Kane

'Who and what is Wilson?' was my next question as I began to squeeze him.

'I...I think he's a banker,' he squealed, his voice almost an octave higher as I really began to squeeze his balls. 'I swear I don't know anything more.' In spite of the blindfold, sweat was pouring down his face and I knew that he was telling the truth, more in fear of losing his balls than anything else that might happen to him.

'I think I actually believe you,' I said, but still not letting go of him, I felt and saw his body physically relax at these words.

'I don't,' came the squeaky voice of Tracey, and I felt his body tense up again, especially when he added, 'Cut his balls off and if he doesn't speak the truth, then cut off his excuse for a cock.'

'Noooo,' he wailed. 'I'm telling you the truth,' he pleaded. 'What else can I say to prove it?'

'Who are the others in the Blisters?' Tracey squeaked. Ten names came out as I stroked his limp penis with the knife.

'I think he's telling the truth,' squeaked Tracey as he nodded, me taking it that he knew who the Weasel had been speaking about.

'Well what do you think we should do with this piece of carrion bait?' I asked, hoping and pleading for the right response.

'I would cut off his cock and balls and stuff them in his mouth before cutting his throat. Let it be a lesson to the others,' and I grinned at Tracey at this blood thirsty answer and gave him a nod.

'But then they wouldn't know who did it, would they?' I asked of him.

'Well carve your initials into his chest with that knife. Maybe that would give them a clue.'

'M.K?' I asked.

'Kane?' came the quivering voice of the Weasel. 'No! Please! No! I had nothing to do with this! It was the others! Please Kane,' he begged.

'Aw for fuck's sake, kill the creep,' came the squeak from Tracey.

'No, no, no!' came the wail from my victim as he struggled against his bonds.

'No. You're right. I won't kill you now,' I said to him in a low voice, 'but I'm going to give you something to remember me by,' and I raise the knife and slit one of his nostrils. He gave out a scream as the knife cut him but I cut it short by thumping on the side of the neck and rendered him unconscious again.

'Where do this mob usually hang out?' I asked Tracey as I untied the man from the chair.

'The Rose and Crown,' was the answer, and so we got him into the car and dumped him outside this pub and drove off.

'So what did we get? Arthur Boyle and this man called Wilson,' Tracey said as we drove back to Notting Hill Gate.

'Well you know Arthur Boyle and I know Wilson. Wilson is the vice president of the bank we are interested in from the prospectus you got today.'

'Wow. You do know how to do this kind of thing, don't you?' Tracey said, giving me a strange look that was more of awe than respect.

'Maybe I do,' not quite sure which way I should take that remark. But if I had been in intelligence and had done special ops as Charlie had said, maybe I'd had practice at this kind of thing before. It was, maybe another piece of the jigsaw to my past, but I wasn't still sure and I still needed to know more.

This gave me a lot to think about as we drove home to our flat.

Chapter Nine

While Tracey cooked us dinner, I went and had a shower and changed. Tracey helping me during this to see to a change of dressings on both side and head. I didn't get changed exactly, but put on one of his flowery dressing gowns as I knew we would be going to bed after we had eaten. I put the T.V. on and was relieved to see that my name was missing from the news.

We sat down to a pot roast and it was marvellous and said so.

'I could get used to this type of cooking,' I remarked. 'Would you like to be my housekeeper in that wonderful apartment of mine?'

'Mrs. Kane yes, housekeeper no.'

'How about being both?' I grinned.

'What's the pay like?' he smiled, liking the game.

'Very generous with a clothing allowance thrown in. You would live in as well and have any choice of bedroom.'

'Perks?'

'Plenty.'

'Would I be safe from any sexual advances us being alone?'

'No.'

'Then I'll take the job,' and he laughed. 'When do I start?'

'You already have, now let's finish dinner and go to bed for me to make some of those advances upon you.'

'How can I resist such an offer. Who's going to wash the dishes?'

'You can, in the morning.'

'Beast!' he cried, throwing his napkin at me.

So with dinner finished, we went to bed and I had that lovely backside presented to me and I took full advantage of him while his back was turned. This was my first proper fuck of him since I'd been knifed, and I thoroughly enjoyed having him.

