The Know (40 page)

He was nodding again, wondering where she was going with this.

She knelt up on the bed and slipped both arms around his neck. He could feel her small breasts pressing against his back and it stirred him. Even in the state he was in she still affected him.

‘You know there are people who are into kids, don’t you? People who would pay for a child. Do pay for them, in fact.’

Jon Jon turned his head to look at her.

‘Exactly what are you on about?’

Candace sighed. Then sitting down beside him she pulled the sheet around herself and said seriously, her lovely face earnest and worried, ‘This is between me and you, right? It goes no further than this room.’

He nodded. Her fear was almost tangible, he didn’t want to make her even more nervous.

‘Of course. Tell me.’

He was getting impatient; the joint he had smoked was making him feel paranoid now. It felt like his head was about to explode.

‘I mean it. You must promise you will never say you heard this from me, right?’

He had had enough now. It was like talking to MI6.

‘For fuck’s sake, Candace, I
promise
. Now tell me what you know.’

She stared at him as if still unsure whether or not she could trust him. Finally she said: ‘It’s Jesmond. You know him, I take it?’

He nodded once more, his face creasing into a frown.

‘What about him?’

She sighed. He knew she was frightened, but she also wanted the money. Candace was one of the few brasses he had met who actually saved, looked to the future.

‘I heard from one of the other girls - you know the way we talk together - that he catered for the more child-loving customer. It’s normally boys although a few little girls have gone through his house apparently. Dahlia told me. One of her sisters is a crack head and she rented out her daughter, Mirabell. The kid’s in care now - she was used for a party. Some party, eh? Bet it weren’t jelly and ice cream they gave her. But Dahlia . . . fuck, man, she hates Jesmond. Bad mouths him at every opportunity. The little girl was nine years old and a cutie as well. Jesmond himself likes little girls, you see. Young as possible according to the rumours.’

Jon Jon was staring at her, trying to digest what she was saying.

‘Jesmond? I never heard that about him before.’

She could hear the disbelief in his voice so she nodded and said quickly, ‘You never heard any of this from me, right? But if it turns out Jesmond knows something, you owe me, OK? If those Thompson blokes were into kids, chances are they’d have had dealings with him, being local and into the same shit. He might know where they are now; he keeps all his punters in his head, see, writes nothing down but he videos them, does a lot of internet sites. I worked for him a few years back. Schoolgirl stuff, you know.’

He was staring at her as if he had never seen her before in his life.

‘You did nonce stuff?’

Candace sighed.

‘Nah, silly. It was big girls dressed as little girls, you know the kind of scam. It was good poke and no one saw your face.’

He was having trouble taking it all in but he could see her logic. If Tommy and his father were into all that then it was logical they’d have contacts who were like-minded. Jesmond would need to keep his punters’ identities in his head; no one in their right mind would write anything like that down.

‘If anything comes of it, do I get the reward?’ Candace pressed.

He nodded.

‘You’ll get the reward all right.’

He left her then, and for a little while his trip North was forgotten. He had to get his head around what he had just been told.

 
Marie and Joanie were outside the Sunny Day nursing home. Marie had been observing the place for days and knew that the big fat patient with the terrible burns came out after lunch every day. Jeffrey Palmer they called him. She called him piece of shit. Just looking at him made her want to puke. Knowing what he had done to that child, what he was guilty of. This was not only the easiest money she had ever earned, it was also the most satisfying.

Now she was going to lead his victim’s mother to him, and it was almost a religious experience for her. Sweet revenge for what had happened to her own child also. Marie saw it as her mission in life to wipe predators like this off the face of the earth.

 
Lorna and Pippy were in the pub together. It was just on eleven in the morning and they were both already well on the way to drunkenness. The social worker had turned up early for the baby and Lorna had been absolved of her maternal responsibilities sooner than she had expected. After that she had gussied herself up, which for Lorna meant a quick wash under the arms and a lavish spray of perfume, a comb through her hair and her least dirty jeans and T-shirt on. Now she was in the pub drinking Bulmer’s cider with large brandies mixed in, and negotiating herself a fee for turning Pippy on to Jon Jon Brewer’s little sister. What a touch!

‘Her mum’s on the bash, ain’t she?’ he enquired.

Lorna nodded.

‘She’s all right, old Joanie, in fairness. Never got a bad word to say about anyone.’

‘So what brings little Jeanette into my fold? Why don’t she just get her brother to pimp her?’

Lorna raised her eyes to the ceiling in annoyance.

‘Oh, use your fucking loaf, Pip! She don’t want to go gaming as such, just wants to earn a few quid sometimes. Not every bleeding minute of the day And she ain’t a bad-looking kid.’

‘How old?’

‘Fourteen or thereabouts, tries to look older.’

Pippy grinned.

‘A schoolie!’

She laughed with him.

‘I said I’d sound you out like. See if you was interested.’

Pippy wiped a grubby hand across his unshaven chin.

‘For a fee, of course?’

‘Of course. Hundred quid.’

Lorna smiled again.

‘Up front. I know
you
. If you hand me the poke now I can have her round yours whenever you like.’

‘Fair enough. You miserable bitch.’

She screamed with laughter at his words.

‘Hark who’s fucking talking! You ain’t exactly Justin Timberlake yourself.’

‘By the time I’m finished with the little Brewer she won’t give a fuck who I am, love, she’ll fuck a table if I tell her to.’

Lorna knew it was true. Pippy terrified his girls, and the only reason Lorna herself had got off lightly was because she was an addict and for some reason he liked her. Pippy didn’t need to scare her; she was already willing to do anything required to get a fix. She also looked awful nowadays so he only went near her when he was out of his box. His clients weren’t over-keen either, especially since the kids. Stretch marks gave the game away when you were only supposed to be fifteen. But Jeanette was perfect for what he wanted, and he would fuck with her head within weeks.

