The Disappearance of Katie Wren (11 page)

When I get to the end of the corridor, I hesitate for a moment as I hear the voices more distinctly.

“What more do you want me to tell you?” Bob asks, sounding frustrated. “Annie, there's -”

“Don't call me Annie!”

He sighs. “Annabelle, seriously, I've given you everything I have, but I can't solve the whole thing for you! I'm just -”

“But is it linked to Knott's Court?”

Another sigh.

“Can you rule it out?” she continues. “Can you rule it in? Come on, Bob, you know why this is important to me! I've already done a lot of legwork, so I think I know the answer.”

“There are certain similarities to other cases,” he replies, “but -”

“I asked Winnie, she said her daughter never mentioned Knott's Court.”

“Do you mind keeping your voice down?” he whispers. “The walls have ears around here, remember? I do
not
want to get caught talking about that place.”

“Then you'd better tell me what I want to know. You have a hell of a gut there, Bob. Time to put it to use. In your esteemed opinion, does the disappearance of Katie Wren have that old familiar Knott's Court stench?”

I wait, trying to work out what in the name of God they're talking about, but it seems as if the question has left Bob well and truly stumped.

“It
might
do,” he says finally, sounding rather reluctant. “Yeah, I mean... There's not much to go on, but based on what you've told me so far, a link certainly seems possible. But that only makes it all the more important that you back off! Even
I
don't want to touch that mess! I value my life too much!”

Again, they fall silent. I want to edge forward, to try to see what they're doing, but after a moment I realize I should just turn around and go back to the other room. If I just -

“Gotcha!” Annabelle says suddenly, stepping around the corner and placing a hand on my shoulder. “Didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude to listen in on other people's conversations, Winnie?”

“What's Knott's Court?” I ask, pulling away from her.

She pauses, before shaking her head. “You don't need to know that right now.”

“Oh, I think I do!” I say firmly, filled with anger at the thought that she might cut me out of the investigation. “I overheard enough just now to know that it might be linked to Katie's disappearance. If you won't tell me, I promise you I'll find out some other way, so I rather think you should be honest with me.”

I pause, seeing a hint of fear in her eyes.

“What's Knott's Court?” I continue, refusing to back down. “Tell me right now, or so help me God our deal is off!”

Chapter Fifteen

Knott's Court

“There it is,” she mutters once she's cut the engine, leaving us sitting in complete darkness. “About fifty meters along, on the left. See it?”

I lean forward and squint, but in truth I can't really see anything at all. There are cars parked on either side of the road, and streetlights spilling pools of light, but the buildings are barely distinguishable from the starless sky. Everything in this wretched city just seems the same to me: gray and miserable and rundown past the point of no return.

“I'm not sure I know what I'm supposed to be looking at,” I say finally, turning to her. “We'll have to go a little closer.”

“No effin' way.”

“Excuse me?”

“This is as close to Knott's Court as I wanna get right now,” she continues, with an edge of real fear in her voice. “Trust me, it's better this way. I mean, hell, we're already gonna be on cameras and in databases and all that crap, just for being on the same street. But if we go any closer at all, we'll start to
really
get noticed, and that's when things'll get tricky.”

I stare ahead for a moment longer, but I still can't really see any details of the buildings.

“Knott's Court,” Annabelle says after a moment, “is the creepiest, most disgusting and downright evil place in the whole of London. If you doubt that, it's only because you don't know anything about what goes on in there. They'd be famous throughout the world if they weren't so good at keeping themselves secret, and if they hadn't paid off everyone in position of power to keep them hidden. They don't advertise what they're up to, but they make sure no-one asks too many questions. Trust me, Knott's Court is a cancer on the face of the planet. No, actually it's worse than that. Knott's Court makes cancer seem pleasant.”

Before I'm able to reply, I realize I can just about make out some details of the buildings. We're on a road not too far from Westminster, and one of the houses in particular has a very grand set of stone steps leading up from the street. There are huge columns, too, supporting a high wedge-shaped section that's just a little taller than anything else in the surrounding area. All things considered, the house certainly seems rather imposing, although after a moment I realize that most of the lights seem to be off inside, with only a faint glow in a couple of the windows.

“So what is it?” I ask, turning to Annabelle. “I don't understand, what's so awful about the place? It just looks like a normal house.”

Reaching into her pocket, she takes out a small hip flask, and she proceeds to take a swig of whiskey before passing it to me.

I shake my head.

Her hands are shaking as she replaces the lid, but her eyes remain fixed on the building. There's darkness in her eyes, more darkness than before, as if she truly hates what she's seeing.

“Knott's Court is the one place in London that everyone knows is untouchable,” she continues finally. “It doesn't matter who you are or what you're doing. If Knott's Court is even mentioned, you walk away. Cops, doctors, politicians, judges, lawyers, reporters, anyone in any walk of life knows that you do
not
mess with any situation where Knott's Court is involved. You don't even get to know why. You're just told to leave it alone, and if you start asking questions, you get shut down real fast.”

She removes the hip flask's lid and then takes another, longer swig.

“Of course,” she adds, before burping briefly, “that's if you even need to know that the place exists at all. Most people never even hear the name Knott's Court, 'cause the system closes ranks real effin' fast. The only reason I know anything at all about it is that when I started in the newspaper business, I had a mentor who took a close interest in Knott's Court. When he was sober, he always told me to just forget about the place, but after a few drinks... That's when he'd open up and start talking about the stories he'd heard. He was the kind of man who hates evil wherever he sees it. He couldn't look away.”