It was after the sex that we talked about the day and what were going to do about the Boyle gang and Wilson.

'Well after breakfast and you've done the dishes,' for which I got a poke in the ribs, him being on my left side in bed, 'we're going to do some research at Company House. Hey! How did I know about Company House?' I said. 'Anyway, then we'll go for a drive in the country. Epsom to be precise.'

'Why Epsom? Are we going racing?'

'No. It just happens to be where this Mr Wilson lives. Now I'm assuming, and I might be wrong, that he commutes by train. So we will be waiting at the station for him, in the car park if they've got one. Again it's an assumption that his car will be there. The drawbacks without wasting time are that one, his wife picks him up at the station forecourt, or two, he is collected at the bank by wife or has a company car and driver to take him home.'

'If he doesn't use the train?'

'Then we'll have a long slow dinner before coming back home. That means on the following night we'll have to follow him home to see where he lives and go on from there. No plan is foolproof. The art is to be able to adapt to the circumstances or chances that fall your way.'

'How will we know him?'

'His photo is in the prospectus you got from the bank, it also said that he lives in Epsom with his wife and children.'

'So if he does go home by train, and his car is parked there, what then?'

'We snatch him and have a few words with him like we did with the Weasel.'

'Do I get to use the squeaky voice thing again?'

'No. He won't know you but I want him to know that it's me he's dealing with.' With that, we kissed each other goodnight and went to sleep.

There wasn't any rush in the morning when we woke up so we stayed in bed for another hour as we played with each other. He moaned a bit after breakfast at having to do the dishes as well as those from the previous night's meal, but I meant our living together to really start as I meant it to go on, and that meant that he cooked and also did the washing up as I was the one providing the food.

We later drove off to Company House after finding out where it was, and then parked the car in a public car park, paying a horrendous charge per hour.

'It cheaper to use a taxi nowadays,' Tracey observed and so we decided that after the rental time was up, it would be taxi's from then on.

We went in and after paying a search fee, we were shown into a large room that held computer consoles as all their records were now stored on a computer and I was glad that I'd brought Tracey along. After a short explanation of how the system worked, Tracey began the search for me. It's amazing at how much information we gleaned from the machine in a couple of hours. Not only were the companies listed with a detailed summary of what they did, we also found potted biographies of people involved that could be cross checked.

The European Commercial Bank began in Berlin when the wall came down and the two Germanys became one, and the London branch opened shortly after. Then at the rate of nearly one a year, other branches were being opened all over Europe and they even began extending themselves into South America and the Far East. We knew that Wilhelm Strutter was a vice chairman as was Anthony Wilson. It appeared that every bank had a vice president in charge. The President and chairman of the group was one Sir Bernard Brakestone of Brakestone Manor in Wiltshire.

Then everything began to start falling into place. Bee Bee as Sir Bernard was known according to the biography, was as busy as one and he seemed to have his finger in a lot of honey pots he was that active in buzzing around. Not only was he the president and chairman of the banking group, he was on the boards of many companies in the position of a director, and some of which, he owned outright.

'We've hit the mother lode,' I said to Tracey when these companies were listed that Bee Bee was involved with. There was the Pinewood Mills in Canada that produced paper for worldwide distribution. Italia Inks in Milan that manufactured as the name implied, inks for printing firms. TransEurope Freight based in Paris and various printing firms scattered about Europe. But the one I was interested in at the moment was the English printing firm, Quaestus Print, and was located in Brentwood, Essex.

'That is Latin, surely,' Tracey said. 'We did have a sort of Latin class in college, but it was really only for the basic stuff that is in common use. We'll have to check that out later.'

This we did and found out about the vanity of Bee Bee in that Quaestus in Latin was moneymaking in English. I gave Tracey a pat on the back for this and with our notes, went to a pub for a beer to read over our notes.

'He's got it all sewn up,' I said as we drank our beer. 'The paper mill in Canada manufactures the type of paper for the currency of various countries that is shipped over to them. To the printing firms that are supplied with the inks from Italy and then it is passed through the banks and into circulation. Who makes the plates for this, we don't know, but that is irrelevant at the moment.'

'You and Tolliver must have stumbled on to this in Berlin and that's why they are trying to kill you then?' Tracey said, asking the obvious question.

