Birdcage

Chapter 14 Dane...

I fidget in my narrow seat, trying to avoid brushing up against the overweight, and rather sweaty gentleman to my right. I'm just glad I got a window seat and I'm not sandwiched between two of them. As much as I love travelling, I hate aeroplanes; they are cramped, the food is shit and there is always someone coughing and sneezing within touching distance of you. Luckily it is a short flight and we are only about thirty minutes from landing. I think about my task ahead and I feel pretty confident. I can't offer him anything, seems as he is being charged in a different country, but I can always threaten him with extra charges if he doesn't talk.

My mind wonders to my meeting with Joe last night and what he told me. He is making great progress with Pierre and his men, but even by his own admission, it hasn't been difficult. Apparently, Pierre is always on the move and is a frequent visitor to a house he owns in Brixton. Joe hasn't been inside, but is certain it's a brothel. He has met some women that work for Pierre – apparently, they are hired out as cleaners for his wealthy friends and he has seen one of them enter the house, so presumes they all live there. He believes it is a brothel because as well as the girls, he sees a number of strange men enter and leave too. My skin crawls for those poor women. However, the most disturbing piece of information he gave me is the one bit of knowledge that I don't know what to do with. Another person he has seen enter the house – sometimes escorting two or three of the girls – is Maisie. It unsettled me as soon as I heard this, because if I tell Lila it will break her heart. I thought Maisie was nothing more than a gold-digging mistress to Pierre, but it appears she is far more involved in the darker stuff than I would have hoped. Then there was the picture of her father that I found linked to the information on Gustav. Just how connected is, Maisie? I'm just glad that she has never managed to get Lila caught up in all of this. Nope, only you managed to do that, Dane. It also hurts to know that the girls living in that house are probably there against their will, but without solid evidence there is nothing I can do about it. We need that hard drive. And that just happens to be the one thing that Pierre is tight-lipped about; whether he has the hard drive or not.

After a smooth landing, I make my way across Paris in a taxi to the address of the hotel I will be staying at during my time here. I met with Terry when I got off the plane; he was on the same flight but opposite ends of the aircraft. The hotel wasn't anything particularly fancy, but pretty all the same, and when I saw it all I could think about was how much I wish I was here with Lila instead of Terry. The building is made of a bright white stone, with rows of windows, each with its own wrought-iron balcony and adorned in fresh green plants. We checked into our separate, single rooms which were clean and modern, only furnished with the must-needs and went up to them to get settled. I set my bag down on the crisp white bedding and send a message to Lila, informing her I arrived safely. She replies straight away, saying that she is staying at home all night to catch up on reading, and reminds me yet again to stay safe. I also let her know that I won't be in touch much until I've got the information I need; I need to be focused and Lila is a distraction.

I shower, then set out the file I have created on Gustav on the small wooden desk, placing myself in front of it with a coffee I made from the machine in the room. I run my hand through my wet hair, frustrated and eager to get to the station where he is being held so I can get this over with. It's still early though and we are only allowed our slot with him later this afternoon. I pull out a picture that has had my attention since I first saw it - the one of Maisie's father. It causes a feeling in me that I cannot explain, and I can't help but wonder if he is the one I should speaking to today; I can't just turn up at his house and start questioning him though, so Gustav might to the link to get me to him.

I put it back with the others, and spread each image across the whole table. This is so much bigger than us; all these people – plus the ones we don't even know about – all involved in such evil and freely getting away with it. Before the rage can build up in me, there is a knock at the door. I get up and look through the peep hole - a habit I have developed over the years – and see that it is just Terry. I open up and let him in, watching him stand in the middle of the room awkwardly, because the only other place to sit other than the desk chair, is the bed. He spots the photographs and pages of information on the desk and goes over to look at it.