Chapter 3
'That's not all,' Grant added. 'I've been digging deeper, and have found evidence that in all the cities where the Bathory Club has been based, there's been a small but significant rise in the number of missing people in the area, mainly men. I doubt if it's enough to alert law enforcement ,but when you look for it, it's obvious.'
'Alright then,' Jim gathered his thoughts. 'Tomorrow I intend to talk to Katherine Russell about the Bathory Club. Grant, Max you need to get into the club, I want to see whatever CCTV footage they have, and also get our own cameras installed. Nicholas, Shannon, stay in base, I have a feeling you'll both be needed later on.'
The low winter sunshine of the day before had given way to thick grey fog that seemed the blanket the entire city, shrouding it in a chilling dampness the seemed to seep into every nook and cranny. Max shuddered and drew the collar of his reflective jacket around his neck. 'I guess that this is what they call a pea souper.'
'Hey man, at least you get to wear the uniform. This suit isn't exactly warm.' Grant, undercover as a representative of the insurance company was wearing a well cut charcoal grey suit and carrying his usual box of tricks disguised as a briefcase – so far so executive, but Max, dressed in the navy uniform of the London fire brigade, complete with waterproof jacket was not only warmer, but getting more than his fair share of admiring glances from (female) passers by. As they walked further into the more derelict areas of Limehouse, those that had been earmarked for redevelopment and were simply waiting for the wrecking balls to start the fog seemed to draw around them in thicker waves, and they almost walked past the Bathory Club before they spotted it.
From the outside the club looked like a typical Victorian public house, complete with glazed tiles and ornate stained glass in the windows. The main entrance doors were on the corner, and it looked as though the adjoining buildings were residential, until Grant noticed that the same ornamental lamps adorned both the pub and what appeared to be houses next door.
'So the club's taken over the whole block?'
'Seems that way,' Max gestured to the rest of the street, deserted and isolated in the fog. 'This is just weird Grant, it's like taking a step back in time.'
'All adds to the atmosphere. Imagine what it's like here at night.'
'Yeah, well I'm hoping imagining is all I'll have to do. Still, let's get on with this.' He banged on the door, and, after a few minutes they heard footsteps. 'Ok, someone's in, looks like it's definitely plan A.' The woman who opened the door was n her early thirties, slim, with long auburn hair scraped back into a pony tail. Even in jeans and a sweater her curves were more than apparent. Grant laughed inwardly as he saw a flash of interest in her green eyes when she saw Max in his uniform.
'Hi, how can I help?' she smiled.
'Here on a fire inspection,' Max flashed his forged ID quickly, 'I'm Mark Barry and this is Doug Jordan from the insurance company.'
'Oh, right...' she looked perplexed. 'I'm sure this was all done when we moved in.'
'Just a spot check. I guess it's your lucky day.'
'You must be right.' She smiled again. 'You better come in. To be honest, you're lucky to catch anyone around. I'm only here because we're closed Wednesdays, and it gives me a chance to catch up on some paperwork.'
'You're the owner?' Grant asked, even though he knew she wasn't.
'I wish! I'm Alice Rankin, the membership secretary. Katherine's the owner, but she leaves the day to day running of the place to her daughter Erin. She's normally about, but at the moment she's off looking for the next premises.' She took a breath and Max interjected:
'We really need to come in.'
'Oh yes, of course, sorry. I'm talking far too much.' She flustered. 'Please excuse me, the bloody computer is messing me around and I haven't got the vaguest idea what to do with it.' She led them into the main bar area, and Max let out a low whistle – at first glance it looked as it should, a Victorian pub, with tripped wooden floors, individual booths with red velvet covered bench seats and brass rails, along with freestanding wrought iron tables, and a few stools by the bar. A closer look however and you could see the carved wooden gargoyles on the end of each booth, the wrought candelabra in each corner, and, whilst three walls were painted to resemble a stone wall, the fourth had a huge mural of a ruined Abbey standing on the cliffs overlooking the sea, it's dark drama drawing in even an Aussie who didn't do 'vampire shit.'.
