Broken (37 page)

The worst of it all was, she couldn’t back out now no matter what happened. She was in too deep.

When Jenny came back with the coffee and food she saw a strained and worried Kate before her and wondered what could have happened in the last fifteen minutes to change someone’s mood so radically.

 

Jeremy Blankley picked up on the change in his persecutor almost immediately. As Kate came into the small interview room, the first thing she did was send the young PC off for his lunch. Her face, normally good-looking and open, was like a closed book, and he could see she was just keeping her temper in check.

‘Kerry Alston was seriously scalded and beaten today in Chelmsford women’s prison,’ Kate told him bluntly. ‘They found out why she was on remand.’

She was savagely pleased to see him blanch.

‘So you had better decide whether or not you’re going to open your trap to me. Wise up and maybe, just maybe, I’ll have you segregated.’

He stared at her dull-eyed.

‘I want names, dates, and I want them today. I want to know all about your brother and what you were both into. I understand you had a lot in common - a love of young children being the main thing. But first I am going to give you a few minutes alone with two of my younger officers. One is a body builder and the other is a PE instructor. They are going to give you a small taste of what you can expect in a big boys’ prison, Jeremy. You’d better think hard while they do because I am at the end of my tether here.’

She pushed back the door and it clanged noisily against the wall. Two men walked in. Jeremy saw muscles and gleaming teeth as they smiled at him. Even though he called out Kate didn’t look back. Instead she locked the door from the outside and walked slowly to the canteen.

As she passed her team they all smiled at her knowingly. Inside she was ashamed of what she had done even while a small part of her rejoiced. Blankley was getting his payback, and in this new world she was inhabiting it seemed that was what it was all about. Whether you were Filth or criminal.

After today there was no going back to how it used to be. She had stepped outside every boundary and guideline now. There was nowhere left for her to go.

As she drank her coffee and smoked a cigarette she pictured Patrick’s face and concentrated on that.

He was all she really cared about.

Jenny brought Robert into her office.

‘What can we do for you?’ she asked, smiling at him. She had taken to this man.

‘I was hoping to talk to Miss Burrows as well,’ he told her politely.

‘She’s really up to her eyes in it at the moment,’ Jenny said, ‘so you’ll have to make do with me, I am afraid. Sit down and tell me what’s wrong.’

‘One of my clients, Kathy Collins, well . . . she seems to have mislaid her youngest daughter Rebecca. I can’t locate her and I can’t prove she has done anything with her. All I know for certain is, according to her she is letting the child stay with a certain Lisa Buck.’

He bit on his lips.

‘Kathy is an addict - most of my clients are. She has four kids and she has trouble from the minute she gets up in the morning. Her life is a nightmare - although she stumbles through it somehow. But I have a bad feeling on me about her and about the child Rebecca.’

‘Has she said the child’s missing?’

He shook his head. ‘No. She is saying the child’s safe and well. Only I went to this Lisa Buck’s house - she exists, there’s no doubt about that - and no one knows where she is at the moment. There’s no answer to the door and no one has seen her for days. The house is smart, a bought council house. It’s locked up and the neighbours say she is on holiday. I don’t believe for a moment that she has Kathy’s child.’

‘You want us to check this out?’

Robert nodded. ‘Kathy is out of her nut most of the time. But she is not a bad person.’

He watched as Jenny’s eyebrows moved up towards her forehead at an alarming rate.

‘She isn’t,’ he insisted. ‘Listen to me. Mad and bad are how women are portrayed all the time. Either one or the other. Kathy has problems, I do not dispute that, but in her own way she loves the kids.’

‘I think this Kathy needs a visit.’

There was a finality in her voice and, seeing the look of sadness on his face, Jenny softened.

‘Look, Robert, I know you care about the girls you deal with and I admire you for being so kind and for your dedication to them. But if a child is unaccounted for then we have to try and find out what’s going on.’

He nodded. ‘I know, that’s why I came.’

‘Don’t feel bad, you have done the right thing coming here.’

He stood up slowly. ‘I just hope I’m wrong,’ he told Jenny, ‘and that the child
is
with this Lisa Buck. But somehow I don’t think she is.’ He looked defeated and Jenny felt a small spark of affection for him.

‘You are a nice man, you know.’

He grinned, back to his old girlish self. ‘So they tell me.’

 

Willy had company.

Jacky Gunner and Joey Partridge were now guests of the Russians, too. As the three men looked at each other they all wondered separately how the fuck they were going to get out of this place alive.

Joey was lying on the floor, his arms screaming after days in cuffs. He knew that if they tightened them he could end up losing his hands at the very least. And by the shocking sight of Willy Gabney, that was a distinct possibility.

Unlike them, Willy wasn’t cuffed.

‘Well, well . . . if it ain’t fucking Mutt and Jeff come to visit me.’ Willy’s voice croaked as if he hadn’t used it in months. ‘Who you tucked up this time then?’

Jacky Gunner was incapable of answering. His face was too swollen from a well-aimed kick with a steel toe-capped boot. But from where he was lying on the floor he could see the burns all over Willy’s thighs and the stench of charred flesh made his stomach revolt.

Joey and he were well in trouble, serious trouble, and they both knew it. Not just from Boris but from the man sitting on the bed contemplating them thoughtfully. Willy Gabney had a score to settle and they knew that unless he was dead he would settle it, no matter how badly injured he was.

At the moment they were more scared of him than they were of the Russians.

 

Lucas Browning and Suzy Harrington were old mates. She had first worked for him when she was fifteen after running away from home and being introduced through a friend of a friend. The pair had got on like a house on fire straight away.

