Hunted, page 8
‘Well I’m sure he’ll manage,’ said Bailey. ‘I’m hoping this operation will be over by the eighth of October. That’s not too far away.’
‘It would be great to see you before then,’ said Emma. ‘We could just grab a quick coffee. Are you in London at the moment?’
‘Yeah but I can’t tell you—’
‘You can’t tell me exactly where you are due to the rules round operational security for undercover work. Of course not. Silly me. I forgot. I shouldn’t have asked.’ Emma sighed. ‘Still, it’s lonely having lunch at Marzini’s without you. Our usual spot feels empty.’
Their usual spot in Marzini’s was the corner booth by the window where they would spend most of their lunchtime gossiping about work-related issues. The Italian deli, just round the corner from the police station where they worked, was such a regular haunt of theirs that the proprietor knew by heart what each of them liked to eat.
‘Uh... things are pretty busy at the moment,’ said Bailey. ‘Let’s wait until this operation is over.’
‘Bailey, you’re so anti-social,’ scolded Emma half-jokingly.
‘I’d love to see you Emma, but it’s just that—’
‘Look why don’t you come round my place for dinner?’ wheedled Emma. ‘We can have a good natter. Put the world to rights. I’ll make you dinner. We can share a bottle of wine. I can tell you all about Anthony and why you should be going out with him. Surely even undercover cops have to take an evening off some time?’
Bailey shook her head with a smile of disbelief. Emma was even more stubborn than she was. Bailey couldn’t help but feel sorely tempted by Emma’s offer. She was a fantastic cook, and given the poor lunch Bailey had just eaten, the prospect of her friend’s cooking did seem appealing. And so did the idea of a good chat. However, social engagements just weren’t her number one priority right now, not when there was someone out there trying to kill her.
‘I’ll think about it,’ said Bailey diplomatically, not wanting to let her friend down.
‘Okay,’ said Emma expectantly. ‘I’ll look forward to hearing from you. And if I don’t… well, you can look forward to hearing from me.’
11
From the outside, with its smoked glass exterior and elegant sign, Ruby Red bore the semblance of an exclusive and sophisticated establishment. Located just off Shaftesbury Avenue in Central London, it touted itself as a high-end gentleman’s club but beneath the glamorous veneer Bailey knew it was little more than a lap-dancing joint with hugely over-priced drinks, its primary function being to separate the punters from as much of their cash as possible.
Bailey had turned up at six o’clock on Saturday evening, when the club opened, keen to get business squared away before the place got too busy.
The doorman had evidently been informed of her visit in advance.
‘My name’s Bailey,’ she said. ‘I’m here to see—’
‘Dani, yeah I know,’ he grunted, nodding his bald head. ‘Go on in.’
Entering the club, she found herself in an expansive grotto-like space dominated by a catwalk-style stage with a mirrored surface and a pole at one end. The décor consisted of dark red drapes and lavish gilt fittings with cut-glass chandeliers hanging from the low ceiling. They were aiming for an atmosphere of decadent opulence and Bailey could see how it might come across that way when it was buzzing at night but right now, this early in the evening, it was completely dead and the whole place just seemed a bit tacky.
There were fifteen or so girls sitting around on the red velvet furniture looking bored, a few of them idly tapping their feet to the rock music that was playing softly over the sound system. Clad in skin-tight dresses, they comprised a range of ethnicities but the one thing they all had in common was that they were strikingly attractive, which probably went some way to explaining why this club was such a hit with A-list celebrities.
They all looked up sharply when Bailey walked in, like sharks smelling blood in the water, but most of their faces fell when they saw she was a woman, probably assuming that she wasn’t a proper punter who they could fleece for cash like they normally would. Some of them gave her bitchy judgemental looks, like they thought she might be there for an audition.
A female voice rung out. ‘Bailey!’
Bailey turned round to see a statuesque redhead in a white body-hugging dress and heels peel away from the bar and totter towards her. If the girls in here were gorgeous then Dani was in a league of her own and Bailey found herself enviously admiring the stripper’s incredible physique.
‘You said Jack would be more amenable this Saturday,’ said Bailey, keeping her voice low. ‘What did you mean by that exactly?’
‘Jason Blixen’s coming in tonight,’ whispered Dani. ‘Him and his fuckwit mates’ll spend a fortune on the Dom Perignon and private dances.’
Jason Blixen was a Premier League footballer. Although Bailey didn’t really follow football, she often encountered mention of him in the news on account of his vast wealth and extravagant party lifestyle.
‘I’m Jason’s favourite,’ said Dani, ‘and Jack knows it. If it wasn’t for me Jason probably wouldn’t even be coming tonight. Jack’s dead nervous about it. Wants to make sure it all goes smoothly… and yours truly is key to the whole operation. Jack’ll do anything I tell him to keep me sweet and if that means helping you then so be it.’
Dani beckoned Bailey to follow her through a door next to the bar into a small corridor. They stopped outside an office. Dani winked at her and then knocked on the door.
