and cast his eyes back at her. Slowly her head turned away from the window and she looked into her pimp’s eyes.
‘ He was Marie’s main customer, wasn’t he?’ She wrung her hands.
Saltash’s eyes dropped momentarily. ‘That’s none of your business.’
‘ He killed her, didn’t he?’
‘ I don’t know. Anyone could’ve killed the silly bitch. She was wild and stupid and probably got her come- uppence. But I’ll tell you one thing, Gillian; if you go mouthing off what you’ve just said to me, I’ll kill you. Understand?’ He licked his lips.
A tear rolled down her cheeks. ‘He degraded me today,’ she said with a choked sob. ‘And he talked about Marie when he did.’
‘ Listen, you brainless tart, you degrade yourself every fucking day by what you do. Hasn’t that sunk in yet? You make good money pandering to the whims of pathetic, rich men, so don’t knock it, babe. In five years you’ll have enough to pack it in — but if you want to go now and work for tuppence ha’penny at a supermarket check out, then fine, fuck off and do it. But don’t moan to me because a customer’s a bit kinky. Goes with the show, girl.’ He pointed animatedly at her as he spoke.
‘ And Marie? Does that go-with the show? Ending up dead on a beach?’
‘ Maybe,’ he said cruelly.
‘ I thought you were supposed to protect us?’ she cried.
He had no answer.
‘ Oh fuck you!’ she yelled into his face, opened the car door and emerged into the sleet.
Walking across the pavement she could still feel the sore places on her ankles and wrists where he’d tied the ropes to pin her to the bed. That she could handle. Many did that. It gave them a sense of dominance. What she found impossible to deal with was the cold knife-blade which McNamara had touched against the lips of her vagina and threatened to ram in.
Just like he’d done with that other poor bitch.
The phone rang. Henry grabbed it, delighted by the distraction.
‘ Henry, you old son of a b,’ came the ebullient American accent down the line.
He brightened up immediately. ‘Karl, how ya doin’?
‘ Nice-ish,’ said the FBI agent. ‘I guess you heard about Sam.’
‘ Karen phoned Kate the other night and mentioned it. Sorry to hear about it. She was a nice person.’ Henry had met her the once on that weekend trip to the Lake District.
‘ Murdered.’
‘ Really?’
‘ Yep. Can’t prove it, but I’ll try. You know me.’
‘ Certainly do. Anyway, pal, business or pleasure?’
‘ Well, it’s always a pleasure to do business with you, Henry,’ the American said genuinely.
‘ Karl… you’re making me blush. Now cut the crap.’
‘ OK. Been reading a routine circulation of yours re the seizure of some firearms after a shooting up on your manor… manor — is that the right phrase, bud?’
‘ More a Metropolitan term, but it’ll do. So, what about these firearms?’
‘ They’re part of a haul from a break and enter at a warehouse in Florida, just outside Miami. Two months ago. One heck of a haul too: machine guns, rifles, pistols, bazookas, SAM’s… you name it, plus the ammo to go. Several million dollars’ worth. Enough to equip a small army.’
‘ From Florida?’ Henry said, astounded. ‘What the hell are they doing in Lancashire then?’
‘ Who knows?’
‘ You coming up here then, Karl?’
‘ Naw, not for a while anyways, but I’ll do my best from down here to help you with information, as and when — or if — I get it. For the time being I’ll fax you all the details of the haul. Maybe you should have another word with your suspect? Then I’ll speak to the Miami Field Office to see what else they can tell me about it.’
They chatted on for a few more minutes before concluding the call. Henry, cheered by the news and the conversation, picked up the last piece of correspondence and found himself humming Starfucker. The tune stopped abruptly when he saw the post-it sticker slap bang in the middle of his blotter. He ripped it off and read it.
In the precise way Derek always operated, the note was timed — 10.15p.m. — and dated.
It read, H. Need to speak to you urgently. Found something well odd. It was signed Degsy. Then a P.S. I’ll be at home. Whatever time you get back, call me or come round, WHATEVER TIME!! It’s urgent. D.
Within seconds, Henry was hurtling down the stairs.
The line was very bad. Donaldson had to listen very intently through the static to hear the voice at the other end. It didn’t help that the person was speaking in a Portuguese accent and was calling from Madeira.
‘ Special Agent Donaldson?’
‘ Yeah. Sorry, you’ll have to speak up. I can hardly hear you.’
‘ It is me, George Santana, speaking from Funchal.’
‘ Oh, hello,’ said Donaldson slightly more formally. He rated the Maderain detective very low on the Richter Scale following his experiences in that country, but was obviously very interested in why he should be ringing. He was the last person Donaldson expected to hear from, and quite honestly had grave doubts about the man’s professional ability. He’d concluded, from very little evidence, that either the guy was not a ‘real’ detective, with no feel for a case, or he was on the take. Or both.
With a startlingly loud crackle which nearly burst his eardrum, the line cleared. Then they could have been conversing in adjacent rooms.
‘ Ahh, that’s better.’
‘ Yes, I can hear you well, also,’ said Santana. ‘I have some news for you about the person who was arrested for the assault upon you.’
‘ Uh-hu, Romero,’ nodded Donaldson. His fingers automatically touched the chain-track across his cheek. He expected the worst: he’d escaped, or been released without charge, been given a pardon. Something along those lines.
The news stunned him.
‘ He’s dead. He was found hanging in his cell in the prison where he was being held pending court. It was very suspicious.’
That’s handy, Donaldson thought cynically. Another possible witness found dead, unable to testify.
‘ That is not all,’ Santana continued. He sounded out of breath. ‘The one we believed to be Romero’s partner in crime is dead also. He was found floating in the harbour near to the ferry. Throat cut from ear to ear. Of course we do not actually know if he worked with Romero when you were attacked-’
‘ Yes we do, George,’ the American snarled.
‘ OK, OK, we do,’ Santana submitted.
‘ Why tell me all this, George?’
‘ Because I have been obliged to think long and hard about this. I admit I was very unconvinced about Agent Dawber’s death being of a suspicious nature. However, following the other girl’s death, then the man in the harbour, then Romero — who we are not convinced hanged himself, I believe there is more to this than meets the eye.’
‘ Hooray,’ Donaldson could not resist saying. He held back from blasting out that it had taken two more deaths for it all to be taken seriously.
‘ There is also more,’ Santana said. From the tone of voice, Donaldson could visualise the sheepish look on his face. He waited for it.
‘ The samples taken from under Agent Dawber’s fingernails?’
Donaldson’s gut wrenched. ‘Yes?’
‘ Human tissue. It looks like she scratched somebody’s face.’
Donaldson closed his eyes and fist in celebration. Thank: God he made the pathologist take the samples!
