Chapter 14.
By the time Ivan reached his hotel room, he was seething with anger and betrayal and bent on brutal revenge.
He swore that once he'd concluded his dealings with Cheng Deshi, he'd hunt that bitch Belinda down and after he'd exhausted himself of her body, he'd disfigure her so badly, she'd never attract another man again!
In the meantime, he'd satisfy his raging lust on another prostitute, so called down to the landlord, instructing him to arrange it for him.
Half an hour later there came a knock at his door and when he opened it, he almost recoiled in horror.
Standing there was a black woman, half her breasts on show in an impossibly low cut top, a mini skirt barely covering her modesty and legs covered in black stockings encased in a pair of knee high white leather boots.
It was Winnie Simons, Harry's friend and contact, who'd often provided useful information on underworld characters and their dealings. Seeing the look in his eyes, she turned to run, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her roughly into the room.
To him, call girls were pieces of meat to be physically enjoyed, black ones no better than the excrement he might scrap off his shoe. It wasn't only his lust that this one would satisfy, his anger needed venting too.
As Winnie opened her mouth to scream, Ivan punched her in the face and threw her onto the bed. Then he was on top of her, grinning menacingly, his eyes a glittering, evil, ice blue, one fist going to work, the other hand ripping and tearing at her clothes.
An hour later, finally satisfied, he lifted the telephone and dialled the Holiday Inn at Heathrow, booking himself a double room under the name of Claude Remus, a Frenchman and using one of the false identities he'd collected.
As he left the room, he stood over a battered, unconscious, bleeding Winnie and spat, then departed quickly, suitcase and briefcase in hand, the landlord looking astonishingly at him as he swept past him and out of the door.
After a while, the landlord suddenly realized he hadn't seen Winnie leave and, with rising dread, he hurried up to Ivan's room.
He nearly wept at the sight before him.
She was lying face down on the bed, part naked, what clothes she still had on were torn and hanging off her in strips. Dried blood, streaking down the inside of her thighs, had matted with her tattered stockings.
He daren't turn her over, he could already see the side of her face was badly bruised. Rushing to the telephone he dialled 999 and, with a shaking voice, urgently called for an ambulance.
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After Spikings had imparted the news that Ivan had escaped, Dempsey went into a rage, Harry grabbing his arm and steering him out into the corridor and then into the ladies rest room.
"Dempsey! Calm down for Gods sake!" she shouted. "We're all bloody angry, but working yourself into a frenzy over it, get's you nowhere fast!"
He slammed his fist into one of the metal lockers, skinning his knuckles in the process, then stood there, resting his forehead on the dented door, breathing deeply.
Harry remained silent, letting him come back down to earth.
When he finally turned to look at her, she could see his anger was abating and put her arms round his waist, looking up into his brown eyes.
"We've been here once before, remember?" she said, looking around. "It was me who was the angry one then though, wasn't it."
"Yeah." he replied, remembering. "Sorry honey, I kinda lost it back there."
"You did, didn't you. Feel better now?" she asked, taking his bloodied hand in hers and gently kissing it. "Look what you've done to this you soppy idiot."
He smiled at her and she was about to kiss him when the door opened, Spikings peering round it.
"Harry." he said, the look on his face telling her something bad had happened, especially as he was using her christian name too." There's a call for you. I think you'd better take it."
Hurriedly returning to her desk, she picked up her telephone.
"Is that er, Harry Mac?" asked a voice.
"Yes it is." she replied, knowing instantly this was about Winnie. "Who's calling please?"
"This is Doctor Alastair White from the Royal London Hospital in Whitechapel." he said. "We've recently admitted a patient, a coloured lady, Winifred Simons, whose written your name on a piece of paper."
"My actual name is Harriet Makepeace and I hold the rank of Sergeant." clarified Harry, before asking quietly. "What's happened to her?"
"She's been beaten up, Sergeant." replied the doctor. "And sexually abused, rather badly too, I'm afraid."
