Henry reeled, uttering gibberish, swearwords and blasphemy.
Gunk dragged him across the room towards the desk, then forced him down on to his knees in a praying position and rammed the side of Henry’s face into the desktop. Gunk stood behind him, knees jammed into his shoulder-blades, pressing Henry’s chest against the desk and skewering his features whilst blood and snot flowed from his nose, mixing with saliva dribbling from his twisted mouth.
Gunk put his mouth to Henry’s ear. ‘Right, you cunt,’ he said. Then he reached down and pulled up Henry’s jumper, running his harsh hands over Henry’s chest, stomach and back.
‘ Nothing there, Gazzer,’ Gunk said to Thompson.
‘ Strip the fucker,’ Thompson shouted. He had been watching the beating from the comfort of the Chesterfield, legs crossed, relaxed.
‘ On your fucking feet,’ Gunk growled. He heaved Henry up. ‘Come on, get up.’
‘ What… Why…?’ Henry spluttered, hardly able to balance.
‘ Now you can do this hard or easy,’ Gunk explained. ‘Get your clothes off.’
‘ But… why?’
Gunk slammed an open hand across Henry’s head, lifting the detective off his feet, reeling him round full circle and depositing him in a heap on the floor. Henry regained his hands and knees, shaking his head, aware of blood dripping on the carpet.
Gunk leaned over. ‘Take your kit off, or I’ll kill you now.’
Henry rocked back on to his haunches and eased the V-neck jumper over his head, dropping it on to the floor. He wore nothing underneath it. He struggled to his feet, stage by stage, unbuckled his belt, waistband, and unzipped his chinos. He let them drop to his ankle. He swayed, only just able to remain standing.
‘ Skids, too,’ Gunk screamed.
Henry pulled his underpants down, left them at his ankles. Gunk circled him, his eyes focused on Henry’s genitals and backside.
Henry panted, racked with pain, one hand at his nose, thanking God he had decided to make this first meeting without a wire.
‘ He’s clean,’ Gunk announced, stepped into Henry and grabbed his sore balls, squeezing. ‘Aren’t you, babe?’
There was some conversation, but not a lot. Rik told Danny a few things about his job on Conference Planning which simply passed over her head. There was a considerable amount of alcohol imbibed between them a lot of dancing done, culminating in several slow numbers leading up to the 2 a.m. finish. It was during these songs that Danny made her intentions clearly and unequivocally known to Rik Dean, if not by word of mouth, by actions.
They actually started the first slow song standing slightly apart. Rik’s hands rested on Danny’s shapely hips. Her arms were snaked around his neck. By the end of that song, other than being completely naked, they could not have got closer together. They kissed greedily, wetly. Their hands slithered up and down each other’s spine and backside. Danny gasped hotly on the first occasion both her hands moulded themselves on to Rik’s bum. It was taut and hard, just as she had imagined, but not as solid as his erection which Danny moved against as they rotated with each other. She took a few less than discreet opportunities to sneak a hand around to the front of his trousers and squeeze, making him groan like a beast.
‘ Let’s go,’ Danny whispered hoarsely, sucking his ear. ‘My place.’
‘ Yeah, c’mon.’
He virtually dragged her off the dance-floor past a table of jeering, boorish and very irate Murder Squad detectives.
Danny was completely swept up by the moment. There was nothing on her mind but the prospect of screwing Rik Dean, the sooner the better. She needed the release of orgasm, multiple ones if possible.
With Gunk’s willing assistance, the naked Henry Christie — trousers and shreddies around his ankle — had reassumed the kneeling position by the desk. Gunk’s knees were pressed into his back, Henry’s hands were jammed down in front of himself and his head was again being squashed into the desktop by Gunk.
Thompson sat on the office chair, reclining it. He swung his heels up on to the edge of the desk. Henry’s leather coat was in his hands and he was rooting through the pockets. He found a wallet which he turned upside down and emptied on his lap. He picked up and scrutinised everything. It all related to Frank Jagger. Henry had no concerns from that angle.
‘ OK, Frank,’ Thompson said, brushing the wallet contents off his legs on to the floor, and dropping the leather coat. ‘Bet you’re wondering what this is about?’
‘ You could thay thasht,’ Henry responded through his distorted mouth.
‘ As you are fully aware, our boss Jacky Lee got taken out the other day by a renegade gunman. Not a nice thing to happen at all. Problem is, that both me and Gunk got hauled in by the bizzies — which was only to be expected, I suppose. They’ve got to be seen to be doing something and I accept that. Reluctantly, of course,’ he said generously. ‘The fact is, though, they really, really, really thought we had something to do with the job. Like we set the whole thing up, or something.’ He tittered at Gunk, who chuckled back. ‘I can half understand their point of view… totally unfounded though it was.’
Henry dribbled on to the desk. Gunk pressed down harder.
‘ But they started asking us some really nooky questions which got me doing a bit of thinking. They were the kind of questions that come via a witness at the scene, who may have seen things happen in a certain way — and the only person or persons I can think of who fit the bill are you and your mate, Eric. You see, every other witness in that cafe was spoken to, discreetly, no pressure, nothing like that, and were told to say they either saw fuck-all, or very, very little. Gunk is my witness liaison officer. As you can see, he has a way with negotiations.’
‘ Yeah, I shee,’ Henry spat. His mind shot back to the briefing with Davison and the reassurance that neither his nor Terry’s statements had been used in the investigation. As Henry half-suspected at the time, Davison had lied.
And now Henry’s life was in danger.
‘ I want to know what you have to say about this. Did you tell the cops what you saw? And if you did, did you finger me and Gunk? And also, if you did, what the hell are you doing here tonight, bold as brass and twice as thick? Answers, not on a postcard. ‘
Gunk released the pressure on Henry’s face, but grabbed his ears, one in each hand, holding Henry’s head between them, screwing his ears as though he were revving a motorbike.
Henry cried out. Gunk stopped twisting.
‘ I… we didn’t go to the cops.’ It was difficult trying to speak with a gushing bloody nose. ‘Think I’m fucking daft or something? I had ten thousand bottles of stolen whisky on that lorry park. I’m not going to go waltzing up to the cops, am I?’
‘ You would say that, wouldn’t you?’ Thompson said.
‘ Only ‘cos it’s the truth. On my mother’s grave, I swear it. I have not been to the cops and nor has Eric. We don’t fucking intend doing so either, but in case they get hold of us, you’d better tell me what you want us to tell them. Help me get my story straight.’
Thompson nodded to Gunk, who released Henry’s ears. Henry dropped his head on to his chest and choked back a sob of fear. ‘Jesus Christ!’
‘ Do we believe him?’ Thompson asked the room. There was no reply.
Thompson dropped his feet and leaned forwards, placing his chin on the desk, looking playfully across at Henry. ‘Benefit of the doubt, Frank. But make no mistake, we’ll be keeping a close eye on you until I’m one hundred per cent. If I find you have gone to the cops, you’re dead meat and so is your pal.’
They jumped into the first available taxi and Danny shouted her address to the driver. Then she and Rik fell greedily into each other’s arms on the back seat of the cab, kissing hard, both driven by lust. Danny could not wait to get Rik’s trousers off him, but for the sake of propriety in the cab, she limited herself to forcing her hand down the front of them and grabbing his pulsating penis. He, in turn, less than romantically, found his way straight up her skirt to the top of her tights and knickers, easing them down and sliding his hand between her legs, cupping her hot sex, inserting a finger which sent a wonderful shiver right up to her nipples.