Perfect Kill

by Helen Fields

  ‘Thank you,’ he said.

  ‘I’m not sure what for. I certainly haven’t limited the field for you.’

  ‘Food for thought, anyway. Possibly just not vegan.’

  Marie laughed.

  ‘The evening seems to be winding down,’ he said, looking at the dwindling numbers left in the room. ‘I should probably make a move too.’

  ‘Of course.’ She extended a delicate hand for him to shake once again. As he took it, he found a business card left in his palm. ‘In case you want more help with your logo research,’ Marie said. ‘Or anything else. It was nice meeting you, Luc Chevotet.’

  ‘Likewise,’ he said, slipping her card in his pocket. She gave him a last smile and slipped off towards the small group still chatting in one corner.

  Callanach disappeared out of the door, unable to find Alex to say goodbye. He walked a while before taking a cab, thinking about what Marie had said. Logos weren’t always what they seemed. He’d been thinking too literally about what sort of company might have owned the van that had dropped off Malcolm Reilly’s corpse. He needed to cast the net much wider. An hour later he was back at his hotel, staring blankly at his computer screen, the enthusiasm he’d felt when he’d first sat down to begin researching a distant memory. Marie had been right about the scope of the leaf image. Leaf logos cropped up in every industry imaginable. Even limiting the search to companies based in or around Paris, the possibilities were vast. It was another dead end.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Elenuta sighed. It was 11.15 and her night’s work had barely begun. Who knew how many more men would parade through the door? She stared at the wall. The last man had ripped her clothes in some sort of show of bravado. He must have been trying to impress himself, because he couldn’t possibly have thought she was going to be impressed by it. Now there was both screwing and sewing on the agenda before she could sleep. She brushed her hair. Some of the other women were letting theirs get matted. Elenuta understood the temptation. Make yourself unattractive, hope you got chosen by fewer men. What those women didn’t understand was the jeopardy they were in. Less attractive meant you were more disposable, and that took you right up to the threshold of being selected for the race. A living hell or a brutal, early death. What a choice.

  Things had been bad under Finlay – she hated how literal that was – but it was even worse with Scalp in charge. One of the girls had a burn on her neck after forgetting the electrical circuit and sticking her head through the front door to shout downstairs. It was only then that Scalp’s goons had realised what a great punishment it made, particularly in moments of boredom. One of the women answers you back or refuses you a quick blow job? Throw her out of the door. Pull her back in. Throw her out again. Next time she’ll comply quicker. Just when they’d all thought life couldn’t get any worse.

  The walkie-talkie buzzed. Two men were on their way up. Scalp kept a man on the external door these days. Finlay had never bothered, which was the only reason she’d been able to escape. No chance of that now. Elenuta did her best to pull her clothes together and make herself presentable again, before opening her door and parading herself in the hallway as instructed. She was exhausted. It occurred to her that if she put her head in and out of the front door enough times, she might actually die. For the first time, that seemed like an acceptable choice.

  ‘Jacket off, shirt open,’ one of the guards told the men at the door.

  ‘Come on, you know me, I’m here all the time,’ one of them groaned. Elenuta recognised him as a regular.

  ‘New management, new rules,’ the guard said. ‘Do it or go the fuck home.’

  The other man complied, slipping his arms from his jacket and opening the buttons of his shirt to show his chest and stomach.

  ‘Empty your pockets,’ the guard told him. He took his mobile and a set of car keys from one, and a wallet from the other. The guard gave it a half-hearted check. ‘First time?’

  ‘Aye,’ the man said. ‘Gene Oldman gave me the heads-up. I don’t mind paying in advance but I’m not leaving my wallet out here for some little bastard to scam me.’

  ‘Gene Oldman’s not recommending anyone any more.’

  ‘Way I heard it, the miserable sod blew his own brains out and now the polis are looking to pin it on someone local to make themselves look good. Bunch of wankers. Surprised they haven’t knocked on my door yet,’ the new man said with a broad grin.

