Ring Around Rosie (8 page)

“Even better up close,” he sniffed, rubbing
his moustache. “This one’s going to need special time and attention, I’ll
reserve her for another night,” he said to the man holding onto Rosie’s arm.
The man released her arm briefly and wrote something in a book. He nodded and
then dragged Rosie away and placed her back on the podium.

Baduwa looked questioningly at her as she
danced, but Rosie could only shrug. She couldn’t bring herself to tell Baduwa
what had happened or what was probably about to happen many times over to all
of them. For now she would let her enjoy being adored, absorbed in the music
and excitement of somewhere new. It was only a matter of time before the
comforting wall of blissful ignorance came crashing down and Baduwa would feel the
same complete and utter terror that Rosie now felt as her body convulsed with
wave upon wave of nausea, as if someone had reached down into her stomach and
was pulling it out through her mouth. 

The city still held the same excitement for
Ted, despite the circumstances, and he felt confident as he strode through the
streets of Soho, following the directions that Mrs M had given them. They
passed one of their favourite bars and each of them looked longingly in the
window, wishing they were there for the casual, carefree nights they used to
have. So much seemed to have happened in just a few days that Ted could hardly
remember what it felt like to have no worries, to take everything so for
granted.

They turned down the street the nightclub
was on and instantly the hair on their arms stood up. It was darker than the
other streets and dotted with shifty-looking men scurrying up and down it,
popping out of doorways, blinking as their eyes adjusted to the bright flashing
neon lights that promised GIRLS! GIRLS! GIRLS!

“Right everyone,” said Ted in a low voice.
“We’ve got to appear like we want to go into this place so lots of drunken
shouting and leering, ok?”

“That should be no problem for you Midge,”
scoffed Plank.

“Funny,” retorted Midge. “Maybe we should
pretend it’s your stag Ted, then you might get special treatment.”

“That’s not a bad idea, Midge,” said
Dillon. “You up for that Ted?”

“Sure, let’s do it.”

They all took a deep breath and began
laughing and shouting, staggering down the street and hanging off each other.
They arrived outside the door of the club where Dillon did some quick talking
to the bouncer, and they were shown straight in and directed to a booth in
front of a small stage. It was as Ted had expected; dark, seedy, full of barely-dressed
girls, most of them not much older than Rosie. He didn’t even recognise the
music that was playing, it sounded like some Eastern European country’s entry
in Eurovision.

They were seated on a purple velvet sofa
with dim lighting hanging low above their heads. The stage in front of them was
alive with crawling, slithering, pole-dancing girls, all selling their own
brand of seduction.

They ordered a drink each and found
themselves closely administered to by four girls. Not that any of them really minded
about this part of the detective work, though Ted couldn’t help envisaging
Rosie doing something similar, and that instinctively made him shy away from
the exhaustive attention.

Ted excused himself and sought refuge in
the gents. He had to pull himself together or the girls would never trust him
enough to talk. Plank and Midge were having a great time and seemed very at
home, but he saw the same look in Dillon’s eyes that he felt were present in
his own, and knew he was struggling too.

When Ted got back to the table there were
more drinks, and the girl who had been sitting with him had been replaced by
another. Obviously they had misunderstood his distaste and swapped her for
another girl. Unfortunately this one reminded him even more of Rosie; she still
had innocence in her eyes. Ted took a deep breath and put his arm around her,
he slugged back his beer, forcing the vision of his sister to the back of his
mind to deal with later. He caught eyes with Dillon who seemed to be having the
same grim thoughts about his own sister and was swigging liberally on his beer
too, quickly chasing it with a vodka.

“So what’s your name?” Ted asked the girl.

“What do you want it to be?”

Ted rolled his eyes. “You’re joking,
right?”

“I am here to give you pleasure,” she
replied. “You can call me what you like.”

“Well, I’m Ted,” he said. “Where are you
from?” he asked, trying to place her accent.

