BOOK: The Attached-chapter 2

The Attached-chapter 2
2.  
The casino was busy for a Tuesday night.   Navenka Banovic slinked between the crowds at the blackjack tables and headed back towards the bar.   Even with her three inch heels on she still towered above most of the clientele but she didn't feel self-conscious.   Not even the shortness of her gold, cocktail waitress uniform could knock her off her stride.   For the first time since she'd arrived in England she felt like she belonged.   London had been a disaster but Manchester looked like it might heal her pain.   The stretch of her smile sent out the right signals anyway. "You look radiant tonight, Navenka," the bar man said before taking her order. She thanked him for the compliment and smiled to herself as he fetched the drinks.   Looking good was one thing, feeling it was even better and she felt better than she had in a long time.   Maybe things were going to be alright after all.   She had prayed that her air fare to England would be her golden ticket; her new start in life but she knew there would be no guarantees.  The barman winked as he placed the last of her order onto her tray.  "Make sure you're polite on blackjack table five," he instructed.   "Second from the right, he's a regular but comes with a reputation." "Every man has reputation," Navenka said smiling.   "Some just decide not to publish it." She slinked back over to the tables and began handing out her drinks, each one with a smile.   The wage was basic but the tips made the job worthwhile.   She was earning more here than what she could earn with a proper profession even in Belgrade. She made sure she smiled as she handed out the whisky and coke to the man second from the right on blackjack table number five.   Without averting his stare from the table he inexplicably grabbed Navenka by the wrist as she placed his drink in front of him. "I said light on the ice," he said in nasal Mancunian.   "Four cubes of ice isn't light." He turned to face the cocktail waitress.   His head was large; his neck thick.   He had the same build as the bouncers on the door downstairs.   He stared angrily into her eyes.   Navenka stared back unsure as to how to handle the complaint but he didn't intimidate her and she knew her smile could defuse most men's anger. "Sorry for misunderstanding," she said coyly.   "On training day they tell me standard number of ice cubes is six.   Perhaps if you have won six chips at blackjack and dealer give you four you complain about...being light." The man's brow furrowed as he digested the words but then he nodded with a smile that said he was impressed by her comeback.   Navenka knew she had that effect on people.   She could win most people over just by looking into their eyes"Somewhere underneath that tight dress, you've got a massive pair of balls," he said relinquishing his grip.  "I like that.  .  .  in a manner of speaking." He stuck on sixteen and turned to face the girl. "Are you from Poland?" he asked. "Serbia," she corrected.   "But is common mistake." "Do you like your job?"Navenka thought for a second and then nodded. "What do they pay you here then? What's your take home?" the man asked. Navenka shrugged demurely.  "I don't think I tell you that," she said. "Go on don't be shy, hit me with the digits.   I'm sure I can make it worth you while." He slipped a fifty pound note out of his pocket. "You can keep the change from the drink if you tell me what you earn," he added. The generous tip wasn't an altogether rare occurrence and her pay wasn't exactly a big secret. "I am on minimum wage," Navenka said unashamedly.   "Five pounds eighty per hour." "And is that enough?""It is never enough." The man smiled at the beauty in front of him. "When's your next break?" he asked directly.   "I might just have a proposition for you." "I am not afraid to not be that sort of girl," she struggled.   "I meant a job offer," the man informed, "and not a one nighter; a real job.   Forget all that per hour bullshit they're giving you here.   If you pass the interview I'll put you on thirty grand; a proper annual wage.   Do you know what that means? Thirty grand?"Navenka knew all too well what that meant.   Her eyes instantly lit up and her eyebrows rose on the proposition presenting itself. "Let me level with you.   I run an estate agents," the man said.   "Lettings, rentals, you know.   We're getting a lot of Eastern Europeans coming over and I think you'd be perfect at dealing with them.   What do you think?""Maybe," Navenka replied.   "But I have no experience in selling house and I need to see business first." "Now that's hardly selling yourself," the man said feigning his disappointment. Navenka giggled, aware she was even flirting slightly.   Thirty grand was a lot of money. "You do interview now?" she asked waiting for a response that didn't come. "Okay, well I am person, person, my English is so so but I learn quickly and I like very much these houses you sell.   Will that do?"She signed her impromptu job application with another smile.    Her full lips stretched open to reveal her perfectly white teeth. "Congratulations, you passed the first interview," the man replied whilst flicking her a business card.   