The Humvee swerved violently from the lane and in through the open gate and over to the barn, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake. Petruso Knishovo and his captains, Vanko and Borysko jumped out of the vehicle.
Petruso unlocked the padlocks and waited while the other two men rolled open the large doors of the metal built barn.
‘You can make sure we finish building Black Shark this afternoon, fuelled, charged and armed ready for tomorrow night, Borysko?’ he said, throwing his arms wide as if drawing attention to a newly discovered artistic masterpiece. ‘Black Shark did not fit in the Antonov with the rotors fixed, so we must fit them now.’ He pointed to the long crates behind the aircraft.
Borysko Boyko ran into the make-do aircraft hangar, threw his arms in the air and then stood, hands on hips, admiring the mafiya family’s latest and deadliest acquisition. He was undoubtedly impressed, almost ogled the sleek lines of the deadly day-night air strike machine. He laughed and smacked the side of the Russian KA50 hunter-killer helicopter. With the ease of boarding a bus he pulled himself up into the cockpit, examined the expanse of instruments on the control panel. He had the unmistakable air of confidence born of familiarity and experience with the machine and its weaponry. ‘You give me twenty four hours Petruso and you can tell me any time to go make sweet music in the night air again.’
‘Can you see if we have all the rockets we need here, and all the cannon shells you will need to take out any resistance Freddy Field’s soldiers can make? You and Vanko you better stay here and check out all the munitions, and I will go over to barge, make sure all the proper preparation of the cargo is done and it will be ready for Monday morning. I will be back before more than two hours is passed, just in case you have need of my help for lifting the rockets.’
‘You don’t worry yourself, Petruso,’ said Borysko. He gloated as he checked over the stacks of numerous Russian marked crates, containing air-to-ground missiles, stacked in the shadowy depths of the barn. ‘Vanko and me will have plenty to do until you return. We will make some of our own serious killing Fields with these little babies.’ He chuckled, clapped his hands. ‘But how the hell did you get this batch of missile weapons into the country, Petruso? Now, with international terror alerts, the west have total embargos on this stuff for any purpose, especially for a Ukrainian civilian like Petruso Knishovo, and so quickly?’
‘It is not only people we can smuggle into the country inside logs, my old friend. You know Petruso – happy to make a quick buck from any hand, always. But we can put to this better use than selling on now. So now you know. But don’t you forget our plan, Borysko – you blast out the gate men, then make good our cover with the smoke-screen rockets. You have the advantage with the heat-seek equipment to take out immediate resistance from the grounds. But leave the house and people inside in one piece. These little babies we will use to make sure we get everyone we want alive. We will have our party, make the Fields suffer on Monday morning.’ He pointed to two canisters, each conspicuously marked with a human skull.
‘It is dangerous for us, to use this nerve gas, Petruso.’ Vanko was unsure.
‘You just told me you want to keep the people alive in house – but this will…’ Borysko said.
‘This will just make every one of the Fields and his clowns who inhale it in the house paralysed, my friends – for maybe three – four hours. So, you will blast the great front gate on the lane, lay the smokescreen to confuse the guards outside, eliminate all ground opposition and render immobile everybody in the house. You can easily get the Black Shark back here before police put two and two together. I will be in the Manor grounds with both Humvees filled with Knishovo soldiers and masks, and in five minutes, the Knishovo family will have all the men, and women, Vanko, in the Field family at our mercy.’ He winked meaningfully at his brother-in-law.
‘It is brilliant, Petruso,’ Vanko said. ‘But this one here is a different missile – no, it is not a missile, old friend, it is a bomb. This is a five hundred kilo bunker buster, I remember, laser guided – it can hit the eye of a fly.’ He was stood by the bomb.
‘That one is going to be for our justice, my old friend. It is going to be such sweet justice for Tatyana. You will see on Monday.’ The crime tsar gloated. ‘I must be sure every man takes care now, because the anti-terror squads look everywhere for any clue to help them find us. But while the fish swim in London Underground, we will all be swimming in the sunshine on the Black Sea again.’
Petruso could not push from his mind’s eye the picture of Carla Field begging to be humped and humiliated by him rather than suffer the torture and pain she would witness being dealt out to her parent’s and surviving brothers. He had the clearest imprint in his mind of those beautiful thighs invitingly wide, she offering no defence and her matchless piece of pussy pouting for him to do with as he would, for as long as he could. He smiled to himself in the realisation of such an ecstatic treat, and, all being well, it was less than thirty six hours away.
‘I go now, my good friends, to make sure the cargo of explosives is going to be ready and loaded on the barge. And I must make a better proposition to its owner. Dymtrus tells me on the way here on the phone that he is one confused and not so happy man, disappointed with the hire arrangements you made with the captain of his boat. Perhaps I might remind him what a wonderful, lovely day it is today, and how sensible it is to plan forward for maybe one more tomorrow if he is a good friend to Petruso. It is always good sense to make this kind of suggestion to help people make their mind up when in a little bit of doubt about things, I find.’
*
Frankie looked around one more time to ensure she had not been followed from the Manor. She pressed the send key on her cell phone. The lengthy text message was to her immediate subordinate on the case, Det Sgt James Dennis. He was not one of her favourite colleagues, but she had no reason to justify an uncertainty about him and somebody at Plaistow station had to be informed. It was a fully detailed account of what Doc Elliot had blurted out about the underground centre of operations for the inhuman organs transfer racket he and Philip Field were running. She added an instruction not to attempt to contact Det Supt Tommy Cowper until further notice.