"Oh no!" exclaimed Harry, her hand across her mouth, Dempsey standing close by her side, his arm across her shoulder. "Can I see her?"
"She's under heavy sedation right now." replied Doctor White. "And she's not a pretty sight."
"Doctor, I'm a police officer and used to seeing people with injuries." argued Harry. "Now, I'd like to see her please."
"I'm sorry, I can't allow it." he replied. "Both her eyes are closed with heavy bruising. She's sustained a broken jaw, cheekbone and nose, three broken ribs, a punctured lung and has been repeatedly raped, both in the conventional way, if I may put it like that and, er, from behind, which has left her very badly torn. So you see, please understand, it's not appropriate that she has visitors at present."
Harry was silent for a moment while his words sank in, reaching her hand up to her shoulder and taking hold of Dempsey's, he gripping it gently, reassuringly.
"How on earth did she manage to write anything!?" she asked eventually, incredulous, swallowing the tears back as she visualized what Winnie must look like and what she must have gone through to look like it. "I mean, what does it say?"
"It's almost illegible, just a scrawl, but we pieced it together. Er, it says, 'call Harry Mac at SI-10 Police London'." said the doctor, obviously reading from it. "Please keep in touch with the ward. We will contact you if there's any change in her condition, either way. Does she have any next of kin we might contact?"
"I don't know, doctor." replied Harry. "She's an escort, a call girl and we're old friends."
"I see." said Doctor White. "It appears one of her clients has taken his liberties rather too far this time. I'll ensure the staff are aware of your connection and to regard you as close to family as is possible in the circumstances."
"I want her moved to a private room and given the best care money can buy." said Harry. "I'll come in shortly and sign any paperwork that's required."
"Fine, thank you." said the doctor. "But please remember, you won't be allowed to see her, not just yet."
"No, I understand. Take my home number, please." said Harry, reading it out. "Which ward is she in?"
"Nightingale Ward." replied the doctor. "Ground floor. It's well sign posted."
"Thank you, doctor. Goodbye." she said as she replaced her handset slowly and looked up at Dempsey, blinking back the tears that filled her eyes, one or two escaping and dropping onto her desk.
"It's Winnie." she said, her voice faltering as she searched her handbag for some tissues, bringing out a handful and dabbing her eyes with one. "She's been badly beaten up and raped. She's in a bad way."
"Where was she when this happened?" asked Dempsey, softly.
"I don't know, I didn't ask." replied Harry, then looked at Spikings who was also standing close by. "Sir, do you mind if we try and find out who did this?"
"We've hit a wall with this Ivan Davidovich character for the moment, so, yes, you and Dempsey see what you can do this afternoon." he replied.
"Thank you, sir." she said, then looking at Dempsey, still holding his hand and standing up. "Can we go please, we need to find out from the hospital where she was found."
When they arrived at the Royal London and located Nightingale Ward, Harry was told Winnie had already been moved to a quiet, private room. She gave out her details, the nurse's attention clearly heightened when it became apparent that Winnie's care was being funded by Lady Harriet Dempsey and not a police sergeant as had originally been understood.
After finalizing the details, they were given the name and address of the hotel where Winnie was found.
"That's not far from Belinda's." remarked Harry, glancing across the car at Dempsey as they drove. "Am I being paranoiac in thinking Ivan Davidovich is involved somewhere in Winnie's attack!?"
"We'll soon know." replied Dempsey as he pulled up outside the hotel.
The landlord was behind the reception desk when they walked in and introduced themselves. He immediately took them up to Ivan's room and pointed out where he'd found Winnie, still clearly distressed.
When Dempsey asked him for the description of the guest who'd occupied the room, Harry's legs nearly went from under her, Dempsey rushing to support her. Hugging her to him, his arm around her shoulder, he walked her slowly out of the room, into the lift and down to the bar, asking for a stiff drink.
"You know this bloke?" asked the landlord, whilst he filled a glass from a brandy optic, handing over the equivalent of a triple.
