Malcolm and the Rent Boy - 11. Chapter 11 'Rupert at Risk'

Rupert was still trembling as the car sped away from the shop. He could not know where they were headed but the route seemed to suggest it was Baggett Manor. More than once Rupert caught sight in the rear view mirror of Freddy Scrope’s venomous eyes as they met his, and he had to look away.

Shortly, their route would be taking them over the canal; he knew he’d get one shot at losing the mobile. Carefully, he edged the phone out of his left side jeans pocket. He needed to wind down the rear window fractionally. Rupert felt that his heart was beating so loudly all could hear. His captor, sensing he was fidgeting, elbowed him violently. The boy recoiled to the corner of the seat, trying to regain breath. Then his aunt shouted,

‘For Christ’s sake, why didn’t I think of this earlier. Get his phone, get it!’

Rupert now had no choice. Frantically winding down the window those precious few inches, he pulled out his mobile and flung it out of the vehicle as far as he could. They’d not yet reached the canal but to his relief the item fell into the path of an HGV coming the other way. It was destroyed utterly. Felicity Scrope kept calm,

‘You’ll pay for that. Believe me.’

Rupert was now truly frightened. The man beside him took out a cigarette to light it. His aunt responded at once,

‘Put your window down if you must do that, and see you don’t manage to lose anything else’

The guy gave her a look of the purest, undiluted hatred. Rupert guessed correctly that he’d once been a ‘client’ of hers and had done time as a result. And the logo ‘Kick Boxer’ on the back of his shell suit did nothing to add to his comfort.

Another twenty minutes – easily the longest in the young man’s life – and they arrived at Baggett Manor. The last words he heard were his aunt’s,

‘Put him in the store and secure him. That should cool him off’

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Colin’s head was swimming with indecision; he’d returned to his mother’s house knowing that she and his Nan were out. Planning to leave home, he’d twice packed and unpacked a holdall. He picked up the phone and rang Roy Leathard. It was an unusual call, but then so were the circumstances.

‘Is that you Roy? Colin here, wonder if you can help?’

Roy said he’d try.

‘Malcolm tells me that you go down to London a lot’

In fact, Malcolm had said ‘Roy goes down in London a lot’, but since both comments were true the difference mattered not. Colin continued,

‘Just wondering if you could give me the names of any guy or guys who’d put me up for a night or two?’

Nobody wanted to ‘put Colin up’ more than Roy, but he told the young man he’d make some enquiries and get back to him. What he didn’t know was that Colin intended his absence to be permanent. But what Colin didn’t know was that any news that came to the ears of either Roy or Malcolm was always quickly shared between them.

But Roy was unable to make contact with his old buddy. The Police and court authorities had been singularly unimpressive in supplying Malcolm with tea and refreshments, as a result of which he was now ravenous, and driving to his favourite supermarket cafeteria.

Entering the dining area he was delighted to see Zytka, his favourite Eastern European, waiting tables. Having opted for the all day breakfast the old train spotter sat down and prepared to enjoy his feast of slaughtered cattle and offal. He looked up, as the pretty Polish girl came over to his his table.

‘How – are – you - today?’ he asked, in the manner one would use to question small children or imbeciles.

‘Very well thanks, and you?’

Malcolm overlooked the fact that Zytka’s English, already competent when she arrived in England, was now almost flawless. And he wanted to let her know that he’d been developing an interest in the country of her birth,

‘Which – part – of – Poland – do – you – come – from?’

‘I come from a small seaside town near Gdansk called Sopot. You should visit it if you can, it’s very pretty’

Malcolm, scarcely hearing, continued,

‘And – what – did – you – do – in – Poland?’

‘I was a research chemist, specialising in surface tension and the relative viscosity of liquids’

‘Oh, I see’

He didn’t, but his attention had just been drawn to his mobile. It was Roy. Malcolm’s old friend lost no time in revealing the unsettling request he’d just had from Colin, the rent boy. For their various reasons neither man wanted Colin to leave town. Malcolm, now sensing the urgency of things held aloft the breakfast plate to his lips, and scraped the unedifying debris of beans, egg yolk and black pudding into his mouth.

