***
Seven: Regency Royale
I didn't get to speak to Lincoln again at the garden party but first thing Monday morning my phone began to holler for attention. I slid out of bed and searched for the noise making machine, it wasn't in the pockets of my trousers or anywhere else sensible but when I tried to put my right foot into my shoe I found it. The ring tone was the cannons going off at the end of the 1812 Overture, to signify Napoleons defeat by the Russians, guaranteed to get you out of bed.
'Yes,' I muttered into the mouthpiece.
'Jack?'
'Yes.'
'Lincoln here.'
'Hi.'
'Breakfast?'
'What about it?' I yawned, I never ate much breakfast, it had been starvation rations in the army unless you enjoyed slop.
'This morning, nine forty five, the Regency Royale Riverside Restaurant.'
'I don't think my finances will run to the Regency Royale.
'That's okay, it's a business meeting, I'm paying.'
'In that case count me in, mind you I haven't got a thing to wear.'
'You sound just like my wife, come as you are, it's casual dress.'
'You haven't seen my casual dress.'
'Just get yourself along, any old rag will do, I'm going to proposition you.'
'Don't know if I've ever been propositioned by a man, I'll be there.'
'Glad to hear it, nine forty five, Regency Royale Riverside Restaurant, see you there,' he said and hung up.
The Regency Royale was a top hotel and I wasn't joking when I said I didn't have a thing to wear. In the army, apart from my military fatigues, I had slopped around in the odd dirty T-shirt and jeans, nothing Regency Royale. I wasn't feeling the best, I had spent the night fighting World War Three. I had been trained to fight, and fight I did, inside my head every hour of the day. That was another good reason to look for a new way of life. World War Three had been played out and our side weren't doing too well. I had held on to a nuclear bomb as it fell through the air, I was trying to defuse it, time was running out, the ground was rapidly coming up to meet me, then I woke up. I had got up, at what I thought was early morning, only to be disillusioned, it was, in fact, only half past midnight. I had made myself a cup of tea and watched TV where someone was trying to sell me an exercise frame that would change my life. I took some Valium and went back to bed only to start fighting for my life once again. This time I awoke as a huge guy came at me with blood in his eyes and a hunting knife in his right hand. It was now half past two in the morning so I made another cup of tea, watched the exercise frame once again, apparently it was good for the sex life and helped with brain development. I took more Valium, went back to bed and was immediately parachuted onto a hostile island with strange looking creatures shooting at me. I recall another session of watching television with the exercise frame which now cured heart disease, cancer and the common cold and would probably help save the planet from global warming. When the 1812 Overture went off I woke up with a start, it was half past seven in the morning and Lincoln wanted to buy me breakfast.
I decided to tackle my appearance on my way to the Regency Royale. I went to Curl Up and Dye and had my long auburn locks chopped off, Sandy, the guy with the scissors, said my hair was rather lovely and he would like to do things with me. I told him short back and sides, it was more sensible for stalking someone with the aim of shooting them dead, Sandy didn't seem to appreciate my little joke. I then called in to Dressed to Kill, it's wonderful what you can do with a credit card, I bought a very nice and very expensive polo shirt which I thought looked pretty classy and some lovely sand coloured, slightly baggy, slacks. The salesman, Fred, wanted me to attend a meeting that night, if I joined a financial concern that he was a member of, I could turn my life around and be able to get the important things in life like a big boat, a big car and a big house. I suggested that a rifle with a telescopic sight, a very sharp hunting knife and a bullet proof jacket would prove more useful as the world, according to the newspapers, was just about to disintegrate. He gave a hesitant laugh. Next door was the Silver Slipper and to top off my ensemble I bought a pair of rather nice dock siders, yachting shoes, and some light grey woollen socks with pastel yellow lozenges decorating the sides. A girl, Shirley, tried to sell me a second pair, at half price, and get me to join up to a scheme where I accrued points every time I bought shoes. I could spend the points on an exotic holiday in paradise, I told her I had been to paradise and blown it up. For some reason she was not amused.
I looked quite the man about town as I entered the Regency Royale. It was a very plush hotel all marble and chrome, bronze and brass, with a garden thing in the centre and full of people with expensive clothes casually thrown over their beautiful bodies.
'Are you here for breakfast sir?' said a man in a top hat and sky blue coat. I replied in the affirmative and was shown to the Riverside Restaurant. Lincoln was there already chatting to a man who was the spitting image of Spode, but quite frankly, all middle aged, overweight, dark suited executives seemed to look like right wing fascists.
