The Afro hairstyled man in the jeans and '49'ers letterman jacket appeared for the third time outside the latest bar Trimmler was visiting when Adam decided he was following the scientist. Adam had already identified his tall and slim stature as the goat masked drummer from the night before.
Trimmler's next port of call was to a strip and sex club, 'Sex like you've never seen' proclaimed the sign outside. 'Audience participation for only $20' blared the legend under the sign.
Goat Face followed him in.
Adam knew the alcohol had boosted Trimmler's daring, he was ready for action. It was the last thing he wanted, a randy scientist hell bent on dipping his wick before Adam could take him back to the hotel and tuck him up for the night.
'Hi,' he said to a girl who didn't look like a hooker, but was plying her trade like the rest of them.
'Hi,' she replied, the smile and the eyes giving away her intentions.
'I need some company.'
'Who doesn't? You English?'
'I am. Let's get a drink.' He took her arm and led her towards the strip club.
'Come on,' she said, holding back at the entrance. 'We don't need all that. Or maybe you do.'
He grinned. 'I said I wanted company. And I want to see one of these places. Never been in one before.'
'Okay. But my meter's running. One hundred fifty an hour.'
He pulled two $100 bills from his pocket and slipped them into her hand. She smiled and linked her arm through his. He led her into the club.
Adam found a table at the side away from the stage.
'You like dark corners,' she said, sitting down in the chair he pulled out for her. 'What're we going to do here?'
'Watch the floor show. I hear it's the best in town.'
A waiter crossed over and they ordered their drinks. Adam surveyed the room and saw that Trimmler was near the stage, seated alone with a drink already in front of him, watching the simulated sex show taking place a few feet from his table. He stared with open lust at the naked threesome who rolled collectively on the mattress spread out on the wooden stage, two well endowed women with slim bodies and a blond twenty year old who was probably earning his way through college and whose parents would be horrified if they knew about their son's vacation job.
Goat Face sat with a tourist couple at another table on the opposite side of the room.
'I can give you more excitement than you're getting here back at my place,' the girl broke into his deliberations.
'I like it here. You don't get this in the pubs in London.'
On the stage, with Nancy Sinatra belting out 'These boots were made for walking', one of the girls left Blondie and her companion and slipped onto the floor. She snaked her way over the tables around the stage and draped her naked body over a paunchy man next to Trimmler. As she sat on his lap, rubbing herself over him, she whispered dirty intentioned words in his ear. He shook his head, embarrassed at this public display, whilst the rest of the audience whooped and shrieked their support. The girl, feigning disappointment moved on towards Trimmler, but on seeing the drunken glaze in his eyes, jumped to the next table where she went to work on a younger man. This time, the recipient of her attentions was much more forthcoming and, to rapturour applause, she soon had him stripped and being led onto the stage.
The action reached new heights as the four of them writhed with each other, the three professionals simulating sex whilst still ensuring the newcomer didn't get too carried away.
'You really like this stuff, huh?' said the girl as she watched Adam inspecting the room.
'As I said, it's different.'
'You could've come alone. If eyeballing's all you wanted.' She slipped her hand slowly up his thigh, towards his crotch. 'Or maybe this is what you want? Huh? Taking part without anyone seeing. You like that. Is this what turns you on?'
He put his hand under the table and took hers, held it firmly and placed it back on her lap. She mocked him with her smile. He sure was a strange one.
The blonde hooker who had first accosted Trimmler on the corner of Toulouse and Bourbon came into the club as the foursome on the stage became so entwined that it was difficult to tell which limb and which private part belonged to which player. Trimmler's eyes had popped out on stalks, the thrashing flesh within touching distance now turning his brain into a muddled vision of eroticism and sexual need. She recognised Trimmler and crossed the room to him, slid her satin covered bottom onto the empty chair next to him. She leant towards him, her heavy breasts resting on his arm and she whispered in his ear. He nodded, eager to be with her, and she stood up, took his arm to support him and led him through the crowded club out onto Bourbon Street.
Adam didn't move until he saw Goat Face follow the couple out.
'Thanks,' he said to the girl. 'Time to say goodbye.'
'Hey. You still got forty minutes left on the meter.'
'Listen. I wish I could. It would've been fun.'
'Yeah. Well, no sweat. Just don't like leaving you boys short changed,'.
He went out onto Bourbon. Trimmler was northbound on Toulouse, the girl hanging on his arm and leading him towards the Spanish fronted houses that opened onto courtyards and apartments where most of the girls worked from.
He saw the apartment she took Trimmler into, up on the first floor behind the iron balustrade that curved up the line of the stair. When the door had shut, Adam surveyed the area. He knew there'd be a window at the rear, but he couldn't watch both sides at the same time. He took up a safe and hidden position across the street and waited. Of Goat Face there was no sign, but Adam knew he was around. He hoped he hadn't been discovered.
Trimmler came out twenty minutes later. It had obviously been a quick transaction.
Adam waited for him in the street before he crossed over to him.
'I think we should go back to the hotel now, Mr Trimmler,' he said quietly.
The scientist said nothing. Adam could smell the vomit on his breath. He doubted Trimmler had managed anything with the little blonde, probably spent most of his time knelt over the toilet bowl.
Frankie was where they had left him, deep in conversation with two locals.
'I kept checking with Tucker and he said to wait here,' said the cab driver as he watched Adam help Trimmler into the back of the Cadillac.
They drove the short distance back to the Hilton and Adam helped Trimmler out of the cab and into the lobby. Goodenache was there, anxious and desperate to see Trimmler. He took his arm and led him away to a secluded corner.
Adam wandered towards them, close enough to pick up the odd word but not appear obtrusive.
He heard Goodenache mention Mitzer.
Trimmler, even in his inebriated state, reacted with horror. He seemed to fall forward, but Goodenache held him up by his shoulders.
It didn't take the tears in Trimmler's eyes for Adam to realise he had just been told of Mitzer's death. Trimmler shook his head repeatedly, then slumped into one of the leather couches that were spaced intermittently along the wall. Goodenache sat down next to him and put his arm round his shoulder.
At that moment, Goat Face came up the moving staircase, this time accompanied by a man. His hair was short cropped, but not curly, nor white. He limped alongside Goat Face like an old man, but the face was the clear face of a twenty year old while the gnarled hands that held the walking stick confirmed the old man's age. It was Fruit Juice
They didn't see Adam as he slipped behind one of the vast square pillars. Goat Face, as soon as he saw Trimmler, took Fruit Juice's arm and led him, as a son would an elderly father, towards the coffee shop. They sat at a table from where they could watch the lobby.
Goodenache helped Trimmler to his feet and the two men walked slowly towards the lifts. Adam couldn't follow without being recognised by the two voodoo men, so he ducked across to the emergency stairs and climbed to the fifteenth floor, taking two to three steps at a time. He checked that level, and when satisfied that the two men weren't there, took the emergency stairs to the eighteenth floor.