JASON STEED Absolutely Nothing (4 page)

A rush of cold air coming from the black tunnel told them a train was coming. It was fairly empty. Ricky climbed on with Jason behind, then they say down together grinning.

“I never buy a ticket.” Ricky grinned.

“What, never?” Jason asked.

“Nope. If I went to school I would get a travel pass, so I figure I should go free anyway.” He sat back and folded his hands behind his head.

“Don’t you go to school?” Jason asked, copying Ricky and placing his own hands behind his head.

“You’re having a laugh aren’t you? Me? School? Not bloody likely, mate. I get plenty of money. I don’t need school.” Ricky took out a bundle of pound notes.

“Wow, what do you do to earn that?”

“Can’t say, but maybe I could get you a job there, if you’re interested that is?”

“Course. I just spent the last of my money,” Jason said. He was now starting to feel he may have gotten lucky, and Ricky could lead him somewhere.

They passed several stations before getting off at Embankment Station and then boarding another train and eventually getting off at Charring Cross. As they walked up Greek Street towards Soho, the reality hit Jason. This was not the best place to be at night.

A drunk crouched in a corner throwing up. Across the street, two women were screaming at each other over one of the woman’s ex-boyfriend. Ricky started walking down a dark alley. Jason paused. His gut reaction was too steer clear of places like this, but if he was to stand any chance of finding Abigail or stopping child trafficking he had to stick with Ricky. He took a deep breath and followed.

A right turn took him onto a concrete ramp misted with steam curling out of a restaurant kitchen window. It was stinking of the trash overflowing from a dumpster. A huge fat rat jumped onto the edge and sniffed the air, its whiskers flicking from side to side. Kitchen staff stood in a doorway smoking and cavorting. Next to the kitchen door was another door. It was stuck, but Ricky pushed it with his shoulder as he twisted the handle.

It opened into a narrow hallway. A blue light from a television escaped from the crack in the curtains. Ricky climbed out a window at the end of the hallway onto a metal stairway outside. He ran up the steps two at a time. Once at the top, he pulled a loose brick from the wall and took out a key and open a dirty brown door, Jason followed him inside.

“It’s not Buckingham Palace, but its dry, very cheap, and all mine.” Ricky grinned, lighting some candles.

Jason took in his surroundings. It was a small damp room with a bed against the wall. A chrome clothes rail on wheels, the type normally seen in clothing stores, stood next to the bed with some clothes hanging. Jason guessed they were Ricky’s clothes due to the size. He had a table and one chair. Against the wall was an old sofa; in the candlelight it was difficult to make out the color. A couple of posters of naked women caught Jason’s attention.

A small room exited off from the main room, it contained a sink, a bath, and a toilet that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in years.

“You got no electric?” Jason asked. Ricky looked up. He turned on a battery-powered transistor radio.

“I said it’s not Buckingham Palace. I don’t need electric. I got water, and it’s cold so when I take a bath I’m in and out in two minutes. Sometimes I go to the public swimming pool; its heated and they have hot showers. I only sleep here. It belongs to my boss.”

“It’s nice I suppose.” Jason forced a smile.

Ricky took a blanket off his bed and threw it at Jason.

“You can sleep on the couch; it’s plenty long enough for you. Tomorrow, I’ll take you to my boss.” Ricky kicked off his shoes and pulled his socks off. He gave them a sniff and screwed his face up. He took them to the sink, washed them and hung them over the back of a chair to dry. He stripped off to his underwear before climbing into bed. Jason took off his jacket and shoes, but kept the rest on to keep warm.

                         *

Ray Steed called SYUI the following morning and asked to speak to Barbara Inkpen.

“Hello, Mr. Steed. How can I help you?” Barbara asked in her usual bubbly tone.

“I know you said you would call me at noon with Jason’s progress, but I didn’t sleep that well and just wanted to know how it went,” Ray asked.

Barbara paused.

