Last Gasp (15 page)

William Cosworth studied the photographs
spread out on the table and congratulated himself. These were much better. It
was the lighting that made the difference, he thought. But then, with each
shoot he was gaining greater insight into what he was aiming for. He was
definitely improving.

'Pour me a drink babe,' he called out, then tutted at his
forgetfulness. Petra was gone of course, never to return. It hadn’t been so
hard after all.

But it was a shame he hadn’t been able to talk Lisa round
yet. She had balked when he first approached her, but he was sure she would
come good, eventually.

He focused on the photograph showing the side profile. The
camera hadn’t quite picked up the finer detail of the rope-work, and the
contrast with the darker flesh tones wasn’t what he’d been looking for. He
wasn’t used to his new Canon yet, but was resisting the temptation to give up
and go back to the Olympus. The technology changed so quickly these days, and
he needed to keep up with it. He made a mental note to do some test shoots
before his next assignment. Thoughts of his project aroused him and he popped
another pink. He didn’t want to crash too soon. He dropped into the couch,
thoughts drifting to what lay ahead.

He was looking forward to meeting ‘Mistress Megan’ with
growing excitement. From her photograph, the one he’d framed and placed on the
mantelpiece, she certainly looked the part, even more so than the others. He
was already energized at the prospect of what might be – provided he could get
her to play ball.

He thought about how he would approach it. It was so
important to get things right at the outset. If you fluffed it, women like her
rarely gave you a second chance, not willingly at any rate. It was easy to say
the wrong thing or give the wrong impression and, considering how they offered
themselves, they were so choosy. He wondered, sometimes, if the man, or woman,
they were looking for really existed, or whether they were as prone to fantasy
as the people they met with. Still, he hadn’t done badly so far.

Her letter still lay on the table next to the sofa and he
reached for it. He brought it to his face, breathing in her delicate traces and
the hint of the fragrance he had – after much searching –finally identified. He
closed his eyes. The photograph and the minute but tangible traces in the paper,
where all he needed to imagine her there, right now, acting out the role he’d
assigned to her.

He imagined how things would be. The look on her face when
she learned of his ambitions. But he was sure that, as long as he dealt the
cards right, she would play along. After all, the others had.

By the time Carver made it to
Shepherd’s office, his fellow ASIO was in full flow. When he’d taken his
colleague’s call summoning him to a meeting to hear, ‘something important,’
Carver was in the middle of briefing Mike Frayne on the following night’s op.
Clearly, Shepherd hadn’t felt inclined to wait.

Shepherd was stood facing The Duke, Jess, Cleeves and Alec
Duncan who were fanned out before him on chairs, as if they were a judging
panel. At the back were two of his team, DS Tony Taylor and DC Colin Webster.
Shepherd was holding up a couple of items for his audience’s inspection. In his
right hand, open at the relevant page, was the edition of ‘Skin Tight’ magazine
containing the photo-shoot that seemed to presage the murders. In his left, was
a head-and-shoulders photograph of an attractive young woman with mousey-blonde
hair. Artfully-lit, and with its soft-focus and careful framing, it was the
sort of thing an aspiring model might tout around agencies. As Carver entered,
Shepherd barely paused in his delivery.

‘…. thanks to excellent work by Tony and Colin-’ He motioned
to the two men at the rear. ‘We’ve identified her as a Dutch girl by the name
of Katelijne Mertens. She came to Manchester to do some modelling and from
there got into glamour work, eventually progressing into porn. By the time she
did these-’ He tapped the photos with a finger. ‘-She was already established
around the fetish scene. You can still find some of her stuff on the usual porn
sites.’

Carver thought about interrupting to ask what they were, but
decided against.

‘A year or so after this shoot she dropped off the scene
altogether. We think she moved back to Holland but that’s not confirmed yet.
Tony and Colin are still working to track her down, but no luck so far.’

The Duke picked it up. ‘I take it you’ve not raised an
enquiry with the local police over there yet?’

Shepherd shook his head. ‘I thought we should take stock
before we do anything else. Which is why I called you all here.’

