Sacrilege - Chapter 17

                                             CHAPTER SEVENTEEN          

A white limousine chauffeured by a gorilla in evening dress, picked us up from the house at 8.00pm sharp. I had already persuaded the widow to go next door, partly in case of any trouble but chiefly to distract Andrew Bolton from looking out of the window and jumping to conclusions. “He already has reservations about the company you keep, including me and Danny,” I reminded her. “The last thing we want is him sticking his oar in and calling the police to say we’ve been kidnapped by gangsters.”

“Heaven forbid he should be right,” she observed dryly, but did as I asked without argument.

Danny looked splendid in his Goth regalia. By comparison, I felt more than a trifle insipid in a suit that usually only ever got an airing at funerals. “You look fine,” Danny assured me seconds before the doorbell rang, “just like an undertaker. There’s nothing like entering into the spirit of the occasion, that’s what I always say.”

I groaned despairingly.

Jackie had called earlier to reassure us that she would be at the Red Admiral but had sounded every bit as tense as I was feeling myself. Suppose something goes wrong…or everything? I reached for a handkerchief to mop a heavily perspiring brow.

“Don’t worry,” Danny whispered, “just follow my lead.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” I told him but forgot to keep my voice down, caught the gorilla’s eye in his driving mirror and wished I hadn’t.  His lower lip curled into a vicious snarl. I felt obliged to make further use of my handkerchief. Nor did I relinquish it again until we arrived in Camden Town. How my shaking hands and legs succeeded in clambering on to the pavement without mishap, I shall never know.

“Get a grip,” Danny muttered in my ear. Somehow, I managed to do just that although I suspected it had less to do with Danny’s sharp tone than the fact I’d spotted Ryan Banks entering the Red Admiral through its dark glass entrance doors.

There was n sign of Vince Packard. It was Ralph Packard who was welcoming guests as they arrived. Philip stood beside him, barely the shadow of a smile on his face as he watched us mount the few steps towards him. He remained tight-lipped as the three of us acted out a pantomime of greetings that included hearty slaps on the back from Ralph for Danny and me that soon had me reaching for my handkerchief again.

The gorilla drove away.

We entered, were expertly frisked and then led into the main area where the party had already started and a DJ was playing 1960s music. Almost immediately, a waiter arrived bearing a tray of champagne glasses. Vince Packard came up minutes later and gave us both hugs that we could have done without if only because whatever cologne or after-shave he was wearing stank something rotten. Danny managed not to spill his champagne but some of mine spilled down my shirt.

“Did you bring me a prezzie?” Packard wanted to know, plainly hurt and offended when Danny shook his head.

“Aren’t we prezzies enough?” Danny demanded.

“True,” said Packard with a sick grin. “I mustn’t be greedy, must I?”

“So when do we start?” I wanted to know, “The sooner we get this over with the better if you ask me.”

“So who’s asking you?” Packard snarled and then seemed to relent, his surly expression transformed by a charming smile. “You’ll want to watch me blow out the candles on my cake, of course. Then we’ll go upstairs and have another little party of our own. The lady can’t wait, by the way. Nor can I,” he added drooling over Danny who had become discernibly tense at the mention of Teresa.  Danny, though, was also something of a chameleon. He flung his arms around Packard’s neck and kissed him squarely on the mouth.

Packard recoiled in horror. “If you ever stick that insolent tongue of yours in my mouth again, I’ll kill you,” he yelled. Everyone paused to stare, easily able to hear above the music. Packard looked around fiercely. Almost at once everyone resumed dancing.

“Me, insolent..?” Danny feigned hurt and surprise that fooled no one. “Sorry, no offence intended I’m sure. I thought you liked a good smacker. I should have remembered you’re a bit on the squeamish side when it comes to getting intimate.”  He saw he had gone too far. Packard was speechless with rage and humiliation. Danny quickly attempted to qualify an observation that had people nearby chuckling nervously. “I mean, not everyone likes tongues. Some people think a tongue in the gob is gross, though it beats me why. Kissing with your mouth shut is so boring if you ask me. But each to his own, yeah? I should have realized you were too sophisticated for that kind of stuff.”