  The guard laughed. ‘Leave your phone, take your wallet with you, but watch the bitches. They’ll try anything. Payment’s due now. How many girls?’

  ‘Just one.’

  ‘Any preferences? They’ll all do whatever you want, mind. Any problems, just give a shout.’

  ‘Can I get a better look at them?’ he asked, moving further into the corridor.

  ‘I want that one,’ the second man in pointed at the woman to Elenuta’s right. ‘I’m here all the time. I should get first choice.’

  ‘Forty.’ The guard held out a hand. Once the bundle of notes was passed over, the other man looked up and down the row of women.

  ‘I’ll need someone who speaks the language,’ the man said. ‘I’ve got some instructions and I don’t want to have to draw fucking diagrams.’

  ‘Her or her.’ The guard pointed first to Elenuta then to one of the younger girls.

  The new man looked at them both long and hard.

  ‘That one,’ he said, indicating Elenuta. ‘I’ve got a teenage daughter. I don’t need another one rolling their frigging eyes at me and sulking.’

  ‘Leave her in a fit state to work the rest of the night. Otherwise, you’re good to go. Thirty on a first visit. Consider it an incentive to come back.’

  ‘She’d better be fucking amazing,’ the man grumbled, handing over the cash.

  ‘If she’s not, she’ll be explaining why to the boss. What did you say your name was?’

  ‘Jack Thomson. Jackie to my friends, but let’s wait and see how your ho does before we get too pally.’

  ‘I’m Paddy,’ the man extended his hand and they shook. ‘Off you go then. Half an hour. Anything over that, you get charged extra.’

  Elenuta watched as the man plodded towards her along the corridor. Caucasian, hairline receding as his stomach expanded, he looked out of shape and sad. She supposed she should be grateful she’d make her quota of jobs for the night. Popularity kept her safe from the prospect of being forced into the race, but she so wanted to lie down and rest. Just for a while.

  ‘Come in,’ she said, standing back and letting him through her door.

  He walked in and went to the window, as she closed the door behind them.

  ‘Does that lock?’ he asked.

  ‘No, but not worry. They only come if you shout. Is private. I undress or you do it?’

  ‘What’s your name?’ the man asked.

  ‘Rosie,’ she lied. None of them were supposed to use their real names. ‘On bed?’

  ‘No, but you can sit down if you like. Keep your clothes on. What’s your real name?’ She stared at him. ‘You’re not Scottish. Your English is good but not fluent. It seems unlikely that you’re called Rosie. Where are you from?’

  Elenuta perched on the edge of the bed, studying the stranger. Most likely it was Scalp testing her out. It was exactly the bastard’s style. Get her to break the rules as an excuse to punish, making it easier to ensure the other women’s compliance.

  ‘Glasgow,’ she said. ‘I have to do work. What you want?’

  ‘I’m not really in the mood, but don’t worry, I’ll make sure they know you did everything I asked.’

  ‘No,’ she stood up. ‘I work hard. I do what told. Whatever you say.’ She looked towards the door. One of Scalp’s men would be the other side, listening, ready to report back.

  The man followed the direction of her glance, walking across the room, then sitting down on the floor, his back to the door. There was no way anyone was going to walk in.

  ‘On the bed,’
he ordered loudly. ‘Right now.’ Elenuta sat down again. ‘And get naked.’

  She began doing as she was told, but he covered the space between himself and the bed on his hands and knees in a couple of seconds, holding her hands still and shaking his head.

  ‘Don’t,’ he whispered. ‘It’s all right. I’m not here to hurt you. You can trust me.’ He returned to his original position keeping the door firmly shut. ‘What’s that around your neck?’

  Elenuta rubbed her eyes.

  ‘Electric,’ she said.

  ‘There’s a boundary?’ She nodded. There was no point lying about the dog collar. The large battery unit attached to it made the purpose obvious enough. ‘So you’re not allowed out of here?’ She shrugged. She didn’t really see the point of the conversation. ‘You’re not living here voluntarily?’

  ‘You pay to ask questions?’

