Chapter 2.
"Why have we stopped dancing?" murmured Harry, her head still nuzzling him, her whole being relaxed and absorbed in the haunting lyrics of Mick Hucknall's smash hit.
Dempsey started swaying again and gently manoeuvred them into a full one hundred and eighty degree turn, so that now Harry would be facing the group in the corner.
She sighed.
"Harry, look over my right shoulder."
Sensing the seriousness in his voice and the caution it urged, she slowly lifted her head and looked into his eyes, then over his shoulder.
Dempsey felt her body stiffen at first, then go rigid as her eyes swept the group.
"Do you see who I see?" asked Dempsey.
"My God." she answered, quietly "Jimmy Hofton and that revolting Sir Marcus! How on earth do they know each other? And who is the young girl with him? She might be black but she's not the same one he left the 'Grosvenor' with."
" No, she ain't." agreed Dempsey. "And she looks pretty young to me."
Just then, Sir Marcus's squeeze from the dinner dance emerged from the ladies rest room. Harry spotted her.
"There she is, James." she said, gesturing with her head as to the direction in which to look. "Just coming out of the 'ladies.'
They watched as she joined the group, each one greeting her warmly, as if they'd known her all their lives.
"Somehow, I don't think she's just a hooker for the night, princess." remarked Dempsey.
"No." agreed Harry. "They're all a bit too friendly for that, aren't they. I certainly would have lost that pound if I'd have wagered it against your penny, wouldn't I. And how did the young girl get in here? There was no time to pick her up and anyway his car only has two seats. And yes, she does look very young, doesn't she."
"She woulda met 'em outside. That'd be my guess." suggested Dempsey, adding. "We woulda only have missed 'em by minutes. I think we should sit down and see who eventually leaves with who."
"Yes, but what if we're recognised?" asked Harry, continuing. "You know, I think we should get the car and wait outside. If that snake sees me in here, what's to stop him trying to drag me onto the dance floor again. Twice in one night is more than I could take!"
"He'd have to come through me this time angel." growled Dempsey.
"And those two gorillas with Hofton would get involved." retorted Harry. "The whole thing could get out of hand. No, staying is too risky. We should watch from the car."
"Okay, I guess you're right, angel." agreed Dempsey, somewhat reluctantly.
He'd have relished the excuse to deck the slob, but Harry's good sense told him the two bodyguards would have done him some serious damage. "Let's go then, nice an' easy does it though."
Without rushing, they calmly made their way to the exit, one eye on the group as they went, reaching the bottom of the stairs that led up to the street, confident they weren't noticed.
Having retrieved the Mercedes, Dempsey closing the canvas hood to allow them additional cover, they parked opposite the night club and settled in for what was likely to be a long wait.
It wasn't.
After around thirty-five minutes a metallic grey Daimler Vanden Plas limousine glided to a halt at the entrance to 'Stringfellows', the chauffeur leaping out and opening the rear passenger door, then disappearing into the building.
Seconds later, Jimmy Hofton and his entourage exited the club and climbed into the rear of the car, one of his heavies taking the front passenger seat, the other sticking with his boss.
"Trust that numpty Hofton to ride around London in the same type of wheels your Royal Family use." remarked Demspey, contemptuously.
"Mmm." agreed Harry, then nudging him. "Look who else is with them."
The young black girl was the last to emerge from the clubs entrance and, looking very reluctant, was pushed roughly into the rear of the car by the chauffeur.
Slamming the door shut, he quickly took up position in the drivers seat and seconds later, the limo accelerated away.
Harry and Dempsey exchanged glances, but before they could speak, a red Ferrari, registration number MBT 2, roared by.
Dempsey started the car and took up a tail from a discreet distance.
It soon became clear that Sir Marcus was following the Daimler and the two cars, plus the Mercedes some way back, finally swung onto The Bishops Avenue, Hampstead, one of London's most exclusive addresses, eventually coming to a halt in front of a large set of wrought iron gates, fronting an impressive looking mansion.
Stopping the car, Harry and Dempsey watched as the gates shuddered slightly before swinging slowly open, the two cars disappearing through them once the gap was wide enough.
Continuing, Dempsey drove slowly past the house, Harry glancing in as the gates began to close and noticing the young black girl being manhandled through the porticoed front door.
"She's very heavily made up you know. I dread to think what that poor girl is going to be forced into doing." she said, a feeling of helplessness enveloping her.
"I know, princess, but there ain't nothin' we can do right now, is there?" comforted Dempsey, looking across at her and noticing the sadness in her eyes as she returned his gaze. "But tomorrow we'll get onto it and see what we and the team can come up with."
