The Foreplay Club was in the middle of Surabaya not far from the city zoo. Nick had thought that most appropriate when he had heard the club’s name. He and Tom had spent the day in the Sun Hotel phoning around and checking out the area. Fortunately it was a Saturday and Nick’s policeman friend had discovered that Gita visited her parents in Surabaya every weekend and was not unknown to party in the city. A few more calls involving the resources of the Surabaya police force and they found out that Gita and a friend were planning to go to the Foreplay that evening. At midnight Nick and Tom took the Cherokee jeep and made good time on the sparsely trafficked roads towards East Java’s capital. On the outskirts Tom struggled with the map.
‘It says here it’s on Aditawarman Street, but if you just follow the signs to the zoo I’m sure we’ll find it.’
Nick slowed as he hit the city traffic. ‘Bloody marvellous, as long as you know the Indonesian for zoo we are well in.’
‘It’s a tourist place, there’s sure to be a sign in English, or perhaps a symbol like an elephant.’
‘Would have been easy if Ebenezer Sykes had booked a jeep with a satnav; have you tried maps on your phone?’
‘No signal.’ Tom glanced up. ‘Look there, told you, elephant.’
‘In the bloody city?’
‘No, not a real one, on the sign. Left here now.’
The wheels of the jeep screeched as Nick slew it round the corner at the last minute. ‘A bit more warning next time young Tom but, you’re right, here’s the zoo, we must be close. There’s a hotel coming up, I’ll park in there. Two white guys, they’ll think we’re residents.’
The Foreplay Club was housed in a mall. Shops by day, bars by night. Young girls dressed in too-tight skirts hovered around the entrance waiting for a promising partner to pay their entrance fee. The fee was a hundred thousand local, about eight US dollars, and Tom and Nick were offered a packet of complimentary cigarettes and a free beer as they made their way to the neon lit bar. Nick downed his in one and raised his eyes in surprise when the barman asked for two hundred thousand for his second.
‘That’s nearly twenty dollars, more than New York.’
The barman didn’t reply, just waited for his money. Nick handed it over.
‘Good job I’m not thirsty, be bankrupt by the end of the evening.’
They took their drinks to a table in the corner where they could get a good view of the clientele. A DJ, set up on one side of the bar, was playing extremely loud music. The dance floor in the middle was slightly raised and the house photographer was persuading young girls to dance for him whilst he took some shots. Most of the other clubbers stood around the periphery satisfied with taking selfies rather than taking to the floor.
‘Rubbish music,’ shouted Tom. ‘Old-school house and rave, no taste.’
‘Thought it might be your thing,’ Nick shouted back. ‘Loud enough to burst your eardrums anyway. You’re going to find it difficult to chat up this young lady in here, that’s if we can find her.’
Nick took out his phone and put up the picture he’d been sent.
‘Nice-looking girl, a beer for the one who spots her first.’
Tom looked at the photo and ignored the remark. A waiter asked if they would like more drinks and Tom ordered a whiskey and another beer.
‘That’s for my leg,’ he said, passing the tumbler to Nick, taking the receipt and rolling it like a cigarette. ‘Sorry it’s not a malt.’
Nick nodded appreciatively and knocked it back in one.
‘Over there by the door.’
Tom looked around to see two young women entering the club. They were a cut above the others present. Smartly dressed, intelligent faces. One of them sat at a table whilst the other sauntered up to the bar.
Nick leaned over and cupped his hand around Tom’s ear. ‘Now’s your chance, whilst she’s on her own. I’ll distract the one at the table.’ He picked up Tom’s untouched bottle of beer and made his way across the dance floor.
Tom had no option other than to approach Gita at the bar. He wasn’t used to this but, as Nick said, it was the best way of getting the information. He took a deep breath and sidled up to her.
‘Let me get that, and a beer for me,’ he said waving a note at the barman. Gita turned to face him and her expression of initial surprise turned into a smile.
