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  ‘If he’s as involved as I think he is, then he’s dealing with some seriously heavy people, and he’s only had access to them because of Pat. All Des has to say is that Patrick wants to tuck them up, or hint that he is not happy and thinks he’s being shortchanged to see them come back at him with all guns blazing. Only Patrick won’t be aware of any of that, will he? He’ll be in the fucking dark about it all and, as much as I don’t want to get involved, he’s always done right by me, and I certainly don’t want to be in the middle of a gang war.’

  ‘What do you mean, a gang war? How would this turn into a gang war?’

  Jennifer sighed heavily before saying quietly, ‘The people supplying the coke are the O’Learys. Now, you and I know they are not people who would bother with pennies and halfpennies. I could be wrong, Kate, but I think Des isn’t just supplying the girls, he’s opened it up to the general public. He’s supplying it all in Patrick’s name, with Patrick’s money, and it’s the money trail that the Filth follow, isn’t it? Des has carte blanche with Patrick’s money, doesn’t he? And now we have Danny Boy in the mix. Des ain’t going to wait around for him to open his fucking gob, is he?’

  Kate was in complete and utter shock. If Jennifer was telling the truth, and there was no reason why she wouldn’t, then this was a very serious matter for all of them. Especially Patrick. Kate knew Desmond well enough to know that he would make sure he was nowhere to be found in any investigation. In fact, that was why Patrick thought so highly of him, he always said Des could write a contract or broker a deal and, by the time the tax man finally worked it out, they would all be in their graves.

  But the tax man and the O’Learys were two completely different entities. For a start, the tax man wasn’t liable to have you shot for having them over. The O’Learys, on the other hand, would feel honour-bound to see that that happened. Not just for the retribution they would insist upon, but also as a warning to anyone else who might harbour such disloyal thoughts. Kate knew that whilst Terry was the charmer, the front man, Michael O’Leary, would shoot his own family if he thought they’d had him over for a five-pound note. He was a man who did not see the relevance of any kind of communication after what he perceived as a direct affront to him personally. Whether that was by an insult, a slight, or the removal of a serious wad of his money, it was all the same as far as he was concerned. Whenever Michael O’Leary was miffed, he reacted in the same way. Michael would retaliate with a violence that was not only disproportionate, but also guaranteed to ensure that anyone who heard about it would be very loath to bring such a punishment down on themselves. It was this knowledge that would make Des frightened enough to serve up not only Patrick, but anyone else he thought might add to his own downfall. No wonder Des had been so quick to get her out of the house, her curious nature must have worried him. For all his sorry-sounding excuses, he must have been over the moon at her leaving Patrick like she had.

  ‘Jesus Christ, Jennifer, are you sure about all this?’

  ‘Why the fuck do you think I came here? I think that they’ve got a personal agenda, and I also think that they are off their fucking heads. Patrick is bad enough if you cross him, but the O’Learys are in a different league. I’ll be honest, I want to help Patrick, but I am also frightened for meself now. And, let’s face it, Peter won’t swallow what’s been going on, not with his name being bandied about.

  ‘I’m scared, Kate. Des, Peter, Danny and Patrick are all going to collide and I don’t know who I should be talking to. Des is the bad seed, I’ve known that for a while, and I hold me hand up to it. But all this latest shit is frightening the fucking life out of me.