Manchester Lettings, it read. "Give me a call," he added as he got up to leave the blackjack table.   "I think we'd be good together." He flicked a chip towards the dealer and walked over to the cash desk to cash his chips. Navenka's heart pounded as she ran the conversation through her head and imagined life in a two-piece suit, showing people around new build houses and maybe even working in an office.   Working in an English office; it was what she'd always dreamed of.   Maybe this was the break that she'd been dreaming of too. ***Declan couldn't get the image of the girl's forlorn cry for help out of his mind.   It had seemed so real.   Her panicked pleading had kept him awake all night.   The look on her face, the trauma, her desperate situation; it all combined to torture his thoughts. Throughout a three hour meeting with a property developer all he could think about was the fear on her face as she rubbed away her makeshift message and the dark shadow loomed.  His brother had carried the whole meeting whilst he ran the Cheshire address through his mind. "You're such a fucking lemon," Samual slammed whilst accelerating his Audi R8 through the city traffic lights at the last second.    "Who in their right mind falls for a cam girl?""I've not fallen for her.   I'm just worried about another human being's general welfare.   That's all."  "Someone you've never met and someone who probably kept you online just long enough to clone your ID and empty your bank account?""She would have flashed something else if she just wanted to keep me online." "Maybe she was worried about how long you'd last."  "Yeah, yeah says the guy who got his girlfriend pregnant using the withdrawal method.   You know all about.  .  .  timing, don't you.   But listen, I went back onto that site and looked at every profile on there.   She was nowhere to be seen.   All her pictures had been removed.   Last night there were a dozen pics of her in various states of undress, today.  .  .  nothing.   That doesn't sound like someone wanting repeat business to me.   Does it to you?""Maybe your innocence showed her the error of her ways, innocence or outright stupidity.   You have cancelled your credit card haven't you?"Declan shook his head and fumed silently.  He knew the camgirl wasn't exactly going to be the one but she was unbelievably beautiful.   Maybe she just needed saving.   He banished the thought immediately.  "They barred me," he said instead.   "After her webcam went dead last night, no matter what I tried, I couldn't get back onto the site." "That's because she'd done you already."  "She gave me an address," Dec said pulling out the business card that he'd scrawled down her message on.   "A bricks and mortar address.   Well a street at least.  .  .   and it exists.   I checked online last night.   Now why would she give me a street name if she just wanted to rip me off?""Give me strength," Samual fumed, "or a brother with an ounce of common sense when it comes to the opposite sex.   You didn't tell her what car you drove did you? Maybe she wants you to drop that off as well as your credit card and your ID." "You can piss take all you want Sammy.   It's a Cheshire address, some big mansion style place on Chancery Lane, and guess what? I'm paying it a visit tonight." Declan slammed his breaks on and beeped at a car that had shot through the lights, mirroring his move of just a few seconds earlier. "Why on earth would you even contemplate doing something so obviously fucking retarded?"Declan was confident in his response.  "She was pleading for her life Sam, I mean literally pleading.   Do you know what that actually looks like when someone pleads for their life? It's haunting me.   You didn't see it.   It was horrible.   It's gonna live with me forever." Samual's high-pitched laughter filled the car.  "Seriously mate; you're a danger to yourself when it comes to girls.   Take my advice and stay well away from cam girls.  .  .  and mansions in rural Cheshire." ***The shrubbery along the road was at its densest towards the left of the house.   Under the cover of darkness, it provided just enough shelter for Declan to wait undetected and observe the comings and goings.  This had to be the address.   Chancery Lane was on millionaire's row but then all the streets in this part of Cheshire were dripping in more than just gold. The sprawling mansions were secluded, set back from the road and far apart from each other on acres of land.   What set this one apart from the rest were the thick lines of trees either side of a winding path, leading up to the huge house.   It could easily constitute the cam girl's 'woods' whilst the huge perimeter fencing and electric gates also set it apart.   It had been built a good two hundred meters away from the road with its main entrance hidden from sight around its side. Maybe his suspicions were getting the better of him but each vehicle had been sperated by exactly half an hour.   It was perfectly coordinated.   Each of the cars was a top of the range motor.   Something was definitely going on.  His Porsche Carrera lay abandoned a couple of hundred meters down the road and from his hideout he simply observed.   