I put on a pot of coffee. Getting up at the break of day-8:30-had thrown off my internal clock, and I didn’t want to show up at The Land Mine yawning. I stood by the window and watched the sun go down, wondering what I was about to get myself into.
UAKM — CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Two hours later, I paid the cover charge at the front door of The Land Mine and entered the nightclub. It was still early, and there were only 20 or 30 people in the place. The cavernous dance floor was empty, despite the whirling lights and pounding music. I hoped that I could find my contact soon, before the inevitable headache set in.
I hated the music. It was probably a sign that I was getting old, but then, I’d never liked contemporary music. During my horrid teenage years, techno-rap had been all the rage.
At least most of the currently fashionable music was instrumental, which was a slight improvement. On the downside, it was heavily repetitive and seemed to avoid anything remotely resembling melody. To me, it sounded chaotic, with most of the sounds coming from percussion, and every instrument playing at a different tempo. Over the top of the incessant pounding was a steady stream of sampled and computer-generated sound effects, ranging from bits of feedback to snippets of dialogue.
I made my way to a corner and sat down on a high bar stool behind an elevated table. A bored-looking waitress with a disturbing cool sore took down my order for a tall glass of iced water and walked off without thanking me. I looked around the club and decided that I’d picked the best spot to locate my contact. The bar was on my left and would give me a good look at the faces of everyone who sat there. This was the only section of the club with seating. The other side was dominated by the vast dance floor, which was multilayered, like half an amphitheatre.
I figured that I’d find whoever I was supposed to meet in a booth or at a table like the one I sitting at. I scanned the area methodically, pausing to look closely at every face.
The table next to mine was empty, but the next one was occupied by two young woman.
One was tall and thin, with an unfortunate complexion and a skimpy red outfit that should have been much looser. The other girl was beautiful, but round. She wore a black jacket over a black turtleneck and a long black skirt. She had a lovely smile, and I found myself hoping that she wasn’t there expecting to meet someone special.
Seated at the table behind the two girls was a textbook example of a midlife crisis. The man’s hair weave looked almost real, but his outfit was unbelievable. It looked like he’d culled all his fashion sense from Miami Vice reruns. Under a light blue pinstripe jacket, a fuchsia tee shirt clung to a round belly. He stroked his moustache seductively and glanced provocatively at the two girls. To my chagrin, the girl in black took favourable notice.
Beyond the Don Johnson wanna-be, a young couple groped each other at the table in a dark corner. As they came up for air, I noticed that they had a lot in common. There were both wearing leather jackets, both had multi-coloured hair, and their faces were decorated like Christmas trees with various pins, studs and chains. The two of them had something else in common: breasts. They renewed their attack on each other, and I tried not to think what would happen if their facial jewelry got snagged.
A twenty-something young man with a goatee and glasses with oddly shaped frames sat in a booth next to the amorous couple, obviously intrigued. To his right, another young man sat alone. He seemed nervous, glancing around and running a hand through his short blonde hair.
The other booths and tables were occupied by larger groups of all shapes, sizes, ages and persuasions. The waitress arrived with my water. I sipped it, wondering how long it’d been since I’d drunk a clear beverage, and looked out toward the dance area. Several couples were joined by a scattered handful of accessible-looking exhibitionists. I checked my watch-it was five minutes to ten.
I sat at my table, sipping my free drink for another fifteen minutes. Despite my vigilance, I saw no one who even vaguely resembled the secret-agent persona I had envisioned. I decided to make a reconnaissance of the club. After circling the mammoth dance floor and making quick use of the facilities, I began peering into dark corners, but without success.
I decided to return to my corner table, but it had been homesteaded by three Middle Eastern businessman with varying amounts of facial hair. The sight of them made me think briefly of the man who’d murdered the Colonel, but I dismissed the notion and took a seat at the bar.
As I ordered a few more fingers of water, I caught the face of the young blonde man in the mirror behind the bar. His nervousness seemed to have increased, and he was wringing his hands as he looked around. He certainly didn’t fit my mental picture, but I was coming up empty and really didn’t have anything to lose. I got up from my seat and crossed the room.
As I approached, the young man looked up at me fearfully. I reached the table, stopped, and casually pulled out my pack of Luckies. I held up the pack. “You look like you could use one of these.”
The young man shook his head. “No, thanks. I don’t smoke.”
I shrugged and took one out for myself. “I gave the extra one to David. He seems elated.”
The young man’s eyes widened. I knew I’d found my man, though I felt a distinct twinge of disappointment. This guy wasn’t at all what I’d been expecting. I suppose I’d been anticipating a David Niven-type secret agent, sipping a martini and smoking imported cigarettes. I slid into the booth and set my cigarettes and lighter on the table.
“My name’s Murphy. I’m a friend of the Colonel’s. He couldn’t make it.”
The young man looked at me with a desperate expression his face. “Why? What happened?”
I lowered my voice. “He’s disappeared. Probably dead.”
“Oh my God.” What colour was left in his face drained away. He picked up his glass of beer and emptied it. “Who killed him?”
I flicked the ash off the end of my smoke. “Actually, I was hoping you might be able to shed some light in that area.”
The young man glanced at me nervously. “How should I know? I didn’t even know anything had happened to him.”
“So why was he supposed to meet you here?”
The young man looked at me for a moment, then started to slide out from behind the table. I grabbed his wrist and held it until he moved back. He glared at me. “Get your hand off me.”
I shook my head. “Not until you answer some questions.”
“I don’t need to tell you anything.”
I let go of his wrist, but kept my eyes locked on his.
“You’re right. You don’t… and you don’t have reason to trust me. But I was one of the last people to see the Colonel alive, and I want to find out what happened to him.”
The young man was defiant, but scared. “And how do I know you didn’t kill him?
Maybe you’re here to find out what I know before you kill me.”
He had a good point. I didn’t have anything to convince him of my good intentions except an honest face and a pure heart.
“Tell you what. I just want to know whatever you can tell me about the Colonel. If it’ll make you feel more comfortable, we can agree to meet someplace else. You tell me when and where.”
The young man stared at me for some time before speaking.
“All right. You fill me in on the Colonel, then I’ll tell you what I can.”
I looked down at the ashtray and ground out my cigarette until it quit smoking. “What’s your name?”
The young man hesitated before speaking. “Paul. Paul Dubois.”
It didn’t really matter if that was his real name. I just hated not having a name at my disposal. I proceeded to tell Dubois what I’d heard and seen regarding the Colonel’s disappearance, then went on to tell him how I’d come to be at The Land Mine. I told it as straight as possible. By the time I was finished, Dubois seemed to be buying it. That didn’t surprise me. He looked as though he wanted to find someone he could trust more than anything in the world.