She knew there couldn’t be too many ex ministry underground store facilities for him and the three uniforms at her disposal to check out. She was hopeful a lot more progress would be made before the sergeant’s day was over in her quest for some substantial evidence in the case it was her duty to solve. Heaven alone knew what her next move should be now, with her boss taken captive by Freddy Field. Just how much could she, should she, tell other superiors?
She started the engine and popped the lid of the Clio’s glove compartment, thinking it an easier place to stow the phone than the seat while driving
‘Bloody hell, Stella!’ She pulled out the bundle wrapped in the scarf and unrolled it. Tommy’s G-1 automatic pistol, complete with silencing cylinder and a carton of ammunition, fell to the car floor. ‘Just what the bloody hell did you have in mind, Stella, baby?’ Frankie said.
But the value of her find was unarguable. She threw the scarf down to cover the ordnance and made for her flat.
The hot needles of water purged the DI’s body of some of the distaste of the two encounters she had with Freddy Field during the day. She made a silent prayer for her dad to forgive her defamation of his wonderful nature, not certain he would understand if she ever had occasion to explain and apologise. But the clear water could not erase the vivid images of Field’s stubby member that remained sharp in her mind; his was the original vomiting dummy. So disappointing was the pathetic way it quickly shrunk to a child size winkle when his passion was spent. The word winkle made her smile. She didn’t anticipate any mind-blowing sensations if she were compelled to try to tolerate the thing inside her. And if she were to, she knew she would have no peace of mind until she had douched his seed from her insides. In truth, she wanted to laugh at the sexual inadequacy of the so called hard man, and at his stupidity for swallowing her pantomime. Her mind wandered to the more exciting memory of Tommy’s cock. Although not huge, it was so straight, broad and well proportioned it was a thing of beauty. And beauty was a fitting word for the manly length of stiff flesh, with its magnificent, shiny-mauve mushroom head, swelled and ready to delight. Definitely a main course fit to eat and certainly large enough to satisfy her own recently invigorated sexual appetite and palate.
Frankie cursed her self-indulgence, slammed shut the lever on the power shower. She had to stop this idle, mental meandering. Her boss’s dilemma was a stark reminder of the gravity of her responsibility. God, she had to do something about getting Tommy out before harm came to him in a big way. Freddy Field had made it pretty clear an attack by the Knishovos was imminent, so before long there was bound to be murder and mayhem at Field Manor. A significant clue as to the likely intent and ferocity of the Knishovo’s retaliation was in the yet to be avenged massacre of Ukrainians in the explosion at The Crimea. The mafiya family would regard the morning’s incident at Doc Elliot’s as no more than a push in the school playground. Both families were engaged in more terminal ambitions, a conflict which was more existential than territorial.
Frankie gently towelled her crotch, then her back and breasts more energetically, threw the towel to the floor, spread her legs wide and admired what she saw in the full-length mirror. Strange things had happened in her life since last night.
Was it just last night? The wonder of Carla’s tongue and fingers, the bitch’s assault on her with the bestial Thumper – the astonishing revelation of forbidden fruit she had found inside Tommy’s trousers, throbbing with lust for her, her power over Freddy Field, the stupid bastard she could talk into coming with a quick flash of her pussy, a bit of silly talk and a front seat view of her masturbating. It didn’t matter why it was so; she had come to realise Pandora’s Box was right there, had always been there, inside the lips of the furry fold nestled between her legs. And in the last twenty four hours, the lid had been ripped open and torn off, thrown away with the pieces of her previous life. Her cunny was the means to power over men’s minds, and she would never be inclined to neglect the fact again. Life was all suddenly very clear. Sex was the root of all evil. Man was a helpless slave to the demands of some overheated meat. They would fight between themselves, fall over themselves, to feed that meat into woman’s moist, warm body. It was sex that made the world go round, money a mere facilitator, oiling the wheels. Now she had woken up, she was damn well going to enjoy the ride. It was a matter she’d not given much thought before, but she knew now if she were a rampant cock, she would want to satiate in a pussy wrapped in everything she saw in the mirror. She dusted around her nipples lovingly with blusher.
Frankie decided to adopt a slightly less brassy mode of attire for her return to the Manor and selected a pair of stretch denims with bra and white linen blouse.
The clouds were gathering in the afternoon sky as she shut the main door to the apartment block. She walked slowly across the car park and threw her overnight bag into the back of the Clio. It was heavy with the additional weight of the G-1 automatic, silencer sleeve and ammo. She sighed, told herself she knew exactly what she was doing, took a long look up at the window of her flat, waved at next door’s cat sat on the ledge and got into the car. If she was going to pull off her plan that night, there was one more marker she had to insist was made good on at the local pharmacy.
*
Det Supt Tommy Cowper once more found he was at the wrong end of an interrogation. He was sat, hands bound behind his back, in front of the study desk.
Freddy Field sat at the desk. Billy stood by the study door and Terry fiddled aimlessly with the policeman’s cell phone.
‘You know it will help you if you tell us how to access your messages an’ what you can about the numbers an’ addresses on here, don’t you, copper?’ Terry sneered.