"Take me home, please darling." she said, remaining silent for the rest of the journey.
Once undressed and lying together in bed, Dempsey with his arm around her stroking her hair, her head resting on his shoulder, the warmth and closeness of his body triggered the familiar arousal in her.
She'd only had a handful of lovers in her life, including a husband and, in the past, if she'd gone to bed feeling down in any way, she would have just rolled over and gone to sleep, making love being the very last thing on her mind.
But with Dempsey it was different, unique.
He somehow possessed the invisible power to relax her, make her feel totally safe, at ease and just by lying next to him, a sexual spark ignited in her, the need for physical release beginning to overpower her.
She moved into him, caressing him with her body, entwining her legs with his whilst lifting her head to his lips, her fingers beginning the journey that took him into ecstatic heaven.
She relaxed completely and joined him there.
The next morning they were up early and sat opposite each other in the SI-10 office by eight o'clock, freshly made coffee steaming away in polystyrene cups on their desks.
Minutes later Chief Superintendent Spikings marched in.
"And why do I have the pleasure of you two at this early hour?" he said, in his usual direct, straight to the point, manner.
"We may be onto something Chief." answered Dempsey. "It involves that pimp Jimmy Hofton and a guy called Sir Marcus Battersby-Thorpe. Ever heard of him?"
"I have yes. You'd better come into my office and bring me up to speed." confirmed Spikings, then looking at Harry. "A nice cup of coffee would go down well too, thank you, Sergeant."
"Yes sir, of course sir." replied Harry, then muttering quietly under her breath. "And two bags bloody full sir."
"I didn't quite catch what you said, Makepeace." he shouted as walked into his office.
"What? Oh nothing sir, just talking to myself." answered Harry, glaring at Dempsey's amused smirk on his face.
Before Harry got into deeper water with their irascible boss, Dempsey began relaying the whole story of the previous night from the dinner dance to 'Stringfellows'.
"I must be paying you two far too much." scowled Spikings. "Swanning around at posh dinner dances in Park Lane hotels and fancy nightclubs in Covent Garden!"
'God forbid' thought Harry, 'the formidable Mrs Spikings must have really sent him out this morning with a large flea in his ear!'
"The thing is Chief." continued Dempsey, wanting to get the discussion back on track. "There was this very young looking negro girl mixed in with them all. Now normally I guess we wouldn't have taken much notice, seein' as Hofton's heavily into vice. But she clearly didn't wanna be there, number one. And two, why would this Sir Marcus creep be rubbin' shoulders with the likes of Jimmy Hofton?"
"I see where you're coming from Lieutenant." answered Spikings. "I have met Sir Marcus Battersby-Thorpe. Didn't much care for him I must admit, bit of an arrogant so and so. He is quite friendly with our Commissioner, unfortunately."
Harry came in at that point, carrying his coffee and placed it in front of him on his desk.
"What do you think, Sergeant?"
"I'm with Dempsey on this, sir." she replied. "First of all I had an unpleasant close encounter with Sir Marcus at the dinner dance, but more importantly the young black girl in 'Stringfellows' looked very young. It was from a distance, but to me she looked heavily made up and that could mask her true age."
"Which was?" asked Spikings.
"I think she was underage - fourteen, perhaps fifteen?"
"And what were you two doing together at a private fund raising dinner dance anyway?" asked Spikings, watching her closely.
"I'd been invited and, as it happened, didn't have anyone to accompany me, sir. So I asked Dempsey and he said yes."
"Mmmm. " replied Spikings. " I'll bet he did!"
"Chief." said Dempsey, wanting to steer him away quickly from the thread he seemed insistent upon following. "We'd like your okay to investigate this further. As I said, I think we could have stumbled into something here, and we both want to get to the bottom of it. The Tortini affair's all wrapped up from last month and we ain't workin' on nothin' else just now."
Harry was nodding her agreement as Spikings looked from one to the other of them.
"And sir." continued Harry. "I'm really worried about that young girl. Would it be an idea if the Vice squad made a random visit to Jimmy Hofton's house to see if they can find her? I mean they don't need an excuse to raid him, do they, seeing as he's into prostitution, ecetera. And so long as they have a search warrant he can't refuse them."
"Alright." agreed Spikings. "I'll have a word with my opposite number on Vice. We're old chums, having joined the Force together. And get Chas on digging up what he can on Sir Marcus and stay alert. This weekend could throw something up so keep in touch with each other. I'm sure you won't find that problematical."
"Er no, sir." said Harry. "Although we will actually be together this weekend too, sir."
"Oh? why is that Sergeant?"
"My father is seventy on Sunday and he's throwing a garden party. He asked if Dempsey would like to go, so I asked him, he said ok, so we're going together."