The flattery worked.  Packard’s wicked smile reasserted itself.  “I’ll see you later,” he muttered, including me in a beady gaze that had me reaching for my handkerchief again. I watched him go with mounting trepidation. He was soon swallowed up by what was already a good crowd. But for how long, I wondered, anxiously mopping my brow with the handkerchief?

“I see you’re both determined to make a good impression on our host.” Jackie’s voice, low, earnest and oozing sarcasm came as a welcome relief. “You do realize your every move is being watched? Mine, too, probably. So for heaven’s sake act natural and keep your voices down.”  She fixed Danny with a despairing look. “Isn’t it bad enough that you’re playing with fire?  Don’t antagonize the man. Save it for later, okay? The Packards have had people shot for less. Besides, for this idiotic plan of yours to stand the ghost of a chance of working, we need to keep dear Vincent sweet. Who knows? Catch him off guard and we might even get out of here in one piece.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Danny grumbled.

“I wish!” Jackie muttered. “I had better circulate, I suppose. The more we keep our distance, the better. It wouldn’t do to be spotted huddled together like plotters, would it? People might get the right idea, and then where would we be? She moved away before either Danny or I could respond.

“Oh, she of little faith…!” Danny complained.

For my own part, I was wondering whether Jackie and Marc had patched things up yet and hoped they had or would do so sooner rather than later. There was no arguing that theirs was an unusual relationship, but neither was there any denying they were good together.

A pretty young woman attracting admiring glances for carrying off the shortest dress I had ever seen dragged Danny on to the dance floor. I watched them with a mixture of envy and amusement. The dress barely covered either the girl’s breasts or thighs. Danny, in Goth mode looked like something out of a comic strip. Oh, for the unselfconsciousness of youth, I mused, stifling a yawn before going in search of another waiter.

“Are you ready to tell me what’s going on yet?” I turned to find Ryan Banks regarding me with a mixture of pleasure and suspicion.

“You knew I was invited,” I said lamely.

Ryan shrugged. “Okay, have it your own way. If you don’t trust me…”

“Of course I trust you,” I protested, “it’s just that there are some things that take too long to explain and there aren’t enough hours in the day.”

“So there is something going on. Why won’t you tell me?”

“I might have to if it all goes terribly wrong,” I confessed without meaning to, “but in the meantime, believe me, you don’t want to know.”

“But I do. You’re obviously worried sick and….” He stopped in mid-sentence. “You’re not just worried are you? You’re scared. You’re scared stiff. Come on, Laurence, tell me. Is it Vince Packard? Does he have some kind of hold over or grudge against you? It has to be something like that or you wouldn’t have that Goth pansy on your arm. Everyone knows Vince Packard has a thing about Goth boys.”

“I told you Danny would be coming with me.”

“Yes, but not that he’d be looking like something out of a Hammer Horror movie.”

“It’s…complicated,” I told him.

“So? I’m listening.”

“It’s… complicated,” I repeated miserably.

“Hey, hold on a minute. Don’t tell me you’re up for a threesome…you, Vince and that piece of Goth rubbish?  You are, aren’t you? You’ve got something going with Danny, haven’t you? And all this time I thought you and me were going somewhere.” 

“We are,” I said, “You’ve got it all wrong.”

“Oh? So put me right.”

“I can’t,” I wailed. Much as I was dreading the event, I almost welcomed the DJ’s announcement that the birthday boy was about to cut his cake. Distraught, I forced myself to concentrate on the scene immediately ahead.

Along with his brother and another gorilla, Vince Packard emerged on stage from one side while, from the other, Ralph Packard and a woman carried a cake bearing a single large candle.

I turned to pass some humorous observation to Ryan but he had slipped away without my even realizing he had gone. I tried to pick him out in the crowd but just then the lights dimmed and everyone began singing “Happy Birthday, Vincent.”

