The Sensation

by Amanda Bridgeman

  She stepped out of the shower, dried and dressed, then swiftly collapsed into bed. She wanted to keep thinking about the case, but her exhaustion had other ideas and swiftly pulled her into the dark depths of sleep.

  6: ALTERNATIVES

  Salvi looked around Ground Zero. It was heaving tonight. She wondered whether any of these people had normal day jobs. The place looked like it was filled with wannabe models and actors and musicians of all kinds; all the beautiful people. And those who weren’t beautiful were definitely rich. She could tell by the cut of their clothes, the jewelry dripping off them, the top-shelf liquor they drank, the tech they pulled from their pockets and purses or wore on their person. She’d occasionally see the glow of lenses or a ringwatch.

  She didn’t want to risk hooking up with tourists again tonight. She wanted to meet the locals. She wanted to meet someone who could take her to the next level. She looked around but didn’t see the ponytail guy. She had to think of something else.

  “Line up the body shots please!” she yelled at the barman.

  “Body shots?” Bronte asked.

  “Yeah. Lay down on the bar. You’re going to be the body.”

  “Say what?”

  “We need to dial up the party, honey,” she smiled.

  “Why don’t you be the body then?”

  “In this catsuit?” she said, motioning to her dark shiny PVC outfit.

  “Why not? The liquid would roll right off.”

  “Lay down!” she said, clearing a spot on the bar.

  He shook his head then pulled himself up to sit on the bar.

  “Yo, ladies!” Salvi shouted. “Care for a body shot?” She pushed Bronte back to lie down, tore open his expensive shirt and sprinkled salt across his chest. She licked the salt off, downed her shot, then slammed her mouth against the wedge of lemon in his, pulling it out. She sucked the wedge, then spat it out and looked at the crowd.

  “Who’s next?”

  Several women raised their hands and stepped forward.

  Salvi fixed her bright red lipstick in the bathroom mirror. The door opened and she paused when she recognized the face that walked through. It was Belle from Cyber. She looked straight past Salvi like she didn’t know her and subtly checked each of the stalls. One was occupied so she moved to a basin two up from Salvi and started messing with her long dark hair and adjusting her nose ring. Salvi, too, prolonged her beauty routine, waiting to see if Belle had a message for her.

  While they fussed with makeup and hair, the other patron finally came out, washed their hands, preened and left. As soon as they were alone, Belle stepped right up to her and whispered.

  “Cut that shit out,” she said. “You’re drawing too much attention. These guys like subtlety.”

  And just like that, she swooped past her and was gone.

  Salvi looked at herself in the mirror. She kept a straight face in case there was a hidden camera somewhere, but inside she cringed. Belle was right. She grabbed her purse and walked out.

  Salvi emerged from the bathroom, found Bronte and moved him over to the lounge area.

  “I think maybe we should go,” she said to Bronte.

  “It’s only 2am.”

  “I know, but I think I fucked up. We want to move up so we’re acting desperate. These guys won’t want show ponies drawing attention.”

  “Good point.”

  “I mean, we suddenly start turning up every night,” her mind turned over, “and then we’re being flashy with the bar shots. Discretion is the key to the basement. Besides,” she looked around, “I don’t see the ponytail guy tonight, and no one we’ve partied with strikes me as the type to have keys to the basement. Let’s face it, those with keys go straight up, they don’t hang here on the ground floor. Well, except the ponytail guy.”

  Bronte nodded.

  “We’ve announced our arrival,” Salvi said, “now I think we need to turn the volume down a little, so as not to frighten off the friends we want to make.”

  “Alright. Let’s head home. Tomorrow we’ll skip a night, maybe try one of the other clubs, then we’ll come back.”

  Salvi nodded, and they headed for the door.

  Salvi stared at Ford.

  “We gotta find another way in,” she said, as they stood in the empty office with Bronte, Kara, Sorensen and Noble.

  “This is the way in,” Kara said. “You get to the ceiling, then you hit the basement.”

  “You said it’s taken you months to get to the third floor. Every night that passes, more people die, and we’re no closer to finding the Chief’s daughter or Caine’s killer. We’re wasting time.” She looked to Ford. “Any homicides last night?”

