The Doll's House (27 page)

I
nside the cinema, behind a makeshift counter, sat a failed genetic experiment, a cross between a man and a toad. He was huge and fat, his skin greasy and warty. He had a shaved head and wore chunky gold jewellery that may have been expensive and genuine or may have been Argos. It was so tasteless Imani had no way of knowing. He wore a brown leather jacket that looked as greasy as his skin and a stained T-shirt pulled tight across his expansive belly. He looked half asleep, staring at a porn mag spread out before him, but Imani wasn't fooled. His round eyes missed nothing. He perked up when they entered.

‘What can I do for you?'

‘It's what you can do for us,' said Imani. She showed him the photo, explained what it was about.

The toad's round eyes became hooded, hidden. ‘Murder, you say?'

‘Murder,' said Khan, as bluntly and emphatically as he could.

The toad rubbed his stubbly chin. ‘Never seen that before.' He handed the flyer back.

‘Hang on to it. You never know,' said Imani. ‘We've got plenty more.'

The toad shrugged, put it under the desk. Went back to his magazine. When he noticed that the two police officers hadn't left, he looked up.

‘What?'

‘Mind if we take a look inside?'

‘Why?' Eyes hooded and hidden again. ‘We're licensed. By the council.'

‘That's not why we're here,' said Imani. ‘The tattoo?'

The toad clearly didn't want to let them in. He was weighing up whether it would be better to go along with them or cause a fuss by refusing them access when Khan made his mind up for him.

‘Come on,' he said, pushing past Imani, ‘let's get it over with.'

Imani smiled at the toad. ‘Two minutes,' she said and followed him.

Going through the doorway from the front of the cinema she was immediately thrown into darkness. The light hadn't been particularly bright outside, but her eyes still took a while to get accustomed to it. She stood still, blinked. There was no sign of Khan. Ahead of her was a narrow passageway. Cheap plywood painted black. She saw a doorway at the far end, leading off to the left. She walked towards it.

She heard the film before she saw it. Overdubbed grunts, sighs and screams. She reached the doorway, looked inside. The room was the size of a combined living and dining room. Seating had been placed in rows in front of a large screen. On the screen two hugely tooled men were servicing each other. Their bodies were hard, hairless, slick and shining with oil and sweat. Their eyes were closed, their faces expressionless. They bore as much resemblance to real people as an episode of
The Simpsons
. It was the opposite of erotic. It was like watching heavy pneumatic machinery at work.

But most people weren't there to watch the film. They were too busy with each other. The room wasn't full but the clientele were all men. Middle-aged, most of them, Imani reckoned, and not particularly attractive. But they all had something that someone else wanted. Oral sex. Anal sex. Everything in between. A couple of transvestites being anything but ladylike. Even as a police officer Imani had never seen anything like this. She felt as if she had stepped into another world.

She looked round. No sign of Khan.

She left the room, continued down the corridor. It ended in a set of stairs. She could hear more overdubbed grunts and groans coming from down there. The hallway turned to the right. She looked down it. A silhouette of a couple in an embrace was etched against the weak covered lighting at the far end. Both male, neither needing the stimulus of the screen. Both in a state of undress. She turned, went downstairs.

It was the same set-up as before. The same kind of film, the same kind of audience. But somehow being in the basement made it feel even sleazier than above, like there were fewer or even no limits to what went on.

She found Khan. Standing mutely at the doorway, staring into the room, mouth open like he had been hypnotised. He had been noticed. Imani was aware of at least one seated man waving his erect penis at him, trying to attract his attention. Imani came and joined him.

‘There you go, tiger,' she whispered in his ear. ‘Don't let me stop you.'

He turned, anger jumping into his features, crowding out whatever confused emotions were already there.

Imani smiled, looked at the man who had been waving his penis. Young, dressed in jeans and an unseasonable T-shirt. Only his fly was undone. He saw Imani looking at him and immediately lost interest.

But Imani was suddenly interested in him.

‘Look,' she said to Khan, still whispering, ‘his arm.'

Khan looked where Imani told him to. The willy-waggler had bare forearms. On the inside of one was what appeared to be the tattoo they were looking for.

Imani couldn't believe her luck. She felt her heart race, fought to keep it down. Forced herself to remember her training. Khan shared a glance with her and they both moved towards the seated man.