‘Aren’t you a forward one,’ she replied. ‘And what makes you think I’ll take a drink from a stranger?’
‘Sorry, didn’t mean to be rude but seeing that you were on your own.’
Gita glanced at her companion now sitting at the table engrossed in conversation with Nick. ‘Well I wasn’t but looks like that’s changed. You on holiday or business?’
‘Pardon?’ shouted Tom.
‘Working or tourist,’ shouted back Gita.
‘Tourist, just finished my degree, on holiday.’
‘Me too.’
‘On holiday?’
‘No just finished my degree, now working.’
‘What degree?’
‘Microbiology.’
‘How funny, so was mine.’
The music was getting louder and the conversation turning into a shouting match. He would have to try to get her somewhere quieter. He remembered the packet of free cigarettes he was given earlier. Tom loathed everything about smoking, but this was the first time he’d ever tried picking up a girl, it might as well be his first cigarette.
He took the pack from his pocket and offered one to Gita. ‘It’s hot in here, fancy going outside for a smoke?
‘Why not, Dina seems happy enough, there’s a courtyard at the back.’
Nick watched the two of them leave the bar and make their way to an alcove in the far corner. He hoped they wouldn’t be long, his companion was hard work and racking up the bar bill. Nick had run out of small talk and was pleased when the girl said she was going to the restroom. He took the opportunity to check up on Tom. Avoiding the house photographer he moved around the edge of the room towards the rear exit, a small door half hidden behind a velvet curtain. He stared down the bouncer who stepped aside to let Nick pass. The door opened on to a small tiled courtyard surrounded by a high brick wall. Tom and the girl were nowhere to be seen. A noise came from behind. Just steam from a kitchen flue. The smell of greasy noodles hung in the tropical air. In the wall opposite a metal gate led to a narrow side alley. Nick looked up and down but it was empty apart from the odd fast-food carton. He dialled Tom’s number but all he got was the answerphone. He didn’t leave a message.
‘Fuck you, Tom,’ he said out loud. ‘How can I be your minder if you just piss off?’
Turning around to return to the club he noticed something wedged in the grille next to the kitchen vent. A rolled piece of paper tied in a small knot. He had commented on Tom playing with it at the table. It was the bar bill. Nick pulled it from the wall and carefully unfolded the chit. One beer, one whiskey and an exorbitant total. But on the chit there was something else scribbled in black, probably from a spent match. The word SITER.
‘Siter, what in the fuck is that meant to mean?’
It was nearly three in the morning. Geoff was going to kill him; losing the little bastard in the middle of Surabaya. ‘Look after him he’s only a kid,’ were Geoff’s last words. Still there wasn’t much he could do about it now. He would check into that hotel where the jeep was parked and visit the police station at daybreak.
Eleven
The Tube was crowded. The moisture seeping from the wet raincoats clung to the air. Passengers tried to avoid squeezing into each other but it was hopeless. They were packed in like sardines. Some only in T-shirts, others more cannily dressed for the mid-July rain storm. Nathalie was one of the former. She tried to avoid the large man’s dripping umbrella. He apologised but there was nowhere else to put it. She suffered in silence and breathed a sigh of relief when the doors slid open at Tottenham Court Road. Half the carriage spilled onto the platform. Nathalie was taken with the flow up the escalat
or and towards the exit. To her disappointment she found it was still raining. Putting her laptop case on top of her head she half walked, half ran, towards Soho Square.
Geoff was in a bad mood.
‘Why don’t you dry yourself off in the loo before dumping half of London’s downpour onto my carpet,’ he growled pointing at Nathalie’s sodden case. ‘I’ll see you in five minutes after I’ve dealt with this bloody copyright issue.’
Nathalie grinned at him and turned towards the door. She met Stefanie in the corridor.
‘Hi Stefanie, Geoff got out the wrong side of bed today?’
‘I think he’s getting worse. Music company want a two-year licence, and Geoff’s client wants it on DVD. Heard him ranting this morning about how in the hell was he to get a DVD that self-destructed after a couple of years.’
