Rough Justice (31 page)

‘I told you, there’s no safe,’ protested Mironescu.

‘Be a good host and show us around, Victor,’ said Fluorescent Jacket, waving his Taser. ‘Or we’ll zap you again.’

Mironescu’s arms were seized and they took him out of the sitting room and up the sprawling marble staircase. He nodded at the master bedroom. ‘There,’ he said.

They took him into the bedroom and sat him down in a green winged armchair. Fluorescent Jacket went over to the walk-in wardrobe and pulled open the doors. At the end there was a floor-to-ceiling mirror and, on either side, rows of suits on hangers. ‘Very stylish, Victor,’ he said. He took out one of the suits and admired it. ‘Hugo Boss, very nice,’ he said. ‘How much would a suit like this cost?’

‘Two grand, maybe.’

The policeman looked at his colleagues. ‘Hear that, lads? Two grand for a suit. Are we in the wrong job or what?’

The men laughed. ‘That’s what my last car cost,’ said one.

He put the suit back on the rack. ‘I don’t see any money here, Victor. You’re not lying to me, are you?’

‘On the floor,’ said Mironescu. ‘A black bag.’

The policeman knelt down and moved the suits apart. He smiled when he saw the black Adidas holdall. He pulled it out, took it over to the bed and unzipped it. It was full of banknotes that had been bundled together with elastic bands. They were mainly twenties but several of the bundles contained fifties. ‘How much is there, Victor?’ he asked.

‘Forty thousand pounds, about.’

‘Nice,’ said the policeman, zipping the bag up.

‘You can’t take it all,’ said Mironescu.

‘We can do what we want,’ said Fluorescent Jacket. He tossed the holdall to the uniformed policeman.

‘You pigs, you’re no different to me,’ said Victor. ‘You steal, you cheat, you lie.’

‘We’re nothing like you, Victor, as you’re about to find out. Take off your clothes.’

‘What?’

‘Take off your clothes.’

‘Why?’

‘If you don’t take off your clothes we’ll Taser you until you’re unconscious and then we’ll cut them off you.’

Mironescu started to unbutton his shirt with trembling hands.

‘You too, Poppy.’

Popescu removed his jacket and gave it to one of the policemen. As the two men undressed, the policeman went into the wardrobe and pulled out a rack of ties. He selected eight and went back into the bedroom. The two Romanians were standing by the bed. Popescu was wearing red boxer shorts with white hearts on them and Mironescu had on tight zebra-patterned satin briefs. The policeman smiled at Mironescu’s choice of underwear. Mironescu cupped his hands over his private parts. ‘Oh, come on, Victor, you can’t be shy. Not with the number of teenage girls you’ve raped over the years.’

Mironescu glared but didn’t say anything.

‘Take them off, Victor. Let’s have you as naked as the day you were born. And you, Poppy.’

Both men removed their underwear. They stood nervously hiding their groins with their hands.

‘Lie on the bed, lads, make yourselves comfortable,’ said the policeman. Popescu looked across at Mironescu. ‘Don’t look at Victor,’ said the policeman. ‘He can’t help you.’ He held up the Taser and pulled the trigger. Sparks leaped between the prongs. The two men climbed onto the bed. ‘On your backs, boys,’ said the policeman.

They did as they were told. Fluorescent Jacket tossed the eight ties to one of the policemen and he in turn handed four to his companion. They tied Mironescu and Popescu, binding their wrists to the brass bedstead and their ankles to the bottom of the bed.

‘This is crazy,’ said Mironescu. ‘Just take the money and go.’

‘All in good time,’ said the policeman. He went back into the wardrobe and returned with two more ties. He held them both up. One was dark blue with black stripes, the other pale yellow with brown dots. ‘Which do you want, Victor?’

‘What?’ said Mironescu.

‘Do you want the blue or the yellow?’

‘Fuck you,’ said the Romanian. ‘Fuck all of you.’

‘The yellow, I think,’ said the policeman. He walked over to the bed, pushed the tie between Mironescu’s lips and then wound it around his head. He tied it tightly with a double knot, then stood back to admire his handiwork. Mironescu roared with rage but the gag reduced the sound to a loud grunt. ‘Shout all you want now, Victor,’ said the policeman. He walked around the bed and gagged Popescu with the second tie.

A uniformed policeman appeared at the bedroom door. In his gloved hand he held a large carving knife.

