Page 63 of Tell No One
Hassan glared. “What sort of boys were they using?”
“Ones who want money so much they take risk. I ask for refund.”
“Did they offer one?”
“Pft. No. They make other suggestion. Maybe I like to pay more for different activity with same boy. They ask you as well?”
“No. But then I didn’t buy him at the auction. Nor did I complain. I chose to leave, so… What sort of activity are they talking about?”
“One that not end well for him.”
Hassan’s eyes widened. “You mean…kill him?”
“Yes.”
Hassan gasped. “That’s… No, that’s going too far.”
“I agree. I have sneaky admiration for little shit. Even if I did want to kill him, and I don’t, I would never risk it. They have not shown themselves to be secure organisation.”
Hassan nodded.
“I wanted to warn you,” Delaney said. “Have nothing more to do with them.”
“Thank you. Not sure I needed the warning. I can’t risk being revealed as gay.”
“Then why take risk?”
“I thought the pony play would be fun. I’ve never seen anything like it before. But there were too many people. Even with masks, maybe we could be recognised. I bid but I couldn’t afford those prices. In the end, I did nothing but look. An expensive night for what might turn into a big headache.”
Delaney had more clues now that Hassan was not what he professed to be.
“Tell me again how you get invite to Harborne House?” Delaney wanted to see if he told the same story.
“I was at Ascot and the Master came up to me. He said he’d seen me in a gay club in London. Dominos. I thought he was going to blackmail me.” Hassan gave a quiet laugh. “Instead, he saw a way to get money out of me without using blackmail. He asked me to join him in his box. We chatted and he invited me to a party at Harborne House. Now I think maybe he’llblackmail me for accepting the invite. They probably took pictures.” He stared at Delaney. “Are you testing to see if I tell the same story?”
“Yes.”
Hassan didn’t say anything for a moment. “Shall I test you too?”
“I repeat same thing I told you before.”
Maybe by now Hassan was getting a sense of something being wrong.
“You don’t sound as if you believe me,” Hassan said.
Delaney had to tread carefully. He was fairly sure he’d come to the right conclusion, but…
“So what is this favour? You want me to help you act against them? I don’t think I can do that.”
“What’s your real name?” Delaney asked in an English accent.
“My…my…” Hassan stuttered, his eyes wide.
“I know you’re not Hassan Fayad. You look very like him.”
The guy was gulping in distress. “What are you talking about?”
“Did you put a tracker on my bag?”