That was where his game plan ended.  The sudden vibrations of his mobile phone nearly jerked him from his hiding spot. "Hello could I speak to Mister Davenport?" the voice greeted before informing it was the fraud department from his bank. "Hello, Mister Davenport, I'm afraid to tell you that your card has been flagged up as having suspected fraudulent activity on it.   We've had no option but to put a hold on your card.   Would it be possible to run through some transactions from last night with?""Look it's not really a good time.  .  ." "The amounts involved are quite concerning Mister Davenport.   We think the fraudulent activity may have started with a transaction of just one pound fifty four pence.   They then jump to various amounts in their thousands, one thousand and twenty six pounds, three thousand and eighty one pounds.  .  ." "Jesus.   Please tell me these amounts haven't gone out," Declan interrupted.  "I'm afraid the first large amount went out before we could put a hold on your card.  .  ." "These are not my transactions," Declan stressed.   "I can be quite clear about that.   But you've done the right thing in putting a stop on my card." "Have you used your card anywhere unusual recently, anywhere that might.  .  ." "Yeah I can think of one place." Declan looked up to the mansion and wondered if the cam girl was the on the other side of its stone walls.   As he stared, two burly men suddenly emerged from round the side of the mansion.   Each had a Doberman straining at the leash.   They began to walk down the winding path.   Their eyes scoured the parameter of the fence as they moved.   One of them said something to the other and then they set the dogs free. Declan interrupted the fraud officer's list of transactions. "This really isn't a good time," he said.   "I'm gonna have to call you back." He finished the call abruptly and launched himself out of the undergrowth.  In just seconds, the dogs had torn up the distance between their handlers and the fence.   Their teeth snarled as they bounded straight towards him.    Another glance back up towards the house saw the two men break into a sprint forcing Declan to break into one of his own. The Dobermans reached the wall where he'd been standing and broke into unrestrained barks and snarls.   They followed Declan's sprint along the perimeter fencing, slobbering over each other to get closer. Declan sprinted hard to reach his car.   His hands shook as he pressed the unlock button from twenty odd meters away and even more as he tried to start the ignition.  He couldn't risk them seeing the reg. Even before he'd slammed the door shut, he'd put his foot to the floor and swerved onto the road glancing in his rear view before screeching round the first bend.   He was safe but still shaking with adrenalin and without a clue as to what was going on in that mansion.   Whatever it was, it looked massively dodgy. ***Samual edged off the terrace area and onto the path that led down his immaculately presented back lawn. A glance back towards the house and in through the French doors told that Steph was out of ear shot.   She was too preoccupied with singing nursery rhymes to Ollie as he jumped around in his baby bouncer. "I'm just not doing it," he said aggressively.   "So get it out of your head." "I just need a driver," Declan replied from the other end of the phone, "just someone to keep the motor running while I jump over the fence." Samual was fast running out of patience.   He glanced back at his wife.   Despite her pregnancy, she was still every inch the model he'd met three years ago.   If anything motherhood had made her even more beautiful.   But it wasn't her looks he'd fallen for; she really was the nicest person he'd ever met in his life.   Just looking at her with his son talked him down from the verbal beating he had been about to deliver to his brother. "Look bro, whatever you think it is that you're getting involved with...  don't.   So some cam girl wrote 'help me' on her tits; big deal.   Like I said it's probably just a ploy to generate repeat business."  "Are you not even the slightest bit curious as to why she'd write that?""Are you not even the slightest bit pissed off that she's wiped one thousand and twenty six pounds off your credit card?""Yeah well I'll get that back.   Besides, she's not the one doing the stealing.   She's being held captive in that mansion..."  "No she isn't you lemon."Samual realised the volume of his put down had attracted attention from the other side of the French doors.   He opted to quieten down his disbelief at his brother's stupidity.  "Get real Dec.   She's on the payroll. You've been done, so just leave it there.   Look I've got to go, the in-laws are here and I've got small talk to make." "But I've come up with a fool proof plan to find out what goes on in that mansion and more importantly get inside," Declan offered as quickly as he could before realising the phone had already gone dead.   "I just need a driver," he added, knowing already his comment was falling on deaf ears.



Copyright©2011 by Phil MartinAll rights reserved.

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