'Surveillance, then. Let's at least go have a look at where this prick lives. Check this club out. And I want to talk to him. Shake him up a bit.' Scotty was in full stride, his features set.
Jill assumed they were heading for the bus stop at Taylor Square. They'd left the car with Charmaine Davis and would need to use public transport to get back to Maroubra.
'All right, we'll check out his place, Scott,' said Jill. She hoped to stall before they actually spoke to Sebastian. He'd just shut up shop if they were too inquisitive.
Jill took two steps for every one of Scotty's. The sun felt good on her shoulders after the chill of the hospital. They were approaching The Wall, a sandstone barricade that was formerly the outside wall of an old gaol.
The Wall ran along Darlinghurst Road, and was a well-known strip for child prostitutes. Jill remembered a time when up to twenty young boys would hang here, blatantly soliciting, waiting for one of the steady stream of vehicles to slow down and pick them up. There was often a raucous atmosphere – sometimes there'd be a brawl that spilled into the traffic, over a client, a patch of turf. It only helped to draw the crowds; many, visitors from the suburbs with their car doors locked and windows up, were just out for a look at the seamy side of life. There was always at least one boy leaning into the driver's window of a car with dark windows. Nowadays the show was over, police routinely busting the kids, and sometimes the men who preyed on them. Most times of the day and night, however, if you waited long enough, you'd see a boy dart out from the park and hop into a car, or notice that there was a disproportionate amount of youth hanging around the mobile needle exchange or food van that was often stationed at The Wall.
A van stood there now, distributing sandwiches and cups of tea and water to the homeless and poor that lived in this area. Jill followed Scotty as he walked straight up to the van.
'Detective Scott Hutchinson,' said Scotty to the middle-aged man and woman in white T-shirts handing out the food and drink. 'We're investigating a paedophile network, and we're wondering whether you see many people around here taking young boys into their cars.'
'You're kidding, right?' the woman said flatly, continuing to distribute her styrofoam cups. 'You know this is The Wall, don't ya?'
'There's no need to be sarcastic, Beryl,' the man next to her said, stopping his work for a moment and staring down from the van. 'Yes, son, unfortunately there are still many cars stopping regularly for the kids around here.'
'Same cars all the time. We take the plates and call you guys, but we see 'em here again the next week. Bloody perverts.'
'We don't know about a network, but there does seem to be a regular group that comes around…'
'There ya go. Do some good right now if ya want.' The woman interrupted her partner. 'That bastard's here all the time.' Beryl was pointing at a dark, late-model Range Rover that had pulled over about a hundred metres from where they stood.
Scotty was in full flight before Jill had even turned. She had started to run after him when the big car screeched away from the gutter, leaving Scotty standing in the street staring after it. He was writing in his notebook as she reached him.
'Well, I know what I'm doing this afternoon. Gonna hunt down that squirrel and then do some work looking into who this Sebastian is, where he lives and what he eats for fucking breakfast.'
'I'll go and see Honey again, then.' Jill could see Scotty was on a mission and wouldn't need passengers. Ninety minutes later, Jill sat in a coffee shop in Surry Hills waiting for Honey. She'd ordered a coffee, but it had grown cold in front of her. Her head already buzzed, and she didn't need any more of a rush.
To try to block out thoughts of little Madeline and her mum, she paid attention to the patrons with whom she shared the cafe. Although it was now 2 p.m., she knew that many of these people were eating breakfast. This suburb caught up an eclectic mix of university students, artists and clothes designers, young professionals, and the unemployed from the numerous housing commission high-rises. A scowling gay couple periodically spat a few words across the table at each other and then studiously ignored one another; a dreadlocked girl in a multi-coloured caftan yawned over a herbal tea, while her multi-pierced companion munched muesli. A woman in a serious suit and heels clattered away on a laptop; while at the next table a scrawny blond man was on the heroin-nod over bacon and eggs. The disgruntled waitress nudged him awake with her hip as she walked past carrying empty coffee cups.
The waitress had fixed Jill with a stare a couple of times before Honey finally breezed in. Wearing pelvis-skimming denim shorts, midriff-baring white halter top, over-sized white-framed sunglasses and gold gladiator sandals laced halfway up her calves, she woke everybody up. Used to making an entrance everywhere she went, Honey gave Jill affected air kisses, bending forward and giving half the cafe a view to remember. Jill heard the gay couple, united at last in whispered theatrical mortification.
'Hi, Honey.' Jill was pleased to see her, happy to be distracted.
'What are we eating, sweetie? I'm starving.'
'Order whatever you like.' Jill knew by now that Honey enjoyed being spoiled, and today she felt content to indulge her. Honey ordered eggs Benedict with toast, mushrooms, coffee and a blended fruit juice. Jill ordered bottled water and a smoked salmon and avocado sandwich on wholegrain bread. No butter.
When the waitress bustled away, leaving their table covered in food and drink, Jill pulled a cloth carry bag from under the table.
'Your clothes,' she said. 'Thanks for lending them to me.'
'Oh, no problem, sweetie, any time. You should wear stuff like this more often. You were hot!' Honey put the bag down beside her. 'What happened to you when the alarm went off, anyway?'
'Just called it a night,' said Jill. 'I couldn't see you, but I figured you weren't ready to go home.'
'Are you kidding? I didn't get home until Thursday night.'
Jill gave a short laugh, and then got down to business.
'So, Honey, remember you said that Sebastian had a youth drop-in centre in the Cross? You said he used it for recruits.' This time she wanted to make sure she and Honey were talking about exactly the same thing before they went anywhere.
'Yeah, so?' Honey's sunglasses perched on top of her head, holding her long black hair off her face. She was making short work of her breakfast, seemingly oblivious to the stares of every male that walked past. The front wall of the cafe folded back while trading to allow it to be part of the street.
'Well, I want you to take me there.'
'He's hardly ever there, but whatever. It's not like it's some secret place. It's been there since I was a kid. Charities even use it to try to get the kids off the streets.'
'So it's like an amusement centre?'
'Yeah, you know, some pool tables, a few computer games. There's a half basketball court, a room to do art and craft and shit.'
'And Sebastian set this up?'
'There's always plenty of kids there. It was a great place to go. And close to everything.'
'Well it's in Kings Cross, so it's not really close to anything a kid should be close to,' Jill commented.
'But the kids who go there are going to be around the streets anyway, so it's a safe place to hang out.'
Jill stared at her. 'Honey, there's something I don't understand about you.' Jill kept her voice quiet and careful, but she felt exasperated. 'You told me that Sebastian runs this place to recruit children. I assume you mean recruit them for sex. You told me that man started you in child prostitution and got you addicted to heroin. And you just called a place that this man runssafe.'
Honey glared at her for a moment, then slipped her glasses back down over her eyes.