  ‘That a problem?’ he asked.

  ‘I get trouble,’ she said. ‘Not okay to talk.’

  ‘I guessed that,’ he said. ‘So who’s the boss here?’

  Word was getting around about that so she supposed she was allowed to answer.

  ‘Scalp,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Scalp? That’s a new one on me. Does Scalp have a surname that you know of?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Did Scalp put that thing around your neck?’ She nodded. ‘Motherfucker,’ he muttered. ‘Come here.’ She hesitated. ‘Right now. Come and sit on the floor with me.’

  Elenuta sighed. This she understood. Men giving her orders. It was easier than answering questions. She braced herself for whatever was coming. He kicked his boots off, reaching inside one of them and taking out a penknife, flicking the blade open with his thumbnail.

  ‘Not hurt me,’ she flinched, throwing herself backwards.

  ‘God, I’m an idiot, I should have explained. I won’t hurt you. Not at all. Let me sort that thing out. I won’t take it off you. They’ll never know. You can just say it doesn’t work. Better still, if you go across the boundary, just act like you had a shock.’

  She frowned at him.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’m going to disable the battery unit so you can’t get an electric shock,’ he whispered slowly.

  Elenuta looked him up and down. He had no intention of having sex with her, that much was clear. His clothes were clean. His nails neatly trimmed. His voice was kind. Either she shouted for help, which would likely get her nothing but fists for dinner, or she could trust, which was something of a joke. She’d thought she was beyond such overt stupidity. On the other hand, a knife to the neck would at least be fast.

  She leaned forward again, presenting the right side of her neck where the battery box was, closing her eyes.

  ‘Relax,’ he said. ‘I’ll be careful.’ He inserted the tip of the blade into the battery box and took out the screw. ‘Turn a bit more left.’ She opened her eyes, getting a better look at his face as he worked. ‘Hold your hair back for me.’ She did. She could hear scraping, his arm made a tiny sawing action in front of her face, then his elbow banged into her nose. He stopped what he was doing and leaned back. ‘Sorry about that,’ he smiled. ‘You okay?’

  She couldn’t resist a laugh. Half embarrassed, half intrigued at how worried he looked. If a bump to the nose was the worst of her problems, life would be wonderful.

  ‘Is okay,’ she said.

  ‘All right, I’ve nearly got it. I just don’t want to do any damage to the outside or they’ll notice. This way you can claim you know nothing about it.’

  ‘They punish me anyway,’ she said, as he picked up the tiny screw and closed the battery unit back up again.

  ‘I bet they bloody will,’ he said. ‘There. I don’t suggest you put it to the test, but I reckon that’ll keep you a bit safer.’ He folded the knife blade away and reached for his boot, pausing before he secreted it. ‘Do you have anywhere safe you could keep this without getting caught?’

  She stared, assessing its length, then went to a set of drawers and took out a pair of tatty jeans. He held the penknife out to her. Her hands shook as she grasped it. She’d have liked the time to have sat and stared at it, but no such luxury existed. She wiggled her finger into the hem of her jeans and tucked the blade into it, manoeuvring until it was the opposite side of the hem from the small hole.

  ‘Why give me knife?’ she asked, as she put the jeans back in the drawer.

  ‘Just in case. I’m guessing you need to protect yourself. If things ever get really bad, better to have something. And so you understand that I’m here to help you. You believe me now?’

  She thought about it. It could all have been a set-up from the minute he’d walked into the flat. New customer making sure the guards followed procedure, asking questions she wasn’t supposed to answer. Naming Gene Oldman as his source of information. Elenuta had cautioned herself not to react to that. Not that it affected her. She was glad the man was dead after he’d helped Finlay find her. It would have to be a pretty elaborate hoax though – disabling her electric collar, giving her the knife. Scalp was devious and manipulative, but he was also arrogant. He wouldn’t have wasted so much time and energy on her. Easier to have just beaten her to a pulp to see if she was properly broken in for him.

  ‘I believe,’ she nodded. ‘My name is Elenuta. They kidnap me, bring me here from Romania.’

