“Where did you meet them?”
“Online.”
“How?”
“On a forum.”
“What was the name of the forum?”
“I can’t remember the name—”
“And you want to meet Angel?”
“Yes!”
“Because you want to question her? Like you’re questioning me?”
“No, no,” Tony replied, but he had hesitated a nanosecond too long and he knew it.
Melissa was already on her feet.
“A bloody cop. I knew it.”
“Melissa, wait.”
“Thanks for the chat and the cash, but I’ve got to go.”
Tony put a hand on her arm to stop her.
“I just want to talk to you.”
“You lay one more finger on me and I will scream the bloody house down. Then every hooker for miles around will know you’re a pig, right?”
“I just need to find Angel. It’s really important that I find...”
“Go fuck yourself.”
She walked out, leaving the door open behind her. Tony’s first instinct was to go after her, but what was the point? Defeated, he sat down heavily on the bed. Melissa was their best lead and he’d blown it completely. It had cost him quite a lot to inhabit this role—had raised questions he didn’t want to ask himself—and he’d ended up with nothing.
Next door the sound of frantic copulation cranked up, beating out the rhythm of his failure. Picking up his coat, he hurried out. He wanted to be away from this place. Away from the sex. And away from this crushing defeat.
60
The caravan stood alone on the open wasteland. Framed by the gypsy fires that burned nearby, it looked almost beautiful. Inside, it was less pleasant, mildewed and rotting, the detritus of drug use littering the floor. Still, it would do for tonight—a mattress was slung down on the floor, ready for action.
“You a soldier, then?” she asked.
“Was. Afghanistan.”
“I love soldiers—you killed any ragheads?”
“A few.”
“My hero. I should give you one on the house.”
Simon Booker shrugged off the suggestion. He didn’t want her pity. Or her charity. That wasn’t why he was here. He pulled some notes from his wallet, laying them on the stained Formica breakfast bar. As he did so, he noticed his wedding ring and began to tug at it.
“Don’t worry about that, love. I won’t tell if you don’t. It’s thirty for oral, fifty for straight, hundred for anything else. And I’m going to need you to use a condom, love. Don’t want any of the diseases you picked up from those foreign whores, do I?”
