Pop Goes the Weasel (21 page)

There is a fantasy that sustains you when you’re on active service. It’s the dream that sustains every soldier when he's stuck in some godforsaken dustbowl being shot at and shouted at. It’s the fantasy that there’s something better waiting for you at home. In this fantasy, your girl is keeping the home fires burning, hankering for your return. She will welcome you back with open arms, fill you with good food, take you to bed and be the doting, angelic wife. This is the very least you deserve for the months of fear, loneliness and anger. But it seldom works out that way.

Simon Booker was an ordinary citizen now. His best mate had been blown up two days before they were due to ship out. On the plane home, Simon had told his superior officer he was quitting. He used to love the army, but he wanted out now. It had brought him nothing but disillusionment and despair.

He was convinced that Ellie had been seeing other men whilst he was away. He didn’t have any evidence, it was just a feeling. Still, it gnawed away at him and he wondered which of his so-called mates were laughing behind their hands now, exchanging stories of what his Mrs was like in
the sack. He avoided them, just like he now avoided Ellie. He couldn’t talk to her about what life had been like over there, about what it felt like to see Andy split in fifty pieces, and he certainly didn’t want to talk about what she got up to whilst he was away. So he went to the Doncaster and the White Hart. And when he came home, struggling to fit the key into the lock as his hand shook and his brain swam in cheap lager, he would trudge up to the box room where the computer was, walking past the open bedroom door.

He always locked the door. Despite his anger towards Ellie, he still didn’t want her to catch him at it. Was that out of shame or from some buried desire not to hurt her? He wasn’t sure, but he locked the door nevertheless.

The porn had been good to start with but recently he’d grown tired of it. Now his site of choice was Bitchfest. It was a whole new world for him. This was the new frontier of sex and he found in the forum a camaraderie he thought he’d lost for ever. Here men could talk frankly about what they wanted. And advise each other on how to go about getting it.

For a long time he’d held off acting on his impulses, but HappyGoLucky had given ‘Angel’ such rave reviews that he’d decided he couldn’t resist. A lot of men had cried off prostitutes in the wake of stuff in the newspapers and in other forums. Stories of blokes getting killed whilst on the job. And he wasn’t stupid, he knew you had to watch your back. The world was full of killers, liars and thieves.
So he was taking precautions. He’d told Ellie he was seeing old army pals, but the contents of his holdall suggested otherwise. Inside was a pack of condoms and a change of clothes. And nestling underneath, unseen, was an iron bar.

‘So what do we know about him?’

Helen and Charlie were in a pool car heading for Woolston.

‘Real name – Jason Robins,’ Charlie replied, flicking through her notes. ‘But his alias in the Bitchfest forum was “Hammer”. He wasn’t the most regular contributor – I think that prize goes to “PussyKing” – but he posted every couple of days and when he did he went to town. A lot of bragging about what Angel had done to him, how he’d actually made her come, the usual crap.’

‘How did you find him?’

‘Most of the users are pretty discreet – they obviously use aliases and post on work computers or internet cafés. They are hard to track down even if you have the IP address. Jason’s not so bright. He uses the “Hammer” alias on other sites, one of which was a pay-per-view porn site. He used his credit card to pay for some material –’

‘And you got his home address from that.’

‘Exactly.’

Right on cue they pulled up outside a block of flats on Critchard Street. It was a bit shabby, a bit unloved, the small flats rented by people who were making do until something
better came along. Helen and Charlie climbed out of the car, looking up and down the street. Night was falling and apart from the odd worker hurrying home everything was quiet. A light burned in the living room window of the house in front of them – ‘Hammer’ was at home.

They sat at the IKEA table – a stilted threesome with untouched cups of tea sitting in front of them. Jason Robins had assumed the worst when he’d opened the door to two police officers, asking stutteringly if Samantha and Emily had been involved in some kind of accident. When Helen had assured him that this was nothing to do with his family, he’d calmed down, suspicion slowly replacing his fear.

‘You may have read about a series of murders in Southampton recently,’ Helen began. ‘Murders linked to the sex trade.’

Jason nodded but said nothing.

‘A couple of the victims used an online prostitute rating forum.’

Helen let her words hang in the air, pretending to consult her notebook before continuing:

‘It’s called Bitchfest.’

She looked up as she said it, keen to see how Jason would react. He didn’t react at all – not a nod, not a smile, nothing. In Helen’s eyes this was as damning as an admission. Jason was sitting stock still, clearly worried that the slightest reaction might give him away. Helen eyed him.

‘Are you aware of that forum, Jason?’

‘No.’

‘Have you ever visited it?’

‘Not my kind of thing.’

Helen nodded and feigned writing something in her notebook.

‘Do you ever use the alias “Hammer” whilst online?’ Charlie asked.

‘ “Hammer”?’

