‘Not long after we opened, young Nick on the Dusk-til-Dawn Bar saw two of Yashin’s goons talking to Agnes and Bernadette. Ten minutes later they weren’t there. That Adagio For Strings thing was playing but he couldn’t see them on the dance floor. Nick thought it strange so he told me.’ I nodded. It was a good call. Everyone knows Agnes loves The Adagio. Eric continued. ‘I checked the CCTV and we got this. I’ve pulled out all the relevant bits and streamed them together.’ He clicked ‘play’ and stood back.
The sequence started with a view from camera twelve which covers the lower dance floor and the left-hand side of the bar. It was busy as always, but there was no mistaking Agnes and Bernadette, perched on high stools sipping non-alcoholic strawberry daiquiris through straws. I knew this because it’s all they ever drink. A few yards to their left, in the shadows, two dark figures were leaning into each other. It was obvious they were stalking them. After a few seconds they moved in. As they came through to where there was more light I recognised the taller one as Bergin, Yashin’s main man when it comes to pulling girls. I didn’t know the other’s name, but he was Yashin’s as well.
According to the CCTV log, the encounter at the bar lasted just short of ten minutes. Eric fast-forwarded through most of it but the body language read like it was from a Pulling For Dummies Manual. Bergin and his mate were hunting, Agnes and Bernadette their prey. There was no sound, but I had no problem imagining the guys' conversation running the gamut from jokey banter to, ‘Buy you another drink?’ through leery cajoling to, ‘Come with us, you’ll be okay.’ And while Agnes and Bernadette’s first response was the frozen silence I’d have expected, it wasn’t long before the men’s practised technique began to work.
As I watched it all unfold, I became more and more angry.
The Russians had been coming to the club for months by then. Bergin, at least, had to know about Agnes. Even if he didn’t, a minute spent talking to her would be enough for him to realise.
Agnes is in her mid-twenties. She’s a regular at the club from Thursday through to Saturday and has been for a couple of years. Pretty, with long, dark hair and a model figure she’s one of the best movers I’ve ever seen. Whether it’s something to do with her condition or just a natural gift, Agnes’s mind and body have a relationship with music that has to be unique. Someone once told me it’s to do with her being on the autistic spectrum. Certainly, she has none of the social skills most girls who frequent nightclubs have. She just comes for the music and the dance. Once the disco starts and she gets into it, she goes into a sort of trance that I’ve seen last right through a night on occasions, only coming out of it when the DJ shouts, ‘Goodnight!’ The moves she pulls are amazing. If she ever went on a talent show, her story and what she does would win it, hands down. I’ve always assumed that the dancing is some sort of therapy. Bernadette is her regular companion and ‘minder’, though she seems to share some of Agnes’s traits which makes the ‘minding’ part a bit thin. In a place like Midnight’s, Agnes and Bernadette would normally be vulnerable. But everyone knows them and keeps an eye out, which I’ve always thought is nice. It was why young Nick called up so quickly. The last part of the video’s first segment showed Agnes and Bernadette finishing their drinks then going off with Bergin and his mate. The video cut to the camera in the lobby behind the main entrance. The two girls appeared from the bottom of the screen, being shepherded by the Russians. Bergin opened the door that gives onto the stairs leading up to what used to be the stalls and now houses the private rooms and suites. In the background, I could see Winston and another of my team, Eve, out in front of the lobby, but they were busy managing the queues and didn't notice what was happening behind. The camera changed again to the one in the corridor at the top of the stairs. Having got the girls away, the men’s manner changed suddenly, hurrying them down the corridor to the Ten-to-Midnight Suite. The big bugger, Alexei, was in his usual position at the door. He saw them coming and wasted no time opening it to let them in. As Bergin ushered the girls inside, he took a last look around – there was no doubting he knew exactly what he was doing – then followed.
‘That’s it,’ Eric said.
‘How long ago?’ I said, preferring to ask rather than try to work it out from the time stamp on the screen.
‘An hour and twenty. Apart from Bergin coming out ten minutes later and then returning with more Champagne no one’s come in or out.’
