She rolled her eyes.“Fergus Atwell called himself Freddie Nero.”
“Catchy.”
“And Francis J Nero.No record of any films or activity on the web for three years.Resurfaced running Pay for Gay two years ago.”
Nikolas didn’t want to ask, so was profoundly relieved when Tim did it for him.“Pay for gay?”
“That’s the name he registered the British version of the American therapy courses under.Catchy, huh?You pay and…” She shrugged.“Take your own guess at that.”
Nikolas stared ahead for a while as they circled the town, thinking about three thousand pounds per client with twenty men on each course.Francis J Nero had the pay part of his equation correct anyway.“How is he connected to Julian Wood?I assume heisa doctor?”
“He was a patient of Julian Wood’s.Or Freddie Nero was.Three years ago.I was only searching for a connection with the name Fergus Atwell so I missed it.”
Tim murmured, “I’d love to hear those sessions.”
Nikolas nodded, not actually listening.“Track him down, Kate.”
He didn’t know whether he meant Fergus Atwell, aka Freddie Nero, or Ben.He guessed it didn’t matter.Find one, find the other.
* * *
When Ben had outlined his plan to Fergus the other man had paled.His first response had been, “It’simpossible.It wouldneverwork.”
Ben had expected this.“It doesn’t need to work.The attempt will send the same message.In this case, failure is as good as success.Perhaps better in some ways.I become a martyr then.Martyrs are powerful forces, aren’t they?”
Fergus licked his lips.
Ben didn’t give him the respite of lowering his gaze or looking away.He held the doctor in his penetrating green intensity, and finally the other man had no recourse except to nod in acceptance.
“What do you need?”
Ben then released him by blinking slowly, knowing his eyelashes would fan on his defined cheekbones for one moment.
“I need an army.I needyourarmy.”
* * *
They arrived at the studios late in the evening.They still appeared to be a hive of activity.They found a place to park and climbed out.Tim glanced nervously at Squeezy.“What would you do—if it was you that came here to kill Atwell?You’re the closest thing to Ben we have.Think like him.”
Nikolas was only barely restraining himself.
“He’s notgoingto kill the fucker!He’s going to lead his rainbow army into some dumb shit to make up for what he did.He’s going to fucking sacrifice himself!You don’t know Ben like I do!”
The other three ignored him.Squeezy actually shut his eyes, theatrically trying to think like Ben.“I’d get him away from here, somewhere quiet, make him suffer for a while and then kill him.Somewhere near water.A quarry, if possible.Easiest place to dispose of a body if you don’t have an incinerator.”He opened his eyes, obviously pleased with himself until he saw Tim’s expression.“What?You asked!”
Tim nodded, took a breath, and scrabbled in his inside jacket pocket.He produced a slightly dog-eared card.“Believe it or not—and I find it hard to believe sometimes, trust me—I’m stillDoctorTim Watson.A doctor is a doctor, yes?I’ll just go ask for my colleague.”
They watched him walk away.Then before he disappeared from sight into one of the large sheds, they trailed after him.Nikolas was deeply shamed—two ex-Special Forces operatives and a computer expert didn’t have a better plan.
It was incredibly hot inside the shed, for they were filming at night, and all the lights were blazing, pumping out incredible amounts of heat.All four of them paused in the darkness behind the illuminated scene.
Five naked men were having sex.
There were a number of shouted instructions from a man off to one side, and for the first time it occurred to Nikolas that any grunts or murmurs of appreciation heard in such movies were added afterward.It wasn’t that much of a passion killer to discover this, because there was absolutely no enthusiasm in the scene anyway.They could have been watching animals mate on the Discovery Channel.In fact it crossed Nikolas’s mind that hehadseen something more—
They were spotted.The scene was halted abruptly, which was interesting to watch for a moment, and then a large man accosted them.Tim handed him a card, introduced himself as a colleague ofDoctorFergus Atwell’s, and then out of the blue introduced Nikolas as his Russian backer.Nikolas bowed slightly, shook the man’s hand and reeled off a string of Russian, gesturing knowingly at the lights, cameras, and huddle of naked men.He knew a lot about one of these things, anyway.
Nikolas had a distinct advantage in this unexpected deception—something his friends now took for granted but which always made an impression on first acquaintance—he looked like what he was: a billionaire.It was the cut of his suit, the hang of his cashmere overcoat, the quality leather of his shoes, his watch—even his bloody haircut screamed money.ActuallybeingRussian didn’t hurt either.
