dusk. The street below bustled with traffic, lit by the amber glow of streetlamps. Ellen felt the crispness of the card in her hand and re-read the message. It made no sense to her. Her ankles hadn’t been bound tightly enough to keep her imprisoned, nor were her hands or mouth restrained, so what was she doing in this room? She walked across to the door and tuned the handle. It wasn’t locked. How odd. If someone had taken the trouble to get her into the room and tie her ankles, why not lock her in?
She closed the door and sat on the edge of the bed again, trying to decide what to do. She took stock of the situation: she wasn’t a prisoner, but her ankles had been bound while she slept, and not with rope or telephone cord or some such, but a luxury silk scarf. A body scan found nothing else out of order, apart from a splitting headache. She was still fully clothed; her bag was on the small table next to the tea. Though she couldn’t see her shoes. The card’s message ran through her mind again but she had no clue what it meant or what she was supposed to do, if anything.
Apart from “Tell no one. It wouldn’t be wise.”
At last, instinct took over, and she grabbed her bag, flung open the door and ran barefoot down the corridor as fast as her drugged legs would carry her. The lift was at her floor and she stepped in, resting her head back on the wall. As the doors closed and she descended, she closed her eyes.
The lift took an age to get down to the lobby. Once there, she headed to the main entrance where she stood, barefoot, trying to get her bearings. She shivered. She took a few steps outside; the pavement felt cold to her bare feet. Once again, instinct took control and she bolted off, though in which direction she had no clue. Her heart pounded as did her head, and she p
ulled up short, panting hard. Looking down, she saw there was blood where she’d come to a halt. She must have run over some glass fragments, maybe from a broken bottle. How could she not have felt it? Maybe she had.
“Can I help you, miss?” a male voice at her side asked. It was the doorman of the hotel. He glanced down at her bare feet and raised his eyebrows, but Ellen was too preoccupied to care.
“Where am I?”
“You’re in Knightsbridge, miss. Can I get you a car, perhaps?”
He waited for her reply and seemed about to move away when she said faintly, “Yes, please. I want to go home.”
The doorman signalled to a nearby car to pull in and Ellen slipped onto the back seat. He closed her door for her.
“Take care, miss,” he added though Ellen barely noticed. Whatever had happened to her that afternoon was going to be a mystery. The last thing she remembered as she wracked her brain was waiting for her car to go to a job earlier on, and that was it. Had she even gone? How had she got into that bedroom? And why? There were too many questions and no answers.
Her phone buzzed with an incoming text and she rummaged in her bag to read it. It was from her agent: “Are you okay, Ellen? Only you didn’t show up for your assignment today. Call me.”
“I didn’t show up? I’ve never done that. Ever. What the hell happened to me?” She glanced down at her perfect feet. Her soles were sore and dirty from being barefoot; there were specks of blood on the floor mat of the car. Going barefoot was something she never did. It was all out of place.
Everything about this day was out of place, including her.
The operator completed the transaction on his screen. Another sale closed, and another happy client. The green light changed to blue and two other smaller lights blinked nearby. They were the lights of remaining players, players in place to monitor what she did next.