  Ford nodded. “There was a gang-fight over on the east side of the ‘Mission. Riverton is reviewing footage as we speak.”

  “The ‘Mission?” Salvi said. “Our troubles are centered in the Sensation but it’s already spread to the Transmission. Our club scene, which is also the drug scene, and our tech scene. Drugs and tech. It’s this new experience; if this takes off it’ll be in the suburbs before we know it.”

  “Hey,” Ford shrugged, “tell me about it. Our guys are working doubles trying to handle everything. If it keeps up, I’m going to have to pull in resources from other hubs.”

  Salvi thought of Mitch then, wanted to check in with him and see how he was doing.

  “How’d Farrugia and Burke go at Bounce?” Bronte asked.

  “Alright,” Sorensen said. “They witnessed some dealing, but they’re staying low key for now.”

  “We can’t wait,” Salvi said. “We need to accelerate things.”

  “Yeah, but how do we do that without getting someone killed?” Noble asked.

  Salvi looked at him, her mind turning over. “If we want to get the head, then we start with the head that we can see. Lance Chaney.”

  “Easier said than done,” Kara said.

  “Is he straight or gay?” Salvi asked.

  Kara shrugged, “Straight, I think. Who knows?”

  “So we send me in, alone, and I’ll find a way to work on him direct. I’ll get him to give me the keys to Ceiling, if not the whole damn basement.”

  They all stared at her.

  “It’s too obvious,” Sorensen said. “If he’s involved somehow, he’ll know about Caine, and if he doesn’t, he’s going to be suspicious of new people suddenly turning up in his life.”

  “So we make it less obvious. Send me to another one of his clubs. Find out what night he’s going to be there, and I’ll see what I can do.”

  Salvi watched as they considered her suggestion.

  “I’m not keen on sending you in alone, Brentt,” Ford said.

  “It will take months, finding the contacts and getting through the floors,” Salvi said. “We want the head of this ring, so we target the head of Floor to Ceiling. This is the only way.”

  “He owns Floor to Ceiling,” Kara said, “but that doesn’t make him the head of all this.”

  “Maybe not, but he can’t run the club and not know what’s going down in there. He may not be involved, but he’s certainly looking the other way.”

  “What other clubs does he own?” Bronte asked.

  “Aside from Floor to Ceiling,” Kara exhaled tiredly, “he owns Cachoo, Little Minx and The Dream Bar.”

  “The Dream Bar?” Salvi asked, straightening.

  “Yeah. Know it?” Kara asked.

  Salvi nodded. “I went there several weeks ago while working the Bountiful case.” She nodded again. “This is perfect. I’ve been there before. This won’t be out of the blue, and as it’s not Floor to Ceiling, it’s not obvious that I’m interested in that club.”

  Ford folded her arms, eyes narrowed, mulling it over.

  A thought struck Salvi, though, as memories of her last visit flooded her mind.

  “Ask Riverton if it can find out how long The Dream Bar keeps their security footage,” she said to Ford. “Also the street footage outside.”

&nbs
p; “Why?”

  “Because when I was there, Mitch came looking for me. I was with our suspect at the time, so I wasn’t answering his calls. He tracked me to the bar and came in. Our interaction was very brief and we arrived and left separately, but… we did have an argument outside on the street.”

  “Shit,” Ford said.

  “They’re only required to keep security footage for thirty days right? This was seven weeks ago. Let’s hope Chaney doesn’t do more than he’s legally required.”

  Within moments Riverton had responded. “I cannot ascertain this without a warrant, detective. However, as you say, most businesses only adhere to the thirty-day requirement. You may be safe.”

  “‘May be’ is not good enough for me,” Ford said.

  “He’ll have no reason to search for me on his past security footage unless I give him one,” Salvi said. “Which I won’t.”

  “And if he’s searched for Grenville?” Ford asked.

  “But why would he do that?” Bronte asked. “They’d only have reason to if Mitch was showing his face in the clubs now, after what happened with Caine. Then they might be interested in seeing just how much he’s been scoping out the joint. But Mitch hasn’t. He’s stayed away from the clubs.”