Bailey felt that familiar twinge of nerves that she always felt when encountering criminals for the first time in an undercover context. She’d never met Wynter personally so there was little risk that he would know that she was a police officer, but she also knew that she needed to stay on her guard as you could never be too careful round crooks for some of them were very dangerous people indeed.
‘Come in’ said a gravelly well-spoken male voice.
Dani pushed open the door and Bailey followed her in.
Jack Wynter was lounging in a luxurious leather swivel chair behind a large antique wooden desk. Probably in his late fifties, he had the craggy look of a heavy smoker, and when he smiled at them both, Bailey saw that he had the stained teeth to match. That said, with his coiffured grey hair and expensive-looking suit, he obviously took pride in his appearance. And he also appeared to take pride in rubbing shoulders with celebrities for the walls of the office were adorned with a surfeit of framed photographs depicting Wynter accompanied by various famous people who’d visited his club in the past.
Dani bestowed a dazzling smile upon him. ‘This is my friend Bailey who I was telling you about. She needs a favour and I said you’d help her out.’
Jack flicked Bailey a cursory look, almost immediately turning his attention back to Dani. ‘Yeah yeah all right. Just make sure you’ve got everything ready for Jason tonight. I want him to have a good time and you know what that means.’
A loaded look passed between them and Bailey had an idea what the full extent of ‘a good time’ might entail.
‘Of course Jack,’ said Dani. ‘I’ll make him feel very welcome indeed. Just make sure you take care of my friend Bailey here.’
Wynter nodded dutifully and Dani retreated from the office, leaving Bailey and Wynter alone.
Lounging back leisurely in his chair, Wynter studied her curiously with a hint of suspicion round the edges of his eyes. He nodded for her to sit down in a chair facing him. She did so.
‘So you’re a friend of Dani,’ he said slowly.
Bailey nodded. ‘I’ve known her for a few years. Met her on holiday in Thailand. We’ve been mates ever since.’
Wynter regarded her silently for a few moments and she wondered if he’d probe any further. From her past experience of working undercover she’d found that some criminals were keen to know every tiniest detail about you… but then she’d also encountered plenty of others who couldn’t have been less concerned.
‘So what’s this favour you need then?’ he asked, glancing impatiently at his watch. To her relief she guessed he had larger things preoccupying him this evening than spending time delving into her rather thin cover story.
She took a breath. ‘Uh… well it’s a rather delicate matter. But Dani said you’re the kind of person who can help with things which… how shall we say, sit outside the realm of normal affairs.’
He observed her circumspectly from his chair without saying anything. She took it as a cue to continue.
‘I don’t know if Dani told you much about what I do, but I like to get my hands dirty dabbling in this and that.’
Wynter’s eyes bored into her. Still he didn’t say anything. By telling him that she was involved in illicit activity, she was implicitly suggesting that he was too, for why else would she confide in him otherwise? However she was careful not to overtly infer that he was a criminal for she knew that this might offend him, well aware that people such as him often liked to think of themselves as nothing more than businessmen, albeit unconventional ones.
She chose her words delicately. ‘I have a problem though. There’s a person who’s causing me business issues. This person is causing me a great deal of inconvenience.’
He nodded in an understanding manner.
‘I need to deal with them,’ said Bailey. ‘And I’ve realised that there is really only one way to do that.’
His thick eyebrows raised slightly as he realised what she was saying. He was now looking at her in a new light, understanding the reason she had come to him, and probably understanding that she had done so precisely because of the allegations surrounding him regarding his ex-business partner’s death. However she wasn’t planning to broach the topic of Vincent Peck’s murder in any way whatsoever as she knew Wynter would never openly admit his culpability, especially not to a stranger like her.
She waited tensely for his response.
He gave her an erudite smile. ‘The Russians have a saying,’ he said. ‘No person, no problem.’
Bailey felt relieved that he appeared to be concurring with her. ‘Those are my sentiments exactly,’ she said. ‘It’s very important that this gets done properly. So I want to go with the best. I’ve done my homework and I want someone called Rex to take care of things for me. I just need to know how to get hold of him.’
At the mention of Rex his eyes widened slightly and his face took on a suspicious slant once more.
‘What makes you think I know how to hire Rex?’
She shrugged. ‘You seem like a very well-connected person. Dani tells me you know everyone in town. She tells me you’re the kind of bloke who can get anything done. She tells me that’s the reason you’re so successful.’
Her flattery seemed to have a positive effect on him. ‘I am aware of the existence of Rex,’ he said, ‘and I am also aware of how he operates… although not from any personal experience I should emphasise. Do you understand?’
Bailey nodded eagerly. ‘Of course. I totally understand.’
He nodded with a satisfied smile. She knew he wasn’t going to say anything to incriminate himself and she didn’t want to ask questions in a way that would make him suspect that she was trying to make him do so. Anyhow, she wasn’t here to try and prove that he had his business partner murdered, she was here to find out how to hire Rex.