“Mr. Steed, why are you asking me?” 

“You told me that you would be my liaison with Jason and I could call anytime.”

“Jason should be home with you, sir.” A terrible feeling started to snake around her insides she was dreading the reply.

“Are you bloody joking or what? Jason is working for you.” Ray raised his voice.

“No sir, the mission went wrong, and George called it off. Jason was going to catch a taxi home at about seven last night.”

Ray threw some of the best curse words at the SYUI officer he had in his arsenal. And after serving for sixteen years in the Royal Navy he had quite a large vocabulary. He was incensed that they had lost touch with Jason. SYUI immediately put out an alert for Jason

When George heard the news, he wasn't too concerned. He knew if anyone could look after himself, Jason could.

*

“You got any money left?” Ricky asked.

“No.” Jason yawned, stretching his arms.

“Well, today will be a first and last. The first and last time I buy you breakfast. Got it?”

“Yeah, thanks. If you get me a job, I won’t need your money.” Jason smiled.

“So would you do
anything
for money and a place to live?” Ricky asked.

“Anything?” Jason paused. “I suppose, I gotta eat and live somewhere. I’m not going home.” He smiled, took out his comb, and tried to get his hair under control. His long, blond bangs were sticking up in all directions. After wetting it, he soon got it to look how he wanted it.

They went to a small café called Mick’s. Mick was a builder by trade who lost half his foot in an accident with a cement mixer. He wore an apron, the same apron he had been wearing all weak. It hung over his large stomach. He had not shaved today and was suffering from a ‘hang over’ after a heavy drinking session the night before, celebrating Crystal Palace Football Club's victory over Manchester United. He had a cigarette in the corner of his mouth with half an inch of ash hanging from it. Most ash simply spilled down his apron or worse still, into the food he was preparing for customers.

You could get a mug of tea, eggs, bacon, sausages, and beans all served with thick white sliced bread and butter. It was cheap, greasy, and hot. Each Formica covered table not only supported half full bottles of tomato sauce, salt, and pepper, but also a century’s worth of grease. His food was crude but popular with the locals when served with a steaming hot mug of strong tea.

Ricky ordered two breakfasts and sat opposite Jason. He looked serious for once.

“I’m gonna introduce you to Kelvin Kissinger later. He’s a good guy. Look after you he will. Just don’t ever cross him,” Ricky warned while tipping some salt into his hand and throwing it over his shoulder for luck.

“I won’t cross him, if he can get me a job. What sort of job would it be?” Jason asked.

Ricky paused and looked around the room before leaning forward and whispering.

“Em, well that’s up to Ricky.” He paused again and squeezed a spot on his cheek. “Some things you may not like. I’ve done it, but now that I’m older I do other jobs. Just do as you’re told and think of the money you’ll make. He’s gonna like you.” Ricky smiled, wiping the pus from his spot onto his jeans.

*

Ricky thumped on a black door. It was the back of an adult strip club. The door opened, and a woman who looked nearly sixty with a cigarette hanging from the corner of her mouth looked out.

“Oh, it’s you.” She sneered, and opened the door fully to allow the boys in.

“Hello, darling. How are yer? Have you missed me?” Ricky grinned.

“Missed you and your cocky face like a hole in me bloody head. Don’t walk on that side I just mopped the floor.”

“I love it when you talk dirty to me, Sharon. Me and you should get it on and run away together to a tropical island.” Ricky joked.

“What have you been bloody smoking? Tropical island my arse. I got to clean this place and wouldn’t you know it, some punter threw up in the gents bathroom last night. No consideration for me that’s gotta clean it.” Sharon moaned. Sharon had worked at the club for over thirty years. She originally started as a stripper during the war, ten years later, when she got too old and fat to strip, she became barmaid. Now she was demoted to cleaner.