Suzy was one of the only few toms that Lucas had ever genuinely liked. They recognised each other as a kindred spirit. Both were completely amoral and both were violently opposed to any kind of regulation of them or their chosen form of business. They used each other as and when it suited them, both having contacts that could be useful to the other. It was a good arrangement and it suited them down to the ground.

In short, they were more or less best mates.

‘You look well, Suzy.’

She grinned. ‘You still look bleeding terrible and you smell worse, Lucas. You never change.’

He laughed like a drain, a loud rip-roaring laugh that was rarely heard outside the confines of his seedy flat. ‘Only you would have the front to say that to me out loud!’

‘So shall I make us a cuppa?’

He nodded. ‘Unless you fancy something harder. I have a case of twelve-year-old Scotch in the bedroom.’

‘Sounds good to me, mate. I’ll go, it would take you a week to get there. You are really piling on the weight, Lucas. You wanna be careful. A strain on the heart, weight is.’

He wheezed as he lit up a joint.

‘You want to get out more . . .’

‘Leave it out, Suze,’ he interrupted her. ‘What are you, me fucking mother?’

She grinned as she collected the Scotch from the bedroom. There was a girl on the bed, half naked and in a deep sleep.

‘Who’s that then?’

Lucas flapped his hand. ‘Don’t ask. I’m trying out this new drug, Rohypnol. Apparently it’s great. You slip it in their drink and then the person does whatever you want. But the best bit is they can’t remember for ages. If they’re in a position to remember at all, of course. I’m thinking of using it for the more specialised films, if you get my drift.’

Suzy nodded, losing interest as she tried to locate two clean glasses from a small melamine cabinet by Lucas’s chair. ‘God, don’t you ever clean up in here?’

‘You know I don’t. It’s all part of the image,’ he laughed wheezily. ‘Now what is it you wanted to see me about?’

She poured them both a generous measure of Scotch and, taking the joint from his hand, took a deep toke before replying.

‘I’ve got a right little earner and I think we could take it to the bigger boys,’ she said seriously.

He sipped at his own drink. ‘What is it?’

She looked at him for a few seconds before she said in a low voice, ‘Kiddies. Little kiddies. Photos, whatever. I have a network of mums now who I did deals with to use their kids in photographs. It was strange, really, how it all started.’

She settled back in the chair to make herself comfortable.

‘I deal a bit where I live, and one of me regulars came over for a bit of tick, like. You know the score - you get them in debt as soon as you can, keeps them coming, don’t it? Anyway, she was a bit out of it and she was telling me about a girl nearby who was using the kids in photographs, for nonces like. I was shocked, but not as shocked as I acted. Anyway, I found out who it was and I paid her a little visit. It was pennies and halfpennies with her but I muscled in and now it’s ready to go big. You see, I have got stuff on film and also on disk so we can look at a wider market. What I need, though, are the foreign contacts. I mean, these kids are lovely - blonde-haired, blue-eyed little angels - and the rub is, the mothers are up for it at a price.’

Lucas was looking interested. She leaned forward and told him: ‘I also have a few adults who are willing to take part in the activities, and with all that, Bob can only be your uncle and I can only be your aunt. A rich auntie and all. Because there is wedge in all this stuff, serious wedge.’

Lucas picked up the excitement in her voice. ‘You, little Suzy, are the lowest of the low.’

It was said with undisguised admiration and, laughing, she answered him, proudly.

‘I know. Good though, ain’t it? If we can get the distribution we’re looking at real dough. And let’s face it, Luke, even the advertisers on the telly know the value of kids. They’re the new market. It’s like all the beasts have finally come out of the woodwork.’

She didn’t tell him that some of the people she had worked with were now in prison, awaiting trial. She was sure enough of herself to believe that they would keep her out of everything. Her reputation should guarantee her that much.

The fat man finished his drink in one gulp and poured another.

‘I think I know just the bloke for you. He’s a right Brahma, a really nice bloke, and he has contacts in the film industry. Well, our kind of film industry anyway.’

They both laughed uproariously.

‘The only thing is, Lucas, I have a bit of a problem.’

Her voice was serious now and he picked up on it immediately. Smiling nastily he said, ‘I get it. So now we come to the real reason you wanted me involved.’

‘Oh, you are such a fucking tart at times,’ Suzy chided him. ‘Honestly, Lucas, I would have come to you sooner or later. I usually do.’

He acknowledged what she said with a small movement of his head. ‘So what’s the problem?’

She giggled uncertainly as she looked at him. ‘I’ve lost one of the kids.’

Lucas stared at her for long moments. ‘You’ve what?’ She could hear the disbelief in his voice.

‘You heard me. I lost a kid.’

His whole body seemed to convulse as the coughing fit hit him. And through a fine spray of phlegm and alcohol he roared, ‘How the fuck have you managed that!’

Suzy relaxed back in her chair. ‘I gave her to a bloke called Stanley Acomb and he fucked off with her. The mother is easy at the moment, but I don’t know how long that will last. She’s a skaghead - a piece of shit.’

Lucas raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, it takes one to know one. I suppose you want me to get the kid back?’

She nodded.

He sipped on his drink again. ‘Consider it done. But in future, Suzy, now I am part of the equation, you never leave any of the kids with clients alone. OK?’

She agreed, relieved that she had sorted out a problem and also that she had back-up. Big back-up to further her career.

‘I’ll drink to that, Luke.’

They clinked glasses.

‘Now do me a favour and cover up your todger. It looks like a little baby mouse asleep on two Brussels sprouts.’

They both laughed uproariously again.

 

Kate stared into Jeremy Blankley’s eyes and felt nothing. Not even pity. All she could see were those terrible photographs.