Mironescu’s eyes widened when he saw the knife and he began to struggle. Popescu turned to see what he was looking at and the blood visibly drained from his face. The policeman gave the knife to Fluorescent Jacket, who grinned at the two men on the bed. ‘Look at the way your dicks are shrinking,’ he said. ‘I guess that’s the flight-or-fright response right there. Are you scared, Victor? Maybe now you’re starting to understand how the girls you raped felt. Powerless, right? You know you’re going to be hurt and you know there’s nothing that you can do to stop it.’ He ran a gloved finger carefully along the length of the blade.

There was a hissing sound from the far side of the bedroom, then a click and a whoosh. Mironescu and Popescu’s heads twisted to the right. The policeman in the dark coat was holding a cheap plastic cigarette lighter in one hand and a flaming butane blowtorch in the other. He put the lighter in his pocket and adjusted the flame until it was a tight blue arrow.

The two men on the bed jerked as if they’d been electrocuted and they thrashed around like stranded fish. Fluorescent Jacket walked over to the policeman with the blowtorch and took it from him, then turned to face the bed as he played the flame up and down the blade. He grinned at the terrified men. ‘Yeah, I think you’re starting to feel it now, aren’t you?’ he said, raising his voice so that he could be heard over the noise of the blowtorch. ‘But it’s not the pain that you’re going to remember. The brain can’t recall pain. It doesn’t work like that. It’s going to hurt like hell tonight and you’re going to be in pain for weeks, but eventually the pain will fade. But you’ll never forget what happened to you tonight. It’ll be the last thing you’ll think about when you go to sleep at night and the first thing you think about when you wake up. Every time you see a pretty girl, every time you think about sex, every time you take a piss, you’ll remember what we did to you and why we did it.’

Tears were streaming down Mironescu’s face but the gag muffled his cries. His body was still thrashing up and down but he was getting tired. Popescu was just lying motionless, his eyes wide and staring.

Fluorescent Jacket continued to wave the roaring flame along the length of the blade. ‘You’re not going to die,’ he said. ‘The hot metal will cauterise the wound so you’ll bleed but you won’t bleed to death. We’ll call an ambulance and you’ll be treated by the good old National Health and after a few weeks you’ll be able to go home. And that’s what you’ll do, Victor. And you, too, Poppy. You’re going to go back to your shit-hole of a country because if you don’t the next time we pay a visit you’ll lose your dicks as well.’

He held up the blade. ‘I think we’re ready now,’ he said. He smiled at Victor. ‘I’ll do Poppy first, just so you get an idea of how much it’s going to hurt.’

He switched off the blowtorch and put it on the bedside table next to Mironescu. The Romanian was shaking his head from side to side and pulling hard at the ties but the knots were good and the silk ties were more than strong enough to hold him. Fluorescent Jacket walked slowly around the bed. Popescu was pushing himself hard down on the mattress as if he could disappear into it. He was trying to force his legs together but the ties held them wide open. He closed his eyes tightly and made small grunting noises like an animal in pain.

Mironescu watched in horror as the policeman sat on the edge of the bed. With his left gloved hand the policeman gingerly moved Popescu’s penis. Mironescu closed his eyes and looked away.

‘Oh, come on, Victor, you don’t want to miss this. How often do you get to see a castration, close up?’

Popescu was shaking and tears were streaming down his face even though his eyes were tightly shut. The policeman slid the knife under Popescu’s testicles and then pulled it up in one smooth movement. Popescu screamed and then almost immediately passed out. The hot knife stopped much of the bleeding but blood still pooled around the injured man’s groin as the policeman stood up. ‘Let me just get the knife hot again and then I’ll do you, Victor,’ he said.

At the end of the shift on Thursday, Coker and Kelly persuaded Shepherd to go for a drink with them at the Hilton Hotel, a short walk from the station. They all changed into civilian clothing and walked there together. The bar was quiet and most of the clientele were suited businessmen drinking on expense accounts. ‘What do you want, Terry?’ asked Coker.

‘Soda water,’ said Shepherd. ‘Ice and lemon.’

‘What?’ said Coker. ‘Have a man’s drink, mate.’

‘I’m on the bike, Nick. I never drink and drive.’

‘Goody Two Shoes, huh?’

‘It’s a powerful machine. You can’t take any liberties with it.’

‘Leave him alone,’ Kelly said to Coker. ‘If he doesn’t want to drink, he doesn’t want to drink. Some people just can’t handle their booze.’

Shepherd sighed. ‘All right, put a whiskey in the soda. Jameson’s if they’ve got it. I’ll leave the bike in the factory and get the Tube.’

