Free Lovers and Liars Trilogy by Sally Beauman Page B

Sunday of any calendar month.
    “ Second ,” he went on, “the blonde must remain silent at all times. During the…sessions they have together, she must not speak or cry out while in his presence. In view of what happens, that must present difficulties, but those are the rules.
    “ Third, the meetings last for exactly two hours and a costume is provided for the girl. Much of that costume will be removed. Except for one item. The girl is provided with long black leather gloves, and the gloves must be worn at all times. The girl is never permitted to touch Hawthorne, except with a gloved hand.”
    “ Gloves? ” Pascal said, and Gini caught his reaction.
    Jenkins, launched now, did not; he pressed on. “ Fourth, generally speaking, the girl is there to obey Hawthorne’s commands. Some of those commands are…unusual, shall we say? Though each to his own, of course. Occasionally the girls have required medical attention afterward. It’s partly for that reason, I imagine, that they’re so well paid. The going rate was twenty thousand dollars a session in America. It’s ten thousand pounds here. No girl is ever used twice.”
    “Twenty thousand dollars?” Gini stared at him in disbelief.
    “Generous, isn’t it?” Jenkins smiled. “Maybe that accounts for the fact that none of these girls has gone running to the tabloids. There is another reason, of course. In view of what’s happened. They’re too scared.”
    There was a silence. Nicholas Jenkins looked well pleased. He leaned back in his chair. “Fascinating, don’t you find? The patterns of obsessive behavior. And Hawthorne a man with so much to lose….”
    “It’s ridiculous,” Gini began a second before Pascal. “It’s trash. Garbage. Colorful, sure—and beyond that, Nicholas, I have to say I don’t believe a word.”
    “Nor do I.” Pascal rose. “This is a total waste of time. Once a month, every month? For God’s sake, Nicholas, the man’s an ambassador. He used to be a U.S. senator. To arrange something like that, other people would have to be involved. Aides, bodyguards. A man like Hawthorne is protected, rarely alone. There’s no way on earth you could keep that kind of thing under wraps. Two months, three at most, and the story’s all over town.”
    “I know.” Jenkins’s smile became complacent. “Yet I hear it’s been going on for years. Four years at least—that’s a great many blondes.”
    “You must have taken leave of your senses.” Pascal now made no attempt to disguise his impatience. “You flew me to London for this? I might as well go now.”
    “Oh, I wouldn’t do that. You haven’t heard it all. Just listen. Consider—my reaction was exactly the same as yours. The first time it was put to me, well, I wouldn’t have given it a second’s credence. And I certainly wouldn’t have flown you in, not at your rates.” Pascal flushed; Jenkins waved him back to his chair. “Sit down, there’s a good fellow. And let me explain. There’s one very obvious question, isn’t there? Who was my source?”
    “Okay. Five minutes.” Pascal sat down. “Who was your source? One of the girls?”
    “Certainly not.” Jenkins looked offended. “You think I’d react this way to some story from a two-bit tart? My source is right in there, close to the ambassador.”
    “You’ve talked to this source yourself?”
    For the first time, some of Jenkins’s ebullience diminished. He shifted his gaze slightly. “No,” he admitted in a grudging way. “I haven’t. Not yet. My information was filtered, if you like. It came through a third party.”
    “Who?”
    “The name’s not likely to mean anything to you or Gini. It’s a man. James McMullen. I was at school with him, as it happens. I’ve known him for years.”
    “McMullen?” Pascal glanced across at Gini, who shook her head. “And who is he, this school friend of yours?”
    “Nobody much,” Jenkins replied, and there were signs his confidence was