Lee Weeks - Kiss and Die

It was hard to know what she was thinking. Lola only had one expression left that wasn’t Botoxed out or filled in. ‘You got to remember, Johnny, some men really like it mean. Some of them really want to be hurt. All the other women I know who make a living from being mistresses are as sweet natured as they come, just like me.’

She batted her eyelashes at Mann.

‘Yeah, right,’ he smiled.

‘We do it because it’s an easy way to make money without fucking. But, I will ask around for you.’

‘This wasn’t just hurt; his flesh was stripped. His balls virtually cut off.’

She looked momentarily shocked which was registered on her face by her eyes opening up wide. ‘Shit, that’s seriously nasty.’ She shook her head. ‘That doesn’t sound like an S amp; M game to me.’

‘Yeah, I agree.’ Mann finished his drink. ‘She went to a lot of trouble to make sure he felt the pain. He took a long time to die. You give me a ring if you remember anything else, Lola.’

Mann left Lola. He walked back out onto the street. He got a call from CK.

‘I wanted to express my sympathy at the death of your officer and to ask you to join me this evening.’

‘Tonight’s not the night.’

‘Tonight is exactly the night, Inspector.’

On the roof red papers twirled in the air and were sucked up and spun in the wind. The sound of whistles filled the air – three beeps and one long tone. The roof of the Mansions was bathed in the black of late night. A storm was coming. The belly of the cloud was lit with neon from the city below. Gusts of wind whipped up the waves in the harbour.

Hafiz caught Lilly by the arm and turned her sharply round. ‘My brother is in prison because of you.’

‘Let go.’ She wrenched her arm free. ‘That’s bullshit. You know it is. I never asked him to be there. He messed it all up. It was all under control. She wasn’t supposed to get killed. She was only supposed to be taught a lesson. ‘Just rough her up a bit, I was told. You want someone to blame, you look to your own family. Mahmud should have kept well away.’ Lilly shook her head sadly. ‘Look I’m sorry about Mahmud, believe me. But think about it, Hafiz. They can’t charge him if he didn’t do it. They will have to let him go in the end.’

They turned to see the roof around them filling with members of the Outcasts, skinny kids with light jeans, big shoes and gelled hair. They were just like millions of others – nondescript, except that in their hands they carried weapons and the red invitations that had summoned them to a meeting. ‘If you see him tell him I’m sorry.’

More members of the Outcasts began to appear. They came from all over the city to the Mansions. Nathan Road down below was crawling with teenage feet answering the call of their mistress. Thirty minutes passed and the assembled children cheered as the announcement went up that ‘she’ had arrived. They waited nervously for her to address them. She moved amongst them as she made her way across the rooftop. The wind was blowing. The distant sound of a storm charged the air with an eerie light.

Victoria stood in front of the gathered crowd. Her hair was loose, it whipped around her face. Her leather cat suit was sleek, moulded to her figure.

Hafiz and Lilly gathered round her with the others. The roof was moving with black figures, small shadows.

From the distance a rumble of thunder grew louder.

Victoria lifted up her arms as if to embrace them all. She stood on the top of an air conditioning vent. ‘You are all my children, my Outcasts, and I love you just like a mother would. I promise each one of you that I will change your life. I promise you money, power. You can be whoever you want to. You stick with me and I can take you right up to the sky.’

Above her the lightning lit up the belly of the cloud. The children gasped.

Victoria tossed her head on the air triumphant. ‘All I need from you is everything. I want everything now. Go into those Mansions and cause trouble. Run wild. Run free. You can be whatever you want. As long as you’re prepared to fight for it. Are you?’

The children held their knives in the air as the night sky was filled with their howling.

The Piccadilly Club was a private members’ club. It was British gentry style: polished brass, cracked leather chairs, Dunhill fixtures. It only accepted the wealthiest of clients but that didn’t stop there being a waiting list to join.

Mann was frisked at the entrance by two of CK’s bodyguards, then he was escorted up to the top floor. Eighty floors in the speed elevator later he was met by a portly English butler dressed in a plaid waistcoat and black trousers.

‘Follow me please, sir. You are expected.’

He led the way to the Red Salon. It was a lounge and private dining area. Its theme was deep, rich, cherry-red wood and brilliant gold. Around its walls was a library of classics shelved on a mahogany bookcase and there was a mahogany writing desk.

CK was sitting in the centre of a rectangular seating area. He was surrounded by his lieutenants, Red Poles. On their laps were Eastern Bloc hostesses: tall and sharp featured. They were young, beautiful; or they had been, once, when they had first been trafficked over. Long-sleeved dresses barely hid the needle marks in their arms.

CK watched him approach and so did the Red Poles.

‘Good evening, Inspector. Join us. Let me introduce you to my officers.’

Sitting next to CK was the pretty waitress from the restaurant at the race course, dressed in a straight-backed cheongsam. She sat bolt upright. She had a black collar around her neck and a chain attached. CK held the end. She had been transformed from an elfin-faced young beauty into a rouged doll. Her face was as white as a sheet and her eyes were as dead as a fish lying on ice in the fishmongers. Mann could see that she had sold her soul to the devil sat next to her. Two monkeys were being handed around and being fed rice wine. They were trying to perform acrobatic tricks but they kept losing their balance and crash landing onto the floor and the table. The fruit bowl turned and flew off the side of the table. The monkeys rolled on their backs, screeching.

Mann looked around at the assembled officers. ‘Don’t bother. I know as much as I need to know about them. I haven’t met the monkeys before, I take it these are the brains behind this outfit?’

CK lifted his hand to prevent any thoughts of retaliation and then he waved his lieutenants away.

One by one they got up and filed past Mann, the hostesses, half carried, half dragged as they tottered on their heels. Each Red Pole stopped to eyeball Mann as they passed him. Mann was used to the game. They didn’t go far. The dining area was around the corner to the right. Mann could still hear them talking, low, the girls were giggling, screeching.

The waiter arrived with Mann’s drink. He took it and felt the strong liquor burn his lips, the ice cool his throat and stomach. The Chinese girl did not leave. She stared ahead of her as if she saw her dreams. She was caught in the world of heroin. She existed only in her own mind. One of the monkeys had run off with the Russian hostesses. The other now stared at the Chinese girl, watching her face. It mimicked her expression. It jumped onto her lap and reached its baby-like hand up to touch her cheek. It grinned, worried, frightened. Her eyes turned slowly towards it. It screeched and jumped down onto the floor where it gobbled the spilled fruit and chattered away to itself.

‘What do you know about the death of my officer?’

CK smiled. He looked across at the Chinese girl as he addressed Mann. ‘Beautiful, isn’t she? She is my new pet. She is not permitted to talk. She is not permitted to move unless I tell her she may. If she pleases me she gets her reward. It is important to understand one another’s weaknesses as well as their strengths, isn’t it, Inspector?’