M. Arlidge - Pop Goes the Weasel

‘You lay one more finger on me and I will scream the bloody house down. Then every hooker for miles around will know you’re a pig, right?’

‘I just need to find Angel. It’s really important that I find…’

‘Go fuck yourself.’

She left, leaving the door open behind her. Tony’s first instinct was to go after her, but what was the point? Defeated, he sat down heavily on the bed. Melissa was their best lead and he’d blown it completely. It had cost him quite a lot to inhabit this role – had raised questions he didn’t want to ask himself – and he’d ended up with nothing.

Next door the sound of frantic copulation cranked up, beating out the rhythm of his failure. Picking up his coat, he hurried out. He wanted to be away from this place. Away from the sex. And away from this crushing defeat.

The caravan stood alone on the open wasteland. Framed by the gypsy fires that burned nearby, it looked almost beautiful. Inside it was less pleasant, mildewed and rotting, the detritus of drug use littering the floor. Still, it would do for tonight – a mattress was slung down on the floor, ready for action.

‘You a soldier then?’ she asked.

‘Was. Afghanistan.’

‘I love soldiers – you killed any ragheads?’

‘A few.’

‘My hero. I should give you one on the house.’

Simon Booker shrugged off the suggestion. He didn’t want her pity. Or her charity. That wasn’t why he was here. He pulled some notes from his wallet, laying them on the stained Formica breakfast bar. As he did so, he noticed his wedding ring and began to tug at it.

‘Don’t worry about that, love. I won’t tell if you don’t. It’s thirty for oral, fifty for straight, hundred for anything else. And I’m going to need you to use a condom, love. Don’t want any of the diseases you picked up from those foreign whores, do I?’

Simon Booker nodded and turned, bending down to retrieve his condoms from his bag. He couldn’t find them at first and had to rootle around, before eventually locating them. As he stood up, he was surprised to see Angel standing by the door.

‘You stay the fuck away from me!’ she spat at him.

‘What? I was just getting the -’

‘What’s the iron bar for?’

Shit. She’d obviously spotted it as he’d rooted through his holdall.

‘It’s nothing. Just for protection. But I’ll put it outside if you like.’

He moved towards it.

‘Don’t you dare touch it. If you do, I’ll shout. I’ve got mates over there. People who look out for me. Do you know what gypsies do to the likes of you?’

‘All right. Keep your hair on.’

Simon was irritated now. He wanted to have sex not a full-blown slanging match.

‘You put it outside then. I don’t want any trouble,’ he said.

She looked scared but slowly edged her way to the bag, keeping an eye on him the whole time. Picking up the bag, she lobbed it outside – it landed with a dull thud. She breathed out, composing herself.

‘Right then, shall we start again?’ she said, her smile wide but forced.

‘Sure.’

‘Come and give me a kiss then. And once I’ve got to know you better I’ll put your big dick in my mouth.’

That was more like it. Simon crossed the floor. Hesitantly at first, he put his hands on her waist. She responded by lacing her arms round his neck and pulling his mouth towards hers.

‘Let’s get this started, shall we?’

As Simon Booker closed his eyes, Angel brought her knee sharply up into his groin. As Simon froze, stunned, she did it again and again. Crumpling to the floor, he gasped for breath. He wanted to puke. Oh God, the pain was horrible.

He looked up to find Angel standing over him. The smile was gone now and in her hand she held the iron bar from his bag. Without warning, she brought it crashing down on his head. Once, twice, three times just to make sure. Then she paused, crossing the floor to shut the caravan door. Locking it from the inside, she paused to catch her breath. Staring down at her victim, she could feel her excitement rising.

It was time for the fun to begin.

Heads turned as she marched through the office towards Emilia Garanita’s office. In the wake of her eye-catching work on Marianne, Emilia had been awarded a corner office from which to plot her next exclusive. It was airless and poky but it was one in the eye for the other hacks, which is why Emilia liked it so much. And it afforded her a good view of the newsroom and of Helen Grace, who was now striding towards her.

Helen Grace had never set foot in the offices of the Evening News , so whatever it was it was going to be good. Was this the first counter-move in their battle or a very public capitulation? Emilia sincerely hoped it was the latter. She would try to be gracious.

‘Helen, how nice to see you,’ she said, as Helen entered her office.

‘It’s nice to see you too, Emilia,’ her guest replied, closing the door behind her.

‘Coffee?’

‘No, thanks.’

‘Quite right,’ Emilia replied, ostentatiously opening up her laptop. ‘We’ve got a lot to get through. We’re too late for tonight’s edition but if you give me everything you’ve got now, we can sort out a killer spread for tomorrow. If you’ll pardon the pun.’

Helen regarded her quizzically, then leaned forward and pushed the laptop back down, closing it.

‘We won’t be needing that.’

‘Sorry?’

‘I haven’t come here to give you any news. Just a warning.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘I don’t know how you know what you think you know about me and to be honest I don’t really care. What I do care about is a journalist at a respectable paper attempting to blackmail a serving police officer.’

Emilia eyeballed her – the temperature in the small room had just dropped considerably.

‘So I’m here to give you a clear and simple message. Print what the hell you like about me but if you ever attempt to bribe, blackmail or intimidate me again, I will see you in prison for it, understand?’

Emilia eyeballed Helen, before responding:

‘Well, that’s your choice, Helen, but don’t say I didn’t give you fair warning.’

‘Do what you need to,’ Helen replied tersely. ‘But be ready for the consequences.’

She turned to leave, but as she got to the doorway, she paused.

‘We sink or swim together on this one, Emilia. So ask yourself how much you hate me. And how much you value your liberty.’

Emilia watched her go – anger and adrenalin pulsing through her. Should she break her or back down? Either way Emilia was about to make the biggest call of her life.

Tony slammed the car door shut behind him and slumped down into the driver’s seat. How could he have messed up so badly? And what was he going to say to Helen?

This was his big chance to be back on the front line again, to prove that he’d still got it – and he had completely ballsed it up. He could try and contact Melissa again, but what was the point? Now she knew he was a cop, it was game over. The only thing he could do was confess all to Helen as soon as possible and start formulating a new plan. Some of the other girls must have seen Angel. It was inconceivable that she could ghost in and out of these flesh pots undetected. What he had to do -