‘I detect something in your tone of voice that tells me you hope it’ll help you murdering collection of pond life more than it will me,’ Tommy replied.
Terry jumped up and smacked Tommy round the side of the head with the back of his hand. ‘Try to take the piss out of us, copper, an’ I’ll dig the fuckin’ teeth out of your head one by one with this.’ He waved his flick-knife in the policeman’s face.
‘Terry!’
It was Billy’s voice. ‘Do be’ave, bro. He’s an old hand, an’ he’s not gonna tell us fuck all with you gettin’ all excited like that. We probably wouldn’t understand what he said anyway if he’s got no teeth left in his head. We definitely won’t know the truth of half of it if you make him spill a load of ol’ rubbish, anyway. No, what we’ve gotta do is think of an incentive, what the smart-mouths briefs on TV call an inducement. Let’s tell Trigg an’ Chute to whip into town an’ bring back a bit of incentive. Maybe our smart-arse guest might cooperate a bit more if he knows you’ll slice some bits off one of the young bloods who run around kickin’ up fuck an’ spoilin’ everybody’s peace an’ serenity in the mall in town.’
‘One of them round-arsed, sassy young juicy bitches oughta be more fun than some little cunt with bum fluff all over his face,’ Freddy said, suddenly alive to the proceedings. ‘One of them little flash-the-flesh teasers with the big thighs, next to fuck-all fanny-fuzz, string knickers an’ tits to die for bouncin’ under a skinny vest, just waitin’ to be plucked out an’ sucked. Tell him to offer freeby Alco pops with a bit of top-grade shit thrown in an’ there’ll be a queue of horny bleedin’ teenagers down the length of the High Street, every one of them with a muff tight enough to bite yer fuckin’ hand off. I can just see one of them juicy little muffs, just beggin’ to be fucked; the ol’ piss flaps creamin’ up when they’re stuck on a tasty length of cory.’
The don’s libido was still raging. It corrupted his logic, and hindered his attempts to concentrate on the firm’s current business strategy, which was essentially about their coming out on top against the Knishovo family. Frankie’s absence was beginning to wear him down. He dialled through to the games room.
‘Brill idea, Dad,’ Terry exclaimed. ‘Get Trigg to snatch somethin’ real tasty an’ we can all give it a good rogerin’. You dippin’ first of course, Dad. Have a real good ol’ fashioned gang-bang, eh? Only tell him we don’t want no “big enough is old enough” bitch, make sure it’s a bleedin’ six former at least an’ not some kid. Last thing we want is gettin’ involved with the anti-paedophile brigade over a bit of nooky. It might even be a bit of a turn on for our miserable faced mate here. Just look at his bleedin’ boat race – you’d think it was his wife, or maybe his daughter we were talkin’ about treatin’ to a good turkin’, wouldn’t you, now? Never mind, me ol’ mate, I reckon ol’ Doc Elliot will have had himself a good prod at your ol’ girl’s arse before them Russki bastards got there this morning, I wouldn’t mind bettin’, or p’raps he’s gone an’ strapped onto a length of somethin’ an’ she’s fucked his.’ Terry leered at Tommy. ‘Has she ever gone macho an’ tapped into a bit of your feminine side now an’ again with the ol’ dildo, or what, fuckface?’
Freddy put the phone down and said, ‘Won’t be long now. I’ve told Trigg to take one of the young bucks an’ get this bit of fuckin’ muff for us a bit sharpish. Let’s get the bleedin’ show on the road, I say. It’ll be like a celebration, just like the ol’ days in the Cunnyhome when Phil would bring us a couple of his young cock-happy, wannabe porn stars.’
The don was fired up and aching for a quick result, eager to get on with the violent, sexual diversion being discussed with such relish. He was convinced that if he could unload some bull-dust again before Frankie got back, his bollocks would not be so quick to let him down when he was getting rammed into her later in the evening.
Tommy was sick to his stomach. He would be the first to crack open a can and sit back to watch a good “bluey” with some of his mates from the station after a hard day. But he was revolted at what he’d just heard being hatched up by the gangsters, as though the vile plan was of no more portent than locker-room badinage; more so knowing he was to be compelled to watch the depraved animals perform. And way beyond his comprehension was a mentality that could envisage gang-rape, disfigurement and even mutilation, and in the same breath be concerned with having to face a paedophile charge. But by far the most revolting aspect of the situation was a reluctant acknowledgement of a slow, thoroughly unwelcome stirring in his genitals as he listened to them plan their sadistic orgy.
The Supt had heard enough. ‘I don’t think any of the information on my phone will be of any help to you, but I’ll tell you what I can. Just don’t hurt anybody else.’
‘You’ll tell us anyway, copper, eventually,’ Terry threatened. ‘But we’ve got some in-terror-gatin’ to do shortly with another, far more entertainin’ sort of cunt who’ll be here very soon now.’ He chuckled at his lewd pun.
‘What’s the matter with you bloody people? You’ll never get away with this – and with me here as an eye witness. You’re animals, must be mad, certifiable, stark raving bloody insane, the lot of you.’
Terry cracked him around the side of the head again.