  ‘The trouble is, Kate, Patrick believes his reputation is enough to stop this kind of fucking problem. What he doesn’t realise is that it’s a different world now. He has been out of it for too long. He has his creds, but he doesn’t understand how much has changed since he retired. Fucking youngsters who, in the past, would have to work for years to get themselves a decent stake and a foot in the door can now do it overnight. All they need is the money for a flight to Colombia and a few decent contacts when they arrive. A jewellery heist these days is collateral for a drug deal or an arms deal. Twenty-year-old Russians come over here with a bad attitude and enough guns for sale to equip a small army. I’ve been approached many times by traffickers asking me if I want girls and, believe me, I ain’t proud of my job, but I never forced anyone into it yet, and I ain’t going to start now. It’s a new world now, and a fucking scary one, Kate. Take that chief of yours, he’s in all this up to his fucking eyebrows. He makes sure we are left alone. He also makes sure that the O’Learys get some warning if there’s a chance they might be in line for a tug. Even the Serious Crime Squad are part and parcel of it all. They give the O’Learys a fucking swerve, and who can blame them? I mean, would you put your family in danger for a collar, especially when it’s easier to take the poke on offer and give them the chance of a better life? Money, that’s what makes this country go round, money. And plenty of it. I have girls who work for me with degrees, girls who, twenty years ago, wouldn’t dream of doing this kind of job. I have girls in the clubs who are from well-to-do families and pole dance because they seem to believe that it gives them some kind of fucking sexual freedom. Silly fucking bitches they are, but that’s what I’m trying to say to you. We are dinosaurs, Kate, fucking dinosaurs. Anyone over thirty now is over the hill apparently. I feel that I’m out of my depth, not just with the way the games have changed, but also with the people I’m inadvertently mixed up with. So tell me, what am I supposed to do?’

  Kate didn’t answer her for a while. Instead, she lit one of Jennifer’s cigarettes and puffed on it gently. She rarely smoked these days, it was only like now, when she was really stressed, that she felt the need for one. She welcomed the light-headedness and the nausea, she needed something to make the numbness inside her go away. Then the feeling, the magnificent feeling as the nicotine hit her brain washed over her, she needed that now. And, as always, the cigarette delivered it in just a few seconds.

  Kate was unprepared for what she had been told and she needed time to digest it all, to think about it. She needed to understand who played what part, and why. This wasn’t a question she could answer without real thought. Patrick meant far too much to her.

  Kate looked at Jennifer’s impossibly smooth face. She looked good, but in this harsh light she also looked what she was, a frightened woman of a certain age. For all her Botox and her maintenance, as she liked to describe it, this had aged her overnight. Fear did that to a body, no matter who they were.

  ‘What about young Danny, Jen? Patrick trusts him, do you think he’s wrong to do that? Tell me what you think about him, really think about him.’

  Jennifer shrugged her shoulders inside her expensive shirt. ‘Well, it’s all academic now, especially since Patrick is seeing his sister. She’s not a fool, Kate, she is already running one of the major clubs, and overseeing the casinos. It seems to me that they make a good pair.’

  Kate had met Eve once, and she had thought her a handsome girl, if a bit hard looking. She was younger than her, much younger. She felt the enormity of Pat’s betrayal as if he had sliced her open with a knife. He had already moved on, already sidelined her for a younger model. She should have guessed that he would not stay alone for long, he had the male ability to attract younger females. It was to do with not just money, but also reputation and the knowledge that he was capable of taking care of his conquest in every way. Kate knew, better than anyone, that there were certain young women who looked for the meal ticket, and looked to the older men to provide it for them.

  She felt physically sick, felt her stomach rebelling against the wine and the nicotine. ‘What do you mean they make a good pair, Patrick and Eve?’

  ‘No, stupid. Danny and his sister. Those two are closer than a packet of fucking Rizla.’

  Jennifer could see the devastation on Kate’s face, could feel the mortification she was feeling a
t her words. She realised, too late, that she should have given her the news of Patrick’s betrayal gently. Instead, she had thrown it at her, shoved it into her face without a thought for how it might make her feel.

  ‘Look, Kate. I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but you were the only person I felt I could talk to, could trust. I don’t know what to do for the best. Patrick needs a heads-up, and you are the only person I can think of who he would listen to.’