Afterwards, there were cheers and some carefully orchestrated applause before Vince actually got around to blowing out the candle after three attempts.  Ralph Packard made short speech in praise of both his sons to which everyone not only clapped and cheered but broke into a chorus of “For he’s a jolly good fellow!” It crossed my mind that anyone could have been forgiven for thinking it was Ralph’s birthday, not his son’s.

Finally, the stage was cleared, DJ reinstated, room reverberating to the sound of Elvis Presley singing Blue Suede Shoes. Vince, I had discovered was a great Presley fan.

I looked around desperately for Jackie and was relieved to catch her eye.

“Who’s in for a treat then?” I turned to find the same gorilla that had chauffeured us earlier at my elbow. “Mister Packard is dying to see you although I imagine it’s your pretty Goth friend he’s got it up for.” I longed to make some cutting remark that would wipe the smirk off his ugly bulldog face. But he was bigger than me.

Needless to say, I went quietly.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Danny being propelled towards me by another gorilla. The young woman in the short dress protested loudly and received a hefty slap in the face for her trouble.

In no time at all, we were being escorted out of the room and up two flights of stairs by three gorillas.  We stopped outside a door marked ‘Private. Knock Before Entering’. One of the gorillas knocked.

“Who’s there?” I recognized Vince Packard’s voice.

“Room service, guv,” the same gorilla chuckled.

“Enter.”

Danny and I were pushed unceremoniously into a brightly lit room and the door slammed behind us. Two gorillas remained inside, blocking what, as far as I could see, was the only exit.

Vince Packard was reclining naked on a chaise longue on the far side of the room. Between him and us was a four poster bed, curtains drawn around it.

Packard nodded to Danny. “Would you like to do the honours? Oh, isn’t this exciting,” he tittered. “I do so love to bring old friends together.”

Danny tugged at the curtains on the near side of the bed.

Seconds later, I couldn’t stop myself from crying out in shock and alarm. For the naked woman on the bed looking very frightened was not Teresa.

It was Agnes Musoke.

Danny took one look and rounded on Packard with such an expression of cold fury that our host felt obliged to signal one of the gorillas. In three giant strides, he reached Danny and quickly had him in an arm lock. “Sorry to disappoint you and all that,” Packard told Danny in creepy tone of mock apology that sent shivers down my spine, “but Theresa is very precious to me. I could hardly risk losing my lovely Baganda a third time, could I? Besides, don’t be such a fussy hussy. Agnes is just gagging for it, can’t you see?”  He turned his beady gaze on me. “Don’t be shy, Fisher. You don’t want to miss out on all the fun, do you? Come and help our young Goth friend off with his clothes.”

It was my turn to be manhandled by the second gorilla and I was part shoved, part dragged to the bed.

Danny was released. We stood staring at each other and I knew exactly what was going through his mind. What the devil was Jackie playing at and what would we do when the lights went out anyway? In addition, Danny’s expression warned me that I should not even think about saying, I told you so.

“Have they hurt you?” I asked Agnes, playing desperately for time. Mutely, she shook her head. I glared at Packard. “They should lock up people like you and throw away the key. You’re sick.”

“Undress him,” was all Packard said and the gorilla standing directly behind Danny produced a gun.

“I can undress myself,” Danny declared forcefully.

“I’m sure you can. After all, you’re a big boy now. But you can show me just how big later. For now, I want to see your pimp rip your clothes off.”

It was small comfort but the use of the word at least told me that my true relationship with Danny hadn’t been rumbled.

“Hey, don’t start with my belt or my trousers will fall down,” said Danny jokingly.

I took the hint and began to fumble with the elaborately designed belt at his waist.

“What do we do now?” he whispered between clenched teeth.

“You tell me,” I whispered back, fumbling with the large silver buckle.

“We’ll just have to play it by ear and take our chances.”