‘Yeah, we’re all stark ravin’ mad for it – an’ maybe that’s more like it should be in a red blooded man,’ Freddy said. ‘But she’s gonna have your bleedin’ DNA in her too, if we have to make the little bitch suck it out of you. An’ if you be a real good boy, we might make her swallow your lot. The gossips can’t bad mouth our hospitality round town then, say we made her leave on an empty stomach. If she performs okay she’ll get out of here in one piece, maybe a little bit sore an’ bowlegged, like.’ He chuckled, fiddled with his eye-patch. ‘But she won’t say fuck all what means fuck all to nobody who matters because she’ll be pumped so full of some heavy, grade-one shit, an’ by the time she gets to your boys they won’t give a monkey’s how much bull-dust anybody’s pumped into her hopped-up guts.’
‘Be a good copper an’ give us the pin so we can get into your messages,’ Billy said.
Though quite ready to have his share, he was the least concerned with sex of the three, more anxious to see if this exercise would persuade the Supt to be of use to them in the looming face-off with the Knishovos. And of more importance and something the Old Man and younger brother seemed to have overlooked, was the small matter of the policeman’s ultimate fate.
It suddenly occurred to Tommy the longer the idiots had his phone switched on, the longer it would be traceable. DS Dennis should soon decide he was gone too long and must be in need of assistance. If he could prolong the process, so much the better it would be for him. He did not know positively if Frankie was in the house; and if she were, he did not know if she was aware of his presence. But whatever the case, he hoped she did not try to contact him while the phone was on and the gangsters’ interrogation of him was underway. He opened his phone’s message and voice mail files.
Terry spent some minutes checking for voice and text messages, with nothing to show for his trouble. ‘You gotta be playin’ away, or somethin’, my ol’ son, ’cause there’s sod all on here, not a sausage. Looks like you’ve deleted every bleedin’ thing.’ He opened the address file. ‘God, you have got one helluva so sad fuckin’ life, you sure have – wife, kids, grandkids, sod all of any interest here. Hang on – what we got here. Maybe this number is for your bit of shag, eh? What little dibs you sharing with this DIB then, eh?’ He held the phone in front of Tommy.
‘Detective Inspector Burns, my immediate subordinate on my squad. DI Burns is SIO on the investigation into your firm’s involvement in people smuggling, Field.’
‘An’ this senior investigatin’ officer, I suppose he’s on holiday right now, or at the dentist or somethin’? I thought you lot always went round in twos, case you wet your pants or needed someone to wipe your arse?’
Tommy thought the issue had presented him with a chance to try a bluff. ‘DI Burns is fully aware of my visit here. He will in all probability be on his way even now with back-up, because I should have reported in an hour ago.’
Terry clattered Tommy round the head again. ’I s’pose you think, in all probability, you’re some kind of smart-mouth clever Dick, don’t you, sittin’ here, sayin’ fuck all, tryin’ to make cunts of us all?’ There was a sneer in his voice, but it was tinged with consternation.
‘He’s just tryin’ to bluff us, Tel boy,’ Billy said. ‘A bloke of his rank don’t drive himself around when he’s got some lackey to kiss his arse for him. He’s too embarrassed to bring anyone along case they might see who that cock crazy missus of his is creamin’ her pants over, and more like soakin’ a length up her right now.’
There was a knock at the study door.
‘Yeah?’ shouted Freddy.
Trigg opened it and almost threw a teenage girl into the room. ‘Tasty enough?’ he asked, confident of his successful choice of young pussy. Well minded of Freddy’s warning to keep Tina from disturbing the “meeting”, he turned and shut the door behind him.
‘We’re not to be disturbed,’ shouted Freddy at the door.
‘Tais-teee – look at the lovely firm, round tight bottle on it,’ leered Terry.
The girl’s rich brunette hair hung to the small of her back. Her body glowed with a natural tan and was scarcely covered by a micro-skirt which failed to fully conceal all the cheeks of well rounded buttocks. A thin white vest clung to the soft rosette of her nipples and struggled to hide the bottom of braless breasts. She looked around the room, was quiet, confused and tongue-tied.
‘Fu-ckin’ water melon la-deee!’ Terry chuckled, catching hold of the girl’s arm and putting his knife to her neck. ‘Just look at these knockers.’ He pulled the vest from her. ‘God, I know my Jacqui could do with a tit transplant from this one!’ He grabbed one of the girl’s breasts, roughed his thumb over the nipple.
The girl was too terrified of the knife to struggle, but found sufficient voice to protest. ‘What – what are you going to do to me? Where’s that Brad who invited me? He told me it’s his birthday today and he wanted me to come to a fabulous party here.’ She was near to tears.
‘Now ain’t that – I ask you, lads, ain’t that just like young Brad, eh?’ Freddy said. He was unbuckling his trousers. ‘He’s a proper little ol’ romantic, always getting’ mixed up, that one. What is he like, eh? It’s our birthday, me, him an’ him,’ he pointed to his sons. ‘An’ believe me, darlin’, we are gonna have a fabulous party, an’ I hope you are gonna come, at our party, quite a few fuckin’ times with our help. So just let yourself go, gal, an’ enjoy it like we will. Cos whether you do or not, we sure will, an’ I know you can’t believe your luck, but this bit of prime cory is first up your pretty little muff. An’ don’t try it on with any rubbish like the ol’ rags on shit, darlin’ ’cause, strictly speakin’ for myself, I don’t mind a dip in a bit of the ol’ Technicolor.’ He dropped his trousers and boxer pants.