I turned to Frank. The look on his face, I could tell he was waiting for it. He knew my views about him letting the Russian take a long-lease on the Ten to Midnight Suite. We’d talked about it several times. But at the end of the day, how Frank runs his club is nothing to do with me. My job is simply to advise on how to make sure everything runs smoothly. Besides, what he was getting off Yashin for exclusive use of the suite every night equated almost to a full night’s takings. And Frank isn’t so moral as he would pass up on a return like that. I could see he was waiting for the, ‘Told you so’s.’ He would get them. But not yet.
I turned to find Vicki, ready and waiting. She looked beautiful. Worried, but beautiful. ‘Are you up for going in with me?’
She didn’t hesitate. ‘Yes.’
I could have kissed her.
But Frank was uneasy. He turned to Vicki. ‘What about Jack? Shouldn’t you be seeing to him?’
He meant Jack Carpenter, the night’s VIP Guest DJ. The only thing I knew about him was that since joining the cast of some teenage-college soap set somewhere south of the River Mersey, the viewing figures had rocketed.
Vicki waved Frank’s concern away. ‘Miranda’s with him so he’s happy. This is more important.’
Good for you, I thought. Up to then I'd always imagined Vicki doing exactly as Frank wanted. But I could tell he still wasn’t happy.
‘What are you going to do?’
I couldn’t help noticing that Tony-the-Manager was staying out of it, saying nothing and just watching what was going on. I often wonder what he gets paid for
‘Exactly what Eric was going to do an hour ago,' I said. 'Before you stopped him and told him to wait for me. Get Agnes and Bernadette out of there.’
‘But you know the agreement, Danny. It’s a private party. I’m not sure-’
I rounded on him. ‘Whatever your agreement with that Russian prick is, it doesn’t extend to kidnap, or anything between assault and rape.’ I was a fair bit sharper with him than I’d intended, but it had the desired effect.
His face paled and he threw a wary glance at Tony. ‘Come on, Danny. That’s a bit-’
‘Don’t tell me I’m being dramatic. If you don’t believe me, the police are in the lobby. Go and ask that DCI Carver. Those are two vulnerable girls up there. Ask him about the law on consent. And while I’ve got the contract for the door, I’m in charge of safety and security. That includes the clientele.’ I pinned him with a look. ‘Have I got the contract, Frank?’ He stared back at me. He knew what I was getting at. That I knew that Charnley had been in. Something else for another time.
After a couple of seconds he looked away. ‘Yes,’ he said.
I turned to Eric. He was already wired for sound, the mic button showing on his shirt. ‘Tell Eve to meet us in the lobby.’ He nodded, and turned away. As he spoke into his shirt, I went back to Frank. ‘Maybe you’d like to go upstairs and have a coffee? It might be more relaxing than watching?’ I nodded at the screen.
He hesitated then started to rise. ‘Right.’ He didn’t look too well.
Ready to go, I turned to find Vicki staring at me. It was a look I’d never seen before. ‘You okay?’ I said.
She gave a little nod. And I swear to God, there was almost a smile there when she said, ‘Definitely.’
CHAPTER 3
Eve was waiting when we reached the lobby. The look on her face, I could tell Eric had already told her what we were about.
Eve Mai-Ling is A-Team as well. She’s tall for a Vietnamese, about five-eight. Dark and willowy, she wears her jet-bl
ack hair short. She lives with a red-haired Irish girl called Colleen, who I've met. I once heard someone describe Colleen as, ‘Junoesque.’ I’m not sure what that means exactly, but it somehow seems to fit. I don’t know what their interests are and I don’t care, but Eve is into martial arts and I’ve always suspected she quite enjoys the rough stuff. That’s not to say she isn’t professional. I’ve never seen her come even close to losing control. Just the opposite. I once saw her deal with two lads from Wigan who were kicking off in the queue and weren’t for doing what she was telling them. They were both beefy and I was ready to lend a hand any time she needed me. She didn’t.
I took a few seconds to fill Eve in, then we all trooped up the stairs. As we turned the corner into the top corridor, Alexei saw us coming. His hand went to his mouth and he talked into it. Then he squared round to face us in classic doorman stance, legs apart, hands clasped across his front .