Just as he was putting on his Mack, Zytka, who’d left him to the privacy of his call, hurried back over and presented him with a plastic cup, stuffed with sachets of sugar, sauce and those little tubs of cream.

‘What this?’ asked Malcolm. The Polish waitress smiled charmingly,

‘Well, I’ve seen you do this many times before leaving the restaurant. So I am thinking it is an old Yorkshire custom, right?’

Malcolm placed the pathetic items in the voluminous pocket of his coat and responded with the only Polish he knew, the word for thank you. And he’d discovered an ingenious way of remembering its pronunciation,

‘Gin Queer’ he said. Zytka beamed in recognition,

‘Dziękuję, to you too, and have a nice day!’

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Malcolm drove straight to the Blenkinsops’ house, an address he’d discovered from Colin’s mother during their recent chat. He surveyed the plain, unassuming council house from the outside; nothing suggested the turmoil occurring inside. Colin answered the door,

‘Oh! It’s you’

‘Can I come in? We really do need to talk now!’ said Malcolm.

Colin silently gestured the man in and they sat down.

‘I’ve been to court this morning. The police now have warrants to search Baggett Manor and that bookshop’

Colin remained silent.

‘Have you heard from Rupert?’

‘No, and I haven’t called him.’

‘I haven’t heard from him either and I have called him, and texted him’

Colin shrugged. Malcolm looked irritated.

‘Well, have you any idea where he could be?’

‘Probably back home, Baggett Manor’

‘Don’t you think he could use some support from you when the place gets raided?’

Colin scoffed,

‘Raided? The police will have their work cut out! That place is like Fort Knox, it’s got gates and security, the lot. That old magistrate will have clocked them five minutes before they reach the front door’

Malcolm was stunned,

‘How do you know all this?’

‘Because I’ve been there. The day I took you to hospital, I spent that evening at the Manor. It would have been the night too, but Rupert’s aunt came back unexpected; that’s when she smacked him’

‘What!’ Malcolm was genuinely surprised.

‘Yeah, she’s a right old psycho, nasty piece of work. And I don’t think she likes me much!’

Malcolm was on his feet.

‘Look Colin, this is deadly serious. I think Rupert’s in trouble. He’s not smart like you. We need to get over to Police HQ so that you can tell them everything you’ve just told me.’

Colin agreed. His planned trip to London would have to wait. In a way it was a relief to have a greater problem intervene in his own affairs and put them into perspective.

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Police HQ was awash with personnel. Malcolm sat in a corner savouring the atmosphere. The air was so thick with testosterone he could almost taste it - and that was just the police women!

Colin was in Detective Inspector Jameson’s office. The rent boy had told the senior policeman all he knew about the Manor House, its gates, drive, security and so forth, but it was his comment about Felicity Scrope’s behaviour that prompted the most interesting response.

Jameson handed Colin a photograph. It was rather indistinct but showed the nearside of a car. A man could be seen in the front seat and the pale face of a much younger man in the rear passenger seat.

‘Do you recognise anyone here?’

Colin had no doubt,

‘Yes, that’s Rupert’

‘That photo was taken this morning by one of our surveillance teams. The car was just about to drive into the Manor. The guy in the front seat is well known to us. And if you think Rupert is at risk because of your aunt I can tell you they are both at risk with that nutcase around’

Colin was concentrating hard; he looked intently into the Detective’s eyes,

‘I have to go in. You’ll never get past the gate and security unnoticed, and that’ll give her all the time she needs to flush evidence away. But I can create a diversion’

‘It’s too dangerous’ added Jameson, who was now fascinated by Colin’s eyes, which were wild with excitement,

‘No, no, it’s not! If I get in I can keep her at the door long enough to let you disarm the security, bust the gate and get up the drive’

The DI smiled,

‘You seem to know a lot about this’

‘Well, let’s just say I’ve had a dry run at it. I spent a bit of time playing with the cameras there one evening’

Jameson picked up the phone,

‘I need to get clearance for this. Just step out into the main office and I’ll be with you in a few minutes’

Colin did as he was asked and rejoined Malcolm, who was now at slavering point. He’d never realised that policemen spent so much time equipping and stripping? Jameson then rejoined them,

‘I’ve cleared it with the Chief Constable. We’ve given this thorough consideration. We believe that Rupert is now in real danger and as a result we’re bringing forward the strike to 18.00 hours this evening. Colin, come with me’

Malcolm was not invited but that didn’t stop him.