  Kate nodded gently, attempting to hold on to the last shred of her dignity. She was frightened she would break down and not just cry, but rage at the God who always seemed to make sure that women were destroyed as soon as they started to age. It was as if nature played a joke on them; for years they had the advantage: make-up, hairdressers, good clothes; all those things staved off age for a while. But men, they aged without any kind of help whatsoever, and they got better with age. They had the ultimate advantage and if they were well heeled and well known, they could pick and choose.

  Jennifer put out a well-manicured hand and placed it over Kate’s. She squeezed it gently before saying, ‘Where do you keep the brandy, girl? I think we both need something a bit stronger than wine, don’t you?’

  ‘The bastard, Jen, the two-faced bastard.’

  Jennifer laughed snidely. ‘No, he’s just being a bloke. He’s having what they call a mid-life crisis, only he’s having it a bit later than most blokes. They say you walked out on him, and for a man like Patrick that’s got to be hard.’

  Kate didn’t respond. Instead, she went and retrieved a bottle of brandy from her dining room, all the time wondering if Patrick was with the girl now, if Eve was currently lying beside him in the bed she had shared with him for so many years. Her instincts told her he was, and the knowledge was like a physical blow.

  Chapter Eleven

  ‘Are you all right, Kate? You look awful.’

  ‘Oh do I? Well, thanks, Annie, for pointing that out to me. I really appreciate it.’

  Annie knew when she wasn’t wanted and took the opportunity to go upstairs for a shower. Kate looked troubled. She had a feeling it was to do with Patrick and she knew that if Kate wanted to discuss it, which she very much doubted, she would do so in her own time.

  In the kitchen, Kate closed her eyes tightly, she felt sick with a hangover that was making her head pound, and her hands shake. She had carried on drinking after Jennifer left, and she had finished the remainder of the brandy alone. Without it, she knew she wouldn’t sleep.

  She kept seeing Patrick with Eve, kept imagining them together sexually. She knew that she couldn’t compete with Eve in any way. Not in any way that mattered, he was looking for something new, something different. That much was evident. If Patrick had already replaced her it was clear to Kate that she was old news, and it was not something she felt ready to deal with just yet. It was still too soon, too raw for her to take on board. God knew, he had every right to be annoyed with her, but she had never thought for a second that he would have replaced her in his life so quickly. Especially with a woman so beautiful, someone who had the added advantage of being related to his surrogate son, which was exactly what Danny Foster was to him. She understood that now, he was the son he had never had, would never have had with her anyway. He might get better luck with Eve though, might get himself a whole new family when he should be having grandchildren. Pat wouldn’t use Danny’s sister for sex, he would have too much respect for Danny to do anything like that.

  It was bad enough that he was being tucked up by Desmond, and she knew she would have to get to the bottom of that, if for no other reason than her own natural inquisitiveness. Kate was also interested in what else he was involved in. This was big, and she had a feeling that Patrick wasn’t as savvy as he made out. He had softened over the years and that had made him vulnerable, not that he would believe that, he still thought he was the big Kahuna. Funny how men never thought they were out of the loop, not until it was too late anyway.

  On top of all that, she now knew the O’Learys were on the case, so she understood the seriousness of Pat’s predicament. They were like the Brady Bunch with machetes, not that Patrick would see that. He loved them and so he should, he had been mates with them for years. Or at least he had been. Desmond ought to be shitting it by now. He was about to get fucking scalped, and that was putting it mildly.

  Patrick might have mellowed over the years, but he was not a man who would allow anyone to get the better of him. Especially not someone he had placed his trust in. Kate knew Pat better than anyone, much better than the young girl he had taken up with.

  Oh God, the thought of them together was torture to her. Kate felt sick with the thought of it, even though she knew that there was nothing she could do about it. Pat had replaced her with a younger model, it wasn’t exactly something new where men were concerned, she just had not thought he was capable of doing that to her. The urge to go around to his house and have it out with him was strong, she felt almost murderous with hurt and betrayal. She wanted to smash his face in, really hurt him. She wanted to ask him if he had let that girl into the bed they had shared for so many years. She wanted to demand if he knew how much he had hurt her, how he had destroyed her with his actions. But she couldn’t bring herself to do something like that. She had her pride and, at this moment in time, that was about all she had going for her. There was no way she would compromise that. It was literally all she had left.