‘Good evening, Mr Norton. How are you?’ His accent was a bit like the bloke in the old, ‘Wadivar Wodka, from Varrington’ advert a few years back.
‘Not bad Alexei. We’re just going to have a word with your boss.’ As I made to step round him, his hand came up to press against my chest. I could have reacted, but I didn’t.
‘I am sorry, Mr Norton. This is a private function. I must first speak with Mr Yashin.’
I looked down at his hand, then lifted my gaze so our eyes met. After a couple of seconds he looked past me, checking out the others behind. He must have seen sense because the next thing, he took his hand away and stepped aside. I took out my pass key, unlocked the door and went in. The others followed.
As we came in, music was playing. The first thing I saw was Bergin and his mate coming at me in a way I would describe as ‘purposeful.’ They had obviously got Alexei’s message. Their shirts were open to the waist and Bergin’s pupils were dilated in the way I've seen many times. At the extremes of my vision, I was conscious of several men and women dotted around the room, all in various states of excitement. But whatever they’d been doing just before we came in, they weren’t doing it now. Alexei’s message had seen to that. I decided not to waste time pissing about but to send a message of my own. I took a step forward to meet Bergin head-on and pipped him, just the once, in the middle of his face. There was a nice-sounding crunch, his nose exploded and he went down like a sack of potatoes. Eric was about to do the same with his mate, but he had the sense to do a quick reverse. Everyone froze. The music stopped.
Down the far end of the room, near the dance floor, Yashin was on one of the sofas. Sasha, the blonder of his two floosies. next to him. His shirt was fastened but not his belt or the top button of his trousers. A glass coffee table in the middle of the room was suspiciously empty. Rainbow smears of wet showed under the lights. Someone had recently run a damp cloth over it. Next to it was a guy carrying a bar towel in one hand, various bits and pieces in the other. I thought about what a forensic examination of the towel would show.
I didn’t have to look for Agnes and Bernadette. They were on the dance floor, in their knickers and bras. I couldn’t tell if their confused looks were due to the music having stopped or something else. Floosie Number 2, Misha, the darker one, was between them. She was holding up their dresses like she’d been about to help them back into them. Vicki and Eve went straight over, snatched them out of Misha’s hands and started helping the girls dress. At this point Yashin stood up. There wasn’t a trace of any embarrassment and he kept his eyes square on me as he did up his button and fastened his belt. Then he wandered down to meet me and Eric. Behind me, a couple of his men were helping Bergin to his feet. He was groaning and slurring Russian. The only word I could make out was, ‘bastard.’
Yashin played it straight. ‘What is going on, Mr Norton? Why are you here? Where is Mr Johnson?’ Nothing about what I’d done to Bergin.
I decided that if I said any of the things that I wanted to say right then, it would cause more problems for others than myself. So all I said was, ‘These young ladies shouldn’t be here. We’re taking them back downstairs.’
For a second Yashin looked like he was thinking about arguing. His first thought was probably around why, considering how much he was paying for the room, couldn't he do as he pleased? Deep down I was hoping he would, when I would have happily put him right about a few things. But he must have realised which way the wind was blowing as all he said was, ‘I’m sorry, I did not know that. I understood they were two of your dancers.’ As he turned back to the dance floor, Vicki straightened up from dressing Agnes and gave him a look that I swear, if she’d given it me, I’d have dropped dead.
He clicked fingers at his women. ‘Sasha. Misha. Do not just stand there. Help Miss Lamont.’
The two women jumped to it, but Vicki made a ‘stop’ sign. ‘We can manage, thank you.’
Along with Eve, she guided Agnes and Bernadette off the floor and to the door. As she passed by me she whispered. ‘Thanks.’ It was all I needed. I closed on Yashin until we were nose to nose. It helps sometimes when you want to make a point.
‘This was a mistake,’ I said. He didn’t flinch. I didn’t expect him to. But I saw the ice form in his eyes as he stared me out. Right then I knew that from now on and until things were resolved, I would have to watch my back. I turned to the door. The women were gone. Eric was eyeing one the Russians like he was daring him to have a go. ‘Eric,’ I said. After several seconds he nodded, then backed off into the corridor. I followed him, closed the door.