The DI led the men into an operations room,

‘In a moment Colin, I’ll introduce you to two of our best ‘crops’ officers, covert rural operations. These guys can dig a hole in a field, and live there a week, surviving on just their own body fluids’

‘Bit like you’ Colin smiled at Malcolm. The DI continued,

‘They’ll be right alongside you after we put you in. But you’ll not know they’re there. We’re going to strap a radio to you to keep contact, it also has a button so that if you have an emergency they’ll know to move in. They should never be more than 20 to 30 seconds away. And now Gill’s going to sort your radio out’

A pretty young police woman, carrying radio equipment, had just entered the room,

‘Hi, I’m Gill’ she said, fastening her eyes on Colin and completely overlooking Malcolm,

‘I’ve come to sort your radio out’

She then signalled to Colin to sit down, cross legged on the floor as she took him through the controls. Colin’s world was very definitely a male one, but there was nothing he could do about the attraction women too felt for him. Gill could not take her eyes off him. She continued,

‘We need to strap the radio covertly to you. It has Velcro fasteners and is quite comfortable. It can go over your shoulder, around the waist, or on your thigh’

But Malcolm was becoming vexed. What did this minx have planned for Colin?

‘I would recommend thigh’ she drooled,

‘So if you just stand up, and drop your cargoes, I’ll fit it for you’

That was too much for the old man, he moved in and virtually pushed Gill out of the way,

‘There’s no need for a young lady like you to do this embarrassing stuff, he’s almost naked, I can take over’

Colin, now standing with his trousers about his legs was hugely amused. But Gill was not deterred, she glared at Malcolm,

‘It’s police equipment, I have to be around when it’s deployed’

‘Very well’ snapped Malcolm, ‘but I’m doing the deploying’

The old ex-teacher took the radio, suspended in its pouch and Velcro fastening, and wrapped it high around Colin’s thigh.

‘A bit lower Malcolm’ the boy protested,

Malcolm complied, taking as long as possible, making sure his hands got into as much contact with Colin as they could, and above all, relishing the fact that his face was just about eight inches away from the place that would have made him the happiest gay man alive.

But Gill, stony-faced, had the last word,

‘For maximum effectiveness, the aerial wire needs to be strapped to something long and straight’

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With the approach of early evening Felcity Scrope sent away the thugs who’d kidnapped Rupert, and Baggett Manor once again fell silent, left to her nephew and her. She’d decided to spend the evening relaxing and so picked out ‘The walk of Death’ from her extensive video collection of the Nuremberg Rallies. And that reminded her, she must endeavour to get more target practice in soon.

Having taken her own light tea, she assembled a piece of pizza, a Coke and bag of crisps - items she herself would never have touched – and took them to Rupert’s place of imprisonment. She crossed the courtyard and entered a narrow passageway. She unlocked the solid, windowless door that led into the store, placed the tray on the stone floor and, pushing it into the blackness, swiftly re-locked the door.

‘There’s something to eat. When you’re ready to co-operate, we can talk’

She was about to step away when Rupert answered,

‘There’s nothing to talk about, other than you’re off your head for doing this’

Felicity Scrope turned and thumped the door,

‘Listen to me you little fool. You will do as I have planned. I put great effort into that dinner party and it will go ahead. Your engagement to Cressida Bruhme-Handell is a fact. Get used to the idea’

The light was fading and the passageway growing dark.

‘And you get used to this, you old fool, I’m not marrying Cressida or anyone else. I’m gay. Get used to that, I AM GAY!’

Rupert was trembling with emotion rather than fear as he lay in the freezing darkness. He could neither see his aunt nor register the depth of loathing that was etched on her face.

Had he, he would have truly feared for his life.

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