  He reached out his hand, waiting until she put her own much smaller one in his, then shook it gently and released her again.

  ‘Lively,’ he said. ‘Detective Sergeant Lively, Elenuta. I’m a policeman. Do you understand?’

  The air left the room. She stifled a laugh at the absurdity of it, felt the dizzying effect of adrenaline as the truth hit her. He was police. She could see it now. In his demeanour, his confidence. The way he spoke to her. And yet she was still shut in a room, still a prisoner, and he was arming her for her own good.

  ‘Why you not arrest men?’ she asked.

  ‘You mean the men out there right now?’

  She nodded.

  ‘I want leave, now. They hurt us. Rape us. You help us leave.’

  ‘I’m going to,’ he said. ‘I just need some help from you first. Would you sit down, Elenuta? Tell me what I need to know and we’ll talk about getting you out of here.’

  Now there were tears in her eyes. Every single day she thought she was beyond crying, something new happened to prove to her that she was still human. Usually it was an act of brutality or cruelty. Now this. The tantalising closeness of freedom, of safety, even a glimpse of something that smelled curiously like fresh cut grass and that tasted like justice. And yet it was still about making a bargain, still just out of her reach. Of course it was. Escape was a mirage in the desert. She sat down next to him, her back against the door alongside his, as she stared at the blacked-out window that she could break if she liked, and jump to her death once she’d really had enough. She sighed.

  ‘What you want know?’ she asked him.

  ‘Finlay Wilson,’ Lively said, his voice much quieter now, one ear to the door. ‘Have you heard that name before?’

  ‘He was boss here, before Scalp,’ she said. ‘Very bad.’

  ‘Well, he’s dead. We’re trying to find out who killed him. Do you know anything about that?’

  She closed her eyes. Every word she said got her further into a situation that would undoubtedly end her. Only it was too late now to go back, and she found that she didn’t really want to.

  ‘Scalp kill him. Take over.’

  ‘You know that for certain?’ Lively asked.

  ‘I saw. Throw off …’ she pointed towards the hallway, ‘what word?’

  ‘Railing?’ Lively asked.

  ‘Yes. Over railing. They argue. Scalp angry about money. I saw.’

  ‘You actually witnessed it?’

  Elenuta nodded.

  ‘Did you … sorry to ask this … did you see anyone do anything else with the body after that?’

  ‘No. They sh
ut door. Scalp’s men clear up, I think.’

  ‘That was easier than I thought,’ Lively said. ‘Were there any other witnesses, anyone who could say the same thing in court?’

  ‘Many women here. We all see. To scare us, understand?’

  ‘I do, and I’m sorry to ask about this. We know from Finlay’s body that he had sex with someone just before he died. You don’t happen to remember which of the women here he’d been with?’

  The rush of nausea Elenuta felt was overwhelming. She could smell Finlay’s body odour, feel the roughness of his fingers on her skin. Every drop of sweat from his body had reeked of hatred.

  ‘Okay,’ Lively said gently. ‘That’s okay, lean forward, take deep breaths.’

  ‘Is nothing,’ she said.

  ‘Funny shade of green for nothing.’ He went to the bed and picked up a pillow, bringing it back for her to lean against. ‘So it was you?’

  ‘Yes. How you know?’

  ‘Apart from your reaction?’ He smiled. ‘You’re the prettiest woman in this place. Not just here. You’d be the prettiest woman in lots of places. I’m sorry. This may be the worst timing ever for paying someone a compliment.’

  ‘Better than a slap,’ she smiled back.

  ‘I knew Finlay a bit, from way back and by reputation more recently. If he had to choose a woman from here, it was obvious it would’ve been you. In which case I have to ask you something else. Another man died recently. Gene Oldman, couple of minutes’ walk from here. He was shot …’

  ‘In the head,’ she finished. ‘I escaped, ran, knocked door for help but Finlay came.’

  ‘Who shot him?’

  ‘Finlay’s man. Gene made him angry.’