The Alex King Series by A BATEMAN (free ebook reader for ipad TXT) 📕

Helena shook her head. “We control our own fate,” she said. “Nobody was there to help me. Nobody came to my rescue…” She smiled cruelly. “… and nobody will come for you.”

“I get it,” Caroline said coolly. “But what happens to these girls?”

“Sex trade, mainly. Some will go back east, out to the Middle East. The blondes and the redheads. They’ll be the lucky ones. They will have some sheik who will only get it up so much, and he will want them clean and well-tended to. Some of them will even enjoy the lifestyle. Others won’t be so lucky and will go to super-brothels.”

“Where?”

“On your own doorstep!” Helena laughed. “Right under the noses of the middle-classes. Many throughout Europe. And then there’s pop-up brothels. The handlers bring the girls into a short-term house let, advertise locally and sit back and wait. A few weeks at a time, from town to town, always one step ahead of the police.”

Caroline watched the women, who were looking back at her. The girls were aged from mid-teens to thirty. Some were prettier than others, but all were attractive, or would have been before their soul-sapping ordeal had started. “So, this is a holding area?”

“Of sorts.”

“And you got into this line of work since…”

“It’s been happening for years!” Helena interrupted. “I have taken over assets and ventures, have the men on my payroll. I offered better incentives, a clearer picture for them to work from.”

“So, when do these girls get shipped out?”

“We’re still testing and sorting them.”

“Testing for what?” Caroline paused. “STDs?”

“Amongst other things,” Helena smiled. “Keep walking.”

Caroline glanced at the women again, as she walked onwards. There was a door ahead and another large room, which would have been a milking parlour once. It had been scrubbed clean and the stalls knocked down, but Caroline had spent summers on her uncle’s farm as a child, and she recognised the building’s former use. This next room had a hospital-style bed and medical equipment at the far end. Caroline watched as the door opened and a woman was walked in by two dirty-looking, wiry men. Another man followed, he wore a filthy white medical coat and carried a kidney dish with equipment in it. As Caroline neared, she saw it was a speculum. She stopped and stared at Helena, whose expression was impassive. “What the hell is this?”

The young woman was manhandled onto the bed and held down firmly while the man in the filthy, stained technician’s coat pulled the woman’s legs up and apart. Caroline took a step and went to rush forward but felt the impact of the tiny pistol on her ear. She fell forwards, sprawled on the hard, concrete floor, scraping her chin. She could hear the woman scream, heard the man grunting as he made his inspection. Caroline couldn’t look, but she heard the woman scream again, then the sound of the speculum dropping into the dish. When she got back onto her feet, Caroline had tears on both her cheeks. She couldn’t look at the woman, but she watched the man in the filthy medical coat labelling blood samples he had hastily extracted from the woman’s arm. The woman was pulled off the bed and handled back out through the door. Caroline could see blood dripping from the woman’s wrist, having travelled down her arm, the extraction points untended with cotton wool and tape, or even a sticking plaster.

“This is money,” Helena said. “Keep walking.”

Caroline’s legs refused to move, and she felt as if she were set in cement. She could feel her heart hammering against her chest, her breathing was so rapid, she fought to catch her breath. She felt herself shoved in the back and she carried on the momentum with her first step. She was walking slowly, the door looming. “I…”

“Oh, bless you!” Helena smirked. “You’re okay for a day or two,” she said, then added, “As long as your boyfriend makes contact soon. He’s been a naughty boy. He’s killed the next man on my list, but he hasn’t checked in. I do hope, for your sake, that he’s not lying dead in a ditch somewhere…”

“He won’t be!” Caroline snapped. “And he’ll look you in the eye when he kills you, if I don’t first!”

“Feisty!” Helena smiled, then looked at The Beast, her expression hardening. “Jurgen, punch her. Hard.”

Caroline did not have time to dodge as The Beast punched her in the chest, hammering his meaty fist into her left breast. She yelped and fell backwards, then howled as the pain set in. She rolled on the floor, her teeth gritted and the agony for both to see on her face. Every fibre of her being wanted to stay down and recover from the pain, but she found herself dragging herself to her feet. She looked at The Beast, sneered and said, “If that’s the best you’ve got, then you’d better not be here when Alex turns up.” She looked back at Helena. “But I don’t need a man to do my dirty work. Mark my words, I’m going to kill you myself.”

“Hah! Words are all you have, my dear.” She pointed to the door. “Now, walk!”

Caroline did, and to her astonishment, she no longer felt the heavy legs, erratic breathing or the pounding of her heart. She held back while The Beast got the door and ahead of her she could see another Perspex panel. She was ready now. Or so she thought.

“The girls who are not good-looking enough to appeal to your average male punter are here. Well, most of them who make the grade.”

“Grade?” Caroline asked curiously, but then she could see. She didn’t need Helena to fill in the gaps for her.

“We have computer, or I should say web experts who can find the market. Buyers are easy to come