'That's pretty amazing.'
'Thank you, it took me a while to do.'
'You painted it?' She nodded, turning away to hide her blushes.
'It's probably the best thing I've done. Anyway, I'm sure you're not here to talk about my art work. How can I help you?
'If you wouldn't mind walking me round the place,' Max flashed her his best smile, 'I need to check the fire exits and extinguishers. Doug here needs to look at the paperwork and the smoke alarms.'
'Paperwork? Right, ok. Best thing is if you follow me upstairs to the office, you can look through it whilst I take you round.' Doing exactly as they were told, they followed her up the stairs that led from the back of the bar to the first floor. Grant noticed as he did so that both the bar and the staircase were covered by CCTV cameras. She showed him into a small, windowless office on the first floor, into which was crammed a large mahogany desk, several filing cabinets, a monitor for the CCTV, a computer and a mountain of paper that threatened to spill off the desk top and onto the floor. He was surprised to see that there were no visible cameras . Alice saw Grant looking and grinned ruefully. 'Tidiness isn't really my strong point.'
'Don't worry about it.' She grabbed a file from the nearest cabinet. 'All the documents you need should be in here. Mark if you'd like to follow me?'
As soon as Max led her from the room Grant sprang into action. First, he checked the CCTV monitor, pleased to find that it was nothing more hi-tec than a standard record and recycle package,. Old tapes, labelled with the relevant dates were stored in the cabinet beneath the machine kept for what looked to be a month and then re-used. It took him no time at all to remove the tapes for the weekend of Marcus's disappearance, along with a day each side, using a solvent spray he's devised he detached the labels, and reattached them to the blank cassettes before slipping them back into the cupboard.
Browsing through the system he pulled up current images from five camera's – the two he had already seen plus one in the main club area downstairs, and the private members lounge on the first floor, where tables were set out in front of a stage area. The final camera covered the front entrance, and he remonstrated silently with himself for not noticing it when they arrived.
Checking that Max and Alice were out of the way, he slipped quickly down to the bar area, and slipped a small magnetic relay onto the side of the camera. Only the faintest bleep told him it was working. He repeated the process on the other interior cameras, hoping that Max was doing enough flirting with Alice to keep her occupied. He'd thought the system would be more advanced, and felt vaguely disappointed that it hadn't stretched him at all. When he got back to the office he checked the feed, and pulled out his two-way.
'Nicholas?'
'Ready Grant.' Back in the apartment Nicholas watched as the images from the CCTV cameras appeared in split screen in front of him. 'We have the technology. Reading you loud and clear.'
'All four interior cameras?'
'Yeah, a bit grainy though.'
'Not surprised. This system must be pretty close to drawing its pension .Strangely enough that sometimes makes it harder to infiltrate – it's just too basic.'
'Don't complain when things are easy, Grant. Enjoy it whilst it lasts!'
Signing off, Grant moved on to the next part of the plan – but before he could do more than look at the computer he heard footsteps on the landing outside.
'Ok, we just need to check the members area,' Max said, a trifle louder than was strictly necessary, so as to alert Grant as to what was happening, 'then you can go back to your paperwork.'
'Can't wait,' Alice muttered sarcastically, leading him through a lobby area into a large room in which tables were set out in front of a stage area. Burgundy red velvet curtains hung at the large picture windows, and delicate crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling.
'Wow,' Max was genuinely surprised, 'you don't expect this. From the outside, it just looks like a regular club.'
'That's the point. Nothing is quite as it seems.'
'So what goes on up here?'
'All sorts of stuff, and probably not what you're thinking.' She gave him a knowing look. Max tried to look innocent, and failed miserably. 'There's a supper club most nights, and we usually have a string quartet or a jazz band; other nights we have a show, last night it was burlesque, and tomorrow it's a new magic act that apparently is pretty incredible.'
