Death Trip. Lee Weeks

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       16

      The next morning Alfie waited until Katrien went to work, then he parked outside her apartment and buzzed all of the flats until someone kindly released the front door catch. He headed up the stone staircase to the top floor. He walked to the door and took out his handy breaking-in kit, which he had used when he was a wayward youngster and which still served him today as a cop.

      He was a little out of practice and it took him a few minutes, but soon enough he was in. The alarm started beeping. Alfie slipped a small tin from his pocket, flipped it open and pulled out what looked like a woman’s makeup brush with a powder canister attached. He brushed the keypad, leaving a trace of charcoal on three numbers on the pad. The alarm beeped faster, louder. Alfie looked at the four dark squares: one, nine and six. Now, what was the order? He tried them numeric ally. ‘Error’ came up on the pad; he pressed clear and thought about it. She was forty. He knew that much. He pressed one, nine, six and six, the year she was born—and the alarm stopped beeping. Alfie held his breath—was it about to go ballistic? He waited, ready to run, but no. Alfie stepped inside. He raised his eyebrows and looked around appreciatively. She had good taste. It was the opposite of his and Magda’s place. This was chic and minimal—and very expensive. It was gadget world. He had no idea how she afforded this kind of luxury on her salary. The kitchen was black marble, as was the bathroom. Alfie looked at the mirror beside the bath; he wet his finger and dabbed it on the white trail, then he tasted it.

      He walked into her bedroom, animal fur, teak furniture, black walnut floor. For a minute he thought it doubled as an office because it had a PC, until he saw the biggest webcam he had ever seen. She was big into Skype, thought Alfie. He jogged the table as he passed and the screen lit up.

      She had left herself signed in. Big mistake, thought Alfie. He sat down at her desk and opened her contacts. She had ten new emails. He guessed this was a personal account. Not many people called themselves katcream69, not at work anyway. He opened her emails. Most of them were from different men. They appeared to be clients, lovers. That must be how she afforded this apartment, thought Alfie; either Katrien was a highly paid call girl or she dealt in some heavy-duty drugs. One of them was an appointment for the following day, Friday, at the Erotica Museum. Alfie tried to access her other accounts. Two others came up when prompted. Alfie pressed the link for ‘forgotten password’. He was presented with two queotions. The place she was born and her favourite colour. He wrote down the email addresses and shut the PC down.

      Alfie got outside and called his friend in surveillance—he would need a concealed camera. He smiled to himself. Now Alfie was about to uncover a lot more about Katrien than she would willingly show him. He might not fancy her but the Bitch performing sex acts on the webcam, that was too good to miss; and now he knew she had deep dark dirty secrets she really didn’t want anyone finding out.

      That night katcream69 signed in again.

      Yes…Show me.

      ‘What do I get, Big Man?’

       You know what you get. You get my undivided attention. СКАЧАТЬ