Ricky walked on ahead. Jason followed, trying to take in his surroundings. The club smelt of cigarettes and stale beer. Ricky went into a door behind the bar. On his way, he picked up a bag of crisps. After a steep flight of stairs, he walked down a hallway.

“Mr. Kissinger, I got another recruit for you. He cost me breakfast,” Ricky said with his hand raised out.

“Well, it looks like you helped yourself to the crisps, so we can call it quits,” Kissinger snapped. He looked up and saw Jason following. “That’s the third boy this week. What is it with you? I need girls. I got bloody boys coming out my ears. Still, very nice, come here,” he said looking at Jason.

Kissinger was a lot younger than Jason had expected. In his late twenties, he had long hair and a thick moustache. He wore faded denim jeans and a black Led Zeppelin T-shirt. On top of that he wore a sleeveless leather waistcoat. Jason walked up to him and held out his hand.

“Very nice, yes very nice, Ricky. Blond and blue eyes. What are you, eleven?” Kissinger asked stroking Jason’s hair and walking around and admiring him.

“I’m twelve.” Jason smiled at the man.

“I suppose you want somewhere to live, food, and money? You’ll be wanting a job, and I suppose you expect Uncle Kelvin to take you in and give you a job,” Kissinger asked with a sneer.

“Yes, please, sir.” Jason found it hard not to grin. He couldn't believe how lucky he'd been to find this creep, and once he got the chance, he would call SYUI. He was hoping this would put him back in their good books, after the restroom incident.

“Shall I take him to the Chicken Ranch?” Ricky asked.

The what?
Jason thought to himself.

“Yes go straight there. I have to make a phone call. I got a special client. We call him
the doctor
.” Kissinger took out a small black book from his waistcoat and searched for a phone number.

Ricky held out his hand and waited. Kissinger noticed it out of the corner of his eye and groaned.

“You kids bleed me dry,” he complained as he handed over forty pounds.

Ricky grinned and gave a salute before tugging Jason with him.

“I’m taking you to the Chicken Ranch. You may see me around from time to time, but I don’t work there anymore. I’m now a recruiter. You’ll be given anything you want. It’s like heaven.” Ricky smiled as he jumped down the stairs two at a time.

“Am I working on a chicken farm or something?” Jason asked, confused by the terms. Ricky stopped and looked at Jason.

“You daft sod, how can anyone be so bloody green? You'll find out when you get there. They'll give you the best clothing, best food, any games you want,” Ricky said, shaking his head.

Jason thought it best not to say anything else. They walked two streets and came to Richmond Mews, a nicer part of Soho in the center of London. The houses were three stories tall with a basement. They stopped at one of the largest homes on Richmond Mews, a three-story double fronted building with a basement. Rather than using the front door, Ricky went down the steps to the lower kitchen door in the basement. In Victorian times, this section was used for staff. He banged on the door and waited.

A woman in her late fifties opened the door. She had blonde hair that was going grey and the largest chest Jason had ever seen. He couldn’t help but stare.

“Ricky, come in. So this is the new boy Kelvin just called me about.” She smiled and held out her hand to Jason. “Hello, love. Nice to meet ya. I’m Betty, you must be Jason.”

“Yeah, Betty as in,
Betty you ain’t seen boobs that big
.” Ricky laughed. She was fast and smacked him across the side of his head.

“That’s enough of your bloody cheek, young man. And you can wipe the smile off your face Jason unless you want a clout,” snapped Betty. “Follow me. I’ll show you to your room, and you can meet the others.

Betty gave Jason a tour of the basement. The kitchen was huge and full of anything he wanted, cans of Coke, candy and fresh fruit. She took him up the stairs to the living area. In the front room two boys about ten years old were lying on the floor playing Monopoly. A girl no older than eight sat with a doll on her lap, brushing its hair. The TV was on, but no one was watching. Jason thought they all seemed happy. They all said hello. One of the boys asked if Jason would be sharing their room. When Betty said yes, both boys grinned at him.