'It would seem so, but it must go deeper than that. Who was I working for? The British government or a rival gang? The latter seems to be the right answer, just look at my apartment and the money I've got.'

'How much money?' he asked.

'More than enough. Not the kind of money you would earn from the government. Besides, if I was working for them, they wouldn't have allowed my name to be mentioned in connection with Tampon and be wanted by the police.'

'Well it makes sense what you say. We know Wilson is involved but not proven yet.'

'That's why we've got to snatch him and find out how far in he is and if he will involve Sir Bernard Brakestone.'

'But this doesn't make sense to go after him. If you are working for a rival gang, surely you would be hitting the printing firms to smash up their plates to prevent them making any more for your lot to carry on working. In spite of what you've already said, I think you must be working for the government.'

'Then why put out my name as a possible murderer?'

'To force you undercover! To make the others think you are one of them. Now that makes sense, well at least to me,' he said, and I had to agree with him, but it still didn't make sense of my previous life style if this was the case.

'We'll have to have a proper chat with Charlie, after we've seen to Wilson.'

While having our beers, we'd also had some sandwiches, and now it was about time we made tracks for Epsom to be at the station in plenty of time if that was how Wilson was travelling home.

It wasn't really a car park but more of a large area that had space for about the thirty cars that were there of various makes in two orderly rows on either side. I got Tracey to park at the far end and so we sat and waited to see if I was right in his coming in by train.

We watched other cars arrive and pick up passengers as trains arrived and some cars began to disappear from their parking spaces. It was just on six when I spotted him coming out of the entrance.

'Here we go,' I said and got out of the car and moved towards him. Tracey then slowly brought the car out, judging the distance so that the three of us came together at the same time. He was walking towards one of the cars and I hoped that I would get to him before he reached his car, which I did. There were two other men going for their vehicles, but they were on the other side and so I was shielded by our car as I met up with him.

'Mr Wilson,' I said to this middle aged man with a wispy moustache and thinning hair that was tending to being grey.

'Yes?' he said, stopping in front of me and then I hit him in the stomach. Unprepared for the blow, he gasped and doubled up and I had time to open the rear door of our car and push him into the back. He was really wheezing for breath as I got in and shut the door and Tracey drove us off. Nobody noticed us or could see him curled up half on the seat and half on the floor as we left the car park.

'Find somewhere secluded. Woods preferably,' I said to Tracey and within minutes we were on the Downs and he found a track that led into a copse of trees and finally stopped well out of sight of buildings or people.

'What do you want,' Wilson stuttered as I dragged him out of the car by his collar. 'If it's money, take it.'

'It's not your money, but your hide I want,' I said as I hit him hard in the face. He went down like a sack of potatoes and I began taking his clothes off as he lay there. He feebly tried to stop my hands from undressing him, but his hands were easily brushed aside. Tracey got out a length of rope that I had bought on the way down and I grabbed Wilson's hair and got him upright and held him against a small tree while Tracey tied his arms behind the trunk.

He was somewhat skinny but with a noticeable paunch and very white skin, though his face had gone red where I'd hit him. His scrotum was all shrivelled up with fear and I wondered if he would shit himself when I really got started on him.

'Please! Let me go. I haven't done anything,' he whined, beginning to plead already, and he began shaking when he saw me pull a knife out of my pocket. 'No, no, please!'

'Your name is Anthony Wilson?' I asked.

'Yes, yes,' he stuttered.

'And you are vice president of the European Commercial Bank in the city?'

'Yes, yes I am.'

'Now that didn't hurt, because you are telling the truth. Nor will you get hurt if you keep on telling me the truth. Do you know Arthur Boyle?'

'No.' Again he was unprepared as I slammed his head back hard against the tree.

'Now that was a lie. Do you know Arthur Boyle?'

'I...I've heard of him,' he stammered, and so I hit him hard in the chest that really made him cough.

'Now that was another lie. I asked you if you knew Arthur Boyle, not if you've heard of him? Now we'll try again. Do you know Arthur Boyle?'

'Yes,' he gasped.

'When did you last speak to him?'

'F...F...five days ago,' and flinched, but I didn't touch him.

'The day we left,' Tracey said.

