The door opened and a tall, slim, Slavic-looking girl with short, brown hair entered. She had enormous blue eyes. She was wearing a towelling dressing gown and she smiled nervously at Hanlon. She probably thinks I’m a client, thought Hanlon sadly. Campion indicated a chair and the girl sat down.
‘Tell this lady about Arkady Belanov,’ said Campion. The girl’s eyes widened slightly. ‘Actually,’ Campion added, ‘show her what Arkady likes to do.’
Tatiana stood up and shrugged off the dressing gown. Under- neath she was wearing a Minnie Mouse T-shirt and a pair of girl-boxer shorts. She turned her back on Hanlon and pulled up the material of her underwear. She put a hand on her glutes and lifted. The skin there in the crease below each buttock, which would normally be unseen, was a mass of angry scar tissue, a semi-circular crescent of former agony and perpetual humiliation. Hanlon leaned forward and examined the scarring. It wasn’t from cuts, it was burns, probably from a blowtorch. It was also, in its strategic placing, ingeniously placed to cause pain and discomfort long afterwards. It would have taken forever to heal. No air could really get to it. And for a working girl like Tatiana, the bulk of her clients would never see it. Unless, of course, they wanted to. Unless, of course, it was the kind of thing that excited them. And every time she lay on her back to please them, the friction would have been utterly agonizing.
I think I can have a fair guess as to the character of Arkady, thought Hanlon.
‘Fire-play, it’s called,’ said Campion dispassionately. ‘OK, darling, you can get dressed now.’
‘He likes this,’ Tatiana said. ‘He likes very much.’
‘What else does he like?’ said Hanlon. Tatiana looked confused.
‘Why do you want to know?’
‘I think,’ said Campion, ‘I think she would very much like to meet him.’
‘Are you crazy woman?’ demanded Tatiana. ‘No,’ said Hanlon evenly.
That’s a matter of opinion, thought Campion. Then she spoke to Tatiana. ‘Tell her where the house is, tell her how to get inside, tell her how to get to meet Arkady.’
Tatiana looked at Hanlon fearfully. ‘If he knows I spoke with you he will kill me. This,’ she indicated her backside, ‘was just for fun.’
‘If you don’t help,’ said Hanlon, ‘I’ll find him anyway and I’ll tell him where he can find you.’ She spoke very quietly. Her face was half in shadow, her black eye partially obscured by some unruly curls of her thick dark hair. One grey eye gleamed menacingly at the Russian girl.
‘Tell her what she wants,’ said Campion warningly.
Tatiana looked at Hanlon with utter disgust. ‘You are not crazy, you are bitch.’
‘I’m waiting,’ said Hanlon. Tatiana sat upright in her chair, as if she were at school, and told Hanlon what she needed to know.