‘You can call me Kenny.’ He nodded at her and Kate realised with growing dismay that the man was drunk. She forced the smile back on to her face.

‘Whatever you say. Now shall I fill you in on all that I have?’

Caitlin leaned back in his chair. Opening his coat, he took out his handkerchief and blew his nose loudly.

‘You do that, Katie. The sooner this bastard’s caught the better.’

Well, they agreed on that much anyway. Taking a deep breath, Kate started to talk.

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

2 January

George had left for work at his usual time of eight fifteen. By ten thirty-five he was walking into Sexplosion. Anthony Jones was behind the counter and George smiled at him tremulously. The shopkeeper gave a large toothy grin.

‘Hello, cocker! Happy New Year.’ He was full of good-humoured camaraderie.

‘Happy New Year. Er, I have the necessary.’

‘Good, good.’ Tony Jones lifted the serving hatch and invited George through to the back of the shop. He looked around him hesitantly before walking through. There were quite a few customers even this early in the morning. Tony Jones shouted to a dark-haired boy of about eighteen.

‘Emmanuel, watch the shop, I’ve got some business to attend to.’ In the back of the shop he whispered to George: ‘He’s as queer as a nine-bob note, but he’s a good little worker. Right then, look at this!’

He rubbed his hands together in anticipation and pressed the play button on a video that stood on a small table. On the television screen above it a young Chinese girl appeared. Her face was a mask of fear.

‘Sit yourself down, mate, I’ll make us a cuppa.’ George sat down and watched the flickering images in front of him. In the dirty little office, he felt the first stirrings of excitement.

An hour later he left with the film tucked firmly under his arm, and a phone number and address in his pocket. He got into his car and began to drive aimlessly around London. It was a dark overcast day; the people milling around all looked grey. Grey and dirty.

George found himself in Paddington and smiled. He rooted around in his coat pocket until he found the address that Tony Jones had given him. He parked his car off Warwick Avenue and, locking it up, began his search. He walked along the Harrow Road until he found the small turning he wanted. He walked into Chippenham Road, scanning the house numbers. When he arrived at the right house he checked the number carefully against his piece of paper. He walked to the front door and looked at the array of bells there.

All the bells had little cards above them.

Flat one: Suzie, French model.

Flat two: Sexy Sadie, full correction.

Flat three: Imogen, Swedish masseuse.

Flat four: Carol, schoolgirl temptress.

Flat five: Beatrice, for naughty boys.

He wanted flat six: Sure enough there it was.