Shafted (18 page)

For safety’s sake, the models hadn’t been told what was really going on today. They truly believed that they were helping to host a real game show. Consequently, they also believed that Carla really was one of them, and that was driving her absolutely crazy: all they’d done all morning was twitter on about clothes and make-up, which footballers they’d dated, and how many expensive presents they’d been given for their stupid services.

A bit older than them – and infinitely more sexy, being a real woman, not a vacuous air-headed bimbo tart – Carla had no trouble snatching Dex’s attention away from them now. Ignoring the resentful looks they tossed her way, she said, ‘So, Derek . . . Larry tells me you’re our special contestant, and I’m to keep you
really, really
happy.’

Grinning, Dex said, ‘Yeah, that’s right. Me and Larry are good mates.’

Purring, ‘Any friend of Larry’s is a friend of mine,’ Carla linked her arm through his and led him to the table-top bar for a glass of champagne.

She’d be his friend, all right. And then she’d wipe the smirk right off his surprisingly handsome, thoroughly villainous face with a nice pair of handcuffs!

8

‘And . . .
action
!’

Looking into camera one as the theme music came to an end and the canned applause faded, Larry smiled and, reading from the autocue, said, ‘Good evening to all you lovely folks at home, and a warm welcome to those of you who’ve joined us here in the studio for this fantastic new show of mine . . . ’

Beaming, as if there really were members of the public filling the seats and not just a row of police officers shielded by the bright lights, Larry rubbed his hands together and said, ‘Now, as you might know if you’ve seen the ads over there, this is a game show with a difference. Not least because it’s got the best
host
– ’ waggle of eyebrows; cheeky wink ‘– but also because we’ve got the best prizes. Twenty thousand pounds – that’s
forty thousand dollars
to you guys at home there in the States . . .’

‘And one of the nicest cars I have ever seen in my life!’

‘And all our contestants have got to do is wait to hear the fateful word
Gotcha!
, and they’ll walk away with the prize of their life!’

The words were for the benefit of the target who was currently waiting in the wings for his introduction. But the sly smile and knowing look to camera as yet more applause echoed around the set were for the viewers, who would know exactly what was really happening by the time they got to see this.

Even if it
was
just Americans who’d be getting the privilege.

‘Anyway,’ Larry said now. ‘Without further ado, let’s get this show
started
!’

Waiting impatiently in the shadows off to the left of the set, Mark Thompson was hopping from foot to foot like Rocky waiting to get into the ring. Giving a shake of his shoulders and a roll of his head on his neck when the floor manager asked if everyone was ready, he said, ‘Yeah,
I
am. But I can’t say the same about this one – eh, mate?’ Grinning, he nudged the man beside him, who he’d met a short time earlier, having finally been let out of the room he’d been holed up in all day and taken to meet his ‘fellow contestants’ in the greenroom – all of whom, he was about to discover, were undercover policemen and policewomen.

Playing the part of the nervous-wreck contestant who was
ever
so grateful to Thompson for taking him under his wing, PC Pete Silcock gave a sickly smile, and muttered, ‘I’m all right.’

Holding up a hand for silence as Larry called for the contestants to come on out, the floor manager pushed Thompson and Silcock out into the light. Striding onto the set like a conquering hero back from the war, Thompson held up his hands in a pre-victory salute to the audience – even though he couldn’t see them for the bright spots that were blinding him.

Introducing him, Larry said, ‘So, Mark Thompson, how’s it going? I hear you made yourself a bit of a friend back there.’

‘Yeah, Larry.’ Thompson grinned, nodding at Silcock. ‘He’s a bit nervous, like, so I’ve been helping him chill, and that.’

‘Ah, that’s nice,’ Larry said, flashing a sly side glance to camera. ‘Anyway, let’s get on with the introductions, shall we?’ Reading from the cards in his hand now, he said, ‘It says here that you’re quite a Jack the lad?’

‘You could say that,’ Thompson agreed, grinning broadly.

‘And you like nothing better than a good old booze-up with your mates, a gorgeous girl on your arm, and a pocket full of money.’

‘Yeah, man!’

‘And a nice car to take you from A to B.’