Coker slapped him on the back. ‘I’ll drive you home, mate. Kilburn’s on my way.’

Shepherd’s mobile rang. It was Katra so he went over to a quiet part of the bar to take the call. ‘Dan, there are two policemen here. They want to talk to Liam. I said they had to talk to you first.’ She was breathing heavily, as if she was scared.

‘It’s okay, Katra,’ said Shepherd. ‘Calm down.’

‘They’re detectives, Dan,’ she said. ‘They’re not in uniforms.’

‘Let me talk to them, Katra,’ said Shepherd.

After a few seconds a male voice came on the line. ‘Mr Shepherd?’

‘That’s right, Dan Shepherd. Who are you?’

‘I’m Detective Sergeant James Hollis from Hereford CID. We’re here to talk to your son, Liam. Where are you, Mr Shepherd?’

‘London,’ said Shepherd. ‘I’ll be here for the rest of the week. Look, what’s this about?’

‘Your son had a video on his phone, a video of a boy being assaulted.’

‘That’s right. I gave a copy to Liam’s teacher, Miss Tonkin.’

‘The headmaster called us once he got to see the video,’ said Hollis. ‘We’d like to talk to your son and we’re going to need his phone.’

‘Liam didn’t take the video. A friend of his Bluetoothed it to him.’

‘That’s not an issue, Mr Shepherd, but we will need your son’s phone.’

‘Do you have a warrant?’ asked Shepherd.

‘Do I need one, Mr Shepherd?’ said Hollis.

‘It’s my son’s personal phone. I’ve already given a copy of the video to the school, I don’t think you need the phone as well.’

‘We’d like our technical people to have a look at it,’ said Hollis. ‘If you’re going to be difficult then I can get a warrant.’

‘I’m not being difficult, Detective Sergeant Hollis. I’m just asking that you respect my rights. I have the right to not hand over my son’s personal property unless you have a warrant and I am asking you to respect that right. I also need you to acknowledge that my son is a minor and that you will not be questioning him until I am there.’

‘Obviously we won’t be talking to Liam without a responsible adult present,’ said Hollis.

‘I’ll be back at the weekend,’ said Shepherd.

‘We’d like to talk to him sooner than that,’ said Hollis. ‘Where is Mrs Shepherd?’

‘She’s dead,’ said Shepherd, flatly.

‘What about the au pair? She can sit in on the interview.’

‘She’s Slovenian so English isn’t her first language and she doesn’t know her rights. Can you wait for me to get back?’

‘What exactly are you doing in London, Mr Shepherd?’

‘Working,’ said Shepherd. ‘Look, it’s Thursday, right? I can leave here Friday evening and see you at the station with Liam first thing Saturday morning.’

‘Saturday is my day off,’ said Hollis.

‘Lucky you,’ said Shepherd. ‘Look, I’m not minded to allow you to take my son’s phone without a warrant, and that means you’re going to be looking for a judge to sign one out of hours. And I’m not prepared to allow you to interview him without my being there. I’m sorry if you think that means I’m being difficult but you have to understand that Liam is a child and I am his father and I’ll do whatever I have to do to protect him.’

‘Okay, how about we compromise?’ said Hollis. ‘You give me your permission to take away Liam’s phone now, and we’ll hold off interviewing him until you’re back in Hereford. Can we agree to that?’

Shepherd wasn’t happy about letting the detective take his son’s phone but he knew that Hollis wouldn’t find it too difficult to get a warrant, even out of regular office hours. ‘That sounds reasonable,’ he said. ‘Let me talk to Katra.’

The detective handed the phone back to her. ‘What should I do, Dan?’ she asked.

‘Give them Liam’s phone,’ he said. ‘And ask them to give you a receipt. Also, the detective I spoke to, Sergeant Hollis, ask him for a business card. And don’t let them ask Liam any questions. If they say anything to Liam, anything at all, tell him to go to his room and call me back straight away.’

‘I will, Dan. Is Liam in trouble?’

‘No, it’s nothing to do with him,’ said Shepherd. ‘Just let them have the phone. And tell Liam I’ll call him back later for a chat so he’s not to go anywhere.’

Shepherd ended the call and went back to join his colleagues. ‘Problems?’ asked Coker.

‘Why do you ask?’ said Shepherd, picking up his whiskey.

‘Because you had a face like thunder, that’s why,’ he said. ‘You were pacing up and down like you wanted to deck somebody.’