“I'm confused,” I tell her. “What does any of this have to do with Katie?”

I wait for an answer, but now she's just staring at the building.

“Do you think she's in there?” I ask. “Is that it? Do you think that for some reason Katie came to this Knott's Court place?”

No reply.

“Or that she was
brought
here?”

She pauses, before turning to me.

“No,” she says finally, “or... I mean, I hope not. I really hope not. But yeah. I think there's a real good chance.”

“Then we should check,” I reply, “just in case.” I reach down to unbuckle my seat-belt. “It couldn't hurt to ask, and they might -”

“Don't be an idiot!” she hisses, grabbing my arm.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You do not just go and knock on that door!” she continues. “They have cameras with state-of-the-art facial recognition systems. Hell, it wouldn't surprise me if they can sniff out your D.N.A. in thin air. The point is, they'd know who you are before you even got halfway up the steps, and they
really
might not tolerate your questions. Jesus Christ, have my warnings somehow been too
subtle
for you?”

“I don't care
what
they tolerate,” I reply. “I want to -”

“We have to be smart about this,” she adds, interrupting me. “Right now, they probably don't know that you've ever heard the name of the place. That's good, it keeps you a little safer. You're not on their radar. But if they catch you sniffing about, and if they
do
have any link to Katie's disappearance, they're gonna come down on you like a sack of bricks. Believe me, a place like Knott's Court doesn't last this long in the heart of London if they don't know how to keep themselves way, way out of the limelight.” She pauses. “Then again, they probably -”

She stops suddenly as the building's front door opens, and we sit in silence for a moment as a silhouetted figure walks calmly up the steps and disappears inside. A moment later, the door swings shut.

“Great,” Annabelle mutters. “Another psychotic pervert arrives for his evening's entertainment.”

I turn to her.

“Trust me,” she continues, “the people who go to Knott's Court... They're the kinda people who refuse to allow their names to get out. It's a very closed shop.”

“What do they do in there?” I ask. “Is it like some kind of gentleman's club?”

She smiles an angry, bitter smile. “I guess you could say that,” she mutters, “although you only need to be a gentleman until you reach the door. Once you're inside, I imagine all bets are off. Plus, I've seen a few ladies heading inside now and again. All you need is money and the right connections.”

“And what happens once they're inside?”

“That's what I wanna know,” she replies, before taking another swig of whiskey. “Either way, the people who run Knott's Court know how to keep things quiet. And that includes getting rid of the evidence.”

“Evidence?”

“You don't think those kids tied
themselves
up, do you? And threw their own battered, scarred corpses into the river?”

“What in God's name are you suggesting?” I ask, turning and looking toward the building for a moment. “Why don't you go to the police with all of this? If even one tenth of it is true, why is it allowed to go on?”

“The police know better than to get involved,” she replies. “They know the limits of their power. There was one cop, a guy named Stephen Hampshire, who started asking questions about the place back in the 1970's. This was before my time, obviously, but I heard about it from Harry. This Stephen Hampshire guy made the mistake of asking his superiors about some rumors he'd heard. He was given the brush-off, of course, but then he made an even bigger mistake. He asked again. He pushed. He acted like maybe he wasn't gonna stop poking, and they didn't like that.”

She takes another swig of whiskey.

“A few days later,” she continues, “he was killed in a car crash. An articulated lorry drove straight over him.”

“I'm sure that was just an accident,” I tell her.

“Bullshit.”

“This whole thing sounds like an elaborate fantasy you've concocted in your head,” I continue. “I don't know why you seem to think that this house is linked to Katie's disappearance, but -”

“They bring girls here too,” she replies, interrupting me. “It's not just children. Katie was twenty-one, right? A little old by their standards, but I guess they like to spice things up now and again.”

She takes yet another swig of whiskey, keeping the flask tilted this time for several seconds before finally lowering it once more to her lap.

“They do what they want in there,” she continues, “because they know they'll get away with it. Unless you're one of their rich and powerful customers, if you go into Knott's Court... You won't be coming out. Not unless you're in a goddamn cloth sack, tied and bound, with marks in your bones, destined for the river. There's a back entrance, I've seen trucks coming out sometimes, but I've never been able to figure out where they go. Every time I've tried to follow, they've given me the slip.”

She pauses for a moment, and finally the door opens again. Another figure walks into the building, and then the door swings shut.

“This is ridiculous,” I say with a heavy sigh, once again reaching down to unbuckle my seat-belt. “I'm marching right up to -”

“Sod it!” she hisses suddenly, starting the engine and reversing the car at speed, before performing a rather haphazard and hasty u-turn. “I'm not sitting here a moment longer. That goddamn place gives me the creeps! It's like the house radiates evil!”

Before I can reply, she turns the wheel, and the car's tires screech as she races along the street, heading back the way we came.

“I think perhaps you should slow down,” I tell her, trying not to panic. “You've had rather a lot of whiskey and -”

“Don't tell me what to do!” she says firmly, as she flings the car at high speed down the next left-hand turn. “I shouldn't have shown you any of that, but you had to go sticking your craw in, didn't you? Well now you know, and now you have to shut up and pretend you never heard any of it! And you might wanna pray, too, just in case there's any hope that your daughter isn't mixed up in Knott's Court. 'Cause if she
is
in that place, you ain't gonna see her again! No-one can save her if she went through that door!”

With that, she turns the wheel again, sending the car screeching into the next dark street at such speed that I instinctively reach down and grip the sides of my seat.