‘It’s a rape club,’ Blenkinsop told Heck. ‘The Nice Guys are a criminal gang who organise rapes for money.’
They were facing each other across a table in the crowded back room of a Covent Garden pub. Both were sallow-faced and nursing treble-whiskies.
‘Say that again,’ Heck whispered.
Blenkinsop, globs of sweat clinging to his brow, stammered out everything he knew: about how the Nice Guys first made contact with him; about how he’d paid them to procure Louise Jennings for him; about how he’d then raped her while she’d lain unconscious. Heck had paled to a deathly milk-grey by the time the story was finished.
‘And afterwards? What happened then?’
‘They killed her.’ Blenkinsop took a long slurp of whisky, his eyes downcast. ‘Put a wire round her neck … and garrotted her with it.’
Heck paled even more. ‘You witnessed this?’
‘God forgive me … yes.’
‘And you didn’t do anything?’
Blenkinsop’s gaze flirted up. ‘Are you kidding? You haven’t seen these fellas. I was fucking terrified …’
Heck leaned quickly forward. ‘Well … the law may understand that. But it’s not going to understand why you didn’t go straight to the police afterwards, you stupid fuck!’
‘After what I’d just done? I was as much part of it as they were!’
‘Are you genuinely telling me this is their full-time business?’
Blenkinsop shrugged, helpless. ‘I assume so … it must be. They’re totally professional. I mean, everything about them … they had masks on, so I never saw faces. They were so organised. They give you this guarantee beforehand that nothing’s going to come back to you, that you’ll never hear about the incident again …’
‘What … you thought they’d pay her off, or something?’ Heck said scornfully.
By the expression on the banker’s face, this was exactly what he’d thought.
Heck shook his head. ‘You seriously believed a professional woman like Louise Jennings could get kidnapped and raped and never mention it to anyone just because she’d been bribed to keep her mouth shut? Can you just buy anything in your world, Ian? What did you think, that you’d see Louise every day at work afterwards and she’d never bat an eyelid because the Nice Guys had made it worth her while? Are you bloody stupid, or what!’
‘I don’t know what I thought … maybe something like that, maybe that they’d put the fear of God into her, maybe a bit of both. It’s carrot and stick, isn’t it? That’s the way you get people to comply. Look, whatever … they guarantee it won’t mess your life up, and they’re so efficient you believe them!’
‘Mess your life up?’ Heck had to struggle to regain his breath. ‘Jesus Christ, I’ve come across some things in this job … I don’t know what sickens me more, the fact that they actually do it, or that there are enough callous bastards out there like you for them to make it pay!’
‘Look,’ Blenkinsop pleaded. ‘I genuinely didn’t think it would end like that. I feel terrible about it.’
‘Some consolation that’ll be to the Jennings family.’
‘I’m an idiot, I accept that.’ Blenkinsop swilled more whisky. ‘But I’m not evil. Look … when I first saw their website, I didn’t even think they were serious. I got in touch with them to see if it was real, and then it was just too late to stop.’
‘It’s never too late to stop.’
‘I lost control, alright? Look … I really, really fancied Louise. I knew I wouldn’t have a chance to get near her any other way. So I did it. Okay, I didn’t think about her or the consequences, and I know that’s wrong, but I just had to fucking have her …’
‘That’s going to sound great in court, Ian. You’re really going to win the judge over with that argument.’
Blenkinsop hung his head. ‘I just … I just want things to be back to normal again, back the way they were before.’
‘The way they were before?’ Of all the things Heck had heard today, this was the peach. ‘Ian, we’re talking kidnap, rape and murder here! So that’s three life sentences you’re facing before we even consider the other women!’
Blenkinsop’s mouth dropped open. ‘The other women? But I didn’t have anything to do with those.’
‘Not taking action to shop these men makes you their accomplice.’
‘That’s insane.’
‘That’s the law.’
‘I … but I …’ Blenkinsop looked as if he was going to be sick; he frantically drained his glass. ‘Some kind of witness protection, or … if I testify. I mean, I can’t face …’
‘The only way we can even contemplate that is if you give me something concrete I can use against the Nice Guys.’
‘I’ve told you all I know.’
This was at least partly true. Heck knew that Blenkinsop’s use as a material witness would be limited, even though he’d been present at one of the murders. The same applied to all the others whose personal files resided in that filing cabinet in Deke’s house. Every one of them would have been subjected to the same blindfold treatment.
‘How the hell did they get in touch with you in the first place?’
