Harry looked at the number again on his mobile phone. It was definitely Saskia's number filed under her name. "Where did you get that number?" he asked. "I never gave you any numbers, not even mine?"
"A phone was delivered to the apartment this morning. It had a number on it, so I called." Helen explained. "It came by parcel post." She looked at the package closely. "It's stamped and the postage mark is London. Is Saskia in London? And why is she sending me her phone?"
Harry had to think about that. His girlfriend. Missing. Why would the phone be sent to an address she did not even know? "Wait... there is something wrong here," he replied. "I don't like this one bit."
He asked Helen to describe the make and style. The description fitted exactly. "Can you meet me on the High Street market? I'll be in my usual place, the DVD stall?"
"I'm on my way."
Within the hour Helen arrived at the market and noticed Harry standing under the canopy, shivering in just his usual clothes. He caught site of her and waved her over. The snow was still falling heavy but the grit was melting it as fast as it was falling. She handed the phone to him. "What is going on?"
"Fuck knows. This is mystery." He looked in the video file. Something Helen neglected to do. "One video. She had loads as far as I know." He started the video running. His eyes widened at what was recorded. He turned away and vomited instantly, throwing the phone onto the stall counter. Helen watched wondering what he had just seen. She moved to help him, but he put out his hand to stop her. "No, don't. Leave it." He grew pale, the burn of the cold on his skin suddenly reduced on his face. "Don't look at the video. Leave it."
Helen stepped back and waited for him to return to some normality as he caught his breath. "Ok, what is on that thing? What did you just see?" Helen demanded. He leaned on the counter staring at the phone.
"Saskia is dead. Definitely dead."
"How do you know? The video recording?" Helen asked. He looked up at her and nodded slowly. "Then you must go to the police with it. Get whatever happened sorted out."
"It's not that simple."
"What do you mean? May I see it?"
"No. Don't, it's not pleasant. Infact it's fucking horrid. Shaun O'Grady is a dirty cruel bastard." Harry replied with bitterness. "I knew he'd hurt her. But there was no need to kill her. Not the way he did."
He realised that Hoffman was doing nothing about it, or so he thought. And why did Martin O'Grady throw him out onto the street? Why not kill him as well as Saskia? There were many questions now popping up in his head. He found it hard to think, but Helen being close by consoled him just a little.
David gave his lecture in his usual smooth toned manner. His voice clear to all of his students across the lecture theatre as he explained the theory behind the Electra complex and incest. His eyes gazed around, trying to seek out Helen, who he now feared would reveal his secrets. She was not there that morning and that worried him even more. Perhaps the job he had asked for was done without payment up front as it were? He doubted it. Hoffman never worked that way.
Later as the winter evening drew darker, Hoffman parked his car, an old model, scruffy pea green and not worth gathering the attention of anyone. Conspicuous in other words. Always conspicuous. He waited at the forecourt entrance for the one he needed to speak to. The heater in the car barely worked, but it provided some heat to take away the cold of the outside. He lit up a cigarette and noticed that the snow had stopped falling, watching the students pass by. He liked the young females and his mind began to wander a little. In his anima instinctive imagination he could smell and taste their hidden sex.
He caught the burly figure of David crossing the fore court, trying to stay upright on the icy snow. Has he got closer to the car, he beeped his horn and opened the passenger side door. "Get in, quickly before the heat escapes." David slid in and closed the door.
"I suppose you are either desperate for your money or you have come to deliver more eyeballs for the hawks?" David asked. "I have your money." He slipped a brown paper wrapped wad from his briefcase. "It's all there, sixty grand you said?" Hoffman just stared ahead without acknowledging him, smoking his cigarette calmly. "The job I ordered. The girl?"
"I know who you mean," Hoffman replied. "The nice one. Too nice to die without pleasing first."