“Hey, no whispering, If you’re going to talk dirty I want to hear it!”  Packard roared, and then began to giggle. “Go on, Fisher, give him a smacker.”

“What?” I swallowed, nonplussed.

“Have you got butter fingers or what?” Danny shouted and began to remove the belt.

Then all the lights went out.

I heard a swishing noise and realized Danny was swinging the belt in mid-air. I also heard the gorilla’s yelp as leather met flesh with a vengeance. I sensed movement at my side and, without thinking, lashed out with my foot. The second gorilla fell to the floor. I lashed out again and heard his jawbone crack. Meanwhile, Danny had grabbed the gun.

Agnes Musoke screamed.

The door opened and the third gorilla barged into the fray.

A shot rang out.

This time it was Packard who screamed.

By now, my eyes were better accustomed to the gloom. As the third gorilla dashed into the room I head butted him in the stomach. He staggered only slightly, grabbed me and tossed me on to the bed. As he lunged after me, Agnes lurched forward and began clawing at his face.  He put his hands to his eyes and began yelling blue murder.  Agnes continued to lash out. I ducked under her arm, grabbed a lamp from a small table beside the bed and seized the first opportunity to bring it crashing down on the gorilla’s head.

It all happened so fast, none of us had barely time to draw breath.

Danny was standing over the prostrate body of his assailant, gun in hand, shaking like a leaf. Even in the gloom, his face stood out a ghastly shade of pale. In spite of the state he was in, however, he still managed to point the gun directly at Vincent Packard who was cowering on the chaise longue whimpering, “Don’t kill me. Please don’t kill me,” he kept saying.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Agnes was hurriedly throwing some clothes on.

“Shouldn’t we shut him up?” I asked Danny, indicating Packard.

“Shut the door before anyone realizes what’s up and we have the whole pack on our backs,” he replied.

“We must go, quickly,” said Agnes.

“What about Packard?” I stammered, starting to panic. If reflex actions had got me through the last few minutes, these were now replaced by a gut terror of getting caught. “We could use him as a hostage, I suppose?” I suggested.

“No. We must go now,” Agnes repeated, “before the lights come on again.”

“Get up,” Danny told Packard who did as he was told without any hesitation. “Now, turn around and kneel down.”

“What are you going to do? Don’t kill me. Please don’t kill me.” Suddenly his tone changed and he became more aggressive and threatening. “If you kill me my father and brother won’t rest till you’re all dead and don’t think it will be quick either,” he snarled. “You’ll wish…” But we never heard what Vince Packard wished for us because Danny brought the gun down hard against the side of his head and he went sprawling.

Danny turned to Agnes who, by now, had one hand on the door handle. “Where’s Teresa?” he demanded.

“We haven’t time for that now.”I told him. “We need to get out of here…fast. They’re bound to have a spare generator. The lights could come on again any second.”

“He’s right,” agreed Agnes breathlessly and would have flung open the door had Danny not rushed forward and prevented her.

“Where is Teresa?” he repeated.

“Not now Danny,” I pleaded.

“Yes, now.”

Agnes seemed to be making a decision. “She’s at the auction,” she said at last.

“Why?” I was puzzled. “What possible interest…” I began. Then the penny dropped.

“She will be the last to be sold,” Agnes went on. “The bastards intend to make her wait until the end.”

“We have to do something!” Danny cried.

“First we need to get out of here in one piece,” I pointed out, “It’s not as if we can even rely on the cavalry  turning up at the last minute. I imagine the Met’s finest will be at Mile End.  You can bet Jackie will have found a way to let them know and…”

“Mile End, what about Mile End?” Agnes interrupted sharply.

“It’s where the auction is taking place,” I told her absently. My first priority was to make Danny see sense and get us out of The Red Admiral.

“No, no, you’re wrong!” Agnes declared with such fear and pain in her voice that both Danny and I immediately took notice. “The auction is here at the Red Admiral. There is a warehouse at the back. It will take place at three o’clock in the morning.”

“But Miles Packard told Jackie it was in Mile End,” I gasped.