‘Excuse me,' said Imani, going for her warrant card, ‘could we —'

She didn't get any further. The man jumped up and, penis still sticking out of his jeans, pushed her backwards into Khan. While the two police officers were trying to untangle themselves, the man ran past them towards the stairs.

‘Stop!' shouted Khan. ‘Police!'

The man didn't stop.

Imani and Khan ran after him.

M
arina heard Phil coming in. She had thought of pretending to be asleep to avoid a conversation but couldn't bring herself to do it. Couldn't bring herself to lie any more to the man she loved. She had been lying awake, waiting for him. She had made a decision. She was going to tell him. Everything. Gwilym, the drugging, the testing. Everything. Then work it through, see what they could do about it.

She heard him downstairs, expected him to go to the fridge, get himself a beer, sit down. That was all right, she thought, heart tripping heavily, she could wait. But he didn't do that. She heard him coming straight upstairs.

She knew what he would do next, knew his routine as well as he did. Sure enough, she heard the door to Josephina's room creak open slightly, knew he would be checking on her, watching her sleep. He did it every night. They both did.

She heard him creep across the landing, booted feet moving as lightly as he could. She heard him in the bathroom. She heard the bathroom light going off. The bedroom door opened. He came in. Her stomach somersaulted.

‘Thought you'd be asleep,' he said.

She was sitting upright in bed, the paper propped before her. She hoped he didn't notice her hands shaking. ‘Nope.'

He sat on the edge of the bed, began to get undressed.

Now
, she thought.
Tell him now
.

‘How was your day?' he said.

‘Oh, fine, you know,' she said. ‘Didn't do much. Took it easy.'
Apart from
meeting Anni, asking for a clandestine drugs test.
‘Went shopping for Christmas presents, that kind of thing.'
Please don't ask about the presents. Please don't ask to see them.
She paused.
This is it
, she thought.
This is the time. Tell him
. She opened her mouth to speak again. ‘How was your day? How's the case going?'

‘It's… interesting. I'll tell you all about it if you like.' He yawned.

‘You look done in,' she said. ‘Tell me in the morning.'

He got into bed next to her. She could feel him looking at her.

She put the paper down.

‘Marina…'

‘Yes?'

He stopped talking, became thoughtful.
Now
, she thought
. Do it now
.
Just tell him and get it over with
.

‘I need to talk to you,' he said.

She opened her mouth to speak, to respond. But she was frozen. The words wouldn't come.

‘Marina…'

‘I'm tired, Phil,' she said. ‘It's… it's been a long day. I… I… I'm tired.'

‘But…'

She turned over on her side. ‘I'm tired,' she said more firmly. ‘Let's… let's talk in the morning.' She put the light out.

She closed her eyes. Aware of Phil still lying on his side, still staring at her. Willing her to move, to speak, to turn over and face him. She wanted to do so as well. But couldn't. She was a coward and she hated herself for it, but she couldn't.

Eventually Phil sighed, lay down. Marina kept her eyes closed, tried not to move. To convince him she was sleeping.

Hating herself for not being able to speak.

She lay like that for hours, pretending to sleep. Knew he was doing the same. Knew he was as terrified as her of what the other would say if they spoke.

T
he toad man said something. Imani didn't wait to hear what it was, just kept running. She heard Khan clattering up the stairs behind her.

The T-shirted man reached the doorway of the cinema and, knocking over a couple of prospective punters, turned left, ran up Hurst Street.

‘Come on!' she shouted, and followed. She knew the words were meaningless, just something to key her up.

The man ran towards the Hippodrome. Evening theatregoers were just emerging. Imani knew that if they got caught up in that crowd they would lose him. She ran all the harder.

The T-shirted man saw the crowds ahead of him, risked a glance behind. Saw Imani and Khan were still after him, turned left and ran down a side street, away from the crowds, past the stage door. Imani gave chase. She heard Khan shouting something behind her, turned. He was making a call, giving their location, explaining the situation, requesting backup. Good. She ran all the harder to make up for his lack of pace while he was doing it.

Down past the snooker hall, pavement smokers jumping out of the way. The man reached the end of the cut-through, looked round, turned right. Imani kept chasing.

He ran along the pavement, dodging pedestrians, upsetting a few, towards the Holloway Circus roundabout. Looked round again. Imani felt her chest burning, her heart pumping. She was getting tired and wanted to stop, but she knew if she did that he would be gone. She pushed herself all the harder.