Outside, we faced each other. There wasn’t a trace of humour in Eric’s face as he sang the words, ‘There’s going to be trouble.’ I twitched an eyebrow. Only then did he let out a wide grin. ‘But it was fun. Can we do it again sometime?’
I caught up with the women down in the store room that also doubles as a first aid suite. Vicki and Eve were talking to the girls who were responding in the semi-robotic way that, for them, is normal. I nodded Vicki to step outside.
‘How are they?’
‘They seem okay. They say they were just dancing. Neither of them is saying anything about anyone interfering with them in any way.’
‘So how did they end up half-naked?’
‘They said everyone was talking about how hot it was, then someone told them they could take their clothes off if they wanted to.’
‘Really?’
Vicki gave a shrug. ‘That’s their story. To be honest, knowing how they both are, it could be right.’
I shook my head. The Russians weren’t daft. ‘Any sign that they were given anything?’
‘Not that I can tell and they say not. I think we got there just in time. The way everyone was when we first went in, I suspect things were about to go a stage further.’
‘My impression also.’ I gave her a sideways grimace. ‘Police?’
She batted it straight back. ‘You’re in charge of security.’ But then she eased a little and added, ‘If it makes you feel any better, I can’t see there’s anything to be gained. The girls are okay and they aren’t making any complaints.’
I nodded, glad I didn’t have to worry about her thinking I was after brushing anything under the carpet. ‘Can I leave them with you? Something else I’ve got to do.’
‘No problem. I’ll arrange a taxi and see them home. What’s next?’
‘The police appeal.’
Her mouth made an exaggerated, ‘O’ shape. I fought against the obvious image until it went away.
About to leave, I stopped at the door. ‘What happened upstairs. Will that cause you problems?’ I was conscious that while Yashin wasn’t a ‘guest’ as such, he was still classed as VIP
She barely thought about it. ‘Don’t worry about me. I can handle him.’
Heading to the lobby, I worked myself into a muddle trying to work out if she’d simply meant to reassure me there was no need for me to worry, or whether she didn’t like the idea of me worrying about her.
Sheesh.
CHAPTER 4
&n
bsp; When I got to the lobby the police were there in force - no pun intended. A man and a woman dressed in the high-vis jackets that pass for uniforms these days were handing out flyers, two more outside doing the same. Now and again they would stop a group and talk to them. Winston was there along with Golman Gurung and Chris Banks, the last two members of the A-Team. They and a couple of my rota guys were mingling to make sure everyone behaved themselves. Frank had said that the last thing he wanted was the sort of nonsense that could lead to a headline along the lines of ‘Drunken Clubbers Obstruct Murder Cops.’
Gol is an ex-Gurkha soldier. He’s short, stocky, solid as a concrete block and older than he looks. His son is still serving in the regiment - Afghanistan I believe, though Gol is never too sure. Chris is the newest member of the team, though he’s still on his probation period. A Manchester lad and part-time fireman, I’d elevated him off the rota three months before after seeing the way he handled running the door at Charmaine’s, Frank’s Runcorn club, while the regular Team Leader was recovering in hospital. Chris is okay but there’d been a couple of incidents recently which had left me wondering if he’s still sometimes a bit too quick with his fists. Restraint is the quality that marks A-Team from the normal rota.
I looked around for the DCI in charge, Carver, and spotted him next to his not bad looking DS, a girl called Jess, over by the cloakroom. A six footer like me and dressed smartly in suit and tie, Jamie Carver always looks like an advert for M&S. But the way he was standing, with his arms folded and watching everyone as they came in, he might as well have been wearing a uniform. Most of the punters weren’t bothered, but the odd one or two, probably those with something to hide, eyed the pair warily. They weren’t exactly keeping low-key, but then it wasn’t like it was some undercover operation.
I crossed to them and went through the pleasantries. When I said, ‘Alright love? to Jess, she glared and made a point of calling me, ‘Mr Norton.’
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