Tommy was filled with disgust, sick with a feeling of absolute impotence. He could do nothing, with his hands tied securely around the back of the heavy chair. ‘Jesus Christ and God Almighty, I can see where your flaming porn maniac son got his perverted ways from,’ he shouted. ‘No surprise he was found shagging his poor bloody sister so enthusiastically, by all accounts.’
The outburst earned him another hard clout to the side of the head from Terry.
The girl was crying, desperate. But she was unsuccessful in her efforts not to pee herself. Fright had robbed her legs of any strength, and she was prostrate in an office chair. Her skirt, hardly more than a waistband, had been pulled up by Terry to expose the flimsiest of panty-briefs. He spread-eagled her legs in the crudest posture over the chair arms. Paralysed with terror and with the knife still at her throat, she could only watch through her tears while Freddy made his move on her.
‘If I could be certain she was a virgin, lads, I’d love to kiss the fluffy little thing first, but I think I’ll give her a bellyful of brothers or sisters for you an’ cut out all the ol’ romance an’ foreplay, boys.’ He wrenched the gusset of sodden panty away from her crotch, and with a grunt, he rammed his stiffened penis into her with one lunge. The brute energy of his rough intrusion lifted her in the chair. He grunted and jerked as the ramrod of his stiffened flesh bombarded the guardian of her virginity. And then he almost fell on her as his lunge ripped through and beyond her ravaged hymen. ‘Can’t think of a better place to bury a bit of grief than in a tight little cunt, eh, boys?’
She screamed with the pain and choked on her fear, her body still rigid with the threat of the knife at her throat. The emotional conflict between her fear, agony and shame was pitiful.
Freddy leaned over her and heaved and humped, panting, puffing. He clawed at her breasts. ‘Fuck me, I was gonna say this is better than sex,’ he shouted, and his laugh was crazed. ‘It’s unbelievable when it’s so tight an’ bone bleedin’ dry – an’ I reckon she ain’t never had a shag with a full, man-size knob right up her before, lads, here, look.’ He withdrew and brandished his blood soaked genitals. He turned round to re-enter her, but could only gasp and fumble feverishly in his impatience to re-enter the girl’s fear-tightened vagina. He suddenly jerked wildly, his frenzy worsened. He let out a roar and then an embarrassed, whimpering squeal as rapid eruptions of his semen drenched her crotch. Freddy collapsed to his knees.
‘You mindless cretin, you evil son of a fucking bitch,’ Tommy shouted.
It earned him another crack on the side of the head.
‘Fuckin’ hell, Dad,’ Terry said. ‘Did you have to sticky the wicket up when we’ve still got to bat on it? That’s what you might call a right bleedin’ mess.’ He laughed.
‘Don’t none of you dare say a fuckin’ word about this,’ Freddy said, wiping his groin with a tissue. ‘Useless little bastard bitch of a whore.’ He looked murderously at the girl, still spread-eagled grotesquely in the chair, the film of ginger pubic hair around her crotch saturated with her blood and Freddy’s semen. Terry moved away from her but she remained rigid, petrified in trauma.
Freddy picked up the house phone. ‘Trigg, get me Pavli here, now, an’ remember, we ain’t to be disturbed for nothin’ – for nothin’, less it’s the Russki bastards, for at least an hour. Right?’
‘Jesus, Dad, what the bleedin’ hell do you want to bring the poor little bugger in here for?’ Billy asked.
‘I’ll show the cheeky little bitch what happens when you mess Freddy Field about. She ain’t gonna forget this party in a fuckin’ hurry, an’ it’s about time young Pavli had him a bit of some real beaver what he’s waited for so long.’
Terry opened the door and Trigg ushered in a strapping adolescent boy who displayed signs of being afflicted with learning disability.
Freddy said, ‘Pavli’s one of my Lovely Lady’s lame dogs, copper; came over here with his Romanian parents in the nineties, got orphaned. He keeps the vehicles clean an’ odd jobs around for us, an’ got himself a nice little room over the stables. An’ the beauty is, he can’t say a bleedin’ word, so he never answers me back, not like my tribe. But I reckon he gets pretty lonely, so now you’ll see how good I can be to them as looks after me.’
He took the cream jug from the coffee tray, poured its contents over the girl’s abdomen, breasts and genitals and then sprinkled the cream liberally with Demerara sugar.
‘Clean her up, Pavli, good boy, clean up Mister Freddy’s mess.’
‘Way to go, Dad – you can have my share, Pavli, baby. Go boy,’ Terry said.
Pavli nodded at Freddy, looked at the girl’s crotch and then back at Freddy with pleading in his eyes. He raised a hand and made a motion as if wiping something.
‘No cloth, Pavli boy, just use this Pavli, it’s like sweeties, boy, just like sweeties.’ Freddy poked his tongue out and pointed to it, then to the girl. ‘Better than your pictures, now, boy. Clean it good an’ you will find some real meaty red beaver, like you see in Phil’s films, yeah? Take your beaver cleaver out, though, Pavli, she’ll feel better if she can see your beaver cleaver gettin’ hard an’ ready to spit out them little lovely little tadpoles.’