'Left where?' Wilson asked and I hit him again.

'I ask the questions, not you,' I said with a snarl.

'Cut him,' Tracey urged. 'Let's see some blood,' and I could see the fear now large in Wilson's eyes.

'What did you say to him? What instructions did you give him?'

'They weren't my instructions,' he blurted out. 'I was just the messenger.'

'What were the instructions?' and I put the blade of the knife under his penis and watched it shrivel up even smaller as he tried to move back away from the blade, but he couldn't, and sweat started coming out of his forehead. I turned to Tracey.

'Get some small pieces of wood and two sticks I can use for skewers, and then make a small fire here.' He didn't have to go far to gather a small pile and I began to sharpen the two twigs till they had sharp pointed ends.

'Now what were the instructions you gave to Boyle?' I said in a honeyed voice that held more menace than shouting at him.

'They were to find out by going over to Tolliver and Kane's place to find out how much they knew. That's it! I swear!' Sweat was now running down his naked chest as he looked at the two sharpened sticks in my hand.

'You mean about the counterfeiting going on in Berlin?' He nodded and I lifted his penis again with the knife. 'A nod is not enough, say it.'

'Yes. We wanted to know what they knew,' he almost shouted.

'We? Whose we?' He shook his head more to get the sweat out of his eyes than as an answer.

'I...I can't say, he'd kill me.'

'Light the fire,' I said to Tracey. 'He smokes, there's nicotine stains on his fingers, so you'll find a lighter or matches in his clothes. Now Anthony, if you don't answer my question, I'm going to remove your testicles and cook them over this fire. The last pair I ate belonged to a Viet Cong guerrilla. He didn't speak as he watched us eat them. It was when we started carving off flesh from his second arm that he started to talk. It took him six hours before he bled to death after us eating half his legs and arms.'

That was when he vomited all down his chest, narrowly missing me as it sprayed out of his mouth.

'Good job I didn't have you tied down on your back or you would have choked on that,' I said to him. 'Now, let's ask the question and if you don't answer me straight away, I'm going to remove your balls and spit them on these sticks and you can then watch me cook them over the fire. Now who gives the orders, the one who runs the show?'

'Brakestone,' he managed to get out after spitting to clear his mouth of his vomit.

'You are of course referring to Sir Bernard Brakestone, chairman and president of the European Commercial Bank?'

'Yes.'

'Louder please,' I asked him as I tickled the underside of his cock with the tip of my knife.

'Yes! Sir Bernard Brakestone!' His eyes were now looking wild and kept shooting from side to side, taking in the sharpened sticks and the small fire that was now burning nicely.

'Thank you,' I said as I pulled out a pocket tape recorder from my pocket that even Tracey hadn't known about. I had bought it when I got the rope and now I held it before him and spoke into it. 'You have just heard the confession of one Anthony Wilson, vice president of the European Commercial Bank in London, admitting that Sir Bernard Brakestone is the leading light of a consortium that is printing forged currencies throughout Europe.' I paused for a moment for the tape would be edited later, but for his benefit I added a few more words. 'I admit he was under duress when he made this confession, but if at a later time he tries to refute what he has just said, I will kill him. My name is Marcus Kane and will stand by what I have just said.' I then turned the recorder off and looked into his wide open eyes.

'Yes. I'm Marcus Kane and because of you and your boss, Tolliver and others have been murdered. Now my advice to you is to either get out of the country as fast as you can or commit suicide, for I am going to get Bee Bee. I will give you enough time to do this but with one rider. Do not even try to have my place trashed like Tolliver's or I will carry out my threat and kill you. Cut him loose,' I then said to Tracey. 'I've finished with this scumbag.'

I kicked the fire apart and trod on the embers and threw the sticks away as the rope was taken off his wrists and he slumped down onto the ground, sobbing.

'Throw his clothes out of the car. He can find his own way home from here,' I said. Tracey did as I said, scattering them about after we got in the car and drove off. It wasn't far before we came onto a tarmac road that had houses on both sides and right at the end was a phone box.

'Stop by the box,' I said and told him what I wanted said to the police. We could see the name of the road and so that was to be used in the call. We both got into the phone box and he dialled 999 and was answered almost immediately.