‘I told you … they dropped me a card.’
‘What, they just pulled your name off a list of porn subscribers? At random? Sounds a bit risky.’
‘Not any old list. Somehow or other they know I’ve got money.’
Heck leaned forward again. ‘It isn’t just about the money, you prat! Not every rich man will indulge in a spot of sexual homicide if he thinks he can get away with it. The Nice Guys will realise that even if you don’t.’
Blenkinsop shook his head. ‘You’ve got me so wrong …’
‘They didn’t, did they!’ Heck’s thoughts were racing. ‘They must pick their prospective clients carefully. There must be something that drew their attention specifically to you.’
‘I don’t know …’ Blenkinsop’s brow creased as he pondered. ‘There’s … there’s one possible thing. Only occurred to me this morning. I mean, it’s a long shot …’
‘Go on.’
‘I go abroad a lot. For the bank, you know.’
‘Okay.’
‘All over the Middle East and North Africa. I’m a director in structured commodity finance. I have to tap up some pretty important people.’
‘Very impressive. And what else do you get up to over there? Come on, Ian, you’re obviously dying to tell me …’
Blenkinsop mopped fresh sweat from his brow. If it was possible, he looked even more embarrassed than he had when admitting his involvement in a rape-murder. ‘There are all kinds of services you can obtain in those countries which are not … well, not widely available over here.’
‘And what’s your preference, I wonder?’
‘I like a bit of the rough stuff.’
‘Well, we’ve already established that, haven’t we? You’re a fucking rapist.’
‘No!’ Blenkinsop half-shouted. ‘No, it’s not rape … not over there. It’s consensual. They get paid for it.’
‘Yeah … probably in peanuts.’
‘That’s not my fault. It’s their living, and it’s their choice.’
‘And are any of these girls actually old enough to have made this choice responsibly?’
‘Some of them, yeah.’
‘Some of them!’
‘Look …’ Blenkinsop pointed a shaking finger. ‘I didn’t create the culture of corruption they have in these countries. You know what the Third World sex game’s like. Some girls look older than they are. Some look younger. No one cares about it. No one ever asks. I didn’t either.’
‘You’re a real stand-up bloke, Ian. I can’t imagine why the Nice Guys homed in on you. Course … none of this explains how they knew about these predilections of yours, does it?’
Blenkinsop pawed at his sweaty brow. ‘I was thinking … the Nice Guys … they’re so competent, so organised. I could be wrong, but … there’s something a bit military about them.’
‘And?’
‘Well, whenever we go abroad … I mean on company business, we use security consultants to put us in touch with bodyguards over there. We have to. Some of these places are pretty dangerous, you need escorting everywhere.’
‘Bodyguards?’ Heck said slowly.
‘Mercenaries … for want of a better term.’
‘Or for want of an even better one, sex-slavers. Is that what you’re saying?’
‘Not all are like that,’ Blenkinsop replied. ‘Some are totally legit … but there are others who are … well, to be frank, are into all sorts. Drugs smuggling, arms dealing …’
‘Human trafficking,’ Heck added. ‘Or was that just the firm you were using?’ Blenkinsop hung his head again. ‘Tell me about them, Ian. Everything.’
‘I don’t know too much. I first met them while I was over there …’
‘Friends of friends, eh?’
‘Hardly friends.’
‘What a pity you’ve only realised that now.’ Heck laced his fingers tightly; despite his playing the heavy, he finally felt they were getting somewhere. ‘When did they first introduce you to this … other business of theirs?’
‘About four years ago. At the end of a night out. We were all drunk. I asked them to take me to a brothel. They laughed and asked what kind of brothel? We took it from there.’
‘And you trusted them? Just like that?’
‘Sure. They were British.’
‘British.’
‘Well, some of them. The ones I spoke to. But there were others who sounded foreign, I suppose: American, French, Russian …’
‘What else do you remember about them?’
‘Like I say … gave the impression they were ex-military. They’d have to be, working over there in security. Probably ex-special forces. Real tough bastards.’
‘Any names?’
‘Only the boss. Mike Silver. “Mad Mike Silver”, they used to call him. I thought it was a joke, Jesus.’
‘Most likely that name’s bogus,’ Heck said. ‘Description?’
Blenkinsop fingered his damp collar as he tried to cast his mind back. ‘Again, British. War veteran almost certainly – that steely demeanour, you know. Mid-thirties, I’d say. Average height. Well built. Well-spoken too. Possibly a former officer. Dark hair, but prematurely greying. Walked with a cane. Said he’d been wounded in action.’