‘Rex isn’t cheap,’ he said. ‘But he’ll keep his mouth shut if he gets caught. That’s all part of the arrangement, you see.’
‘Money is no object,’ said Bailey.
‘You can’t be too careful these days, what with Old Bill worming their way into all kinds of places. So he’s very careful.’
He took a pen off his desk and wrote down something on a piece of paper. He pushed the piece of paper across the desk to her.
‘You just send an email to this email address. Just write “problem” in the subject line and someone’ll get back to you.’
She picked up the piece of paper and looked at it. It had an email address on it:
sortmyproblem@protonmail.com
It was suitably innocuous sounding with no indication as to the service that it provided.
‘And then?’ she asked.
‘You’ll get instructions to meet somewhere. And it goes from there. Apparently, you just provide details of the person you want rubbed out. And that’s it.’ He paused. ‘Oh yeah. And you have to pay upfront.’ He grinned at her. ‘And, like I said, I hear it ain’t cheap.’
It seemed that Wynter had told her everything she needed in order to move to the next stage of the operation. She felt gratified that she’d got this far so quickly.
‘Thank you for your advice,’ she said, standing up to leave. ‘I’ll do my best to return the favour sometime.’
‘Just put in a good word for me with Dani,’ he said.
12
Amy Benvenuto watched her husband from the kitchen window as he walked off down the garden and disappeared out of sight round the corner of a large laurel hedge. She knew he was heading to the wooden arbour seat with the trellis which sat right at the end of the garden in a little secluded alcove. It was one of his favourite spots, and since he’d been on bail he’d been spending more time than ever down there, talking on the phone to his lawyers discussing his upcoming court case.
He refused to discuss the specifics of the case with her, not that she minded too much because from what little he’d told her, it sounded like a horrible, complicated mess. He’d explained that the authorities were under the mistaken impression that he was some kind of drug trafficker. At first she’d found the notion completely absurd, and then, as the reality of the trial approached with the very real possibility of him being sent to prison, the disbelief had turned to stress and it was taking a heavy toll on her.
He was insisting of course that he was innocent, and she was a hundred per cent behind him. After all, surely the man she loved wouldn’t have been lying to her for so long about something this serious, about something so illegal. But then when she thought about it, she realised that up until this point she’d known virtually nothing about his import business except for the fact that it generated more than enough money to enable them and their daughters to live a very comfortable lifestyle. Now, in retrospect, a tiny gnawing part of her wondered if some of the things about it had been a little odd. Like those trips he took abroad all the time… maybe there was something else to them. And the way that whenever he talked business on the phone, he always insisted on doing so down at the end of the garden, well out of her earshot, almost as if he was determined not to let her hear what he was talking about.
She found these small niggling doubts extremely unpleasant to contemplate. The idea that her husband might actually be involved in something illegal was a complete anathema to her. She herself had always been an extremely law-abiding person, her view being that if there weren’t laws to keep things in place then surely the whole world would fall apart. It was perhaps a simple view, but then she knew she was a simple person. Charlie on the other hand, was much more complex, although that was what had drawn her to him in the first place. He was interesting and exciting.
He’d been working as an estate agent when she’d first met him. She’d been looking for a flat to rent and he’d won her over with his charm and patter, for he could be very charming and persuasive when he wanted to be. He’d persuaded her to go on a date… and six months later they were married, with the two girls coming along shortly after that.
She’d been glad to give up her job as a secretary to become a housewife and raise her children. The job had been dull and she’d detested all the office politics. She’d dedicated her life to him and their two daughters and together they’d built what in her eyes was a perfect family existence. But now with all this hanging over their heads it looked like it was going to fall apart.
Already their life was fracturing thanks to the news coverage of Charlie’s arrest. Many of their so-called friends were now making an effort to distance themselves, and whenever Amy went out, she saw the neighbours gossiping about her. Even the girls had been affected, subjected to nasty taunts from their schoolmates whose parents had no doubt told them about Charlie’s situation. It angered her that everyone was already judging him before he’d even had a chance to prove his innocence in court. It was so unfair. They were acting as if a guilty verdict and a prison sentence were a foregone conclusion.
The thought of him being locked up made her feel nauseous with worry. She could barely bring herself to think about a future without him. Since they’d been married money had rarely been a problem, but she realised now how completely dependent she was on him. Although she managed the household finances, he was the breadwinner, and without him, she wondered how she and the girls would survive. Would they lose the house? If so where would they live? Would they have to move into some crummy rented accommodation riddled with damp and mould? And what about the girls’ private school education? She doubted she’d be able to afford that any more. Would they even have enough to eat? She’d have to find some means of supporting them but did that mean she’d have to find a job? Would she have to go back to being a secretary? It was the only thing she knew how to do and the idea of it filled her with dread.
Trapped in thought, she stared out of the kitchen window at their scenic garden, praying and hoping that the authorities would realise what an awful mistake they’d made and that she and her husband could go back to the untroubled life they’d been living before.