The boy looked at the other men in the room and back at Freddy for confirmation, and then unzipped his shorts. He pulled out all his genitals, which consisted in the main of very large testes, and walked around to the girl’s chair. He kneeled down and felt at the carpet where drops of her urine had dampened it. His fascinated gaze made its way up her legs and focussed on her cream smothered crotch. He looked back at Freddy, who nodded excitedly, and then he nuzzled into her genitals, slobbering as he sniffed and lapped at the mixture of cream, sugar and combination of body fluids. His tongue, thick, wide and long, raked her skin as it cleaned away the unsightly mess from her crotch and belly. He straightened up, panted, sniffed and licked up towards her breasts. His thick stub of circumcised flesh awoke from its relative obscurity against his scrotum and swelled quickly. It was not so much erect as inflated, and it throbbed excitedly as he licked his way up her body.
With his lips glued to one of the girl’s nipples, Pavli got hold of his hard-on and started to masturbate with an enthusiastic vigour.
‘No, Pavli, no!’ Terry was ahead of the game. He pulled Pavli’s hand away and grabbed the girl’s arm. He put the knife to her neck again. ‘Down, bitch, get down there now on your fuckin’ hands and knees.’
‘God Almighty,’ cried Tommy, ‘You’re fucking animals, all of you. Is there not one of you has any bloody shame or pity?’
‘Leave the soft cunt be, Terry,’ Freddy growled. ‘You better got over yourself, wind your neck in copper, I want you to see every minute of this show.’
Freddy was caught up in a sexual frenzy, a man possessed. ‘You can do it to the bitch like Phil does, Pavli, do the pretty bitch like Jaws when we put him to a bitch. C’mon now boy, this pretty bitch really wants your cherry, boy. She really wants you to let her have as many of your tadpoles as you can squirt up inside her.
Pavli approached and mounted the girl from her rear. His arms clamped her waist in a vice-lock. He almost buried her under his bulk. He moaned, whined, wriggled and slobbered, hutched his groin into her buttocks; his thick, stiff club of a penis battered her vulva, dry again and shut tight with fear. He growled and whimpered, searching frenetically for an entry. His inexperience was as obvious as his eagerness.
‘C’mon, boy, here you are boy; let Daddy give you two young lovers some help.’
Freddy bent down and engaged the boy’s penis between the lips of the girl’s vulva and forced it into the grudging embrace of the mouth of her vagina.
Pavli squealed and jumped, excited by the sudden success of his attempts at entry. With another lunge, the thick stump of flesh disappeared into her. He shunted the girl around the floor, growling and whimpering, grinding into her in a frenzied effort to unload his seed. He froze and shuddered, gave half a dozen violent jerks and then pulled out and dropped off the girl. He looked at Freddy for guidance.
The don winked, pointed to the girl’s bottom and put his tongue out again.
Pauli’s great tongue rolled out of his mouth. He lapped her buttocks, her genitals and then he nuzzled deep into her buttocks again, his huge tongue raking her from her clitoris to her anus, cooling and bathing her bruised private parts with his saliva. Pavli was the primitive alpha-male, asserting a triumphal claim to his latest subjugation. He stood up, put his penis away.
The girl rolled into a foetal ball and sobbed bitterly.
‘That’s a prize-winnin’ half-wit just covered you good an’ proper, girl, an’ I ain’t gonna charge you a brass farthin’ for it!’ Freddy roared with laughter at his sick joke. ‘So you can go tell your friends you got your maidenhead bust with your first ever shag with Freddy Field, an’ your party finished with a doggy-bang an’ a gutful of idiot seed. I guess you ain’t never gonna be able to forget this party, no how. An’ remember, I wanna pick of the litter.’ He laughed, but there was no mirth in the sound. Then he turned to Terry. ‘Got the needleful of shit ready to use, boy?’
Terry showed him the hypodermic syringe.
‘Don’t forget to save some for him.’ Freddy pointed to Tommy. ‘You can put him back in the old wing. We’ll keep him on ice, out of harm’s way for a bit.’ Then, ‘Get Pavli to hose her down round the back, douse her twat down well of course, an’ then someone can dump the bitch in a ditch well out of town. She can sleep the party off an’ think herself lucky she is still alive!’ He had a sudden afterthought. ‘Fuck it, no, cancel that. While we still got the time an’ opportunity, we’ll get her over to the club an’ keep her dosed up in one of the rooms there. The girls can amuse themselves with her; break her in for business nice an’ easy with some of their girlie toys. An’ then, when she’s hooked an’ don’t know whether she wants a needle, a knob, or both, she can make a start payin’ us back for our kindness an’ hospitality at the Cunnyhome.’ He smiled contentedly. ‘An’ if she’s gonna have this one’s pup,’ he pointed to Pavli, ‘So much the better – nothin’ like a hump with a bump – specially a young bitch.’
Terry nodded, administered the drug to the girl. He moved over to Tommy.
The Supt was exhausted and nearly as traumatised as the girl. The horror he had just witnessed while unable to do anything to prevent or intervene in the obscene display had taken its toll of his emotions. All he could do was pray to God the girl was no carrier of any of the dread, modern-day diseases if he were to share the needle. With the picture of Pavli carrying the girl out over his shoulder, and the eerie sound of the call-tone of his cell phone piercing the room, Tommy faded into his own world of make believe almost immediately after the shot of heroin.