“That’s right, I did,” said a familiar voice behind me.

No one had noticed the door opening. In the doorway, covering Jackie with a revolver with which he seemed more than comfortable, stood Miles Packard, the handsome features distorted by a malicious grin.

Suddenly, the lights came on.

“Oh, my head…! Vince Packard groaned and tried to get to his feet but quickly sunk to the floor in an untidy heap.

“Help him up,” Miles told Danny then spared a glance for the two prostrate gorillas. He turned to me, indicating with a nod the one Danny had shot. “Is he dead?”

“How should I know?”

“Then I suggest you find out.”

I went and knelt down beside the body and felt for a pulse. There was none. I shook my head. “How about the others, are they still breathing?”

“They’re just out cold,” Danny told him, staggering under Vince Packard’s weight. Vince continued to alternately groan and whimper. “Dump him on the bed, for heaven’s sake,” said Miles. “He’s starting to get on my nerves.”

“My word, haven’t we been busy?” Miles Packard sneered but I thought I detected a note of grudging admiration in his voice. I recalled quite liking the man once. He had to be the best of the bunch, I thought. But if I was tempted to attribute a better nature than his father or brother to Miles I was sadly mistaken.

The sound of pounding footsteps brought another two gorillas, each brandishing guns, to stand beside Miles, plainly awaiting instructions.

Vincent continued to groan.

“Escort our guests to the warehouse,” Miles snarled, and take Agnes while you’re about it. Her friends might enjoy seeing her sold off to the highest bidder.”

“You swine…!” I yelled, “You won’t get away with this. The police are on to you.”

“I’m sure they are. But by the time they realize they are wasting their time in Mile End, we’ll be done and dusted here. No hard evidence, no case. Isn’t that how a copper’s cookie crumbles?” he let rip with a short burst of dry laughter that made me see red.

“What about us?” I demanded. “What about Danny, Jackie and me? Planning to sell us off too, are you?”

“Ah, you guessed. Aren’t we a clever boy then, Mister Fisher?”

I could only stare speechless with incredulity.

“You can’t do that!” Jackie shouted, “It’s bad enough selling off illegals to pimps and dirty old men. But we’re British. You can’t sell us. This is the twenty-first century. The white slave trade…”

“…is alive and kicking all over the world,” Miles told her, leaving no one in any doubt that he meant it.

“You’re mad!” Jackie raged.

“A sex bomb like you will fetch a good price for a start,” Miles observed, “the freaks always do.”

“Why, you…!” Jackie lunged forward and her hands had all but closed around Packard’s neck before a gorilla dragged her away, knocked her senseless and slung her over one broad shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

Miles loosened his tie and the top button of his shirt. “Get them out my sight!” he shouted hoarsely but then called one of his henchmen back and whispered something in his ear. For the second time that evening, we had a gorilla escort through the club. Only, this time we carefully avoided the partygoers. Nor did we have the benefit of Danny’s grand plan to drive us forward regardless of the consequences, only guns and verbal abuse.

We were taken to a small shed at the far end of an expanse of grass and tarmac behind the club premises. It stood only a few yards away from a building I took to be the warehouse where the auction would later take place. There was only a dim light showing inside. We could make out some boxes stacked at the rear but that was all.

Jackie had recovered consciousness and was on her feet, looking haggard and anxious. Agnes Musoke, too, looked on, wide-eyed with terror, a gorilla poking a gun in her ribs every time she so much as trembled as Danny and I were bundled inside. Once our hands and legs had been trussed with the same tape used to gag us, they departed, alternately dragging and prodding poor Agnes and Jackie along with them. One returned briefly to switch off the light, leaving Danny and me to contemplate our fate in darkness and abject misery.

I prayed Ryan would miss me and raise the alarm. Philip, too, will realize something is wrong, surely?  Yet what could they do, I kept asking myself. Philip might find a way to alert his colleagues, I supposed. Yet, half the Metropolitan police force was probably poised to raid a hoax location in Mile End.  As for Ryan, he had seemed willing enough to think the worst of me earlier. Somehow I doubted whether he would care much whether I stayed on at the party or not.

