CC licence Source from Wikipedia
---WARNING - ADULT CONTENT---
Part Three - Rotten to the Core
Terry walked down the cavernous hallway, past the security and into the walnut panelled inner sanctum. Misty light diffused through smoked glass cast feral shadows down the hallway. The quiet business of government infused the place. If only all those sheeple outside knew what goes on in here. The hum of whispered conversations hung heavy in the air, hundreds of years of plotting, the stink of true power – privilege.
He continued down the never-ending hallway, gilt brocade chairs lined the walls every twenty feet, each one of them worth a month’s salary. Gold cladding, bunches of grapes, elegant framed gantries of arching sparkling stone, a veneer of splendour to cover the rot at the core. He reached the door, a heavy brass knocker shaped in the head of a lion stared at him quizzically. He knocked, waited and then heard the clipped call from within, “Come.”
The room was like something from a middle-managers wet dream. A giant William IV Period Partners desk stood in the centre of the room, drawing the eye and commanding respect. Rich mahogany contrasted with the three rather plain green leather upholstered chairs, lined up in front like supplicants waiting for judgment. A clerk stood in front of the desk, Dictaphone in hand as the desk’s occupant finished his narration.
“Ok Steven. So you’ve got that, yes?” The clerk nodded, swallowing and bobbing his head.
“I think so..”
“Don’t think, Steven… Do! Remember, we spoke about this.” Spectacles rose up his nose to those thin eyebrows as he clasped the desk, knuckles whitening. “You have it all recorded, so review and edit out the chatter. I look forward to your report on my desk tomorrow. Remember, the focus is on what we have achieved, not where we have fallen short, ok? Perception Steven, paint me a picture.”
He looked away from the clerk, dismissing him from existence like an afterthought. The clerk shuffled out of the room.
“Ah, detective inspector Terrance Marshall. I wondered when you would stop by, come and have a seat.”
A rare honour, this Prick liked to make people stand. I’m part of it all now though, they had me right where they wanted me. He always calls me Terrance as well, I can’t stand my given. Everyone calls me Terry.
Terry walked over to the chair and sat down heavily. “I know what you’re going to say. We’re running an operation later today which will kill two birds with one stone.”
“Really, that is good news. But what birds are you talking about Terrance?” He leaned forward over the desk, eyes hard like glass, sharp when shattered. “Because it seems to me inspector that you’re not keeping up your side of the bargain. I would hate to have to go riffling through my library of pictures.”
“There’s no need.” Terry looked away. The tapestry adorning the far wall. Crows circled a pile of soldiers, withering in the sun while a knight raised his sword to the heavens as the clouds parted. “We’re progressing on shifting the drugs on to the streets—“
“What about the girl?” He interrupted. “There is a party tonight and the others in the group want to know who/what/when, all the small details.”
“It will be arranged, Sir. The same as last time, a girl called Anita.” Terry ground his teeth, as the MP stared right through him.
“Very well. Have her delivered to the second of the Park Row properties at 8 pm. I’ll take it from there. Thank you inspector. You can tell me the details on the… bust later when we meet.”
The MP looked down at the papers on his desk, picked up a fountain pen and began to write.
“Erm… what about the traitor, Sir?”
He looked up from the desk, eyes hard again. “Details, inspector! We’ll talk details later. For fuck sake this is parliament after all. Have a little respect.” He smiled crookedly as Terry turned and left, dismissed until the appointed time.
“D’you still get that punter coming around Keeli.” She looked up at Keeli – real name Jenny – and blew out a spout of smoke at the autumn wind.
“Which punter ya speakin of fam? I get so many ya know.” Keeli grinned and high fived Cass as she crossed her arms and leaned forward into Hanna’s smoke haughtily. “I get bare love on these streets, you get… what I am… saying, yeah.”
Hanna smiled at Keeli’s swagger and nodded, “Yeah I know, I know.” She held her hands up as if to ward away a punch. “I’m not saying nothing darling, but I meant that specific punter, the fella with the ‘Deirdre Barlow’ glasses. Those ones as thick as doorstops.”
“Yeah, yeah ,yeah fam, ‘freak or unique’ we call that sad sack of shit. I know who you’re speaking on, why you asking?”
“Just curious Keels’, didn’t he pay top dollar for some real kinky business? I remember you telling me about him one time. Something to do with wearing high heels wasn’t it? This is fucking boring here, waiting for that scumbag to roll up. Tell us a story Keeli, g’wan please.” Hanna pouted while she hugged herself to ward away the shivers.
“Ok yeah, I remember ‘freak or unique’, wish he still visited to be honest with you Hanna, man had bare coin. Payed well too, and never vexed over an increase in the rate.” Keeli scratched her temples as she grimaced picturing the punter.
“So, yeah this fella would roll up every Sunday night regular as clockwork. Little fella, with them thick glasses, like you said Hanna. Always the same time, same day bang on ten in the pm in a big-ass Bentley, like he didn’t give two shits about no feds, ya feel?”