‘What’s the total strength of this outfit?’
‘I don’t know.’ Blenkinsop was now looking tired as well as drunk. ‘I only usually saw a couple of them at any time, and it was always too dark to memorise faces. Look, what’s the point in this? They’re over in the Gulf. If you’re going to trace these fellas, surely you’ll have to go through foreign agencies?’
‘That can come later. At present, our priority is the cell that’s operating here.’
‘But it can’t be the same people. Why would it be? Over there they’re safe. They can do what they want. Look … at worst, all they’ll have done is sell my name and details to someone else.’
‘At worst?’ Heck’s disbelieving eyes bored into him. ‘At worst, Ian, they could have come home. At worst, they could now be running their very lucrative operation in the UK … except that over here they can’t just buy the victims off, with peanuts or anything else. And they’ve got another problem … over here they’ve found this rather big fly in their ointment. A fly who works in structured commodity finance at a City investment bank. A fly they’re going to have to squish rather quickly.’
Blenkinsop looked faint with fear, but still shook his head. ‘This is pure supposition. You’ve got no evidence that Silver and his team are behind the Nice Guys.’
Heck thought hard. It was true – there was no firm evidence. But Deke, with his Scorpion Company background, was surely more than just a coincidence. It would also explain how such a firm could operate in London and yet evade the radar of a local gangster like Bobby Ballamara. It would explain the commando-like precision with which the abductions had been executed, the Swiss bank account Blenkinsop had mentioned – that was always a sign you were dealing with someone a little more sophisticated than the average British hoodlum.
Of course, the thought that he was dealing with mercenaries here – ruthless and experienced killers with a vested interest in snuffing out the opposition – was more than a little bit scary. Knowing there was a whole bunch on their tail, the danger level felt as if it had risen exponentially. And he hardly dared think what was happening to Lauren at this moment.
‘You were once their customer,’ Heck said. ‘There must be some way for you to make contact with them.’
‘I tried,’ Blenkinsop sighed. ‘But their website no longer exists. At least, I couldn’t find it again.’
Heck sat upright, struck by a sudden thought. ‘Which computer did you use?’
‘My PC at home.’
‘Have you still got it?’
Blenkinsop nodded.
Heck finished his drink. ‘That’s the way we get them.’
‘I told you, the website’s gone.’
‘It won’t be gone. They’ve just concealed it.’
‘It could be being operated from anywhere.’
‘They sent you a couple of emails as well, didn’t they?’
‘Those addresses are defunct too. Anyway, I deleted everything.’
‘There’ll still be electronic traces left on your hard drive somewhere.’ Heck stood up. ‘We’ve got people who can retrieve them. Come on, we’re going to your house.’
Blenkinsop seemed reluctant to move. ‘Shouldn’t we get some back-up first?’
‘I’m afraid that’s impossible.’
‘For Christ’s sake, why?’
‘Believe it or not, the Nice Guys have someone inside my department. I don’t know who, but as soon as he learns we’re onto them, they’ll disappear for good.’
‘So all I’ve got is you?’ Blenkinsop sounded incredulous. ‘I mean … you alone?’
‘Thank your lucky stars. It’s more than you had two hours ago.’
Blenkinsop shook his head. ‘I’m going nowhere. I’m staying here.’
‘Really?’
‘You want to go to my house, which, if they’re as motivated as you say, they’ll probably be watching …?’ Blenkinsop dropped a front door key onto the table. ‘You’re welcome to it. But I’m not. I’m staying here and having another drink. No one’s going to try anything with me in here.’
There was a taut silence, before Heck swept down across the table, yanking him up by his lapels so hard that glasses flew everywhere. Blenkinsop gasped as Heck forced him back against the wall, constricting his throat.
‘Maybe I’ll try something with you!’ Heck hissed. ‘You self-obsessed wanker! My friend has been kidnapped by these people. God knows what they’re doing to her. And you think you’re going to sit here and get wasted? As far as I’m concerned, Blenkinsop, you are rapist scum, no better than the criminal psychopaths who set this operation up. And you can be damn sure that when these killers go down, you’ll be going down with them – maybe to the same prison, maybe to the same cell!’
‘Please …’ Blenkinsop was pouring with sweat.
‘The only chance you’ve got of avoiding that fate is by cooperating with this investigation as fully as possible!’ Heck snarled. ‘Starting now!’