Beauty and the Dark

I shake my head. Tears are pouring from my eyes. My teeth are chattering and my skin is getting red.

“Turn around,” he orders.

There. There is that first jolt of real fear.

“Go on,” he says silkily.

Slowly, my feet turn. My heart is pounding so hard I feel faint. For what feels like eternity there is absolutely no sound in the room but the blood roaring in my ears. Then I hear his footsteps cross the room.

“Well, well, my masochistic whore,” he murmurs against my hair. “I guess I’ll have to mark you all over again.”

Forty-three

Jack

I look at either side of the street in a kind of helpless daze. My mind is a blank. I can’t think. It feels like I am in a dream. Unreal, slow moving, terrifying. There’s a monster coming for you. You can hear its dragging footsteps, but you’re immobilized. A sitting duck shaking with dread.

Kaja is saying something else, but I can’t make out the words.

“We should call the police,” she repeats, raising her voice.

Cold rain falls on my face and soaks through my shirt. Kaja is looking at me anxiously and people are staring at us, but I can’t do a thing. I’m just frozen with panic. Inside me things are shattering. My skin is crawling with horror and revulsion. I clench my hair on either side of my head while my world narrows around me. This can’t be fucking happening.

Something starts ringing. For a couple of seconds I don’t even recognize what the sound is.

“Your phone,” Kaja shouts.

My phone. I fumble in my jacket, lay my hands on it and pull it out. The rain is in my eyes and I have to squint at the screen to see it. Lena. On autopilot I press reply and put the phone to my ear.

“Have you found her yet?” she asks.

The urgency and worry in her voice is like a bolt of lightning in a dark sky. I snap out of my crazy descent into hell. My voice when it comes out is hoarse. “Not yet. I’m just going to look for her.”

“Why do you mean you’re going to look for her?” she cries. Her voice is so shrill it goes right through me.

“Lena. Just sit tight and let me find her, okay. I’ll call you as soon as I have some information.”

Lena is still saying something in that same borderline hysterical voice, but I kill the connection. I can’t deal with her right now. I need to find Sofia. I need to think. I turn to Kaja. Her hair is plastered to her head and she is staring at me worriedly.

“Go back to your shop, Kaja. I’ll find her.”

“Are you sure?”

I nod.

Yeah, I’m fucking sure. They messed with the wrong fucking man.

Kaja touches my arm and turns away. I call Guy.

“Yes,” he says briskly.

“Sofia has been kidnapped.” My voice is hard and emotionless.

“What?” he explodes.

“It looks like she’s been taken by the men you bought her from.”

“How do you know that?”

I take a deep breath. “Just go with my instinct, Guy. I haven’t got much time. Can you tell me everything you know about them?”

“Give me a few minutes, I’ll make some calls,” he says, and hangs up.

I scroll through my address book and hit the number for Noah Abramovich. I never thought I’d ever need a favor from him.

“Jack,” his deep voice says on the second ring. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m looking for a Russian brothel owner called Valdislav.”

“Valdislav?” he repeats incredulously. “What do you want with him?”

“He has my woman and I want her back.”

There is a slight pause. “You have to give me some backstory to this.”

“I don’t have much time so here’s the short version. She used to belong to him. Then he sold her to her sister’s husband, but for whatever reason he sent two men to steal her back this afternoon.”

“I see.” There is a short pause. “Valdislav has a brothel in King’s Cross, but if he has kidnapped her he will take her to his unofficial parlor in Tower Bridge. That place is more secure and hardly anyone knows of its existence. You will have to move fast because he probably won’t keep her in this country long. His influence here is weak so he will try to move her back to his little fiefdom in Brussels at the first opportunity. He has bought the protection of the local cops and getting her back from there will be a whole lot harder.”

“Give me the address of his brothel here.”

“You cannot go there on your own, it’s too well guarded. Wait until later tonight and I will arrange for some men to go with you.”

My brain picks up on an oddity. “Why would they strongly guard a brothel?”

“It’s a place for specialist perversions. The women in there are all trafficked. For the right price you can even kill them during your session.”

“Fuck. I’m not waiting for one fucking second more. Just give me the address,” I shout.

“Jack, you have no idea what you are dealing with. These people are ruthless. They’ll kill you.” His voice is hard and final.

“Whatever. Just give me the address.”

“That would be stupid. You’re taking a knife to a gun fight.”

I frown. “How do you know I carry a knife?”

“Have you forgotten, Jack? My men followed you around for months after you rescued me. Please. Give me a chance to come up with a workable plan. I promise you it will be done tonight.”

“Once I saved your life. You said if I even needed help all I had to do was ask. I’m asking now, you owe me this favor. Give me his address and we are quits.”

He tries to dissuade me a little longer, but I am so adamant and impatient he reluctantly gives it to me.

“Now tell me as much as you can about this place and the security system,” I say.

“I don’t know that much about it. Give me five minutes and I’ll call you back with as much information as I can get.”

“Thanks. Oh, can you text me a photo of him.”

“Sure.”

I walk back to my apartment completely cold and calm inside. I don’t think about Sofia, because that will only make me weak. I think about exactly what I have to do, and I try to lay my plan as meticulously as possible. With a plan B for every eventuality.

Once inside our home, I switch off the oven. Mika whines pitifully at my heels. I pick her up, look into her innocent eyes, and feel a stab of pain. I may never see this sweet dog again. I stroke her head and tip food into her bowl. All the while my mind is swirling with ideas on how best to proceed.

Forty-four

Jack

My phone rings. It’s Guy.

“Yes,” I reply.

“There’s not much I could find. He has a brothel here in London, but as far as everyone knows he is still in Belgium. I have people working flat out to try and find out more.”

“Okay, let me know if you get any more informat

ion.”

“Shouldn’t we call the police?”

“Not yet. Call the police if I don’t contact you by the morning.”

“Jack, what are you planning?”

“I haven’t got time to explain, Guy.”

“Do you need me to do anything?”

“No. Just come around in the morning and take Mika back to Lena if you don’t hear from me by then. I’ll leave the key under the mat. I’ve got another call coming through, I’ve got to go.”

I get rid of Guy and accept Noah’s call.

“Tell me,” I say, walking into my bedroom.

“There are at least two pitbulls and a rottweiler patrolling the grounds, and three to four highly trained men on the premises at any given time. Business doesn’t pick up until a bit later so there will be girls, but probably no more than one or two johns for the next couple of hours. There is a closed-circuit security system and cameras in every room. The chance of you getting in and out alive are zero.”

I let the comment pass, kill the call, and phone my friend Harry, the vet. We went to school together. I haven’t seen him in years, but he used to hero worship me. He was a grade A kid and I was the cool gangster.

“JackfuckingIrish,” he says. “What’s going on with you, my man?”

“Are you still at work?” I ask as I strip my wet clothes off.

“I’m married to the job, man,” he says with a laugh.

“Can I come around for some supplies?”

“Supplies?”

“Tell you when I get there.”

“Mi casa, Su casa,” he says with a laugh.

I cut the connection and call my mother.

“What you doing, Ma,” I ask as I grab a towel and start drying myself.

“Cleaning the downstairs cupboard. You won’t believe the rubbish I’ve been hoarding. I’ve still got stuff from your schooling days.”

“Yeah?” I can almost see her. Wearing her apron and her blue rubber gloves. Her hair tied back in a scarf.

“Did the stew turn out good?” she asks.

My hand clenches. “I don’t know. It’s not ready yet.”