She paused waving her hand in Hanna’s direction. “Give us one of them cigs girl,” she lit up exhaling in a prolonged sigh before continuing. “Right, this guy liked the Sisters, ya know. Man was crazy for it, he wouldn’t touch anyone that wasn’t black as.” She slapped her ass as she eyeballed a suited man crossing to the other side of the road.
“What? What your problem, boy?” She wiggled those hips as Suit continued on his way, looking everywhere but at her ass. Keeli blew out another endless spout of cigarette smoke, shaking her head. “Poofter,” she muttered as she turned back pulling her skirt back down.
“Speaking of which. Freak-or-unique, yeah… he was a special case alright. We’d drive up to one of those big hotels round Paddington ways. Valet would open the door an everytin. Up we’d go to the same room as last week, always the same room.”
A police siren wailed in the distance, as the thrum of traffic mixed with the distant tattered sound of a radio. Keeli paused, Hanna craned her neck to stare down the road which wound off to the silage smudged horizon of Burgess park. “Go on babes’, we’re good for a bit longer I think.”
Keeli eyed the road the other way. “Yeah, he’d set up his ‘little shop of fuckin horrors’ right there in the hotel room. He had this black briefcase and he’d plonk it right on the table and just say.” Take off your clothes. “So you know, the customers always right and all that. I’d start stripping, all sexy and he’d just shake his head and say, Not like that. Do normal, without any dancing. All the time unpacking his little briefcase on to the table.”
Cass leaned forward to catch the words. Keeli’s voice was low now, slow and sing-song with a slight hint of tremble.
“First he’d pull out these big fuckin high heels. Big leather dominatrix type things, ya know. Then all this glass-ware, jugs, champagne flutes, fuckin beakers like we used to get at school. Then he’d say, put on shoes. So, I’d struggle into them high heels which were always a size too small, all the while, more of the equipment is coming out. Rubber tubes, leather strips, ball gag--and I’m thinking--this better be worth the money, then finally out comes the scalpel.”
Cass’ face slackened with that sick pallor every street girl knows. The same look you see a thousand times, from a thousand girls. The ghost of a rape left on the face.
“Noooo fuckin way!” Keeli’s voice booms, making them both jump. “First time I seen that I leapt off that bed quicker than anything blud. Honestly, I was going to grab that knife and cut that little freak right there. Hackney and all that, we know how to handle our silver-ware. This guy just puts his hands up backing away and says” No, no, no. Not for you, for me. “With this stupid grin on his face and that scalpel held limply in his hand.”
Sirens blared. Flashing lights hammered a beat of blue and red across the graffiti walls as two police cars screeched around the corner.
Hannah hissed loud over the screaming sirens, “Right girls. Remember to put on a show.”
The cuffs pinched her wrists as she bit down on her lower lip. Terry’s coffee breath in her ear hissed in a whisper. “Don’t forget to struggle Hanna.”
The other police officers had Keeli and Cass pinned on the bonnet of the cars. A female officer frisked Keeli, lingering too long on her thighs before moving up her sides and over her breasts.
“You enjoying that.” Keeli winked at the female officer who turned to her partner. “This one’s clean. Have any of the others got previous for weapons?”
Terry interjected as Hanna struggled in his grip. “Nah, I know all these… ladies, just get them cuffed and in the cars. This is cut and dry, I want to get it written up and get down the pub.” He grinned at the other officers and they all returned the smile. “A good day’s work here, guys. First round is on me.” The smiles widened.
Hanna kicked backwards with her high heels, raking down Terry’s shin. He screeched in pain, “Fuckin… Bitch.” The last word was drawn out as he fought back the pain. He slammed her down on the bonnet twisting her wrists and pushing her face into the cold metal.
“Do you need a hand over there, inspector?” Terry shook his head as he turned to look at the other two officers. “You take those two in that car and I’ll take this one with me.” He pushed her into the back of the Panda and slammed the door before getting in and turning to look at her.
“You said struggle.” Hannah eyed him, warily. This fucker would do whatever he wanted anyway, so why not get a some small payback where she could.
“Yeah, ok ok. It’s not that bad anyway. You did good Hanna. Your girls did good.” He pulled out a small salt shaker and dumped some white crystal out in to the crook between his thumb and forefinger. He offered it up to her, she sniffed it back and felt the bite, that chemical aftertaste and then the numbness spreading down her throat deep into her heart. He followed suit and sniffed one back before slamming the Panda into gear and flooring the pedal. He switched the siren on and looked at her in the mirror. We’re going to have some fun now, Hanna. He peeked out at her from beneath that greasy hair and her heart sank.
“What about tonight Terry?” She looked down demurely, the way he liked as he stared at her questioningly.
“When I’m in the cells. Who will pick up Anita from school, she’s expecting me.”
“That’s alright, Han. I’ll look after her. I wouldn’t want our little girl left out in the cold.”
Hanna swallowed past the sick numbness in her throat.
To be continued...
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