Billy checked the call on Tommy’s phone. He read out the text message.
“ACKNOWLEDGE DI BURNS NOW IN DEEP COVER ON FIELD CASE. FRANKIE SAYS U R INCOMMUNICADO. THIS SITUATION NEEDS EXPLANATION.” The text call was from DS Dennis.
‘Looks like I was right, Dad. The bleedin’ copper was tryin’ to bluff us.’ Billy looked at his father, but his mind was busy contemplating the portent of the message. ‘What did you say Carla’s mate Blondie – Francesca, what did she say her surname was, Dad? And how long did she say she has known Carla?’
A moment’s reflection on the two questions and Freddy was left with a stunned expression on a face drained of colour. He could not muster a response, was unable to curse or swear.
They both knew the questions were rhetorical.
‘Where is she now, Dad?’
Freddy stopped himself blurting out the answer on the tip of his tongue, which had been on his mind since she had left. It would hardly be apt for him to admit he had let her go to get her birth control pills to enable a bareback sex vigil with him. A good shag with an unknown, tasty little slag off the street was “way to go”, but to have been trying to arrange a clandestine shag with his daughter’s supposed friend would not go down well with either remaining son.
‘Fuckin’ hell, boy, I’m losin’ it – the little bitch pulled the wool over my eyes big time.’ He fiddled with his eye-patch, looked long and hard at Billy. ‘You twigged the little bitch straight away, Billy, you got her well sussed. An’ it’s gettin’ like you don’t need me around no more, you’re on top of the game now, miles ahead of me. Are you on somethin’, or off it now, what’s goin’ on, Billy boy? What the hell’s happened to the ol’ Billy over the last few days?’
‘Like you said, Dad, time for you to move over. Reckon I just thought time to wake up, or somethin’. Never felt like my opinions mattered none to anybody, you especially, Dad, most of the time. It was much easier playin’ the daft bastard, with the family, on the street. What with Phil’s looks, an’ Tel’s get-up-an’-go, I couldn’t see no room for me. Reckon we all couldn’t have been more wrong now, eh?’
‘Hmmm,’ Freddy nodded. ‘What are we gonna do about this copper bitch, Billy?’
‘Play the little cow at her at her own game for time bein’, Dad. Pity we didn’t have her here when Pavli was performin’ for us – that would’ve been real tasty. But we say nothin’. She can’t do no harm at the moment, an’ it could be a bit of fun.’
Freddy breathed an inward sigh of relief. His shenanigans with the girl must never get out. She must be eliminated, eventually, quickly and in a manner that ensures no family repercussions. He would do it himself, with the greatest pleasure. But he would do it when he had filled her gut with bull-dust and not a second before. ‘You’re right, Billy boy, dead right.’
*
Frankie eased the Clio quietly to a halt on the drive and watched two men from the cover of the trunk of an oak tree. One of them, an adolescent with the look of a simpleton, carried the limp body of a scantily clad girl slung over his shoulder. They walked across the lawn and down the slope towards a Jeep parked by the guest lodge. Her instinct was to jump out and run to find out what the hell they were doing with the girl. Her decision was to sit tight and keep to her game plan. It was imperative to find out what was happening to her boss. She drove slowly around to where the garages were situated, at the rear of the house, in the stable yard. She pulled the car beneath the roof of the open barn. If she could get into the conservatory at the side of the house, she might just get upstairs to Carla without being discovered.
Lady luck did not appear to be on her side. Passing the kitchen, she walked straight into the arms of Trigg.
‘Are you lost, Blondie?’
‘I was looking for Mr Freddy,’ she said coyly.
‘He don’t wanna be disturbed right now, but I’ll let him know you’re back when he’s finished in his meetin’, gal.’
‘Thank you very much, kind sir,’ she said. Frankie nearly whooped with joy at the surprising slice of good fortune. She squeezed Trigg’s arm, gave him a beguiling smile and headed for the staircase.
‘Come in.’
Frankie opened the door and walked into Carla’s bedroom with her overnight bag.
‘Is everything alright dear?’ asked Tina Field, looking at the bag.
Frankie nodded assent, ‘I’m fine, Mrs Field. Mr Field did say earlier I could stay and keep Carla company for a day or two, for my own safety. That’s if you can sort me out with a room.’ she said and leaned over to kiss Carla on the cheek. ‘Are you alright, baby?’ she asked the injured girl.
‘Do you think I can leave you with Carla for just a few minutes, dear? I do have one or two things to attend to.’ Tina walked out of the bedroom.
‘There’s plenty of room for two of us, you must stay here with me,’ pouted Carla.
‘But I might do some damage to your injured shoulder when I’m asleep.’
‘Now did I say anything about you getting any sleep, Foxy Lady?’ She pulled back the cover and put a hand on her groin. ‘Pussy has not stopped pining since you left her early this morning, lover. Look – see, she’s nearly biting my fingers off.’