"Yeah, we do." replied Dempsey as Harry began sipping her drink. "He's wanted for two homicides, an' an earlier rape."
"Bloody 'ell!" replied the landlord. "Always thought he looked a scary bugger."
"How long's he been here?" asked Dempsey.
"Two days." came the reply. "Sex mad too. Had two prossies up there with him most of yesterday."
"Were they okay?" asked Dempsey.
"Yeah. Looked bloody exhausted when they left mind, but other than that they looked alright." said the landlord, glancing at Harry as she finished her brandy. "How you feelin'?"
"Better thank you." she answered quietly, then looking at Dempsey said. "We'd better go."
"Yeah, thanks pal." he said to the landlord. "You'll need to make a statement. A local officer'll be round to take it."
When they'd returned to the car, Harry sat in her seat, her eyes closed for a moment before opening them and looking across at Dempsey.
"You know, I even felt some pity for that bastard when I thought what the Russians might do to him under their brand of interrogation." she said, quietly. "But now, I'd give anything to be part of it with them!"
"Yeah, me too, princess, me too." replied Dempsey, starting the car. "You okay?"
"Yes thanks." she replied. "Do we have to go back to the office?"
"You know we do, honey." said Dempsey, taking hold of her hand. "But we don' have to stay long. Just long enough to tell Spikings what we've foun' out."
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Once Ivan had checked into his room at the Holiday Inn, he'd immediately made an international call to Beijing Capital International Airport and explained, in Chinese, that he needed to get an urgent message to a Cheng Deshi who was due out on a seven am flight to London Heathrow, but he'd no idea which airline he'd be travelling on.
With typical Chinese efficiency he was eventually put through to the British Airways flight desk.
It was still only six am there and, on confirming that their passenger, Cheng Deshi, was booked on the seven am flight, Ivan left a short message for him saying he was now staying at the Holiday Inn.
He then scribbled out his room number on a sheet of headed note paper, slipped it into an envelope and gave it to a receptionist, asking that it be passed to Deshi upon his arrival.
Thirsty and hungry, he then went into the main restaurant, ordered a double vodka and studied the menu
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When Harry and Dempsey arrived back at SI-10, they immediately went into Spikings's office, asking Chas to join them, and reported their findings to them both.
"Right. Put together as accurate an identikit of Davidovich as you possibly can." instructed Spikings. "Then, Chas, make sure every TV broadcaster runs it during their news programs. BBC radio and all the other commercial stations must put out verbal descriptions and blanket requests for anybody who's seen this creature to come forward, no matter how obscure. Also we need it out on 'Crimewatch' whenever that's next to air."
"Tonight as a matter of fact, Guv." said Chas. "Leave it with me."
"How about you two?" asked Spikings, looking at Dempsey and Harry as Chas left the office. "You cool, calm and collected now?"
"Yeah Chief." replied Dempsey. "Sorry I let it get to me earlier."
Spikings nodded his acceptance, then glanced at Harry.
"I'm fine now thank you, sir." she said, smiling at him.
"Good. Go and sort that identikit picture out. And take Josh and Terry with you." he suggested. "Between the four of you, you should be able to put together a lifelike image. I don't expect it'll be long before the 'phones start ringing once it's out in the public domain and after our bulletins hit the airwaves. With any luck it won't be long before we wrap this up once and for all."
"What about the CIA and KGB, Chief?" asked Dempsey. "You gonna keep'em in the loop?"
"As far as the CIA are concerned, they've left us to it. They are busy trying to root out the mole, or moles, who got hold of the file in the first place." replied Spikings. "The KGB are licking their wounds. They've a lot of yoke on their faces. I dread to think what punishments they are metering out to their two officers who lost Davidovich. The Russians are pretty unforgiving when it comes to failure."
"Yeah, well let's hope they ain't forgivin' when we hand that goddam Russian freak over to 'em." said Dempsey.
"I hope they don't shoot him." murmured Harry. "I hope he spends the rest of his worthless days in a living hell!"