Spikings raised one eyebrow.
"Purely platonic, sir." she lied.
At that point Chas arrived and, using him as an excuse, they both beat a hasty retreat before Spikings could ask anymore searching questions concerning their relationship.
Chas couldn't come up with much more information on Sir Marcus that Harry hadn't already gleaned from him during their dance.
He was fifty-six years old, educated at Harrow then Oxford University, reading business studies and economics where he attained a 2:1 degree and had taken over the family business ten years previously following the sudden death of his father.
He was third generation, his grandfather having launched the business at the turn of the century. According to Companies House, the business had never made a loss, was cash rich and expanding into Europe.
The Vice squad reacted pretty quickly to Spikings request and paid a visit to Jimmy Hofton's mansion that afternoon.
Three police cars and a blue Transit van, in total twelve police officers, gained access to the driveway after Hofton had been forced to let them in, when the search warrant had been waved at him via the CCTV cameras covering his property.
Superintendent Barney Johnson, Spikings old mate, led his team into the house,
"What the hell is the meanin' of this, copper?" said Hofton, his East End London accent pronounced. "What you doin' raidin' my gaff?"
"We have reason to believe there may be an underage girl here, Jimmy." said Johnson. "And you know the penalty for sex with a minor, don't you."
"I dunno what you're talkin' abaht, Guv'nor. There ain't no underage gel 'ere."
Despite a thorough search lasting two hours, no girl was found.
It had been a long shot that had failed.
Little did they know she'd been spirited away in the early hours of the morning, drugged into unconsciousness, having been consistently raped and brutalised by Hofton and his friends for three hours.
It was the final frustration for Harry and Dempsey as their day had proved equally fruitless and they made their way home to pack for the weekend, feeling frustrated and annoyed.
"Goddam it Harry!" said Dempsey when eventually on their way to Winfield Hall. "My nose never let's me down. I know there's somethin' goin' on!"
"Yes, I know darling." said Harry, reaching over with her right hand and laying it on his left thigh. "I'm as fed up as you are, but let's just draw a line under it for now. There's nothing we can do until Monday. This is Daddy's birthday celebration and he won't want two miseries with him, will he?"
"No, you're right angel." he replied, holding her right hand in his left. "I guess we just recharge our batteries this weekend, enjoy it as much as we can and start afresh next week, huh?"
"Hmmm." she said, her voice deliberately low and stimulating. "And I know exactly how to charge your battery up!"
"You sure do, honey." he replied, laughing. "Oh, you sure do!"
They eventually swept through the gates that led up to Harry's ancestral home, Harry leaning across and blasting the horn a couple of times as they drew up at the front of the house.
Her father, Freddy, appeared almost immediately.
"Harry my darling." he said, hugging her closely and kissing her cheek. "How wonderful you could both make it. And James, so very good to see you again."
He stretched out his arm and shook Dempsey's hand warmly, his grip still firm.
"Come in, come in, the both of you." he said, ushering them through the front door. "I've got a nice bottle of Krug chilling, just ready for drinking."
His butler, Abbott, took care of their cases and the three of them walked into Freddy's study, Harry sinking into a large, comfortable leather armchair, Dempsey sitting on the arm next to her.
She searched for his hand and held it.
This wasn't lost on Freddy, who said, with twinkling blue eyes. "Your room is ready darling."
"And I suppose Abbott will show James where he is sleeping?" asked Harry.
"Oh, I think we can stop the pretence, Harry. I'm sure James will be more than comfortable in your room."
There was a momentary silence, then all three burst out laughing, Harry jumping up and hugging her beloved father.
He served the champagne and they sipped it, Freddy bringing them up to speed as to who was coming on Sunday for his birthday party.
"Your Aunt Alice is coming up tomorrow actually."
"Oh, really?" said Harry. "And who has she in tow this time?"
"I don't actually know." replied Freddy. "Her last relationship went to nothing and I believe she's been going to these special dinners, where like minded single people are invited, all similar in social standing, looking for romance or friendship, you know the thing."
They both nodded in agreement with him.
"Aunt Alice is Daddy's step sister, James." explained Harry. "She lost her husband, Uncle Rupert, six years ago to cancer and she hasn't really found happiness with anyone else, although it hasn't been for the want of trying!"
"No." agreed Freddy. "I just hope she doesn't get too desperate."
"If you'll excuse me." said Harry, changing the subject. "I'm going to leave the two most important men in my life and go and unpack."
She kissed Dempsey, then her father and disappeared out of the door.
"Well James." said Freddy, offering a top up of champagne. "It seems my daughter and yourself are very much a couple."