Grin widening, Thompson rubbed his hands together and said, ‘That Range Rover will do me just fine, Larry. Bring it on!’

Stepping forward just then, PC Silcock cleared his throat and said,‘Mark Matthew Thompson . . .’

Laughing, Thompson jerked his head at Larry. ‘Eh up, mate, looks like someone’s after your job.’

‘Hey, I’m cool,’ Larry drawled, holding up his hands and taking a step back. ‘Not me you need to be worrying about –
mate
.’

Confusion flickered through Thompson’s eyes, followed by a spark of realisation, then an awareness of betrayal. ‘Aw, man!’ he groaned, giving Larry a disbelieving look. ‘You set me up, you cunt!’

Smiling unconcernedly as Thompson was handcuffed and read his rights, Larry turned back to the camera and said, ‘Mark Thompson, ladies and gents . . . ’

‘And, just in case you’re thinking he’s nothing but a cheeky chappy who’s gone astray, take a look at him earlier when he didn’t know he was being filmed by our spy-cams, busy telling anyone who’d listen how “feared and respected” he is, and how he only has to snap his fingers for people to do whatever he tells them. And if you still think he’s a good guy after
that
—’

Calling ‘Cut!’, the floor manager hurried over to him and whispered, ‘Just stick to the script, please, Larry. Personal opinions could seriously jeopardise things at this stage.’

Winking at him, telling him that he’d try to remember that, Larry waved to Mark Thompson who was complaining loudly as he was led off stage by two uniformed officers. Then, turning to Terri, he said, ‘Next one ready?’

Holding up a hand, Terri pressed the earpiece of her radio headset deeper into her ear to hear what one of the team leaders was saying. Tutting then, she called the floor manager over and said, ‘Sorry, Carl, but we’re going to have to switch the order. Rachael Gold’s causing problems and we need to get her out.’

Yelling at one of the runners to have Colin Leach taken out of the greenroom and back to his holding room, Carl told another one to go and tell the autocue operator to switch segments.

Thanking him, Terri got on the radio to let Rachael’s team leader know what was happening. Then, taking Larry aside, she said, ‘That was fantastic. And I love that sly look you give to camera. It’s so effective, and the viewers will get a real sense of intimacy from you – like they’re right in there with you.’

She didn’t add that it was so sexy and smouldering a look that she’d actually felt a bit weak-kneed when she’d watched it on the monitor. But she couldn’t wait for her bosses back home to see the finished version, because she just knew it was going to be wonderful. More fool the British producers for not keeping hold of him when they had him.

Oblivious to what she was thinking beside him, Larry glanced at his watch, itching to get back out there. He was buzzing big time, and couldn’t wait to get through the next few contestants, so that he could finally get round to Dex Lewis. Knowing that they would have to wait until Keeton and his extra back-up were here before they could even think about proceeding with Lewis, though, he asked if there was any word yet.

‘Not yet,’Terri told him, a small cloud of worry darkening her eyes. ‘I didn’t want to ring him again in case he thinks I’m harassing him, but I think I’m going to have to chase him up soon, because I’ve had one of the drivers on asking when they’re supposed to go ahead and start picking up the next batch of targets.’ Chewing her lip now, she said, ‘This is all going to fall apart, I can tell.’

‘Stop stressing – it’s going to be great,’ Larry said, grinning as he looped an arm around her shoulder and gave her a reassuring squeeze. ‘Now get that lovely ass of yours moving and see what’s happening out there,’ he said then, slapping her playfully on the backside.

Blushing, because it was the first time he’d actually touched her like that, Terri said, ‘Right . . . I’ll go and hurry them up. You just keep doing what you’re doing, because it’s fabulous.’

Winking at her, Larry watched as she scuttled away, then strolled back into the spotlight to let the make-up girl touch up his face and re-comb his hair before the next target got her comeuppance.

‘How’s it going?’ Keeton asked, rushing in through the back door some time later.

