Page 12 of Nothing But the Night (Basic Instincts 2)

“They were working together for the best part of a year before Theo’s death. They always used the same cameraman and editor too. Dan is going to give me his contact details.”

“What else has he told you?”

“Very little. I spoke to him for around two minutes this afternoon when he was on a break. I’ve arranged to meet him tonight when he finishes his shift. He’ll be able to tell me a lot more then.”

“Did you mention Soloman Archer?”

“I did.”

“And?”

“He said he’d tell me about him later.”

Marc gazed at the image again. Dan looked like any regular guy. His smile was friendly. His eyes were warm. Maybe he and Theo could have made a good couple. They could have sorted their lives out andmade each other happy without the escorting and adult films.

“I want to come with you,” he said, returning the phone.

“Not a good idea.”

“I don’t care. He’s the first person who knows anything about Theo’s private life. I want to hear what he has to say for myself.”

“He’s only expecting me. He might clam up or not talk at all if there’s someone with me.”

“It’s a chance we’ll have to take, because I’m coming.”

* * * *

Jason wasn’t happy with the idea, but Marc had insisted. He was due to meet Dan at ten-fifteen, after the gym closed. Jason gave Marc his home address and told him to pick him up just before ten.

With time to kill, Marc hung around the concert hall until it began to fill up with music-lovers for the evening show. He drove across the river and went for a quiet dinner at Chez Michelle’s, a reliable café bar in the centre of the city, where he often dined with his parents. He paid little attention to what he ate. His mind was a mess of information, making wild connections about his brother and what he might have been involved with. He doubted the wisdom of what he was doing. Could anything be gained by digging into Theo’s past like this? Maybe he should have left it all to Nadine Smythe. She’d likely have her story already. Jason had tracked Dan down quickly enough. There was a good chance Nadine had spoken to him already.

Later, he collected Jason from a modern apartment building on the river side. Not the kind of place he’d have thought he would live in. Whathadhe expected? A seedy flat with a vermin problem and leaking roof, like some down-at-heel detective in an old movie? Marc was starting to realise that his reflections on the world were from another era.

Heavy rain pelted the roof of the car as he pulled up outside. Jason hurried from beneath the canopy of his building and dived into the passenger seat. He’d changed into jeans and a bomber jacket. His hair was soaked when he closed the door. He raked his fingers through it, pushing it back from his brow.

“Another shitty night,” he commented. “I thought we were going to get a break from the rain for just one day.”

“No such luck,” Marc said, pulling into the traffic. “Where are we going?”

Jason gave the directions. Blyham was a small city, more like Leeds or York than a sprawling metropolis such as London or Birmingham. Though he was unfamiliar with the area, with Jason’s guidance they reached the west side in less than ten minutes. It would have been sooner were it not for the atrocious road system. Marc was certain they changed the one-way routes on a monthly basis. Whenever he came into Blyham, he rarely took the same route twice.

“This is it,” Jason said as they pulled into a narrow street.

They were in the old industrial quarter, a mishmash of warehouses, cheap cafés and wholesalers. The sign above the door for Hammer’s gym didn’t inspire confidence. The windows were blacked out, but Marc already had an image of bare wooden floors, boxingbags and basic free weights. This was not the kind of air-conditioned, well-equipped gym he was used to at the local leisure centres and hotels.

“He told me it was rough,” Jason said, as though reading his mind. “I suspected as much, given where we are.”

“Do you think he’s on the level?” Considering the exterior of the building, Marc suspected the kind of man who worked here had to be some kind of hustler.

“He was sincere enough on the phone. I’ll have a better idea when I speak to him face to face, but he seemed to have a genuine affection for your brother. I think they were good friends.”

Good friends who happened to fuck each other on camera.

Marc chastened himself. He had to get over these starchy opinions he had of sex workers.

He had parked right in front. Jason jumped out and rushed through the rain to get inside. Marc followed him quickly.

First impressions lived up to his suspicions. The interior must have been a warehouse space at some point, and little had changed. The floors were covered in cheap board, giving a strong odour of woodchip and damp. The equipment looked ancient. Lots of plastic-covered benches with free weights and iron racks beside them. There were three treadmills against one wall, two of which were hung with ‘Out of Order’ signs. A couple of rickety-looking cycling machines and a boxing bag in the far corner completed the inventory of gym gear.

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