‘Yes, “Hammer” – have you ever used that alias whilst visiting other web forums or sites offering adult material?’

Jason seemed to mull over the question, keen to be seen to be taking it seriously.

‘No. No, I haven’t.’

‘I ask because someone using that alias has a credit card registered to this address in the name of Jason Robins.’

‘Must be fraud.’

‘Have you reported any fraudulent activity on your card?’

‘No, I wasn’t aware of it, but now that you’ve told me I’ll ring them straight away. Get it cancelled.’

Silence descended briefly. Jason was wound tight as a drum, a sheen of sweat sticking to his brow.

‘Are you separated from your wife?’

Jason seemed to relax as the questioning took a new turn.

‘Yes, I am. Not that it’s any of your business.’

‘But you’re not divorced?’

‘Not yet. But we will be.’

‘So presumably you’re currently involved in negotiations about custody of your daughter, Emily?’

‘That’s one way of putting it.’

‘How would you put it?’

Jason shrugged and took a sip of his tea.

‘I can understand why you’re being cagey, Jason. You’re in a tricky place and the last thing you need is the police outing you as a guy who visits adult websites and uses the services of sex workers. It wouldn’t play well in court – I get that. But listen to me carefully. People are dying out there and unless men like you have the courage to step up to the plate, more people will die. I could charge you with wasting police time, obstructing an investigation and more, but I know that you’re a decent guy, Jason. So I’m asking you to help us.

‘We need to know about Angel,’ Charlie continued. ‘Where you meet her, what she looks like, who else might know her. If you can give us everything you know, then we will protect you. We’ll keep your name out of the papers and minimize the disruption to your life. We’ve no interest in making your life any harder, we just want to catch this killer. You can help us do that.’

A long silence ensued, broken only by the tick-tock of the kitchen clock. Jason finished his tea.

‘Like I said before, I’ve never heard of this “Hammer”. So if you’ll excuse me I’d like to go and call my credit card company.’

Helen and Charlie said nothing as they walked away from the house, both too angry to risk speaking. It wasn’t until they were safely inside the car that Helen finally spoke.

‘Lying little shit.’

Charlie nodded.

‘Stay on him, Charlie. Ring him, email him every day or so with a couple of extra questions, a couple of extra details. He may just be embarrassed or he may know something – keep squeezing him until you find out which.’

‘It’ll be my pleasure.’

‘In the meantime, we have to work harder to find the others. “HappyGoLucky”, “Dangerman”, “fillyerboots”, “BlackArrow” – I want them hunted down. Someone out there knows where we can find Angel.’

‘Sure. Do you want me to take the lead –’

‘Yup. Run them to ground and I’ll rendezvous with you back at the nick. But drop me in the city centre first.’

Charlie looked up, intrigued.

‘I’ve got a date that I’m keen to keep.’

They walked down the lonely corridor, her plastic, high-heeled boots squeaking with every step she took. Trailing just behind, Tony took her in. ‘Melissa’ was far more attractive than he’d expected her to be. Long sleek legs encased in shiny black boots, a tight backside, a sensual, full-lipped face framed by a short black bob. Tony knew not all prostitutes were yellow-toothed junkies but he was still surprised at how well presented she was.

He had picked her up at Hoglands Park, a skateboarders’ hangout in the north of the city that was virtually deserted at night. He’d radioed in as he approached the venue and later had spotted the tail car in his rear-view mirror, as they’d headed south towards the docks, but still he felt a spike of fear now that he was alone with her. They had driven in silence to the Belview Hotel, a down-at-heel B&B that wasn’t fussy about its clientele. Tony had paid for the night up front, then they’d headed to the first floor. En route, they’d passed a middle-aged man descending in the company of a half-dressed Polish girl. He had looked straight at Tony, who’d dropped his eyes to the floor, unwilling to be drawn into this unpleasant camaraderie.

Soon, they were inside room 12. Melissa slung her bag and coat down on the only chair in the room, then sat down on the bed.

‘So what can I do for you, Paul?’

She stressed the last word, as if she knew it was a lie.

‘I’m all yours.’

She smiled a broad, sexy smile, full of mischief. Tony was surprised to feel a twinge of desire for this acquiescent plaything and sat down on the chair to hide the beginnings of an erection.

‘I like to watch,’ he replied as calmly as he could. ‘Why don’t you do your thing for a while and we’ll take it from there?’

She looked at him curiously. Then:

‘It’s your money, honey,’ she replied, shrugging.

Taking the hint, Tony reached into his wallet and pulled out £150. Pocketing it, Melissa lay down on the bed.

‘Do you want me to keep my boots on, while I …’

‘Yes.’

‘Good. I like it better that way.’

Melissa let her hands wander over her body. She had a muscular, toned physique that was certainly fit for purpose and the more she got into it, the more Tony desperately wanted to look out of the window. It was absurd really. He knew he had to play the part and keep his eyes glued to her. He knew, in spite of his now full erection, that this was just part of the job, a set-up designed to yield valuable information. And yet he still felt extremely
uncomfortable, the level of his arousal surprising and alarming him.