  “Even then,” Noble said, “if they searched and found him, they can’t be sure he wasn’t just a patron. Cops go to bars and restaurants too. I think it’s a risk we can take.”

  Salvi looked at Ford. “Let me try this.”

  “Alright,” Ford relented. “We’ll give it a go, but you be careful, Brentt.”

  “I will.”

  Ford looked to Bronte. “Looks like you got the night off.”

  Bronte raised his arms in the air. “Hallelujah!”

  Salvi moved along the sidewalk toward The Dream Bar. She saw the blue neon sign ahead on the opposite side of the street; the fluffy cloud imprinted with red lips, greeting her and enticing her within.

  She waited for a motorized tuk-tuk to pass. As she checked both sides of the road to cross over, looking back the other way, she paused as she caught sight of the Bio-Lume cross attached to the Church of Connectivity and paused. It was the church owned by Neuricle Corporation, Attis Solme’s company. She saw a figure outside, ushering more wayward souls within to atone for their sins, and wondered whether it was Kevin, Solme’s protégé. Wherever she turned reminders of the damned Bountiful case kept popping up.

  She turned her eyes away from the Bio-Lume cross. The last thing she needed while trying to hook Lance Chaney was Attis, Subjugate-52 or the Bountiful killer in her brain. She wiped her mind clear and moved quickly across the street.

  As she moved to enter the bar, she noticed the erotic art gallery above it. That fit nicely with her cover. After all, her cover identity, Sarah Parson, had a thing for erotic and exotic art, right? She smiled as she cleared the security and stepped into the dimly-lit electric blue mirrored elevator that would take her below ground to the bar.

  When the doors opened, the blue-hued club sprawled out before her. It hadn’t changed since she’d been there last. The long bar was to her right against the wall, the spa-like sunken tables filled the middle space, and a dimly-lit dance floor lined the wall to the left, with sparkling mirror balls glinting overhead. The sexy waitstaff paraded around in flimsy, skintight metallic clothing, and, from memory, the cocktails were to die for.

  She took a seat at the bar and looked into the mirror behind the bottles, watching the club behind her. Her memory trailed over her last visit; sitting in one of those sunken tables and chatting with one of their suspects. She recalled the couple at the next table who’d been making out. She remembered the woman had placed something in her mouth, then the couple had practically had sex right there, and she suddenly wondered whether that woman had taken Flyte right in front of her without her realizing it. Had the drug infiltrated this bar too? But hadn’t Kara said it was injected? Maybe for ease of use and sales, it was now in pill form. It made sense, but the woman could have just taken something like ecstasy.

  She kept checking her phone, making out like she’d been stood up. Eventually, after a couple of drinks, the barman came over to her. He looked to be in his early 20s, around 6’3, a muscled 200lbs or so, and handsomely blond-haired and blue-eyed to boot.

  “Girlfriend or boyfriend?” he asked, titling the glass pane before him to another customer so they could process payment for their drink order.

  “Huh?” Salvi asked.

  “Who hasn’t shown?” he said, as the customer swiped his wristwatch over the pane. The barman gave him a nod and the customer moved to one of the sunken tables.

  “Oh,” she smiled, as the barman looked back at her. “A guy. My date. I guess he got a better offer.”

  “Well, now I don’t believe that for a second.” He moved to her and topped up her glass of champagne. “This one’s on me.”

  “Really?” she asked. “You won’t get in trouble with the boss, will you?”

  “Nah, he’s cool. In fact, it’s what he trains us to do. We’re to treat all the ladies like queens. Keep the ladies happy, they keep coming back, and it keeps the guys and other girls coming too.”

  Salvi laughed. “You’re not supposed to tell the customer that, though, right? I’m supposed to believe that you’re treating me like a queen purely because I deserve it, right?”

  The barman gave her a caught look.

  Salvi smiled. She’d just found his flaw. He was handsome, had a great body, but maybe he could do with a little more brain power. “It’s okay. Your secret is safe with me.”