Dempsey accepted the wine, thanked him and nodded.
"Yes, sir, we are." he replied. " I hope you have no objection."
"Good lord my boy, absolutely not!" he said, decisively. "I don't think I've ever seen her looking so happy and fulfilled and relaxed around someone. She was always a very reserved girl, quite deep, but that scoundrel Robert Makepeace sent her so far into her shell I never thought she'd ever emerge from it."
"Yeah." said Dempsey, recalling his first few encounters with her. "I know what you mean."
"I know, James, that with you, my daughter is in the safest possible hands and I couldn't be happier for you both."
"Well, thanks sir, that means a lot." replied Dempsey. "It took a little while but, I guess, in the beginning, we were building a foundation without knowing it. Then things just took their course. I love her with my very soul."
"Wonderful." he said. "The course of true love never runs smoothly but finds a way through in the end, if its genuine. And by the way, none of this 'sir' stuff anymore. I'm Freddy."
"I'll try to remember, sir - I mean Freddy."
They both laughed, at ease with each other more than ever before. If an elephant had ever been in the room, it had now been slain.
"Does Chief Superintendent Spikings know about you and Harry, by the way?"
"I think he suspects something but he has no proof and can't put a finger on it." replied Dempsey. "Harry and I are gonna keep it that way for as long as possible. As far as he's concerned we care for each other like sister and brother."
"Yes, very wise." said Freddy. "And very clever!"
Their conversation was interrupted by Harry re-appearing.
"Hello you two." she said, sitting back down in the armchair again, automatically searching for Dempsey's hand once more. "Any wine left?"
Freddy poured her a refill which she sipped slowly.
"Mmmm, delicious. What have you two been talking about?"
"You actually." said her father."Your ears should have been red hot!"
"Ooh! that bad?" she said, joining in with the resultant laughter.
"No. quite the opposite, darling." said Freddy. "I have told James how very happy I am that you two have found each other."
Harry gripped Dempsey's hand.
"I love this man with all my heart, Daddy." she said.
"Yes I know and it shows. Just be careful around your colleagues and especially Mr Spikings!"
Freddy was tuned in to the pair of them and the rest of the evening was lively and fun.
After a delicious dinner, a substantial salad with choice of several different meats, they retired to the terrace, where a few bottles of Chardonnay and Reisling white wines together with Burgundy and Bordeaux reds, were on offer.
It was another balmy night and Harry, completely relaxed, fell victim to a glass or two too many and fell asleep where she sat. Held up by Dempsey, she giggled and sang her way to the bedroom and insisted he get in with her because she felt sexy.
She was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.
Dempsey wasn't much better.
He returned to join Freddy on the terrace and spent the next hour or so listening to his stories of the British Secret Service after the war, puffing on some very expensive Cuban cigars and getting steadily more drunk on a mixture of vintage port, followed by vintage brandy, followed by more vintage port.
He finally staggered up to bed, constantly shushing the various suits of armour along the way and collapsed, fully clothed on the bed next to a soundly sleeping Harry.
She was the first to wake up the next morning, groaning and holding her head the minute she moved it.
Dempsey was still flat on his back next to her, much as he was when he originally hit the mattress, although now, he was clutching a pillow tightly to his chest.
She turned to look at him, her head banging and laughed at the comical sight next to her, her head hurting even more with the effort.
She began nudging him gently, until he finally stirred and opened his eyes, looking around, totally unsure of where he actually was.
Harry managed to raise herself onto an elbow and looked down into his bloodshot eyes.
"What a sight for sore peepers you are!" she said, softly, grinning unapologetically.
"Aw, don't shout, angel." he replied, gradually focussing on her and the rest of the room.
They spent the next hour slowly coming round and, once showered and dressed, felt much better.
By this time, it was approaching eleven o'clock.
"I think a hearty breakfast will sort us both out." she announced."What do you think?"
"Had you said it an hour ago, I'd have buried you in the bed." he replied." But I guess I could eat somethin' now."
"Buried me in the bed, would you." she giggled. "That sounds rather fun."
The sound of crunching gravel took them both to the window, and, not wishing to be seen appearing rude and nosey, they each stood behind a drawn curtain and peeked out over the front of the house.
A black Rolls Royce drew up and stopped.
The drivers door opened and a liveried chauffeur in a mid grey uniform stepped out and opened the rear door.
First to alight was a woman.
"Oh." said Harry. "It's Aunt Alice. Gosh, she's doing okay arriving in a Rolls, isn't she."
"Yeah, I guess so, princess." agreed Dempsey.
Suddenly Harry froze.
Dempsey flexed his fists.
They'd both seen the registration number.
MBT 1.