As Melissa feigned her way to climax, she urged him to get involved, to treat her how she deserved to be treated. Tony had to think on his feet to avoid physical contact, instead firing off a volley of obscenities to bring her to ‘orgasm’. She was a good actress – anyone listening in would have assumed she’d just had the greatest sexual experience of her life. Afterwards, she re-clothed herself, shooting a look at the cracked clock on the wall.

‘You’ve still got ten minutes left, baby – do you want me to suck you off?’

‘I’m fine. Can we talk?’

‘Sure. What you want to talk about?’

‘I wanted to ask if we could do this again.’

‘Of course. I’m always up for fun.’

‘You been doing this long?’

‘Long enough.’

‘You like it?’

‘Of course,’ she replied. Tony knew she was giving him the lie she thought he wanted to hear.

‘Ever have any trouble?’

‘Now and again,’ she replied, not looking him in the eye.

‘How do you deal with it?’

‘I’ve got ways. But usually there are other girls around.’

‘To keep an eye out for you?’

‘Right. Do you mind if I use the loo, honey, I’ve got to be out again soon.’

She walked off to the bathroom. Moments later the toilet flushed and she emerged, making straight for her coat and bag.

‘Could I pay you for some more of your time?’

She paused.

‘You want me to do it again?’

‘No, no, I just want to talk. I … I’m alone in the city. I won’t see my family until the weekend and I … well, I just like to talk.’

‘Ok,’ she replied, sitting down on the bed.

Tony fished another £50 from his wallet and handed it over.

‘So where are you from?’

‘Lots of places. But I was born in Manchester if that’s what you mean.’

‘Still got family there?’

‘None that are worth bothering with.’

‘Right.’

‘How about you, Paul? You from round here?’

‘Born and bred.’

‘That’s nice. Good to have a home.’

‘You live near here?’

‘Just stopping with a friend. As long as I’m getting work, I’ll stay put.’

‘Are you making decent money?’

‘Pretty good. I’m more open-minded than some.’

‘Do you ever work with other girls?’

‘Sometimes.’

‘Do you do threesomes?’

‘Sure.’

‘There’s a girl I’m interested in hooking up with. Angel. Perhaps you know her?’

Melissa paused, then looked up.

‘I’m not sure you want to get to know her, honey.’

‘Why not?’

‘Just trust me, you don’t. Besides, there’s nothing she can do for you that I can’t.’

‘But if I wanted a threeso—’

‘I can find you another girl.’

‘But I want Angel.’

Another long pause.

‘Why?’

‘Because I’ve heard good things about her.’

‘Who from?’

‘Other guys.’

‘Like hell you have.’

‘Sorry?’

‘This is your first time, isn’t it? You’re as green as they come.’

‘So?’

‘You don’t look the type to be jawing with other fellas about what toms like me get up to.’

Tony was surprised to feel affronted, but gathered himself.

‘Ok, maybe I am new, but I know what I want. I’m happy to give you cash if you can set it up.’

‘What have you heard about her, then?’

‘Just that she likes to be hit, denigra— … abused, you know. She’ll let you do things that other girls don’t.’

‘And who’s told you about her?’

‘Guys.’

‘Guys?’

‘You know, other g—’

‘Who?’

‘People I’ve chatted to –’

‘Give me their names.’

‘I don’t really –’

‘Give me their names.’

‘Er … I think one was called Jeremy. And –’

‘Where did you meet them?’

‘Online.’

‘How?’

‘On a forum.’

‘What was the name of the forum?’

‘I can’t remember the name –’

‘And you want to meet Angel?’

‘Yes!’

‘Because you want to question her? Like you’re questioning me?’

‘No, no,’ Tony replied, but he had hesitated a nanosecond too long and he knew it.

Melissa was already on her feet.

‘A bloody cop. I knew it.’

‘Melissa, wait.’

‘Thanks for the chat and the cash, but I’ve got to go.’

Tony put a hand on her arm to stop her.

‘I just want to talk to you.’

‘You lay one more finger on me and I will scream the bloody house down. Then every hooker for miles around will know you’re a pig, right?’

‘I just need to find Angel. It’s really important that I find …’

‘Go fuck yourself.’

She left, leaving the door open behind her. Tony’s first instinct was to go after her, but what was the point? Defeated, he sat down heavily on the bed. Melissa was their best lead and he’d blown it completely. It had cost him quite a lot to inhabit this role – had raised questions he didn’t want to ask himself – and he’d ended up with nothing.

Next door the sound of frantic copulation cranked up, beating out the rhythm of his failure. Picking up his coat, he hurried out. He wanted to be away from this place. Away from the sex. And away from this crushing defeat.