'Sounds fun. Now, show me your fire exits.'
'You ask the nicest things.'
Keeping a careful eye on Max and Alice on the CCTV, Grant fired up the computer, smiling to himself when he realised that he was going to be doing Alice a favour by fixing her technical problems, as well as giving the team an entry into the system. Moving quickly he took a floppy disc from his case and fed it into the machine. A few clicks on the keyboard later it was loading, but not as quickly as he'd hoped. So much for his comments about an easy system – she should have taken Nicholas's advice and kept his mouth shut. He watched as Max opened the upstairs fire exit – three minutes to download – fiddled around with the fire extinguisher – two minutes – and then began to walk back towards the office – one minute...
Alice opened the door, with Max behind her hoping that he'd given Grant enough time to do what he'd had to do. Max breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Grant sitting at the desk flicking through the file of insurance documents.
'Thanks. No problems as I can see.' He handed the folder back to Alice with a smile. 'You've been a great help.'
'No problem. Look, feel free to come back one night as my guests. Bring friends...'
'Maybe we will.' Max gave her his sweetest smile and behind her back Grant rolled his eyes at his friend. 'Oh, by the way,' he added as they were just about to leave. 'My cousin Marcus Pearson comes here sometimes. Do you know him?' Alice shook her head, but not before he saw a look of fear pass over her face. They were on the right track.
'I must say Ms Russell,' Jim Phelps eased back in his seat, 'You really have a unique business plan. The readers of Entrepreneur Magazine are going to be fascinated.' Opposite him, Katherine Russell gave him a cynical half smile.
'I really doubt that, Mr Durden. It really isn't that unusual. Please call me Katherine by the way. I'm sixty two years old and being called Russell still makes me think of my mother in law.' Despite seeing her picture on the screen, Jim had been surprised at how charismatic he found Katherine Russell in the flesh. She was a tiny woman, built like a bird, who barely came up to his shoulders, but she had a deep, gravelly voice that put him in mind of another Katherine Hepburn, which could never be a bad thing as far as he was concerned. She wore a stylised version of a salwar kameeze in black silk, with embroidery on the collar, which contrasted dramatically with her grey hair and the myriad of silver jewellery she wore – jangling bangles up both arms, several necklaces, and, he noticed, her ears pierced three times. Her blue eyes were shrewd and calculating, and he knew that he had to watch his step with her.
'So, isn't it strange to put so much effort into a club that is only going to be in operation for a few months at most?'
'Not at all. Due to the situation, the premises are cheap but need only minimal work to make them useable . My staff are very talented, and work on the decor themselves. The clubs have earned a cult reputation very quickly, which means a great deal of advanced publicity and they are gone before they become yesterdays news.'
'Why the Bathory Club?'
'Mr Durden, I know you've done your research, so you know all about the legend of Elizabeth Bathory.'
'A serial killer.'
'No.' She responded firmly. 'A woman who was aware of her own sexual needs and desires, and who fell foul of the male dominated society in which she lived. As you well know, she was convicted of no crime.'
'Which brings me to my next question, why women only?'
'Not women only, women foremost. Men are allowed into the club, but only of signed in by a woman, and are unable to become full members. You would not be turning a hair if it were a men only environment Mr Durden.'
'You have me there, Katherine. It just seems unusual.'
'Maybe it's society that's unusual.' She countered. 'It's the 1990's and it still can't cope with women who know their own minds.'
'And why the gothic theme?'
'Pure fantasy. It's a sensual image, one that the women like as it gives them a chance to dress up and be something different from what society demands. As a business woman, it also gives us a unique selling point, and plenty of clientele from the wider goth community who simply come to listen to the music. I call it a win win situation.'
'So what next?'
'They wish to start demolition within the next three months, which is what I hoped. My daughter Erin is away at the moment investigating a number of possible sites that could be of interest.'
'So the Bathory Cub will continue?'
'Oh yes Mr Durden, I rather think it will.'