‘Fantastic,’ Terri told him, feeling a whole lot better now that he was here. Keeping her voice low now as they passed the greenroom, where the last contestant before Dex Lewis was waiting for his moment of glory, she said, ‘The first four went through without a hitch, and the editor reckons we’ve got some amazing secret footage – although I can’t
believe
how awful your criminals are. They’re so disgusting when they don’t know they’re being watched. I’ve heard some of what they’ve been saying, and it made my skin crawl. They’re all so homophobic, and racist and sexist. How do you guys cope with it?’

‘By getting them off the street and putting them behind bars where they belong,’ Keeton grunted, glad that she understood why he’d been so keen to do this project in the first place. Her bosses hadn’t been too eager to part with the extra money, from all accounts, but Terri had persuaded them that it would be a good addition to the main show. And Keeton was grateful to her for that, because he’d never have managed this without her.

‘Where’s Lewis?’ he asked now, holding the heavy studio door open for her and waving her through.

‘Still in his room, but we’ll have him brought up as soon as we get Steve Brightman on set.’

‘He’s still with us, then, is he?’ Keeton said. ‘Not OD’d yet?’

‘No, but I think he’s starting to withdraw,’ Terri said, waving to Larry, who was having the sweat mopped off his face and a fresh dusting of matt-powder applied, to let him know that Keeton was back. ‘I shuffled the order and put the girl and the other guy through before him, but I’m wondering if I shouldn’t have left him where he was, because he’s looking quite sick now. Maybe we should get the doctor to take a look at him?’

‘Bugger that,’ Keeton muttered dismissively. ‘He’ll get seen by the station doctor soon as he gets there, and a bit of shivering and shaking won’t hurt him till then.’

Trusting that he was more experienced in these matters than she was, Terri nodded, and said, ‘Okay, whatever you think best. If you’d like to go and sit down I’ll have him brought out.’ Standing on tiptoe now, she peered out into the auditorium. Then, pointing towards the dark left-hand corner at the back, she said, ‘I think your extra men have been put over there if you want to join them.’

Thanking her, Keeton made his way off into the shadows. When she could no longer see him, Terri called out to Larry to see if he was ready. Giving him the thumbs-up when he said yes, she radioed the greenroom and told them to bring Brightman out. Then she contacted Carla, and told her to bring Dex Lewis over to the greenroom in ten minutes.

Just as Dex and his team were heading for the greenroom, a policeman masquerading as a runner slipped out through the studio door. Theme music flooded the corridor. Above the noise Steve Brightman could be heard complaining loudly as he was hauled off-set in cuffs, while Larry’s gloating voice proclaimed: ‘And another one bites the dust!’

It was only a few seconds before the door closed and there was silence again, but Dex had heard enough to make him stop in his tracks. Peering down at Carla, he demanded to know what was going on.

Thinking on her feet, she linked her arm through his and said, ‘They’re probably just having a mess-about while they check the equipment. They always do that before they bring the contestants out.’

Dex hadn’t caught what Larry had actually been saying. But he wasn’t convinced by Carla’s explanation and alarm bells started to ring in his head.

Guessing what he was thinking, Carla gave him a reassuring smile and tugged on his arm to try to get him moving, saying, ‘Come on, Dex, we really need to hurry. The greenroom’s just down here, and everybody’s waiting for you.’

Jerking his arm out of her grip, Dex muttered, ‘Something ain’t right here.’

‘There’s nothing wrong,’ she assured him, staying cool even though she could sense that he was about to kick off. Keeping her gaze fixed firmly on his eyes, she used her peripheral vision to locate the PC who had caused all this by coming out while the red recording light was still glowing, and gave the tiniest of flicks of her wrist to alert him that they had a situation brewing.

Pretending to have things to do elsewhere, the PC hurried off down the corridor. As soon as he was out of earshot, he put out an alert call over the radio.

Back inside the studio, Terri felt a chill trickle of dread snake down her spine when she heard the alert. Waving to Larry from the wings, she gave him the wind-it-up signal, then chewed nervously on her fingernails until he came to her. Dex Lewis was an awesome presence, and she’d known as soon as she saw him that his arrest would be the highlight of the show, but she didn’t want it to come at the expense of anybody’s safety.

Wiping his brow on a tissue, Larry strolled over to her. ‘What’s up?’