The Duke nodded. ‘Good. Well done Gary, and you Tony and
Colin.’ He turned to Carver. ‘What do you think?’

‘If we can’t trace her here, Holland’s the next logical
step. But someone needs to get over there. I can’t imagine the Dutch police
putting too much effort into tracing a former porn model.

 ‘Agreed. Gary, if we need to do that it’ll be you and Tony.
Sorry Colin.’

The lowest ranked man in the room hid his disappointment.
‘No probs Boss.’

‘When’s the Crane woman meeting Cosworth?’

‘Tomorrow night,’ Carver said.

‘Okay. Let’s get that out of the way, then see where we
are.’

Later, alone together in Carver’s office, Jess pinned him
with a look. ‘Do you think the girl will take us anywhere, assuming we find
her?’

Carver returned her stare. ‘I’d like to have the option of
finding out.’

‘I thought you didn’t think much of the Cosworth
connection?’

‘It’s Cosworth himself I’m not sure of. He may treat women
like shit, but I just don’t see him as a killer. That said, there’s no denying
those photos are damned close. If there is a connection, the girl may point us
to it.’

Jess nodded, changed the subject. ‘So, how about tomorrow
night?’

‘What about it?’

‘Are you- Are we, ready for it?’

Carver’s response was a long
time coming and his face was deadly serious when he said, ‘I hope to God we
are.’

The car park opposite the Museum
Street exit from Warrington Police Station is unlit. The light from the street
lamps around its perimeter doesn’t reach its centre, which remains a dark pool.
In the middle of that pool and square on to the station’s gates, a figure in
black-leathers and full-face helmet was sitting astride a Yamaha 250cc
motorcycle, arms folded, waiting.

Shortly after nine-thirty a black, VW Golf poked its nose
out of the gates and stopped as the driver checked right, down Museum Street.
The road clear, it accelerated, left, and out. At the same time, the
motorcyclist pressed the machine’s ignition, gunned the throttle and headed for
the exit. By the time the Golf paused at the junction with Parker Street,
making ready to hang another left down towards Bridge Foot, and on out of town,
the Yamaha was in the ideal follow position, ten yards behind. From there the
rider could hang back or advance, as traffic and circumstances dictated until
such time as the Golf’s sole occupant reached his final destination for the
evening. Home.

Carver was becoming increasingly
irritated. He tried to show it by letting out a heavy sigh. It didn’t work.
Shepherd carried on staring across at the table where Megan Crane and William
Cosworth appeared to be enjoying each other’s company. Carver exchanged a
glanced with Jess. She merely raised an eyebrow that said,
I’m the junior.
He’s down to you.

‘
Gary
.’ Carver said it low but sharp, and this time
it had the desired effect. Shepherd snapped his head round, but avoided
Carver’s gaze. Carver sighed again.

It was the third - or was it fourth? - time he’d caught
Shepherd breaking the most basic rule of surveillance.
Don’t stare.
Okay, Shepherd’s accelerated career track meant his ‘Agreed Training Priorities’,
wouldn’t have included formal Surveillance Training. But static observation
isn’t rocket science. Jess wasn’t trained either, but she was managing to make
it look like her attention was on her male companions. Not for the first time,
Carver wondered if Shepherd’s interest was focused on his favoured suspect, or
his date.

As with the previous meetings, Megan looked stunning, though
tonight’s look – hair up in a classy chignon - was one Carver hadn’t seen
before. The clinging, cream jersey-dress certainly showed off her figure as
well as the black numbers she’d worn previously. Satisfied Shepherd’s attention
was back where it was supposed to be, Carver tuned back in to the conversation
in his ear.

Despite Megan’s attempts to draw him out, Cosworth was still
downplaying his fashion-photography interests. Earlier, Carver was surprised to
hear Cosworth pass up the opportunity to mention his fetish-work for magazines
such as SkinTight. Under the circumstances he’d have thought it an advantage.
But then he wasn’t the one being weighed by an experienced dominatrix as a
prospective play-partner. More surprising, and strangely disconcerting, was the
fact that Cosworth was coming across as both articulate, and charming, not at
all the drug-fuelled rapist his background suggested. But then, Carver thought,
psychotics often present as rational, caring even. He sent out a mental
warning.
Be careful with this guy Megan
.