  As she poured herself another coffee the phone rang, and Kate answered it with trepidation. She felt as if she was living in a nightmare, and it grieved her that it was a nightmare of her own making.

  Flora O’Brien was a very pretty girl. She was very aggressive, but her fine features and angelic demeanour belied her true nature. Everyone liked her, although no one really knew her. She was a transient from Newcastle on Tyne and she came from a family where her mother was a lunatic who had systematically fallen for men who impregnated her and consequently left her quick smart, and her brothers were both off the scale where mental ability was concerned. Flora had left as soon as she was able. Both her brothers were like their mother, small-minded, mentally incapable, and without the sense to get away from their mother’s overbearing and lying nature. Flora had learned to look after herself, and she made a point of doing just that.

  So when she opened the door of the flat she worked out of three days a week, she was not expecting the sight that was awaiting her. Seeing poor Sandy like that was a real blow, she had liked the girl, admired her. She had no real care for her as such though; like the other members of her family, it would always be about just her and her life, and what she wanted.

  So, instead of phoning for the police there and then, or at least phoning someone involved in the flat’s ownership, and who thereby had given her a place to work from, she cleared the place of anything connected to her then walked out and locked the door behind her. It was not until hours later that Flora had felt the need to let on that her friend and colleague was lying there, all alone. She finally phoned the news in to Jennifer James from a pay phone at the Watford Gap. She had told Jennifer the news and put the phone down before she could be questioned. After having a coffee and a quick wee, she was already making her way to pastures new.

  Flora felt no kinship, no affiliation with young Sandy. Why would she? After all, as her mother had taught them all at a very young age, no one mattered unless they could be used in some way.

  She had a new name and a new date of birth by the time she arrived in Liverpool, and she had forgotten the scene of her friend’s death before she hit the M1. She was already looking forward to the future, and had no intention of revisiting the past. She was sorry for Sandy, but at the same time she was not about to let her misfortune rub off on her.

  ‘You’re telling me that this was an anonymous call?’

  Annie nodded. ‘Well, not that anonymous. Jennifer said it was definitely the girl who should have worked the next shift. I’ve run her though the computers and she’s got m
ore aliases than a bank-robber’s driver. The sad fact is that if she had phoned an ambulance, the girl might have survived. According to the coroner, Sandy would still have been alive when the girl was due in to work. She left her to die basically. The perp would not have been gone long, and the girl could have saved her. Though looking at the body, who would want to be left looking like that?’

  Kate nodded. The girl’s eyes had been burned away, but her throat had been left untouched. It seemed this girl had been treated differently to the others. She had been tortured, but not to the extent of the previous victims. Her hair had been cut off, her breasts slashed but, other than her eyes, she had not been burned as severely as the other girls. There was no mutilation of the genitals. She had been slowly blinded. The only explanation was that the killer had been disturbed. If Sandy Compton had been given emergency treatment, she would have survived. She might have been able to give them something, anything that could have helped them find out who was responsible for all this destruction, all this hate.

  ‘Fuck that cow, I don’t care what it takes, I want her found and I want her charged. She could have saved this girl’s life. And Sandy might have seen the bastard responsible. Fuck her, fuck her to hell and let’s see how she feels when we lock her up. Jennifer knows who she is, let’s put her on the fucking national news as a person of interest.’

  Annie nodded in agreement. She also wanted to find the person who had walked away from this girl when she had needed her most. She had still been alive, God love her. If only that bitch had phoned an ambulance, they could have saved her, and they would have had someone who had come through something fucking horrendous, but they would have still been alive, still breathing. They might even have been given a clue of some kind. Instead, she had left this girl to die alone and in fucking agony.