street outside the Police Station. Call me weird, but bad manners like that upset my equilibrium a little.
“ Fuck this; I'm not sitting here running through mental images of my own demise all day. Come on.”
I stride across the silent street and up to the front door, which stands halfway open. A pair of pale female legs are visible in the hallway, nothing wrong with that, except for the fact that they're motionless, horizontal rather than vertical and heavily mottled with livid bruises. I push the door a little wider open with my toe-cap, relieved to see the rhythmic rise and fall of a flat chest. It's hard to tell whether she's unconscious or sleeping, but there's fresh blood oozing from a pinprick in the crook of her arm, so I know what my money's on. The grunt to my right signals that Marcus has come to a similar conclusion.
“ Hello? Levi, Antony?”
We step over the prone girl, feet too loud on the quarry tiles, doing a better job of announcing our presence than my tight voice box.
There is a burst of music from somewhere up ahead at the back of the property, hip-hops not my genre of choice but I bust a couple of involuntary moves at the sudden unexpected noise, before I regain control of my galloping heart and settle back down again. I hope Marcus missed that.
At the end of the hallway is a heavy wooden door which opens, with a little resistance, into a large rear sitting-room. There is intricate plaster cornice running around the top of the room and solid hardwood picture rails further down, but I have to abandon my appraisal of the interior design features to avoid being thought of as rude by the half a dozen Jamaican men reclining in chairs around the room. They don't look overly concerned at our presence, a quick glance confirms that Marcus hasn't fled for the car, and one of them is smiling. The effect of the smile is ruined by the white cats-eye contact lenses that he's wearing, Antony 'Arachnid' Jones, I presume.
“ Is she going to be okay out there?”
I nod back towards the hallway. The man with a cane-row hairstyle sitting next to Jones, who I recognize as Levi Bennett, replies dead-pan.
“ Don't know, why don't you go and ask her?”
“ We're not here about her anyway, and this isn't a raid.”
“ That's a relief.” The sarcasm raises a chuckle from the hangers-on around the room.
“ I've come for your help.”
“ We don't go helping the five-O in case you haven't heard. Run along now little piggy's.”
He gives a wave and gestures towards the door, cue more laughter, the guy's evidently a comic genius.
“ Some of your girls have been attacked by a man with sharp teeth and a taste for blood. They won't talk to us because of you, which makes it difficult to catch him.”
“ So?”
“ So, he'll do it again soon, which then puts another girl out of action which is bad for business, right?”
Bennett shrugs, uninterested. “We got it covered Mr Po-lees, we don't need your help.”
Marcus finds his voice and tries a different tact. “You don't need the hassle of trying to find this guy either. Just give us something to start us off and then sit back and we'll take him out of the equation.”
“ Now, what kind of message would that send? That we're the kind of men that can't take care of our own business? Show them out.”
Jones leans in to say something in Bennett's ear as the other unnamed men begin to escort us out, stepping over the girl in the passageway once again. Frustrating as it is to take the chance but come away with nothing, the cool air that greets us feels good on my skin; like breaking the surface of murky water after spending slightly too long down in the depths. Jones' voice is suddenly in my ear.
“ Don't come back here unless you get tired of living. Good luck finding your albino friend.”
The guy is still smiling even when hissing death threats at me, I'm beginning to like him already and I smile back with the reply. “Make sure the girl in
“ Fuck this; I'm not sitting here running through mental images of my own demise all day. Come on.”
I stride across the silent street and up to the front door, which stands halfway open. A pair of pale female legs are visible in the hallway, nothing wrong with that, except for the fact that they're motionless, horizontal rather than vertical and heavily mottled with livid bruises. I push the door a little wider open with my toe-cap, relieved to see the rhythmic rise and fall of a flat chest. It's hard to tell whether she's unconscious or sleeping, but there's fresh blood oozing from a pinprick in the crook of her arm, so I know what my money's on. The grunt to my right signals that Marcus has come to a similar conclusion.
“ Hello? Levi, Antony?”
We step over the prone girl, feet too loud on the quarry tiles, doing a better job of announcing our presence than my tight voice box.
There is a burst of music from somewhere up ahead at the back of the property, hip-hops not my genre of choice but I bust a couple of involuntary moves at the sudden unexpected noise, before I regain control of my galloping heart and settle back down again. I hope Marcus missed that.
At the end of the hallway is a heavy wooden door which opens, with a little resistance, into a large rear sitting-room. There is intricate plaster cornice running around the top of the room and solid hardwood picture rails further down, but I have to abandon my appraisal of the interior design features to avoid being thought of as rude by the half a dozen Jamaican men reclining in chairs around the room. They don't look overly concerned at our presence, a quick glance confirms that Marcus hasn't fled for the car, and one of them is smiling. The effect of the smile is ruined by the white cats-eye contact lenses that he's wearing, Antony 'Arachnid' Jones, I presume.
“ Is she going to be okay out there?”
I nod back towards the hallway. The man with a cane-row hairstyle sitting next to Jones, who I recognize as Levi Bennett, replies dead-pan.
“ Don't know, why don't you go and ask her?”
“ We're not here about her anyway, and this isn't a raid.”
“ That's a relief.” The sarcasm raises a chuckle from the hangers-on around the room.
“ I've come for your help.”
“ We don't go helping the five-O in case you haven't heard. Run along now little piggy's.”
He gives a wave and gestures towards the door, cue more laughter, the guy's evidently a comic genius.
“ Some of your girls have been attacked by a man with sharp teeth and a taste for blood. They won't talk to us because of you, which makes it difficult to catch him.”
“ So?”
“ So, he'll do it again soon, which then puts another girl out of action which is bad for business, right?”
Bennett shrugs, uninterested. “We got it covered Mr Po-lees, we don't need your help.”
Marcus finds his voice and tries a different tact. “You don't need the hassle of trying to find this guy either. Just give us something to start us off and then sit back and we'll take him out of the equation.”
“ Now, what kind of message would that send? That we're the kind of men that can't take care of our own business? Show them out.”
Jones leans in to say something in Bennett's ear as the other unnamed men begin to escort us out, stepping over the girl in the passageway once again. Frustrating as it is to take the chance but come away with nothing, the cool air that greets us feels good on my skin; like breaking the surface of murky water after spending slightly too long down in the depths. Jones' voice is suddenly in my ear.
“ Don't come back here unless you get tired of living. Good luck finding your albino friend.”
The guy is still smiling even when hissing death threats at me, I'm beginning to like him already and I smile back with the reply. “Make sure the girl in
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