From the moment they’d witnessed her sashay up to Cosworth
in the Saloon Bar and introduce herself, Cosworth had wrong-footed them. Used
to the company of beautiful women, he’d maintained his cool. He even gained
brownie points when he presented her with the gift-wrapped package which she
opened as he ordered her drink. 'Shalimar!' she exclaimed, eyeing the blue,
flower-stem bottle with what seemed genuine delight. 'How ever did you know?'
He didn’t answer, but tapped the side of his nose, mysteriously. Jess’s face
said that even she was impressed. Chalk one up to Cosworth.

Right now they were talking
food, favourite eating places and such. Still at the, ‘getting to know each
other stage’, they weren’t yet ready to explore the matters that had brought
them together. Bored by the slow progress, Carver settled back and put his
trust in his subconscious telling him when they were. In the meantime, he
focused on catching Shepherd out again.

Across the table, Jess was having
trouble deciding what to attend to most. Megan and Cosworth were her main
priority, obviously. But the interplay between Carver and Shepherd was every
bit as interesting. Carver was clearly irked by Shepherd’s lack of guile. Even
she was galled that someone marked as a future Chief Officer could be so
lacking in basic operational nouse. As bad, if not worse, was the look that
came into Shepherd face each time his gaze slipped back to the table across the
room. She was sure it wasn’t Cosworth who was triggering it. It confirmed the
thoughts she’d been having about him ever since that night he’d tried to lure
her into his camp. ‘Creepy’ didn’t do it justice. But something about Carver’s
behaviour also bothered her, though she couldn’t put a finger on it. Certainly,
the ‘edginess’ that had been growing in him the past weeks was as noticeable as
ever. And the way he seemed discomfited each time he caught Shepherd staring,
put her in mind of an old boyfriend who hated other men looking at her. She
wondered if maybe he was finally responding to her news about Shepherd’s
late-night snooping, though why he would wait so long to let it show was beyond
her. The day after the incident, she’d tried several times to get him to show
concern – interest even – and was surprised when he contented himself with a
bemused rub of the chin, an ambiguous narrowing of his dark eyes. He wouldn’t
even speculate as to what Shepherd might have been up to. 'Who knows?' he’d
said. 'Gary can be a strange sort of guy sometimes.'
He said much the same
about you once
,
she’d thought, before giving up, frustrated and not
a little annoyed that she had put her head above the parapet to confront
Shepherd - and he didn’t seem to give a hoot.

What made it worse was having to
spend the evening in Shepherd’s company. But as Carver had pointed out,
Cosworth was Shepherd’s man. It was only right he should be part of the
eye-ball team. As she continued to switch her focus between the two men and the
table across the room, Jess wondered where the Hell the night’s events would
take them.

Carver had to wait until coffees
arrived before talk turned, finally, to what they were waiting for. Megan began
by asking how and when Cosworth first became interested in kink. He said it was
through a photographer friend, early in his career. ‘Things just seemed to
develop from there.’ Despite the vague answer Megan nodded, as if it was all
she needed. When he asked the same, she spoke, equally vaguely, of an
experienced, ‘former partner’ who had led her into it. After skirting round the
subject a few minutes more, Megan said. ‘Right William. This has all been very
nice, but I think it’s time we got down to business.’ Cosworth nodded and sat
forward, readying himself for the expected interrogation. ‘But before we do, I
need to freshen up.’ She rooted in her bag hanging over the back of her chair
and took out a small pouch. ‘Excuse me a moment.’

Rising, she threw a smile at the young waiter whose eyes had
hardly left her all evening and who scooted over to take her chair, before
making her way to the Ladies at the back of the restaurant. Cosworth leaned to
his left so he could follow her progress. There was the sound of doors opening,
the clack of shoes on tile, another door banged, then silence. Carver looked
across at Jess.