It was a sobering thought.

We completely lost track of time, Danny and I. Cold, uncomfortable, and with parched mouths, we were left to lie on the stone floor of that dark, damp, smelly shed for hours.

Eventually, the door opened and a shadowy figure entered. It was Ralph Packard. He shut the door quietly behind him, turned on the light and regarded us with smug satisfaction. “It’s not quite what I had in mind but it will do. Yes, it will do nicely,” he told us then came and ripped the gags from our mouths.

It hurt.

“You won’t get away with this,” I muttered and struggled ineffectually to free myself.

“Oh, but I will. True, I’m more used to smuggling people into the country than out of it but what’s a variation on a theme, eh?

“Where’s Teresa? What have you done with her, you bastard?” Danny demanded hoarsely.

“Teresa is being well taken care of. So, too, is our transgender friend. You should fetch a good price. I have to say,” he said and looked directly at Danny, crooked, nicotine stained teeth bared and beady eyes unnaturally bright. “Oh, yes, I’m sure someone will pay a lot to have you all to themselves.”

“You’re sick!” cried Danny, but there fear in his voice, so much so that I imagined  I could have reached out and touched it had my hands not been tied.

“Sick, you say? No, I don’t do sick. I leave that to others. I’m simply doing a friend a favour. It’s nothing personal. Let’s face it. Once an old friend decides to call in a favour, what choice do you have?

My jaw dropped. “Fat Georgie…!” I stammered. Packard nodded. His twisted expression filled me with terror, the more so, as the full, fleshy mouth relaxed into a benign smile.

“It wasn’t you who kidnapped and tried to kill me, that’s for sure,” said Danny. “It was a much younger guy, not some old rat bag like you.”

Packard flinched at the jibe, but visibly kept a tight rein on his temper. “It’s true I don’t usually do my own dirty work these days, but I like to keep my hand in. Scaring people is hard work for stiff joints. Killing them, though, that’s much easier. I only have to pull a trigger, after all. Besides, one has to lead by example, show the rubbish element who’s boss.’ He pointed the gun at me. I could see it was fitted with a silencer. I groaned inwardly. He wasn’t leaving anything to chance. “Somehow Fisher,” he went on almost apologetically, “I don’t think anyone will want to pay much for you. It will be cheaper, I think, just to kill you and be done with it.  Fat Georgie said I should take my time, start with your kneecaps perhaps and then your balls. I’ll have to gag the pair of you again, of course, but I’ve enjoyed our little chat. It’s like I said, I needed to be sure you realize it’s nothing personal.”

I felt the blood drain from my face.

Slipping the gun into his jacket pocket, Packard first replaced Danny’s gag then stepped back as if to admire his handiwork. At the same time, I saw the door of the shed open a shade wider. I recognized the newcomer at once as the very person I suspected Fat Georgie of hiring to be rid of certain thorns in his side, Ginny Sharp to name but one. 

 “You’re late,” Packard growled without turning round.

“Sorry, boss, I got delayed.” He shut the door.

“The rubbish element, I presume,” I flung at Packard, nodding towards the other man.

“One can always use a little help.” Packard’s expression had changed yet again. His mouth was set determinedly, eyes shining with anticipation.

Danny gave a little squeal, much as you might expect to hear from an animal in pain.

“You can’t do this!” I managed to croak.

“Oh, I think you’ll find he can,” said the newcomer.

It was Shifty.

Packard replaced the tape over my mouth. I closed my eyes.  A big brown bear came lumbering towards me on its hind legs, its tongue lolling. I was not scared. Why should I be? We were old friends, the bear and me. It was a comfort to feel the beast’s hot, wet tongue licking my face, its fur brushing my skin…

       The muffled but unmistakable sound of a shot exploded in my head.

To be continued on Friday