By then even Jon Jon wouldn’t be able to control her.

But Lorna was just shrewd enough to remind herself that Jon Jon Brewer would launch her into outer space if he ever found out about this, to say nothing of his mother. Joanie could handle herself as well. She wouldn’t thank Lorna for introducing her daughter to the life.

She was in over her head, really playing with fire, but she could feel the heroin in her jeans pocket, and its allure was far stronger than her fear of Jon Jon Brewer. So long as she kept her lip buttoned it’d be OK.

She took herself off to the toilets for a livener. As the needle slipped into her vein she felt the release of all her tension, all her hurt. She sat on the grubby toilet seat and gradually lay back against the dirty pipes, all the time inhaling the fumes of someone else’s faeces. Lorna closed her eyes and let the good times roll.

 
Jesmond was meeting his accountant who was actually his debt collector, but his nickname was ‘the accountant’ because he kept records of all Jesmond’s transactions. Unlike some of the other men who worked for him, Bernard Lee had never done any debtor out of a penny they didn’t owe. Once they had paid, they had paid. But if you didn’t pay, then he was far more vicious than all the other collectors put together.

Bernard’s way of getting his money was to harm a family member, not the person who actually owed the money. His logic had always been, why put a man in hospital when he could be out grafting to get the poke he owed? Put his wife in hospital, however, and guilt coupled with terror got them out grafting faster than anything.

It was, as far as Bernard was concerned, sound economics.

He was well liked by his inner circle of friends, always good to the people he cared about, and lived with a nice girl and their two nice little boys and his partner really did think he was an accountant.

He
was
in fact a qualified accountant but sorting out clients’ books and tax returns didn’t do it for Bernard. He lived in the stockbroker belt of Surrey, to all outward appearances Mr Middle Class. But Bernard had a kink in his nature, had become aware of it as a young man. He could inflict pain and suffering on anyone, did not need any personal grudge or cause for anger against them. He had no hang ups about harming others whatsoever, especially if money was involved.

He was a big man, handsome in a blond rugged way, with a magnetic personality. He had taken a job debt-collecting to fund his way through university and accidentally discovered his true calling in life. He had finished his studies, knowing he would need some kind of legitimate front to cover what he was really going to do. Twenty years later he was rich, successful and respected. He had made a killing in property investment, among other things, and lived in luxury and tranquillity.

Jesmond respected him, and he respected Jesmond. They didn’t visit each other’s houses, didn’t need to. They were rarely even seen together but worked well as a team, each enjoying the other’s company. It made for a very profitable relationship.

Now they sipped cappuccinos at the back of a hostess club Jesmond owned and chatted.

‘So what do you want me to do?’

Jesmond shrugged. He was big, heavy and running to fat as he was getting older from too many pints of Guinness and white rums, too much goat and rice and fried plantain bananas.

‘It’s fifteen grand now with the compound interest so I want him hurt. Or should I say, I want someone close to him hurt. He has a teenage son, nice kid by all accounts, bright as a button, could get into Oxford. How about putting the frighteners on him?’

Bernard nodded.

Kids were always a good lever for getting people to pay up. He guessed the boy’s father would borrow the money from another lender and worry later about paying them back. He didn’t give a toss as long as he got his cut. He took a third for himself from every mark and it was easy money. No one had
ever
not paid Bernard Lee.

He wrote the latest instruction down on his to-do list. He had a busy couple of days ahead and should pull in just under forty grand cash. A nice little earner.

Jon Jon walked into this cosy little domestic scene, all smiles and bonhomie. He knew about Bernard who also worked for Paulie at times so he wasn’t too trashed to see him, but he was wary. Bernard had that effect on everyone who knew him.

‘Hello, Jon Jon.’

Bernard sounded genuinely pleased to see him.

‘How’s everything?’

‘Not too bad. Yourself?’

Bernard was aware of a slight atmosphere but didn’t let it bother him. He worked for Paulie and Jesmond knew it and there was nothing he could do about it. Bernard Lee was a law unto himself. But he liked Jon Jon Brewer, saw himself in him as a young man. He liked Jon Jon’s front, and Jon Jon had more front than Brighton.

Jesmond studied his visitor warily.

‘What can I do you for?’

It was said in a friendly fashion and Jon Jon smiled disarmingly.

‘I need a favour, some information.’

He pulled up a chair and sat down without being invited which did not go unnoticed by either of the others. Bernard stifled a laugh at the expression on Jesmond’s face.

‘What do you want? Did Paulie send you?’

Jon Jon shook his head. His dreads looked babyish in comparison with Jesmond’s heavy head of hair.

‘Well, talk then. What you waiting for?’

Jesmond was annoyed now; he felt sure he was having the piss taken out of him, just wasn’t aware how.

Jon Jon looked respectfully towards Bernard Lee and raised one eyebrow slightly. Jesmond smiled now, displaying a mouthful of very expensive gold teeth. ‘Anything you got to say, Jon Jon, you can say it in front of Bernard.’ He was Jamaican now. It was in his voice.

Even Jesmond was reluctantly impressed by the way the boy had asked him if they should speak in private. Most people who knew Bernard wouldn’t have had the guts to do it. Jesmond could also see that it had amused Bernard Lee, which was just as well.

‘You know my sister is missing, Jesmond?’

The other two men were immediately contrite now; serious-faced, they nodded respectfully.

‘Well, I heard through the grapevine that you cater for paedophiles.’