“An island in Croatia called Vis.”

“Your English is very good. Have you been
in the UK for long?”

“A while, but I talk to many English men
and not so hard to pick up the talk.”

“A lot of them like to talk do they?” Ted
asked surprised.

“Yes. Lots of them just want someone to
talk to. Well, in the start.”

“How old are you?” As the question came out
of his mouth and her eyes flicked away, Ted realised he’d lost her.

“I’m sorry, that’s none of my business,” he
said hurriedly.

She shrugged and leaned over, sticking her
tongue in his ear. “You like me to dance for you?”

Ted looked across at the others, each
enjoying a lap dance of their own. Despite their drunken grins of pleasure it
didn’t encourage him to want one too, and he shook his head.

“Look, I’m sorry, actually, I need some
help, do you think you could help me?” Ted rushed, feeling the pressure of time
again and realising that a moment of pleasure for him here could mean a moment
of horror for Rosie somewhere else.

The girl looked confused, then her
expression changed to that of understanding and she nodded, taking his hand and
leading him into another, more private room. It was quieter and clearly
reserved for more intimate dances.

As soon as she had shut the door she began
undressing him.

“I can help you with anything you like,”
she whispered in his ear.

“No, no!” Ted blurted out, pushing her away
roughly. “Not that kind of help!”

The girl looked frightened as she cowered
in the corner, hurriedly doing up her dress.

“Look, I’m sorry,” sighed Ted, holding up
his hands. “It’s nothing to do with you. I am trying to find my sister and I
need help. That’s what I meant.”

The girl didn’t move for a moment but must
have read the pleading in Ted’s eyes because she tentatively sat down on the
sofa awaiting an explanation.

Ted began the story he felt he’d told a
million times already. When he’d finished he said, “I realise it’s nothing to
do with you, and you have absolutely no obligation to help me, but if you know
anything that may help me find her I’d be so grateful.”

Ted stared desperately into her eyes,
feeling utterly vulnerable as he realised this was his only lead, and if she
couldn’t help him he was back to nowhere.  He doubted the others had been able
to keep to the task in hand, not when there were other, far greater
temptations, so it all hung on what came out of her mouth next. Ted was aware
he was leaning right into her face and he checked himself, giving her room.

Her eyes were sad as she looked up at him;
they showed no signs of surprise, merely resignation as if she’d heard it all
before. Ted suddenly remembered the photo of Rosie and pulled it out of his
wallet to show the girl.

“She’s beautiful… but I can’t help you. I
know nothing about this trafficking you say. Sorry, you have to go. If I don’t
work I get trouble.”

Ted noticed her glance at the large mirror
on the wall for the third time since they’d entered the room. He forced a smile
and thanked her as they left the room and went to join the others.

Dillon looked at him questioningly as he
returned but Ted merely shook his head. He felt desperation creep back into his
heart as the realisation dawned that it was going to be impossible to find
Rosie in this world, they were all too secretive, like an exclusive club that
most of them probably didn’t want to belong to but couldn’t be allowed to
leave.

Ted looked around him at the other men
crawling with girls, their eyes moist pools of pleasure, their mouths fixed in
a half-smile that even in itself seemed to take more effort than they would
like, as they sat slumped in their seats with their hands groping and squeezing
whatever they could reach. Ted hated them all for their blatant lack of
control, for fuelling the fire that was already burning way out of control. He
was even starting to resent being a man himself.

He leaned across to Dillon and told him he
was leaving. Dillon immediately nodded to say he was coming too. Midge and
Plank, however, looked like they were far too engrossed to pull themselves
away, so Ted just said he’d see them tomorrow and headed for the exit. As he
was leaving, he felt someone grab his hand and push something into it. He
turned and saw the Croatian girl; she didn’t look at him as she walked past and
entered the toilet.

Ted waited until they got outside to look
in his hand. It was a piece of paper, and on it was written just two words:
The
Lock
.