Found herself gaining on him. Pushed herself more…

He reached the corner, turned right. Down Smallbrook, past the all-night cafés, kebab shops and Turkish minimarts.

He's heading back to Hurst Street, she thought.

She willed her feet to run faster. Chest burning, legs aching. Each breath tore her throat red raw. Faster…

And there he was, an arm's length away from her.

She reached out, hand ready to grab him, pull him to the ground.

He sensed what she was doing, turned. Stopped.

And punched her square in the face.

Imani, shocked as well as hurt, went down. He didn't wait around, just ran on.

She put her hand to her face. It came away dark and wet with something more than rain.

‘Bastard…'

She became aware of Khan running past her, not stopping. Groaning from the pain in her legs, her chest, her face, she pulled herself to her feet. Gave chase once more.

She knew from the direction Khan was heading where their target had gone. Down Hurst Street once more.

She ran past the Ming Moon restaurant and casino, left on to Ladywell Walk, past the cheap hotels and the even cheaper Chinese restaurants. Their quarry hesitated at the corner of Wrottesley Street, decided against running down there.
He knows the area
, thought Imani, still running.
He knows that's a dead end.

Khan was running as fast as he could, calling for help – or rather shouting – at the same time. Imani gave chase behind him.

The man ran on to Pershore Street. It was darker here, away from the bars and theatregoers. The market and the corner of the Bullring shopping centre towered above them on one side. Below was an occasional oasis of sodium street light against a huge stretch of darkness.

He ran towards the city centre. He showed no sign of slowing down.

Bastard's fit
, thought Imani.

Queensway went over the top of them. Underneath were arches and alleyways. A car park.

He ran into that.

Khan followed. Imani, a few seconds later, did likewise.

The smell of exhaust fumes hit as soon as she entered. She was lightheaded enough from running and the punch; she didn't need that too. Cars were dotted about. The lighting was sporadic, episodic. Fluorescent tubes guttered and spat overhead. Slow-motion strobes.

Khan was standing just inside the doorway. Out of breath, hands on knees. Doubled over, but his eyes were roving.

‘Came in here and I lost him,' he said through gasps of air.

‘Is this the only way out?'

He pointed along to his right. ‘Exit's there.'

‘I'll get over there.'

Khan looked at her. His eyes widened in shock. ‘Jesus Christ…'

‘What?'

‘He's done a number on your face.'

‘Thanks.' She didn't know if Khan was going to apologise for his words or laugh at her. She didn't wait to find out. ‘I'll go to the exit.'

She moved as quickly as she could. Got there. Waited. She looked along at where Khan was, saw him start to edge his way in further. Head moving from side to side, eyes scanning the whole time.

‘Here!' he shouted, and was off.

Imani looked towards the exit, then back the way Khan had gone. Gave chase. She saw him run into the depths of the garage. Saw a shadow detach itself from the wall behind a parked Nissan, come at him. One dark arm bigger than the other. Khan didn't have time to see that their assailant had found a weapon. He only had time to feel it connect, take him down.

‘Nadish!' Imani ran towards them.

The figure saw her, turned. She saw that the weapon was a heavy metal car jack. She ran towards him, trying to remember her training. She wasn't going to get caught the same way again.

Reason with him
, she thought.
Stall him, play for time
.

She opened her mouth to speak. He ran at her, the jack held above his head. She managed to get most of her body out of the way, but the jack connected with her forearm. She screamed, went down on her side.

He ran.

She pulled herself up to her knees, her body almost singing in pain. She saw her quarry reach the main door. Her heart sank as she realised he had got away.

Then…

A quick burst of light and he fell to the ground.

She got to her feet, made her way to the door. Mike Pierce was there, out of breath, with a handful of uniforms. One of them holding a Taser.

‘Response team turned up,' said Pierce. ‘Just in time, too.'

Imani looked down at the man lying there. Knelt down, checked his forearm. That was the tattoo, all right. And something else. His penis, deflated now, was still sticking out of the front of his jeans. She stood up again.

‘Thank you,' she said.

‘No problem,' said the officer with the Taser. He noticed the front of the man's jeans. Shook his head. ‘Didn't even have time to tuck himself in.'

‘My God,' said Pierce, looking away from the prone man and properly at Imani for the first time. ‘Let's get you an ambulance.'

Imani nodded. ‘You should see the other fella,' she said.

Then sank to the ground.