‘Oh is that all; I thought Zimbabwe had declared war on us or something.’
‘Zimbabwe, that reminds me.’ Stefanie pulled a notebook from her pocket and flicked through the pages. ‘Lloyd rang. Couldn’t take your phone call earlier this morning, in some sort of sensitive work meeting. Can talk to you during his coffee break. They’re two hours ahead so that means around twelve noon our time.’
‘Thanks,’ said Nathalie disappearing into the loo.
Exactly five minutes later Nathalie tapped gently on Geoff’s office door.
‘Don’t need to knock, this is a film company not the politburo.’
Nathalie walked in and spun around. ‘There, dry as a bone, will you talk to me now?’
Geoff ignored her pirouette and started shuffling through some papers. ‘Take a seat. What’s all this about that medical video girl, what’s her name, something beginning with V?’
‘Veronica?’
‘Yes, Veronica.’
‘What about her?’
‘Rang this morning, insisted that she speak personally to me. Wanted to know if I was happy with the information she’d given on some pharma company.’
‘Oh?’
‘Then she started to pitch for a job. Did I need an experienced producer for my medical films, did I know how many years she had been working in the industry, and on and on.’
Nathalie tried to disguise her amusement. ‘What did you say?’
‘What do you think I said, not what I was thinking that’s for sure. I politely thanked her for her assistance and said that if we ever wanted a medical producer she would be the first person on our list.’
‘That was nice of you.’
‘Too bloody right it was. What I want to know is what you’re doing faffing around with this medical video outfit instead of rooting out some of these terrorists.’
Nathalie moved her computer from her lap and onto Geoff’s desk, opened the lid and searched for some files.
‘Originally, I was interested in Biomedivac to help me find some background on Ebola.’ She spun the computer around so that Geoff could see the image of Rob Barnes. ‘Saw this guy back in May. Mention of bioterrorism and I was dropped like hot coals, so recently I tried another tack. Visited their HQ, said we were interested in making an episode of Horizon about vaccine research.’
Geoff raised his eyebrows but didn’t interrupt.
‘Got a completely different response from the big boss, Professor Townes. Really liked the idea, will help out all they can. Trouble was he introduced me to his assistant.’
‘The guy on your screen?’
‘That’s right, Rob Barnes. I thought shit! He’ll know it’s all a ruse. But no, played along as if we’d never met before. I’m sure he recognised me.’
‘So where are you going with this?’
‘Well that’s it, I’m not sure, but there’s something funny going on. Rob Barnes seems to have it in for Townes; mentioned a possible takeover by Zormax.’
‘The pharma giant.’
‘Yes. So I looked up Veronica. Knew she would like to please you and, I was right, she was very helpful.’
‘Lucky I didn’t tell her what I really thought.’
‘Yes, I should have warned you. Anyway she’s making some videos for Zormax. Seems they’re really interested in taking over Biomedivac. And from what she says,’ Nathalie tapped on the screen, ‘this young man is up to his blue eyes in it.’
‘So how is this connected to your film on bioterrorism?’
‘I really don’t know yet. Call it sixth sense. What I do know though is we could do a piece on antidotes. I mean if these guys are threatening the West with an outbreak of Ebola we should also talk about a defence; antivirals, how they work, who would get them in an emergency. All good stuff.’
Geoff nodded. ‘See your point. Good shots too, high-tech laboratories, scientists in protective gear. Would give contrast with the Zimbabwean bush and Javanese jungle.’
‘That’s what I thought. Talking of Java, how is Tom getting on?’
Geoff picked up his phone and scrolled through the texts. ‘Okay I suppose, got a typical enigmatic text from Nick Coburn.’
‘Nick!’
‘Oh yeah, forgot to tell you. Asked Nick to do a bit of babysitting. Tom is very keen but also very wet behind the ears so, as I heard Nick was in the area, I asked him to help out. You know, in case things got interesting.’
