Sophie Hannah - Hurting Distance

‘I’m just saying, you don’t understand him, and I do. After his dad left, his mum got her act together and started a business . . .’

‘Yes, a telephone sex business,’ said Charlie. ‘Enterprising of her.’

‘She went from being an amateur whore to being a professional whore, Graham says. He was ashamed of her. But he was pleased about the business in one way, because finally they had some money, and he could escape. He got himself an education and made something of himself.’

‘He made a kidnapper and a rapist of himself, that’s what he made,’ said Gibbs.

‘He’s a successful businessman,’ Steph said proudly. ‘Last year he bought me a personalised number plate for my car that cost five grand.’ She sighed. ‘Loads of businesses have got stuff going on behind the scenes that if everyone knew about it, they’d—’

‘How did you advertise?’ Gibbs interrupted her pathetic justifications. ‘How did you attract customers?’

‘Internet chatrooms, mainly. And a lot of word of mouth.’ She spoke in a bored drawl. ‘Graham takes care of that. Recruitment, he calls it.’

‘The audiences—do they make group bookings?’

Charlie nodded at Gibbs’ question. It was an important one. She’d let him take over for a bit. Her interest in this was too personal; Gibbs was thinking about the mechanics of the operation.

‘Only very occasionally. Once we had a group, with some women in it as well. That was unusual. Normally it’s individual bookings, and Graham’d never let women book—the men in the audience wouldn’t like it.’

‘So how exactly does it work?’ asked Gibbs. ‘A man who’s getting married approaches Graham, wanting one of his speciality stag nights, and then what?’

‘Graham finds the other men, to make up a party of anywhere between ten and fifteen.’

‘How does he find them?’

‘I told you. Mainly through talking to people on the Net. He’s in all these . . . porno cyber-communities. He’s got loads of contacts.’

‘Friends in high places,’ Charlie muttered.

‘So these men spend their stag nights with people they’ve never seen before?’ asked Gibbs.

‘Yeah,’ said Steph, as if this should have been obvious. ‘Most men can’t invite their normal mates along, can they? Chances are their normal mates wouldn’t be into that sort of thing, so our customers wouldn’t want to let on that they were. Do you see what I mean?’

Charlie nodded, feeling disgust spread through her body like a slow, dull poison.

‘Normal men want to spend their stag nights with their mates,’ Gibbs said quietly. ‘That’s the whole point. Not watching a rape, with strangers. That’s not a stag night.’

‘So Graham drums up ten to fifteen twisted perverts for each rape, and what happens next?’ asked Charlie. ‘Do the men meet beforehand, get to know each other?’

‘No, of course not. They don’t want to know each other. They just want to spend one evening with like-minded people they’ll never see again. They don’t even use their own names. Soon as they book, Graham assigns them a new name, which they use for the whole of that evening. Look, I hope I’m going to get some credit for all the help I’m giving you. You can’t say I’m not cooperating now.’

An unpleasant memory broke through the surface of Charlie’s thoughts. ‘Isn’t Graham supposed to be absent-minded, always cocking up the chalet bookings?’

Steph frowned. ‘Yes, but I run the chalets. Graham’s not passionate about them, not compared with his stag nights. When he really cares about something, he does it properly, one hundred percent.’

‘How admirable,’ said Charlie.

Steph appeared to miss the sarcasm. ‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘He makes sure never to put his customers at risk. He really cares about protecting them, it’s his main rule. Always look after the customer, never bite the hand that feeds you.’

‘I’m looking forward to telling him that all his customers are going to be charged with being accessories to rape,’ said Charlie.

Steph was shaking her head. ‘You can’t do that,’ she said. She was trying to come across as an objective supplier of information, trying to hide the triumph in her voice, but Charlie heard it. ‘What I said about the women all being paidactresses—that’s the official line. Graham tells everyone who books, if any shit ever hits any fans, the men must all say they fully believed the women were willing participants, that it was all a show, the rape part wasn’t real. That’s why Graham does the sex and the men only watch, even though most of the time they probably want to join in. It’s so they can’t be done for anything. You can’t prove any of our customers knew the women were being forced to have sex.’

‘You’ve just told us.’ Gibbs was unimpressed by her logic. ‘We both heard you explain it, very clearly. That’s all we need.’

‘But . . . it’s not written down or anything.’ Steph had turned pale.

‘Do you really think we can’t crack these men? You think they won’t talk, give themselves away?’ Charlie leaned over the desk. ‘There’s too many of them, Steph. Some of them will give up and spill whatever beans they’ve got, because they’ll be shit-scared. They’ll fall for the same lie you fell for: that talking’ll help them stay out of prison.’

Steph’s bottom lip trembled. ‘Graham’ll kill me,’ she said. ‘He’ll blame me, and it’s not fair! We were only providing a service, that’s all. Entertainment. The men didn’t do anything wrong, they didn’t touch those women.’

‘Did you cook the food?’ asked Gibbs. ‘The elaborate dinners? Or did Robert Haworth do that? We know he was involved in the rapes, and we know he used to be a chef.’

Charlie hid her surprise. Robert Haworth, a chef?

‘I cooked,’ said Steph.

‘Is that another lie?’

‘She’s trying to protect Robert because he’s Graham’s brother,’ said Charlie. ‘If Graham’s sentimental about his customers, imagine how he must feel about his brother.’

‘You’re wrong there, actually,’ Steph gloated. ‘Robert and Graham aren’t speaking, haven’t for years.’

‘Why?’ Gibbs asked.

‘They had a huge row. Robert started going out with . . . one of the women. He told Graham he was going to marry her. And then he did marry her, the stupid bastard.’

‘Juliet?’ said Charlie. ‘Juliet Heslehurst?’

Steph nodded. ‘Graham was furious that Robert would even think of going near her, after . . . well, you know. It was such a risk to the business. Graham could have ended up behind bars, and Robert didn’t give a toss, just went ahead and married her.’ Her lips twitched in anger. ‘Graham’s way too soft on Robert. I keep telling him, if Robert was my brother, I’d never speak to him again.’

‘I thought you said Graham doesn’t speak to him,’ Charlie reminded her.

‘Yeah, but he keeps trying to make up. I’m the go-between, and I’m bloody fed up of passing messages back and forth. He’s too soft, my husband. It’s Robert who keeps the feud going.’ She frowned, deep in thought. ‘Graham says he can’t give up on him, though. Robert’s his kid brother, he’s always looked after him. More than their useless parents did, anyway.’

‘So Graham was willing to forgive Robert for endangering the business?’ said Gibbs.

‘Yeah. Family’s family to Graham, whatever they do. He was the same with his mum and dad. Robert was the one who cut them off, both of them. Didn’t speak a word to them after he left home. Claimed they’d let him down. Well, they had, but . . . then he said the same about Graham, after the row when he started seeing that Juliet woman. As if that was in any way the same!’ Old indignation, newly expressed.