Frankie suddenly realised what a bloody mess she must have made of Freddy’s head with her tricks and teasing. She looked at Carla’s moist genitals, and as the lusty scent of arousal reached her nostrils she could feel hers beginning to blossom. This witch of a gangster’s daughter could exert the same power over her as she did the bitch’s father. God, how she wanted to bury her face between those beautiful thighs, to just lose it all in a flood of explosive passion, too exhilarating for words, coaxed out by the horny sex-witch’s exhilarating brand of cunnilingus. But it was clear the hypnotic spell of erotic desire Carla cast had to be fought and denied, for now, if it couldn’t be completely broken. Waver again and there would be no hope of helping to get Tommy freed and out of danger. She threw the spread back to cover the most tempting half of Carla’s body. ‘Be careful, lover, and please be patient. Your mother will be back any second now.’
‘Put the catch on the door and come back over here to feel what Carla’s got under here for you, Foxy,’ she gasped.
The glaze on Carla’s eyes and the movement under the cover were clear evidence of the girl’s frantic masturbation.
She squealed, ‘Pussy will chew little Carla’s leg off now if she doesn’t get some hot tongue loving, Foxy, and I know you want some of mine, too.’ She poked out her tongue, it stabbed in and out of her pouting lips rapidly.
‘We’re going to do no such thing,’ whispered Frankie sternly, aware the bedroom door might open any moment. ‘Now behave yourself – you’re Mama at the moment, and you know Mama does exactly as Daddy says, or Mama’s pussy doesn’t get any more of my tongue treats when it’s time to play. I will be back to see you when everyone is asleep – you’ll have to keep it warm for me till then.’
Tina tapped the door and breezed into the room. ‘I have had a quick word with my husband, dear, he confirms he suggested you should stay for Carla’s sake. And I have decided you are to have the empty suite down at the end of the hall. Mr Field and I will be able to rest assured if you are in the room opposite ours, I’m sure. It is the best of the single guest rooms. I’ll just show you to it and then you can get settled in. We have dinner at seven, and please don’t worry about formal dress.’
Frankie thanked Tina Field and closed the door. She could not for the life of her understand how the hell such a wonderfully charming woman could be espoused to an animal like Freddy Field. ‘Oh, well, nowt so queer as folk, they do say,’ she mumbled to herself.
She kicked off her sling-back sandals, buried her toes in the luxuriant, creamy pile of the carpet and threw the overnight bag onto the enormous, custom-made bed. It was probably half as big again as a king-size one and the sheets were a sea of pink silk. An absurd area of the wall opposite the bed was hidden by the largest HD, plasma TV screen that Frankie had seen. At the end of the room was an alcove, leading into a separate dressing room and en-suite toilet facilities. The latter contained the inevitable bidet, an enormous floor-level bath and a walk-in shower. Like the bedroom Carla was recovering in, everything in it added up to five star luxury.
There was no time to be wasted sitting wondering when Freddy Field would make his move on her. The proximity of her room to the master bedroom guaranteed a visit from him after nightfall. His wife would by then probably be deep in the arms of Morpheus, assisted by the obligatory sleeping pill, seemingly indispensable to the middle-class female’s slumber regime. Frankie checked the lock catch on the door, made sure it was not one that could be opened from the outside. Now mentally back in full DI mode she searched the room thoroughly for any sign of concealed or disguised micro CCTV surveillance cameras.
Frankie looked wistfully at Tommy’s Mas G-1 automatic pistol. If fitted with the silencer sleeve, its length would prohibit any possibility she could keep it with her, certainly not in her small shoulder bag. But to execute her plan without hitch and in the event of resorting to using the gun, gunshots would be certain to raise the rest of the household. And she did not want to risk her life on the chances of hastily fitting the sleeve with success. She would ready the weapon and conceal it where it would be most handy, beneath the bed, hidden by the valance. As she screwed the sleeve on, a smile spread her lips as she imagined the look of surprise on Freddy Field’s face when his teeth were rattling on the muzzle of cold metal. The gun safely ensconced, she went into the en-suite and refreshed her contact lenses. As she refitted them she still found it hard to believe she was the image in the mirror.
Before going down to dinner, Frankie decided to risk a check on her cell phone for messages and voice-mail. Her jaw dropped as she read the text message from DS Dennis. The arrogant, brown-nosed fool had blatantly disobeyed her orders and tried to contact Det Supt Cowper, implicating her in the process.
The Fields had Tommy’s phone. With the knowledge there was an undercover female officer on the case it had to be accepted they might by now have worked out her identity. Did the gatemen know when she returned, have a good laugh while they let her drive into the spider’s web? Did the lanky hood she met by the kitchen know? Did everyone in the Field house know? She sat on the side of the bed, stunned. If she rang now to sanction a raid on the house by a tactical assault team, the Fields would make certain both she and Tommy perished in the inevitable firefight. The elimination of two such witnesses would be a priority.
Frankie’s meditation was ended by a knock on the bedroom door. It was Tina with a call to the dining room.
The DI stood up, shook herself and straightened the long, white rah-rah skirt she had chosen to wear. ‘Just a minute,’ she shouted. She crossed to the dressing room, switched off the lights and stood, legs spread, in front of the mirror. ‘Yes, yesss,’ she said to herself. The bedroom lights behind her shone through the thin material of her skirt, illuminating every outline of her shapely legs, from calf to crotch. She felt confident. Even if Freddy did know her identity, at such a flagrant signal he would be sufficiently inflamed to grant her reprieve until he had satisfied his ego and his lust. But it would have to be an Oscar winning performance, and she was determined he would be consumed with desire before the evening was through.