She rolled her eyes. 'She’s hardly going to let you listen
to her pee is she?'

By now Megan was familiar enough with how the mic worked -
tonight it was fitted into her brooch - she no longer needed Jess’s help to
switch it on and off. Proceedings interrupted, they relaxed. But only for a
moment.

'What’s he doing?' Jess said.

Carver looked up in time to see Cosworth unhook Megan’s bag
from the back of her chair. He glanced towards the Ladies, before starting to
rummage through it.

'Oh-Oh!' Carver said. A moment later he was dismayed to see
him take out a piece of paper. Checking the toilets again, Cosworth took out
his mobile and took a snap of it. Putting the item back he returned the bag to
the chair.

 Carver shot Jess a glance. 'I hope to God that wasn’t her
address.’ Jess grimaced. Neither of them had thought to check her bag.

A moment later, Megan appeared and re-joined Cosworth. As
she sat down she mouthed something to him. They all groaned.

‘She’s forgotten to turn her mic back on,’ Jess said.

Carver spoke urgently, into the mic in his sleeve. 'Alec?
Her mic’s off. Can you alert her?'

Up in the Saloon Bar, Alec Duncan, the backup-eyeball,
appeared at the railing. Looking down on the diners he said, 'I’ll try, but she
won’t be able to do it at the table without making it obvious.'

Though the mic was in the brooch, the transmitter and switch
was somewhere under her dress.

A couple of minutes later, Alec sauntered into view, making
towards their table as he pretended to be talking on his mobile. As he
approached, the pair were deep in conversation. Neither marked him, but once he
was passed and Cosworth’s back was to him, he lingered, trying to attract her
attention, at the same time tapping a finger in his ear. The young couple at
the nearest table began giving him strange looks. Eventually Megan glanced up.
She stared at Alec for several seconds while managing to not register anything,
before snapping her attention back to Cosworth, who remained oblivious.

A few minutes later, responding to something Cosworth said,
Megan brushed a hand against a wine glass, knocking it over and spilling its
pale contents over the table and her dress. Full of apologies, she retreated to
the ladies’ once more.

'At least she’s taking her bag with her this time,' Jess
said.

A minute later, the low hum that kicked in told them the mic
was back on.

'Sorry about that,' Megan whispered.

Relieved, they watched her return to the table.

'I’m sorry William. Now, where were we?'

He waited while she settled then said, 'You were about to
tell me if you would see me again.'

Megan barely hesitated. 'I don’t usually make decisions on a
first meeting, but…' She paused. 'But I sense we are on the same wavelength and
my instincts are telling me you are the sort of person I can trust. So, yes, I
will allow you to see me.'

Carver tensed as Jess threw him a startled look. What had
they missed?

Shepherd snapped his head up, 'This is all a bit quick isn’t
it?'

Concerned, Carver kept his head bowed as he stared across,
Shepherd’s discretions of earlier now forgotten. As with the others, the plan had
been that Megan would use delaying tactics before agreeing to any meeting.

Megan continued. 'Apart from what you’ve already told me,
William, what other sorts of things interest you?'

Over the next half hour the detectives listened, mostly in
silence, as Cosworth outlined the various
penchants
for humiliation,
restraint and forced submission that fuelled his imagination - particularly his
fervent wish to be verbally and physically chastised by a cruel schoolmistress.
The images it conjured made Carver squirm inside - for several reasons.
Eventually he came to the end of his fantastical musings. He sat back in his
chair, waiting.

'That’s a very detailed list,' Megan said. 'And I don’t
think it would be a problem. Just one thing. How would you feel about
restraining your Mistress, if I ordered you to?'

'If that was your requirement, then so be it.' His voice
gave nothing away and Carver wished he had a clearer view of his face. Megan
nodded, slowly, as if contemplating her next move.

'Right then, William. I think we should leave it there for
now. I’ll be in touch regarding our next meeting. But when we meet again you
will refer to me only as, Mistress, unless I direct otherwise, and you will
speak only when spoken to. Do you understand?'

He bowed his head. 'Yes, Mistress.'