Innocent Blood (22 page)

Smart had already bent into the engine again and it made Cooper’s blood boil. This cocky bastard was dismissing him.

‘I think a boy’s murder is a darn sight more important than your car,’ he said, with annoyance that he knew at once would rile the man. ‘What I meant was—’

‘I heard what you bloody meant, officer,’ Smart’s face was flushed, ‘and you heard what I said. Now, unless you’re going to arrest me I suggest you leave and let me get on. I’ll come into Harlden after the weekend and make a statement if you insist but that’s as good as it gets.’

Cooper knew when he was defeated. He retreated to his car and pulled away without a flurry of gravel but with enormous frustration. He’d met somebody who admitted to knowing Maidment, Taylor and Paul yet the bastard wouldn’t speak to him. One thing was for certain, he was going to look into Mr Zachary Smart’s background in great detail before he spoke to him again.

The interview with Ben Thompson didn’t happen. His wife was at their home in Harlden when Cooper knocked but she explained that her husband was away on a golfing break with some friends from the club until Monday. She’d never heard of Maidment or Taylor so he left her to her gardening and decided to call it a day. It was Friday after all. Doris would be pleased to see him and he’d be able to catch up on some odd jobs that had needed doing outside for a while. The reports could wait for Monday; after all, Maidment wasn’t going anywhere. He was almost home when his mobile rang and he cursed the fact that he hadn’t followed Fenwick’s example and switched the bloody thing off.

It was Nightingale, full of excitement. All the original witness statements and reports for the Hill case had been found, filed with another case from 1992. He was needed at the station at once to help her and the rest of the team go through them.
Bloody typical
, he thought as he swung the car around and headed back into town. That woman lived by different rules to everybody else. Fancy starting a massive job like that when most normal people would have decided a beautiful summer Friday afternoon meant that it should wait until Monday.

On Friday evening Nathan returned to William’s establishment. He was welcomed as an honoured guest. Sam was still segregated from the other boys so there was a wait while William sent for him during which Nathan amused himself by inspecting the boys who were not with clients. There were five of them: one Eurasian, another Afro-Caribbean and three Caucasian. All of them were attractive, clean and well fed. None looked older than fourteen. As he called them forward in turn their chests filled with the held breath of expectancy.

News of what had happened to Sam had spread. Unlike Jack he was popular, not just with the boys but with the staff as well. The staff’s disgust at the injuries he’d sustained had been enough to set them gossiping among themselves and some of it had inevitably reached the boys. As Smith ordered them into the light at the centre of the room, they struggled to maintain their composure, even the oldest and most experienced.

Smith repeated the same ritual with each one. He would have them stand upright then prod and poke them with a single finger, uttering a brief commentary: ‘overweight’; ‘flabby’; ‘legs too short’; ‘poor colouring’; ‘never could stand red hair on a boy’. So it went on. With each criticism the boy under examination would breathe slightly easier. He was asking the Eurasian boy to bend his head so that he could examine his neck when Sam was pushed into the room. Everyone turned to stare at him and for a moment there was an eerie silence, like the pause that follows the command to a firing squad before the fusillade begins.

‘Sam, go on, don’t be shy.’ William sounded like everyone’s favourite uncle as he nudged the child closer to Smith.

‘What have you got the boy dressed up in, William? He looks ridiculous. Take it off, Sam. He had no right to truss you up like that.’

Sam was frozen to the spot. Rough hands pulled the short satin dressing gown off his shoulders, leaving him standing there in only his underpants, his feet bare. He started to shiver and his upper lip turned down.

‘It’s all right, my dear,’ Nathan said and stepped towards him.

Sam tried to back away but William blocked his way.

‘There’s no need to act coy. Come here.’

But Sam couldn’t move. William sensed trouble and lifted him bodily off the ground. Sam whimpered.

‘Careful, you oaf. If you damage him…’ Smith’s tone was harsh but he saw Sam flinch and stopped at once. ‘Take him upstairs. I’ll have my usual room.’

Sam was bundled away, his eyes magnified by unshed tears. After he’d gone, his friends eased back into the shadows and waited for the door to open on what their night would bring. Whatever it might be it wouldn’t be as bad as the fate that had just moved on. No one mentioned Sam; it didn’t do to talk of the fallen.

The man William knew as Nathan was in an excellent mood when he returned home the following day having spent the whole night in London. The boy William had found for him was superb, exactly his type and very biddable. He knew he’d have to ration his visits or risk breaking him but that only added anticipation to his excitement. He was ravenous and was delighted to find a curry with all the trimmings in the fridge, waiting to be reheated for his lunch. The phone rang when he was halfway through his meal and he ignored it, half listening to the voice leave a message.

