Pop Goes the Weasel | страница 103

He screamed fit to burst, as tears flooded his eyes.

‘What the fuck did you think you were doing?’ she bellowed at him before laughing. ‘Oh boy, you are going to pay for that. I’m going to send you back to your frigid wife in pieces, right?’

The tears were pouring down his face now, but they seemed to have no impact on her. She raised the bar to strike his face, then suddenly paused, reining in the tempest of violence that threatened to overwhelm her. Breathing heavily, she turned and put the iron bar in her rucksack.

The respite was brief, however, as she now drew a long knife from her bag. Feeling its blade with her gloved finger, she turned to her victim. Marching over, she held the blade to his throat. He prayed for her to do it, to end his suffering right now. A little more pressure would sever his carotid artery and that would be that.

But Angel had other ideas. Raising the blade, she crouched down, rocking back and forward on her haunches. A smile danced around the corners of her mouth.

‘You’ve paid for a whole hour, so we might as well have a little fun, mightn’t we?’

And with that the butchery began.

Helen had only just returned to Southampton Central when she got the call from Tony Bridges. She and Charlie had been running over the latest leads on the other forum users – BlackArrow had scaled down his posting, but the obsessive PussyKing was still giving them plenty to work with – but Helen abandoned the search now without a second thought. Half an hour later, she was alongside Tony in the interview room – Melissa sat opposite, cradling a mug of tea.

‘Tell me about Lyra Campbell.’

‘Money first.’

Helen slid the fat envelope across the table. Melissa counted the notes quickly then stuffed the cash into her bag.

‘She’s from London, I think. Not sure where exactly, but she talks like a Londoner. Like you.’

Despite Helen’s many years in Southampton, her South London accent had never entirely deserted her.

‘Did a bit of streetwalking up there, then came down to Portsmouth with a boyfriend. When that didn’t work out, she moved to Southampton.’

‘When?’

‘’Bout a year ago. Ended up working in the same gang as me.’

Melissa sniffed and took a swig of her tea. She hadn’t once looked up. It was as if mumbling at the floor might prevent Lyra hearing her betrayal.

‘Which gang?’ Tony queried.

‘Anton Gardiner.’

Tony looked at Helen. The name was familiar to both of them. Anton Gardiner was a violent drug dealer and pimp who ran girls in the south of the city. He worked alone and lived in the shadows, occasionally attracting the attention of the police by acts of incredible violence against his girls or his rivals. He was rumoured to be wealthy but as he didn’t believe in banks, this was hard to confirm. What was undoubtedly true was that he was sadistic, unpredictable and unbalanced. He often picked up girls from care homes and shelters – which meant that Helen had a particular hatred of him.