By ten-thirty my head was starting to ache with frustration. My eyes were twitchy from constantly scanning for some clandestine movement in the crowd. No one seemed to be very interested in selling anything to Sam other than over-priced drinks.
I dropped in past one of the bars, seeing Gary in his usual frantic guise. He looked up and caught sight of me, a mixture of fear and loathing on his face. The savagery of it took me aback. Christ, I didn't make him steal from his boss. I just helped catch him at it.
Dave was in his usual position, nodding so hard to the beat of the music that it moved his whole body, like the tail of a dog who's really happy to see you. He was wearing skin-tight trousers and another high-necked jumper, stained dark with sweat.
He also gave me a cooler glance than was his norm. I tried to work out what I'd done to offend him. Maybe he'd been told about my part in Gary's disgrace. I'd stepped over the line from being one of the gang to teacher's pet. It was like being in No Man's Land.
I kept my eye on Angelo as much as I could, but he barely shifted from the door, apart from a couple of short breaks. Well, I suppose you can't crack heads all night without a rest.
Just when I was starting to think I was utterly wasting my time, that I'd dragged Sam out on a wild goose chase, he brushed past me deliberately in the crowd.
“Bingo,” he muttered out of the side of his mouth.
I fought hard not to show any reaction to the news, just followed him casually into a quiet corner.
“What?” I demanded. “What's happened?”
He looked around, then fished a couple of tablets out of his top pocket. Small round, white pills, slightly bulbous on the sides, without sharp edges. There was an impression stamped into them, but the meaning wasn't clear. It didn't take a genius to recognise Ecstasy.
“Where the hell did you get those?”
He smiled at me. “I have to admit it's a slick operation,” he said smugly, basking in the fact he'd got my full and undivided.
I rolled my eyes. “You're the one who's going to need an operation unless you tell me who dealt you those,” I growled.
Sam, however, wasn't to be deflected from his moment of glory. “You see, they take anything you try and bring in with one hand,” he said, “and sell you something else with the other hand. Very neat.”
“Sam—” I warned.
He must have seen the glint in my eye, because this time he cut to the important bit. “The bald-headed bloke on the door took my own stuff off me, then one of the other penguins sidled up to me and offered me something for the weekend,” he explained.
“Just like that?” I asked, my face blank with something approaching disbelief. “He offered you drugs right there in the middle of the dance floor?”
Sam gave me an old-fashioned look. “No, not just like that,” he said. “He made some casual remark about me looking like the type of bloke who wanted more than a quick drink in a place like this.” He laughed. “To start with I thought he was offering me a woman.” He flashed me a quick grin and I realised that to Sam, this was all an adventure. A game. He hadn't seen first-hand what the penalties were for losing.
Terry had, though. Seen and suffered them. I came down hard on that line of thought. It was too dangerous to my resolve.
“And?” I prompted now, sharply.
“Well, we went up to the gents' on the upper dance floor, and by this time I was thinking, no he isn't going to offer me a woman, he's going to offer me a rent boy.”
He paused for me to make the appropriate response to his mind-bendingly funny joke. I glared at him in the sort of silence that has rocks in it.
He swallowed and went on. “Anyway, once we're inside he asks me what I want, tells me how much it's going to cost me, and shoves me in to one of the empty cubicles. He tells me to stay put for a minute – and it was only a minute – and when he comes back and opens the door, there they are. Cost me a packet – about twenty percent over market value, I reckon, but then I suppose they have got a bit of a captive audience.”
“How come you're such an expert on Ecstasy prices all of a sudden?” I challenged.
He grinned at me again. “Come on, Charlie, I work at the university. The place is crawling with students. You work it out.”
“So who was it?”
“Well, we didn't exactly swop names and addresses so we could send each other Christmas cards,” he said with a sarky tone to his voice.
I wanted to scream at him, but settled for grinding my teeth instead. “OK,” I said with remarkable calm, “tell me what he looked like!”
Sam shrugged. “Like a bouncer. I don't know – a big bloke in a dinner suit.”
Terrific. That description fitted most of the lads working security. “But not the same one who was on the door?”
He shook his head emphatically. “Oh no, definitely not.”
Not Angelo then. Christ, just how many of them were in it with him?
“Can you point him out to me?”
Sam grinned again, said no problem, and we moved back towards the main body of the club. I'd already got a sneaking suspicion about who he was going to tag, but I needed to have it confirmed.
It didn't take us long to find him. We were moving along one of the galleries when Sam nudged my arm and pointed down to the next level where one of the security men was leaning on the rail, watching the milling clubbers below him.
“There you go,” Sam said. “That's the feller.”
“Are you sure?” I asked, not really doubting him, but wanting to be dead certain.
“Absolutely,” Sam verified. “Why – who is he?”
“That,” I said grimly, “is Len, who's head of security. He's the one who's supposed to be in charge of keeping the drugs out of this place.”
I suppose, really, I should have known. Only the previous week Len had told me of his involvement in a roundabout sort of a way. “Nothing – but nothing – goes on in this club that I don't know about!” he'd said. “Clear?”
Oh yes, it was clear now. He and Angelo were in it together. In it up to their necks. In it plenty deep enough to resort to murder to keep Terry from exposing their activities. And to have me worked over as well.
So where did Susie and the rest fit in? Maybe they were just a diversion – a little side-line that Angelo was running for his own amusement.
I couldn't prove any of that. Not without the forensic evidence that was out of my reach. For now, the drugs would have to do.
I pulled Sam away from the balcony rail, so we were out of Len's possible sight.
“Listen, Sam, I want you to get out of here – right now,” I said, trying to get urgency across to him without the fear. I fished Superintendent MacMillan's card out of my pocket and slipped it into his. “Call MacMillan, tell him about the drugs. Tell him if he wants to catch the guy he's after for the murders he needs to come down here mob-handed. Tell him,” I added, taking a deep breath, “that I'm going to go and try and find those drugs before Len or any of the others has a chance to destroy them.”
Sam took all this in open-mouthed, but wisely decided against long questions. “OK,” he said. “I've borrowed a mate's car tonight. It's only a shitty old Peugeot, but he's left his mobile phone in the glovebox. I'll call ’em from the car park.”
“Just make sure none of the security lads see you doing it then,” I cautioned.
He sobered when he realised there wasn't a hint of humour in my voice, then nodded, swallowing, and started to turn away.
“Oh, and Sam?”
He paused, turned back. “Yeah?”
I mustered a smile that didn't reach my eyes. “Tell MacMillan he'd better hurry.”