  The door at the end of the bar opened and a well-dressed woman walked though, blonde hair slicked back, dark business suit fitted to her figure, sky-high heels. However, it was the man following her that caught Salvi’s attention. It was none other than Lance Chaney himself. She recognized him from the photo Kara had shown her after the initial Taskforce Trident briefing. Salvi casually turned her eyes back to the beautiful barman.

  “Speak of the devil,” he said to her.

  “She’s your boss?” she said quietly, playing dumb.

  “No. Well, yeah, she’s the manager, but he owns the place,” the barman said, then smiled at the two approaching bodies.

  “Jennifer. Lance,” the barman nodded.

  The woman nodded back and continued walking with a fixed focus, but Chaney slowed to a stop. He looked just like the image Kara had shown her; tall, lean, tanned, handsome, rich. Salvi pegged him at around 6’1 and weighing maybe 175lbs.

  “Dante,” he greeted the barman. “You having a good night?” Salvi wondered whether he was enquiring about the barman’s mood or the sales.

  “Absolutely!” he grinned, showing his straight white teeth. “Just keeping this lovely lady company.”

  Salvi looked at Chaney and smiled. “Who cares if you get stood up with company like this for a fallback, huh?”

  Chaney smiled. “You were stood up? Well, now that will never do. I’m glad Dante is keeping you from getting lonely.” He gave Dante a friendly slap on the back. “Drinks on the house for this one.”

  “On the house?” Salvi’s eyebrows popped.

  Chaney gave her a suave smile. “At The Dream Bar we like everyone’s dreams to come true. This cad stood you up, but we shall fix things. Enjoy your night.”

  He walked off, entering another room at the opposite end of the bar, where the woman, Jennifer, had disappeared. Salvi looked back to Dante’s big dumb smile.

  “He’s cool like that,” he said.

  “He is indeed.”

  And though Salvi rarely drank these days, she deeply regretted being on duty and unable to drink the bar dry.

  “It gives me an in,” Salvi told Ford and the Trident members gathered in the empty office tenancy. “I go back to the bar to thank him. If he doesn’t show, I’ll contact him by other means and do a little flirting.”

  “Good work,” Ford said, then turned to Kara. “Shadid? How’d you go last night?”
>
  “I got introduced to a woman who claims she’s good friends with Chaney. Says she used to work with him at Cachoos. I think I’m close to getting the keys to the Ceiling.”

  “Okay,” Ford nodded, then looked to Bronte. “Go back to the club tonight. On your own. Let’s see if you can make any new friends. The more connections you all make, the faster we might be able to join the dots.”

  They nodded.

  “How was last night’s body count?” Salvi asked her.

  “Three,” she responded. She looked tired and Salvi wondered whether she’d worked some herself. “One female, battered by her ex-boyfriend, who was apparently dismayed by her death once he came down, stating he didn’t mean to hit her so hard. We’re running toxicology as we speak. We also got two males, both in their early twenties. Same story, really. Fights that weren’t meant to end in death. We don’t think these are connected to the other cases. We think they’re just the fallout from the drugs hitting the streets.”

  “I take it none will point the finger at where they got the drug from?” Bronte asked.

  “One did, but I think he was lying. He described your average street corner dealer but was very vague on specifics. The others won’t talk. They’re all ready to accept prison time rather than tell us where they got it.”

  “So we’re looking at someone powerful,” Salvi said.

  Kara nodded. “Someone with reach who they’re all scared of.”

  “Or at least who their dealers are scared of,” Sorensen said.

  “This shit is spiraling out of control,” Noble said. “We gotta push back into the Ceiling and get close to Chaney.”

  “Have any other cities reported the drugs?” Salvi asked.

  Ford shook her head. “Not yet. It appears this is currently a Bay Area special, but as you can imagine, we’re getting pressure to shut it down before it spreads anywhere else.”

  “Farrugia and Burke managed to score a hit of Fyte at Bounce,” Sorensen said, scratching his three-day growth. “We’re still analyzing the various compounds of the drug, but we’ll have a full report soon. Hopefully that’ll give us some further avenues to trace.”

  “Has there been any sightings of black market tech involved in any of the recent crimes?” Salvi asked.