‘Hell!’ His fork clattered to the ground as he stood up and ran to the phone.

‘William, I’m here. What did you just say? Speak up, man. I can’t hear your bloody whisper.’

‘I said he’s come. I told him in no uncertain terms last time that he should stay away but you know Alec…’

‘Unfortunately, yes. He requires firm handling, very firm. You must have been too weak, William. That’s part of your problem, you’re too lily-livered. Did you kick him out?’

‘No, you don’t understand, he’s
still
here! I can’t shift him. Says he needs more material because he’s dry now Joe’s out of the picture and he won’t go until I put him in touch with a supplier.’

‘You will do no such thing!’ Nathan said, sounding exactly like a headmaster scolding an errant schoolboy. ‘Put Ball on the line, now.’

While he waited Nathan worked through the options he had for dealing with Alec Ball. He was a tricky man; violent, erratic, not the brightest penny in the jar. It was a combination that made him difficult to manage and Nathan regretted ever becoming entangled with him. But they shared secrets, some of the darkest secrets it’s possible for men to share, and that made Ball a problem that needed careful management. Despite his comments to William, Nathan knew that toughness wouldn’t work with Ball. He needed coaxing, gentling like a half-tamed bull.

‘Alec,’ he said, warm and friendly as soon as the receiver was picked up. ‘What are you doing all the way up there in London when we could much more easily have solved your little problem locally?’

There was a pause as Ball adjusted to Nathan’s tone; he’d clearly been expecting a bollocking. Some of his anticipatory bolshieness lingered in his reply.

‘It’s not a little problem, Nathan; it’s a fucking big one. I’ve got customers to satisfy and if I let them down my reputation will be ruined. And anyway,’ he said as an afterthought, ‘you said I was never to contact you directly, it always had to be via Joe.’

Yes,
Nathan thought,
because I could trust Joe to be discreet and keep his mouth shut; and even he never saw me in person – just as well as it turned out.

‘Well, Joe’s not involved any more, is he? And you should have known I’d never abandon an old mate. But you were right not to see me directly. There’s a little too much interest from the Old Bill around here right now. We can still get together though and I’ll bring something useful with me. I know some people—’

‘That’s the thing, isn’t it, Nathan?’ Ball’s tone had turned threatening. ‘You’ve done very well for yourself over the years and it was on the backs of blokes like me and Joe that you feathered your nest. But at least Joe benefited from you in the end; funny how he suddenly has all the money he needs to live a “respectable” life now, isn’t it? Though it’s weird him being a customer instead of supplier now.’

‘A customer?’ Nathan sat up straight and an unpleasant smile transformed his face so that he resembled a hungry stoat. ‘Well, well. Fancy that. I thought he’d left his old life behind for good now that he’s found God. Hah! The old hypocrite.’

It pleased Nathan to know that Joe Watkins had been unable to rid himself of the obsession that had filled his life for so many years; in fact, it made him feel even more superior in his ability to manage his own life so well. He could imagine the demons that were eating into Joe’s soul and the thought brought with it the enjoyment of a rush of power. But he had Alec to manage and was irritated that he could no longer rely on Joe to do it for him. Ball was still ranting about how unfairly he’d been treated and how he needed more supplies. Nathan interrupted him.

‘Haven’t I always made sure that you have access to buy whatever you need, Alec? Frankly, I’m surprised you’ve got through all the material you had last time. I understood you to have bought out one of the best collections in the country.’

‘Access! You gave me a name and money that you made clear was a fucking loan, Nathan; hardly generosity itself, are you?’

‘Have I ever pressed you for repayment?’ He had intended to but it had become apparent that money ran through Ball’s fingers as fast as he made it.

‘No, well…’

Nathan could sense that Ball’s bubble of anger, fuelled by injured pride and defensiveness, had burst. His greatest strength was his ability to read people, not that he bothered to unless it was necessary.

‘So, when are you free to meet? Shall we say tomorrow, six o’clock, at the site of the bonfire?’

‘Why d’you want to go back there of all places?’ He could hear the shudder in Ball’s voice.

‘It’s as private a place as any and I don’t believe in being afraid of ghosts.’ There, Ball would have to say yes now or look a coward.

It was agreed. Nathan went back to his congealing vindaloo and scraped the food into the waste bin with distaste. He was still hungry and found cheese and biscuits in the cupboard. As he poured himself a large glass of a particularly good Barbaresco he pondered what to do about Ball. The man was becoming a real liability. For years he’d been manageable – though to be fair that had been Joe’s job and he’d been well rewarded for it – but now with Joe out of the loop the burden looked like falling on his own shoulders. That wasn’t a situation that was going to work at all.

