Michelle nodded. “Yes, please take a seat, Detective.”
The tall man did as he was asked and took a seat on the worn, leather sofa in the centre of the room. Michelle went back into the kitchen again and made a second cup of tea. She brought it, along with her own, over to the coffee table.
Her guest smelt strongly of aftershave.
She took a seat on the recliner opposite the sofa. “You can protect me when all this is done, yes?”
The man nodded. “Yes, we will keep you safe. We’ll set you up with a new life and you can forget about this entire chapter of your life.”
Michelle grinned. The feeling of warm relief running through her stomach almost made her forget about her headache. “I am very grateful to you, Detective Marsh. You are my last hope.”
“And you are ours. Can you really help us bring down the Kahn prostitution ring? You have evidence?”
“Not evidence, but I can tell you everything. Not just about prostitution, but drugs, too. Mr Kahn is into everything. I know exactly what and where; all of his movements, all of his clients. I can even tell you where his shipments come in.”
Detective Marsh grinned. “With all that, Mr Kahn will ruined. You could expose his clients, humiliate them. The police could catch him red-handed with enough drugs to put him in jail for the rest of his life. You are positive you are prepared for all of that?”
“Yes. I want to destroy Mr Kahn, and all of the sick, perverted men that make him rich.”
Detective Marsh leant forward and took a sip from his tea. Then he just sat there on the sofa for several seconds. He seemed to be mulling something over.
Michelle was feeling anxious. Her headache was getting worse. “I can tell you everything,” she said. “Just tell me when to get started. I know everything.”
Detective Marsh stood up and let out a sigh. “No, Michelle. I’m afraid you do not know everything; but you do know too much.”
Detective Marsh took out the black-market pistol that Mr Kahn had given to him and fired it three times into Michelle’s chest. The blood spatter that found its way onto his shirt was teeming with a virus that had made its way all the way from the Mediterranean Sea.
LONG ARMS
Detective Marsh took a shower at home and then headed right back to work. The police station was unusually abuzz and several of his colleagues were frustrated that they had not been able to get a hold of him in the last few hours. He’d simply told them he was busy.
Busy killing a hooker.
Marsh felt beads of sweat running down his spine. It was not a hot day and he wondered why his skin was so clammy. He put it down to the stress of committing a murder – his first and hopefully his last. But if Kahn had anything to do with it…
Why the hell did I ever get into drugs and hookers? I’m the world’s biggest fucking idiot.
The dispatch floor was teeming with bodies as the telephone staff patched calls through to the relevant departments. It seemed like something was going on. Too many calls.
Something’s obviously hit the fan.
Marsh stomped over to the offices and headed for the Briefing Room. He’d had a feeling he would find several of his colleagues there, but he was surprised to find that half the officers on staff were standing inside.
“Marsh! Where the hell have you been?” It was DI Winters, and she did not look happy.
“Sorry, Ma’am. I was…otherwise engaged. What’s going on?”
DI Winters shook her head and cursed. “Chris, will you take him away and brief him, please. We need to get moving.”
Detective Chris Cox left the assembly and took Marsh out into the corridor. The first thing he said was, “You look like shit.”
Marsh shrugged the comment off. “I’m fine – just a cold or something. What’s going on?”
Chris shook his head and cleared his throat. “Nobody knows, really. Southampton General has been quarantined because of some super-bug. We’ve been hearing that people have gotten really sick, and that they’ve been attacking each other, as well.”