‘At least he’s in good hands. Nick’s good at interesting.’ Nathalie peered over at Geoff’s phone. ‘What did he say?’
‘You know Nick, need a cryptographer to decipher his texts.’ He handed the phone to Nathalie who peered at the illuminated screen.
Met Tom, on to it, few things to sort out but should be okay.
‘What’s that meant to mean?’
‘Your guess is as good as mine; the “okay” bit is reassuring.’
‘Yes but I don’t like the “should be”, Nick’s not known for his pessimism.’
‘Well the text got through so they’ve got a signal. I’m sure they would have called if there was a problem. That’s why I sent Nick, if he’s with him he’ll be okay.’
‘Suppose so. Anyway back to the antidote idea. You’re okay with that?’
Geoff got up and walked towards the window. He prised open the slats of the Venetian blind to stare down at the street below. It was still raining. People were streaming out of their offices making their way to the various boutiques and restaurants in the heart of Soho. He looked at his watch.
‘Nearly lunchtime.’ He turned towards Nathalie. ‘Yes it’s a good idea as long as we can get into their labs. I haven’t taken you to lunch for ages. How about Sheekeys now Zilli’s is closed?’
Zilli’s was a name that resonated with Nathalie. It was one of the first restaurants that Geoff had taken her to when she was a raw researcher. If he had meant to impress he had succeeded. A high-class fish restaurant frequented by the aficionados of the media world. Nathalie had been nervous and awestruck. Not so today, she had a phone call to make.
‘Would love to Geoff but I’ve got to call Lloyd. He only has a small window when he can talk so…’
‘So you can be taken out to lunch after you have finished the call. I’ll ask Stefanie to book a table.’
Lloyd’s phone rang and rang. Nathalie was just about to give up when an out of breath Lloyd answered.
‘Hi, give me a minute, just let me get out of the building.’
Nathalie continued doodling on her pad. ‘Fine, take your time.’ She held the handset in the other hand to her ear. Muffled running footsteps and then a door slam.
‘Okay, I can talk now. Sorry it took so long to get to the phone, the boss was in my office. Luckily it was on vibrate so didn’t have to make any excuses.’
‘You okay now?’
‘Yeah, sitting under a tree at the back of the building. No one around.’
Nathalie could imagine the scene. Mid-morning heat in Harare, the scrubland at the back of Lloyd’s newspaper office, the drone of insects in the background.
‘How are you? Still with us?’
‘Of course, why shouldn’t I be?’
/>
‘Those guys in the hut, pretty hairy there for a moment.’
‘Take more than that.’
Lloyds’s words were more confident than his tone of voice. Nathalie remembered the scream. That wasn’t put on. But he obviously didn’t want to talk about it so she decided to change the subject.
‘I should be there by Tuesday afternoon, same hotel. Bagatelle have managed to hire a full unit. Personally I don’t like travelling without a cameraman but Geoff said it would be difficult to get carnets. Usually he says these things for budgetary reasons but this time I think he’s right. The less of us in the loop the better. I’ve spoken to the hire company and they seem to know what they’re doing.’
The rattle of blinds drew her attention. Geoff had lent her his office and had left the window open. The summer rain was hitting the window hard and spilling onto the sill. Keeping the handset to her ear she walked over to the casement and pulled the lever shut.
‘Sorry, it’s raining here and the carpet’s getting wet.’
‘Carpet, outside?’
‘No, it’s coming through the window.’
‘Oh, yes we get those summer storms too.’
‘Not like this you don’t; cold, windy and grey here. Not your four-minute high temperature downpour.’ Smalltalk, but useful she thought. Lloyd seemed to be relaxing. ‘Any progress your end? Those guys still up for the interview?’
‘Yes, no change there. But I do have some other news.’
Nathalie breathed a sigh of relief, she had been dreading Lloyd telling her that the WEXA group had backed out.
Drugs to Forget Page 10
