Irvine Welsh - Crime

She forces a defiant sneer, still holding her nose.

Lennox’s face contorts as he takes a step closer to her. — HAVE YOU FUCKIN WELL GOT THAT?

And he thinks of when he lost it at his last interrogation, but now there’s no Horsburgh, only Starry’s abject shell, nodding in miserable deference. He charges through to the toilet, grabs a soiled towel and thinks of the uses it could be put to before he throws it at her. Then, remembering Robyn’s cuffs, he goes to the bedroom and removes them from the nightstand. He experiences Robyn’s presence as a background bleating sound as he snaps Starry’s hand to a radiator pipe behind her. — It’s fucking hot, she squawks through the towel.

— Good, Lennox says, as he looks back at Robyn.

— What’s going on, Ray? Robyn asks, nervously picking burrs from her faded green top — Where’s my baby? Did you take her to Chet’s?

— I’ve told you, she’s fine. Don’t give me any performances, Robyn. I’ve seen one of your performances, and he pulls the disc from his pocket.

— You found the tapes… Her hand goes to her hair, and Lennox has to repress the urge to scream at her.

She thinks I’m fucking jealous! The daft cunt actually thinks that’s what this is about! — Yes.

— Johnnie and I met through Starry. He liked to video when we… were together.

Lennox nods, thinking about guys who wanted to become porn stars until they realised that they couldn’t get wood on camera. In a couple of generations, he considers, we won’t be able to get wood unless there’s a camera.

Robyn whines, — Then he got Lance involved.

— Lance was my boyfriend, bitch, Lennox hears Starry’s muffled hiss from behind the towel.

Robyn seems not to register, —… and it just got crazier and wilder. Then I found out that there were other women, other videos.

— Oh yeah, there were others, he caustically agrees.

Robyn looks to a broken-nosed Starry, holding her head up with the towel, groaning in agony, then back to Lennox. — Who… who are you, Ray? Who? Robyn’s rasping sobs are punctuated only by the sound of mucus sliding down her gullet in heavy swallows.

— Later, he says, wondering if he’ll ever be able to answer that question to his own satisfaction. — Did you see any of the other videos?

— No, of course I didn’t—

— Chet’s boat was where some of them were made.

— No, Robyn gasps. — No. No! I don’t believe it… not Chet… where’s Tianna?!

Lennox inserts the disc into the DVD player. — Here’s one you missed.

— What?! We’re going to watch one of these films? Now? What the hell—

— You need to see this. Need to see what the people you choose as friends are really about.

He didn’t want to watch it again, and instead sits studying her reaction as the images appear on the screen. The voice of her drugged daughter: — I feel sick… I wanna go home… Dearing’s kindly reply: — It’s okay, honey, jus you relax…

— NO! Oh my God… No! Robyn’s chest heaves. But her terror is real: he knows she wasn’t part of Tianna’s abuse.

— I’m sorry. He stops the disc with the remote. — I had to be sure that you weren’t involved in this.

— What? What do you… who… Robyn’s eyes bulge, her chest heaving as she struggles for breath.

Shame’s mass aggregates in him and his eyes fall to the floor. — They probably gave Tianna something, some kind of sedative. Not on the boat, most likely in the car on the way out there, on Alligator Alley. He looks back to her. — While you were in rehab.

— But she was with Sta— Robyn starts, looks to the couch and the face covered with the towel. — No… NO! WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY BABY, YOU FUCKING EVIL BITCH?!

— Robyn, Lennox says, — do you remember Vince, back in Alabama?

— Yes. Robyn is barely audible as her hate-filled eyes screw into Starry, who holds the towel in front of her face like a mask.

He squeezes her hand to get her to focus on him. — You left Mobile to get away from him. Took Tianna, cause you knew what he was like? She told you, and you believed her, didn’t you?

— I… yes… He told me he loved me!

— Vince was involved in an organised paedophile ring: the same one as Lance and Johnnie. The same one that Jimmy Clemson in Jacksonville was part of.

— No… how can that be…? she cries, but a terrible understanding is starting to settle in her eyes.

— The deal is that they identify single women: marginal, lonely, with young children. They exchange information mainly through a website, but also on these sales training functions. I got the list of members from the computer. They devise a control strategy, pass the info around to other paedophiles, one or more of whom then stalk the woman and attempt to manipulate her into entering a sexual relationship with them. Once that goal’s achieved, they quickly move on to the child. If the mother develops any suspicion about what they’re up to, they simply withdraw, passing the woman’s contact details on to the next member who steps in and attempts to groom them again.

— Oh my God… Robyn whines through hands that cover her eyes. — Tianna… what have I done… what have they done to my Tia?

The ball in his throat burns again, but Lennox forces himself to carry on.

— The code of the group is not to take risks. Gaining the mother’s trust, they befriend the kid, taking an interest; becoming the surrogate father the child wants to have around, slowly building up the emotional intimacy and the physical contact. Take my hand. Give me a hug. A wee kiss. Then they declare love, but tell the child it must be a secret. All the time they praise the kid, singling them out, so they believe the love they share is special, thus rationalising the need to keep it secret and exclusive. That’s how it ends up, Lennox nods to the screen.

Miserable, low, rhythmic sobs emanate from Robyn, her eyes still covered by her hands. Her pores seem to have opened up, as if in order to absorb everything out of the fetid air. Then she glares in seething rage at Starry, who sits silently, bizarrely, with the towel now over her head. — PUT IT BACK ON, I WANNA FUCKING SEE WHAT THEY’VE DONE!

— No, Lennox says. — If you want to watch more, it’s on your own time. He looks to Starry, reminding him of a hooded falcon, a predator made passive by the cover. — This paedophile ring had a handover strategy. Once you worked out Vince’s game in Mobile, he got in touch with Clemson in Jacksonville.

— I didn’t know… how could I have known…?

— You couldn’t. When you sussed there was something dodgy about this Clemson guy, he got in touch with Johnnie and then Lance in Miami.

— He was a pig, Robyn spits. — Vince I would never have figured… but Clemson was a lousy fuckin pig!

— And some. So when they start getting more and more kinky, by this time, through the sheer process of erosion, you’re thinking: ‘That’s what guys are like, maybe I’m just a little hung-up.’ By now you’ve been isolated from all your girlfriends and family back home. And they have this fucker here, he points at Starry, — working for them, telling you it’s all hunky-dory. You were starting to get suspicious, but they’d already gotten everything they wanted from you. He nods to the videodisc.

— They got me so fucked up, gave me all that free shit: the coke, the meth, the grass, the downers…

— Starry had you in that specific bar the other night, to meet someone, who, all being well, would have been your next beau. Remember that guy I had the run-in with?

A miserable nod, followed by a bloodcurdling, — WHY? at Starry. — Just tell me why !