Lola was a British woman in her early forties but looked younger with the help of a bit of Botox.

‘Ouch – this fucking thing pinches.’ Lola adjusted the strap that went beneath her crotch. She handed Mann his drink. ‘Business is booming, thanks, Johnny.’

Around the podium were four businessmen. Lola leaned forward in a pretend whisper, hoping that the other punters around her station would feel obliged to eavesdrop. ‘I pick up some really good clients in here. I’ve invested in some new equipment.’ She winked at Mann. ‘Medical, ethereal, you insert a wire down the man’s urethra and this machine gives off sound waves – boy does it produce some great results. You should try it. You might even like it.’ Her eyes settled on his face. ‘Actually, forget it; you look like you need bed rest for a month. You’re looking dead beat, Johnny.’ She turned away briefly as one of the men opposite needed a refill. She turned back and adjusted her strap again.

Mann shook his head. ‘I’m all right, Lola. I’m not getting much sleep, that’s all. There’s a lot on at work.’ Mann looked around at the other seven girls, who were wearing various dominatrix outfits. ‘All these girls work as mistresses in their spare time like you?’

‘Some. But none of them compare with me, hon.’

She passed Mann a card. It was a photo of Lola dressed in a PVC cat-suit-type outfit, a mask on her face, a whip in her hand.

‘Thanks.’ He took it from her and studied it. ‘Nice card. I’ll let you know; meanwhile…do you know anyone who might specialize in a double act in a hotel room? Two girls, boy-girl even, bondage, rough stuff?’

‘Plenty, why?’

Mann produced the piece of bondage tape from his pocket. ‘Is this stuff standard issue, Lola?’ He handed it to her.

She took it from him and rubbed it between her fingers. ‘Yes and no. It’s definitely bondage tape but it’s thicker than usual.’

‘Where would I be able to buy this?’

Lola shrugged. ‘Web sites.’

‘What about from you? I heard that you had supplied this place with all the outfits. You must have a good source for anything you need.’

Lola looked taken aback for a second and then she turned to top up the other customers’ drinks. She made small talk. She turned back after a few minutes.

‘I have some, it’s true. I bought up some old stock but it’s just for emergencies. It’s difficult to tear with your teeth. It needs a knife to cut it.’

‘Did you sell any on?’ She shook her head. ‘Where did you buy the stock from?’

‘It was a stall in the Mansions. It was only there for a few weeks. A woman was selling off her stuff.’

‘What kind of woman?’

‘Might have been Indian. I can’t remember. She wasn’t Chinese, anyway.’ She looked at the piece in her hand again. ‘Where did you get this piece from?’

‘It was wrapped around a dead man’s foot. Whoever did it tied him up with this before they tortured him. Have any of your businessmen clients been talking about an experience that wasn’t pleasant?’

It was hard to know what she was thinking. Lola only had one expression left that wasn’t Botoxed out or filled in. ‘You got to remember, Johnny, some men really like it mean. Some of them really want to be hurt. All the other women I know who make a living from being mistresses are as sweet natured as they come, just like me.’

She batted her eyelashes at Mann.

‘Yeah, right,’ he smiled.

‘We do it because it’s an easy way to make money without fucking. But, I will ask around for you.’

‘This wasn’t just hurt; his flesh was stripped. His balls virtually cut off.’

She looked momentarily shocked which was registered on her face by her eyes opening up wide. ‘Shit, that’s seriously nasty.’ She shook her head. ‘That doesn’t sound like an S & M game to me.’

‘Yeah, I agree.’ Mann finished his drink. ‘She went to a lot of trouble to make sure he felt the pain. He took a long time to die. You give me a ring if you remember anything else, Lola.’

Mann left Lola. He walked back out onto the street. He got a call from CK.

‘I wanted to express my sympathy at the death of your officer and to ask you to join me this evening.’

‘Tonight’s not the night.’

‘Tonight is exactly the night, Inspector.’

Chapter 63

On the roof red papers twirled in the air and were sucked up and spun in the wind. The sound of whistles filled the air – three beeps and one long tone. The roof of the Mansions was bathed in the black of late night. A storm was coming. The belly of the cloud was lit with neon from the city below. Gusts of wind whipped up the waves in the harbour.

Hafiz caught Lilly by the arm and turned her sharply round. ‘My brother is in prison because of you.’

‘Let go.’ She wrenched her arm free. ‘That’s bullshit. You know it is. I never asked him to be there. He messed it all up. It was all under control. She wasn’t supposed to get killed. She was only supposed to be taught a lesson. ‘Just rough her up a bit, I was told. You want someone to blame, you look to your own family. Mahmud should have kept well away.’ Lilly shook her head sadly. ‘Look I’m sorry about Mahmud, believe me. But think about it, Hafiz. They can’t charge him if he didn’t do it. They will have to let him go in the end.’

They turned to see the roof around them filling with members of the Outcasts, skinny kids with light jeans, big shoes and gelled hair. They were just like millions of others – nondescript, except that in their hands they carried weapons and the red invitations that had summoned them to a meeting. ‘If you see him tell him I’m sorry.’

More members of the Outcasts began to appear. They came from all over the city to the Mansions. Nathan Road down below was crawling with teenage feet answering the call of their mistress. Thirty minutes passed and the assembled children cheered as the announcement went up that ‘she’ had arrived. They waited nervously for her to address them. She moved amongst them as she made her way across the rooftop. The wind was blowing. The distant sound of a storm charged the air with an eerie light.

Victoria stood in front of the gathered crowd. Her hair was loose, it whipped around her face. Her leather cat suit was sleek, moulded to her figure.

Hafiz and Lilly gathered round her with the others. The roof was moving with black figures, small shadows.

From the distance a rumble of thunder grew louder.

Victoria lifted up her arms as if to embrace them all. She stood on the top of an air conditioning vent. ‘You are all my children, my Outcasts, and I love you just like a mother would. I promise each one of you that I will change your life. I promise you money, power. You can be whoever you want to. You stick with me and I can take you right up to the sky.’

Above her the lightning lit up the belly of the cloud. The children gasped.

Victoria tossed her head on the air triumphant. ‘All I need from you is everything. I want everything now. Go into those Mansions and cause trouble. Run wild. Run free. You can be whatever you want. As long as you’re prepared to fight for it. Are you?’

The children held their knives in the air as the night sky was filled with their howling.

Chapter 64

The Piccadilly Club was a private members’ club. It was British gentry style: polished brass, cracked leather chairs, Dunhill fixtures. It only accepted the wealthiest of clients but that didn’t stop there being a waiting list to join.

Mann was frisked at the entrance by two of CK’s bodyguards, then he was escorted up to the top floor. Eighty floors in the speed elevator later he was met by a portly English butler dressed in a plaid waistcoat and black trousers.

‘Follow me please, sir. You are expected.’

He led the way to the Red Salon. It was a lounge and private dining area. Its theme was deep, rich, cherry-red wood and brilliant gold. Around its walls was a library of classics shelved on a mahogany bookcase and there was a mahogany writing desk.