Page 154 of King’s Ransom

‘So. This is a virtual avatar of Aristo King’s phone,’ he said. ‘If we were holding his phone right now, this is how it would look.’

‘Okay.’

‘Right,’ Monty said. ‘You asked me to look for any sex tapes that Aristo might have filmed on his cell phone. Well, he filmed a lot. Kept ’em in a multiple password–protected folder, so it took longer than expected, but I eventually cracked the passwords and got in. Sam, the clips make for, ahem, interesting viewing.’

‘Let’s see them,’ I said.

Monty opened the phone’s video app and I saw a grid of video files on its virtual screen.

There must have been fifty of them.

‘All right. Let’s do this,’ I said.

I’m sure some people might think watching a bunch of sex tapes is arousing, like watching pornography.

It’s not.

The sex tapes of regular people are usually short, poorly lit and often—like here—filmed with a hidden camera so one of the participants doesn’t know it’s being recorded.

It’s not sexy at all.

In my experience, watching a sex tape feels sort of dirty and, well, sad.

That was how I felt watching Aristo King’s sex tapes.

All were filmed from the same angle: from behind the two-way mirror looking across his 95th-floor corner bedroom, literally among the clouds.

Most occurred at night.

Some during the day.

All had time and date stamps.

How to describe it?

Well, basically, Aristo King had had sexual relations with a lot of women.

Many seemed to be one-night stands: like a famous Hollywood actress; an equally famous model; and one woman whom I recognised as a member of an evangelical Christian group that supported the President.

(King had arrived in his bedroom in a tux while she’d been wearing a ballgown; I figured they’d come from a fundraiser. She snorted cocaine as they fucked.)

Massage therapists. His private Pilates instructor.

In one video, King had sex with two women who looked to me like professional escorts.

‘He just doesn’t stop, does he . . .’ I said.

‘Oh wait, there’s more,’ Monty said. ‘These are just the women who appear in a single video each.’

The next young woman was very small. Compact, pretty and blonde.

And to my surprise, I recognised her.

‘Isn’t she that gymnast? The daughter of King’s business partner, Allen Derrickson? The one who might go to the Olympics? Aristo King’s goddaughter?’

‘Sure is,’ Monty said. ‘Dede Derrickson. Dede-D.’

In that video, the pretty young gymnast snorted cocaine off King’s abs then gave him oral sex. Then she bent over, her legs spread wide, gymnast-style, and he penetrated her from behind and she squealed in coke-fuelled joy.