Devolution

It was the lead he had been sweating on, the call he had almost held his breath waiting for, but as the excitement grew and the anticipation assaulted him, Adrian told himself to calm down. At the moment he still didn’t have anything, only a possibility, a glimmer of light at the end of the dark tunnel of this investigation.

This man who Jacobssen was going to meet, Dr Daniel Smisco, was undoubtedly paranoid and if what he had to say was true or of any use in the investigation, then he had good reason to be concerned for his life.

At Sydney Kingsford Smith Airport he rented a car and programmed the location of the meeting point into its GPS. Following an easy drive through the inner southern suburbs and into the city, Adrian arrived in Kings Cross at ten minutes to ten. He found parking directly out front of the club and decided to sit there and wait until a few minutes after ten before going in.

The engine of his RV stopped at his command and the interior light brightened as the safety harness automatically unlocked. It was ten o’clock at night, a strange time for a meeting but on reflection, Jacobssen understood why the informant would have chosen it. Before the witching hour and well after the evening peak, the time was probably ideal although he was always a little wary of nighttime meeting. Finishing a cup of coffee, Jacobssen reflected on the first lead his informant had given him, to check out before they met face to face.

The Juhu address lead had been too obscure for Jacobssen, although he had sent McNalty there who thoroughly searched the place while he proceeded to the airport. It was the private residence of the murdered Newtonian senator’s younger brother who was a housebound invalid. He had seemed surprised by the visit but McNalty reported that he did not detect any discomfort or unease which the man might have shown had he been hiding something. On the contrary he was cooperative even helpful, answering the officer’s questions and allowing him to look around. After half an hour, McNalty left unsatisfied, even mystified. Surely this informant had more for him. Maybe this was a test, to see if Adrian was serious, or maybe it was a piece of the puzzle which Adrian would have to place properly and figure out later on.

He began to imagine what sort of revelations he might receive and how they would lead to him solving the crime, and then how he would receive accolades and an extended contract. Wishful thinking no doubt, but it amused him and helped calm the growing unease he felt about the meeting. A location and time chosen by someone he didn’t know, who by these arrangements held Adrian at a distinct disadvantage. Was it simply paranoia that made him wonder about his safety and the wisdom of agreeing to meet this man?

Watching the comings and goings, Jacobssen saw nothing unusual so he put on his jacket, checked his CMP was charged, placed a disposable electronic notepad in his pocket and climbed out of his RV. Small groups of sailors from the USS Invincible which was docked at Garden Island, glassy eyed individuals, staggered from one club to another only to be refused entry by intimidating bouncers. The odd couple walking hand in hand apparently enjoying the atmosphere must be tourists, thought Jacobssen as he crossed the sidewalk and approached the door of the club.

Seeing the face and imposing figure of a copper coming towards him, brought a servant like smile to the face of the doorman of KittyKat City. He could pick them a mile away.

Jacobssen flashed his shield and introduced himself.

‘Good evening, inspector,’ said the bouncer. ‘Welcome to KittyKat City. No trouble I hope?’

Adrian considered the man; a tall, well built guy whose suit hid a hard muscular body brought about by hours in the gym. He looked like he could handle himself and Adrian had seen him in action so he knew that he not only looked the part but played the part.

‘No trouble,’ said Jacobssen, ‘Unless there’s anything you want to confess before I go in?’

‘All legit here inspector. You know that.’

The smile was forced, masking nerves as the doorman wondered if he should give the heads up to his boss before he let Jacobssen inside.

‘I’m here on a personal matter.’

The guy smiled again; more genuine and relaxed this time. ‘Personal business,’ he said, ‘Very good.’ Then he winked at Adrian.

‘Don’t wink at me boy.’

‘Yes sir,’ said the bouncer lowering his eyes, and stepping away from the door to allow the inspector to pass inside. ‘Have a good night.’

KittyKat City was like every other club in Kings Cross bar two or three classy and almost respectable establishments; dark and smoky, and reeking of tobacco, alcohol and perfume. The music was loud but not loud enough to necessitate shouted conversation. There was an Asian girl dancing on stage dressed in a red bikini, and another two young ladies pole dancing in the center of the room. One wore nothing but a black G-string, the other had a purple G-string and a small T-shirt. A handful of desperates watched the girls while they sipped their drinks and slowly smoked cigarettes as though they were admiring paintings at an art gallery.

Jacobssen took it all in, giving the girls only a cursory glance as he did with everybody else in the club: logging their presence and their descriptions in his mental notebook. This was business not pleasure and he was in detective mode, and besides, strip clubs had never really been his thing.

There were many dark corners and shadows in the dimly lit club where trouble may have been lurking but Adrian could not concern himself about that now.

Not knowing what his informant looked like, Jacobssen walked over to the mini bar where he ordered a beer from the barmaid whose T-shirt looked as though it was about to burst from the outward pressure of her large breasts. Adrian read the message written in stretched letters across her chest, ‘All Natural Ingredients’ then quickly re established eye contact with the busty barmaid.

She just smiled unselfconsciously, drew his beer and placed it on the bar in front of him. Jacobssen held out his wrist and she ran a mini scanner over it.

‘Thank you,’ she said and she turned to go and serve another customer.

Having easily located his target, Sid Burgess, professional killer, sat quietly in a dark corner of KittyKat City watching the gyrations of the girl in the black G-string. He sipped his beer and smoked patiently, keeping half an eye on Dr. Daniel Smisco. His plan was to simply wait till closing or until Smisco left, which according to his intel brief would probably be the same time, then follow him and kill him.

After the near disaster of his last assignment, Sid was anticipating a straight forward execution of his directive. Easy money, he thought to himself as the girl poked and swung her naked buttocks towards him, easy money.

As impressed as he was with the flesh on parade in front of him, Sid was more impressed by the scale of the operation he had been hired to take part in. He had watched the earlier assassinations, admired their clinical efficiency while wondering if they were connected. When the call came for him, to make use of his expertise, Sid Burgess accepted and gleefully digested the nuts and bolts of the conspiracy to the extent that they were revealed to him.

Sid had seen Jacobssen walk in but registered him only as another late night visitor to the club. Now as he watched the man survey the club he became suspicious. He’s taking too much interest in his surroundings, thought Sid. With all the perfectly proportioned and scantily clad women to look at it was odd that this guy hardly gave them a glance. What was he doing here?

Focusing his attention again on Smisco, Sid struggled to shake an uncomfortable feeling that his plans for this night were about to get messed up.

Smisco rose unsteadily from his seat and stood still staring at the table for a moment. When he began to move away from the table it was as though he was not sure why he had risen or where he was going. He made his way slowly over to the bar, looking twice at the latest arrival on his way. Sid could only curse his luck as he watched Smisco perch himself on a stool right beside the stranger. When he was contracted to take out Dr. Daniel Smisco, he didn’t immediately make the connection between this hit and the others but on seeing the doctor’s feeble attempt to accidentally sit next to the suspicious newcomer, it suddenly clicked. Policeman or journalist?

Sid Burgess, the assassin, had a slight modification added to his biometer which would prove useful at this time. It had a tiny retractable needle which could collect a skin or fluid sample from a person without them knowing, analyze and identify the person by finding a match in an internal database. Fantastic bit of gear. The only problem with it was though, it had to be operated at close range, one had to literally make contact with the target if even only for a second. He sat and pondered for a moment how he could best do that without attracting attention to himself. Neither man had met him before and would not recognize him but it seemed equally likely they might be more than a little suspicious of strangers bumping into them. It was obvious that Smisco was about to spill his guts to a willing listener, whatever his profession.