He savoured the cleanliness of the wine on his tongue, deep, subtle, very fine, it demanded his full attention; he thought it a wine that mirrored his tastes in life. Only when he had finished the bottle did he return his attention to what he should do with Ball.

It was very dark in the cellar, so dark that Paul couldn’t see his hand in front of his face. He didn’t know what time it was, and wondered whether it was past his normal teatime. If so, it would mean that Bryan had no intention of returning him home in time to pretend that nothing out of the ordinary had happened. As if that would be possible given the state of his body. He shivered.

Despite the warmth of the evening outside it was cold here. He just needed to stay warm until Bryan came. Paul tried jumping and running on the spot. It worked for a while but the pain in the lower half of his body stopped him long before his legs started to ache or the skin on his feet grew tender from the stones.

Where was he? They’d put a sack on his head and a gag in his mouth, and then carried him from the pool. It hadn’t taken more than five minutes so he must still be somewhere in the grounds of the house, but where? He tried again to explore his prison, remembering to count his paces this time: fifteen from where he’d been standing next to the rough wood of the door. He pounded on it, shouting to be let out until he was hoarse. Nothing. When he leant his ear against it he couldn’t hear anything from the other side so perhaps it was too thick. No, wait, maybe there were two doors. Yes.

He dragged out the memory of the sounds that had accompanied his imprisonment. Alec had been carrying him, he was sure, because of his smell and the roughness of stubble against his skin. Joe and Bryan must have stayed at the pool, at least he thought they had as there had only been one other set of footsteps as he’d been rushed through the woods. They had taken him along a stream, walking on rough stones that skidded beneath Alec’s feet. Soon after they’d set off he had lost the feel of the sun so they’d either walked behind a hill or under thicker trees. Alec had nearly fallen at one point and he’d cursed the wet stones beneath his feet. Nathan told him to shut up; they were the only words spoken the whole journey.
 

When they’d reached the entrance to the cellar he had heard the jingle of keys, a creak and then silence but instead of moving forward immediately Alec had waited, for what? Paul remembered another noise like the faint squeak of rusty hinges. It could have been the sound of another door opening at the bottom of the long flight of steps they’d climbed down. The idea of being shut up behind a double barrier made him feel worse.

Fifteen paces. He put his right hand out as far as it would go along the wall to the side of the door, facing in towards the room he paced after it. Ten paces then he reached a wooden shelf of some sort. His fingers explored. After a few inches there was an upright, then another one. He counted twenty before he touched the chill stones of the wall again. With his other hand he skimmed the surface of the shelving. The rows were close together and every one of them was divided into boxes too small for books. Where on earth was he?

Instead of panicking he turned ninety degrees and found the next wall. This too was covered in wooden shelving. His fingers groped on and recoiled suddenly as they touched something slimy. It was even colder than the wood and stones and he thought it must be some sort of lurking reptile. His breath came fast as he waited for the sound of the thing moving but the silence was unbroken. Eventually he found the courage to reach out again; it was still there. The cold didn’t seem so intense this time and it wasn’t slimy, it was smooth, like glass. It was glass; it was a bottle. He pulled it from the shelf and felt along its length to where the neck narrowed and metal capped the end. Wine; he was in a wine cellar.

The thought made him feel better. He wasn’t in some derelict building or abandoned mine shaft. The wine had to belong to Nathan. He had the keys; he would come for it at some stage, there’s no way they’d just leave him here. But supposing it was only the one bottle, that Nathan had abandoned the cellar. It was suddenly very important to know how many bottles were stored with him. Paul counted, then counted again and, when the number was different, did so for a third time.

Three hundred and twenty-seven! The result made him laugh. Not abandoned! No way, he was only locked up while they decided what to do with him. The thought coincided with a terrible stomach cramp that left Paul doubled over and gasping for breath. It came again and he was sick. His first thought on recovering was that Nathan would be furious because the smell of vomit was so strong. His second was that he was even colder than before. His body was shaking uncontrollably, his teeth chattering so loudly he could hear them. They had to come soon, surely, they must. Bryan was his friend.

How long before he’d come for him? It wouldn’t take Bryan long to get rid of Alec and Joe so that it was safe for him to go outside again. That’s what he’d be doing. Bryan was his friend; he’d promised to look after him. But the thought of what he’d just endured sent Paul into a spasm that hurt his injured body and made him sick again. This time he didn’t have the energy to lift his head fully off the floor and some of the vomit clotted his hair and neck. He huddled into a ball, hugging his knees for warmth and comfort, tucking his head down into his chest.

That was how Bryan found him later when he eventually came for him.