Dillon looked at Ted. “I saw that name on
the way here. It’s just a few streets away.”

They started running, hope daring to
flicker to life in Ted’s heart. They had no idea what they would find at
The
Lock
but the fact that the girl had given them a lead meant they had
something to do, somewhere to go.

They wound in and out of streets, some dark
and sinister, some still bustling with life; Ted marvelled at the city that
never slept. Eventually they reached the sign that Dillon remembered seeing. It
wasn’t bright and flashing like the others but written in black letters against
a wooden background. It wasn’t shouting about its existence but it was there in
bold if you knew what you were looking for.

They marched up to the door, unsure of the
response they’d get, but the bouncer stood aside to let them in. Ted and Dillon
looked at each other. Could it really be so easy? Were they going to find Rosie
here and get to go home?

They walked down the steps, following the
sound of the beat. Ted felt positive suddenly, and found himself moving to the
music. It wasn’t the kind of place they normally went to: the lights were too
bright and the music too jumpy, but it was quite a spectacular place to behold.

“I think I’ve read about this place,” said
Dillon suddenly. “Isn’t this the club owned by that football manager? Umm,
can’t think of his name. Anyway, it’s meant to be the largest in Europe or
something, and reaches further underground than any other club,” he said,
tapping his forehead like he was trying to dislodge the memory.

“Dunno, mate, I’ve never heard of it. Looks
impressive though.”

They bought a beer each and stood leaning
over the balcony, watching the dancing below. Girls caught their eyes and
beckoned to join them on the dance floor.

“How are we gonna play this one?” asked
Dillon. “Are we just looking or should we be asking around?”

“Let’s look first,” said Ted. He didn’t
want to alert anyone to their presence just yet. They were a jumpy bunch, and
Ted was beginning to realise it was going to take something more subtle than
direct questioning.

Dillon nodded and took the lead down the
stairs. They tried to look casual as they wandered in and out of dancers and
then past the booths, but no one seemed to pay them any attention. They could
see no sign of anything dodgy; there were some young girls but they seemed to
be there of their own free will and it wasn’t unusual to see underage girls at
clubs.

They wandered back up the stairs to the
second floor and walked along the balconies. More people lounged in more
booths, their tables laden with a myriad of empty glasses. Ted noticed that
each booth had its own bar. There were drinks dispensers fitted into a mini bar
at the back where you could put your glass and fill up with anything you
desired.
Like an alcohol vending machine
, thought Ted in awe, and
suddenly he longed to have a go.

Ted felt a pull on his arm and Dillon
hissed in his ear that he was gawping. Ted hurried along behind Dillon and up
to the top floor. More of the same, and still nothing that gave them any idea
what the girl had meant by sending them to this bar. Ted began to feel
desperate again and wondered if they should ask around.

“This doesn’t make sense,” he said. “You
think she was just trying to get us out of the way?”

“I dunno mate. Perhaps we should go, just
for now. I’ll speak to Trig, get him to find out the insiders on this place.
Then when we know more we can come back.” Dillon patted Ted on the shoulder and
indicated towards the door. Ted took one last look around and followed him out,
that sinking feeling dragging his head down until he could only see his feet.

They walked away from
The Lock
, the
sign diminishing in the distance like Ted’s fragile hopes. Ted suddenly slumped
down on the curb in defeat, his head finding its familiar place in his hands.

“I’ll call Trig,” said Dillon, sitting down
beside Ted. “He might be able to ask around about the club before we see him
tomorrow.”

Ted nodded and looked back at
The Lock
in the distance; it seemed like such an insignificant place from the outside,
and there had been no sign of anything sinister inside. What had that girl
meant them to find?

Just then they saw a car pull up outside,
and the door to the club swing open. A man walked out followed by three girls
in long coats. Two of them looked black, and the other, with short brown hair,
was white. They were all pushed hurriedly into the car before it sped past Ted
and Dillon, narrowly missing their feet.