The Shadow Maker Read Free Page A

owner Tony Kavella for running a vice ring that used date-rape drugs on its victims, mostly young models. The girls were lured to an isolated villa along the Great Ocean Road with a promise of auditions for a movie company. Instead they were drugged, beaten and gang-raped by underworld thugs, who filmed the assaults and paid Kavella for the privilege. The victims kept quiet through sheer terror and the threat that videos of their ordeal would be released on the internet.
    Several associates were jailed but Kavella walked free from court, his involvement not proven. His evasion of justice was a sore point, but Rita had been told to accept it and move on.
    After a pause, she continued. ‘Is that where you picked up your client?’
    ‘No,’ said Emma. ‘It was quieter than usual. A couple of blokes bought me champagne cocktails, but they weren’t in the market so I left.’
    ‘How late was that?’
    ‘After midnight, about twenty past.’
    ‘So where did you go?’
    ‘I just walked towards Southbank and watched the flame show along the river, so it must have been one o’clock. I went over the bridge and was standing near the casino when a car pulled over.’
    ‘Was it a sports car?’ asked Rita. ‘A black Mazda MX-5?’
    ‘That’s right. He was driving with the top down.’
    ‘Did you get a look at the numberplate?’
    ‘No,’ said Emma. ‘I was too busy checking him out.’
    ‘Perhaps you’d seen him before somewhere,’ said Rita. ‘At the club, for example.’
    ‘It’s possible. He was definitely a regular punter.’
    ‘How do you know?’
    ‘He was ready for action and completely cool with it. I never guessed he was a wrong ‘un.’
    ‘What do you mean by cool ?’ said Rita.
    ‘The way he acted - laidback, confident. And the way he dressed
    - black jeans, silver T-shirt, silver glasses - the reflecting sort, mirror shades.’
    ‘Was there a design on the T-shirt?’
    ‘A picture of Ned Kelly - the one in the mask.’
    ‘At any stage,’ said Rita, ‘did this man mention his name, or where he lived or worked - or any location?’
    ‘No,’ came the flat response.
    ‘How old was he?’
    ‘About my age,’ said Emma, ‘or maybe a bit older. Early thirties at the most.’
    ‘I need to know more about his appearance,’ Rita pressed her.
    ‘Anything distinctive.’
    ‘There wasn’t anything. He had dark hair. It wasn’t short or long, just neat, like the rest of him. He was clean-shaven, okay build, average height - and seemed like a nice, normal guy.’ Emma sighed.
    ‘Until we were on the way to the hotel.’
    ‘What happened?’
    ‘I offered him sex in the car for seventy bucks, but he wanted a private room, so I said for another thirty we could use the Duke of York. On the way he asked if we could do role-playing. I told him bondage would be an extra hundred, and he said no problem. I just didn’t spot what was coming. After I paid at reception and took him upstairs to the room I noticed he was carrying a laptop case.
    While I stripped, he opened it and took out a mask and chains and put them on the bed. Then he looked around and said something really weird - that the place was perfect but he wasn’t ready for it.
    He asked me if I had matches. I did, so I handed them over. Then he started ripping up a stack of old hotel magazines and shoving them in the fireplace, and he found all these wooden coat-hangers in the wardrobe and put them on top of the paper and lit it. I asked why we needed a fire in the middle of a heatwave, and he told me we had to play by the rules. I said, “Rules of what?”, and he said, “The cave”. I don’t have a clue what he meant.’
    ‘What did he do next?’ asked Rita.
    ‘He switched off the light,’ Emma answered. ‘Then he got undressed and laid his clothes out at the foot of the bed, and that’s when the shit happened. He put the mask on and grabbed me. I pushed him off and said I wanted my extra hundred bucks. He told me I was a