'Jack!' called out Lincoln and he came over and shook my hand.
'Who was he?' I said referring to the Spode look alike.
'Business acquaintance,' said Lincoln, 'imports, exports, that sort of thing. I handle the legal side of his Australian affairs, mostly kosher. What have you done to yourself?' he said as he eyed me up and down.
'Camouflage,' I said, 'I wanted to be incognito.'
'Your hair?'
'Gone.'
'You look good.'
'Thank you.'
'I didn't recognise you.'
'That was the idea.'
'Well, well, what a surprise. You look very different.'
'Thanks,' I said and smiled.
'I've got a job for you,' said Lincoln.
'What sort of job?'
'Sit down, sit down, breakfast first, then we can talk business. We can order from the menu or just graze the buffet.'
'Grazing the buffet sounds good to me.'
There was more food in that buffet than I have ever seen in my life. All types of fruit including rock, honeydew, champagne and watermelon, I took a slice of each. There were cereals, a beautiful creamy Bircher muesli, I went back for seconds of that, and it kept on keeping on. There was Tasmanian salmon, cold meats, prawns, a cheese platter, dried fruits, every kind of fruit juice you could imagine, there was English, Irish and Scottish breakfast tea, ordinary coffee, cappuccino, latte, short black and a strong American brew. To top off all that there was hot food, sausages, bacon, scrambled eggs, fried mushrooms, grilled tomatoes, potato rosti and some sort of noodle Asian dish. To make toast there were half a dozen types of bread and there were also croissants, Danish pastries and brioche, jam, honey and vegemite, tomato sauce, brown sauce and mango chutney and there was… no I refuse to list any more, there was enough food to keep a platoon of fighting men happy for a week, it would have kept me going for months. After consuming the amazing feast I sat back in my chair and sighed, Lincoln went over to one of the beautifully decorated food islands that was full of flowers, fruit, nuts and champagne and returned to our table with two glasses of the bubbly elixir.
'Now, down to the business part of the proceedings,' he said.
'Okay let's map out a strategy and formulate a plan of attack.'
'That's not how we do things in the real world,' said Lincoln.
'Sorry, it gets into your blood.'
'You've stopped coming to tutorials in the law school and a little bird tells me that you don't go to lectures anymore.'
'Which little bird said that?'
'Any particular reason?'
'They're boring.'
'Boring yes but a bloody good meal ticket at the end of it all.'
'I've been meaning to ask you, how do you know Kashmere?'
'She's my second cousin twice removed or something like that.'
'Family.'
'Only just.'
/> 'Kashmere and I don't particularly like each other.'
'No worries.'
'You don't mind.'
'Why should I, makes no odds to me.'
'Good.'
'Getting back to my question.'
'The law lectures are boring, so I don't go, I just stagnate in there. Write this down word for word and repeat it after me, that's what Professor Towers says, it's like being back in the army.'
'So what do you intend doing? I also have it on the grape vine that you want to be a private detective…'
'Your sources are very good.'
'…and set up your own agency.'
'Yes.'
'Private detective, it sounds very interesting, very exciting but believe me it's not.'
'More interesting than doing a law degree,' I said.
'You think so?'
'Definitely.'
'Well, let me tell you one thing that being a private detective is not, being a private detective is not all fun and games, it's just as boring as any other job.'
'I know that but…'
'Let me finish. If you stick to law you'll get a good education and at the end of it you could achieve a very well paid job.'
'I know that too but…look I've heard all this from umpteen other people including my mother, I'm not getting any younger, I want to get on with life.'
'Right, having said that, if law is not your thing then it's not your thing and you are well out of it. So let's look at this private detective game, it's not all Sherlock Holmes and Miss Marple, there won't be any international criminals to track down who have stolen the crown jewels and you won't be invited to the big house for the weekend and find Sir Hubert Saint Clare sitting at the piano with a knife in his back and six suspects to pick from. Most private detectives are tired old cops or worn out old soldiers who cruise around in unmarked cars and take film of people who are trying to defraud insurance companies. You'll also get surveillance work following someone's spouse and there is work to be had sitting outside bikie gang headquarters keeping an eye on activity but…'
'I don't want to argue about this.'
'No, let me go on. This private detective lark, mostly the job involves sitting in a car doing nothing, I can tell you now it's not an exciting life!'
'I've had excitement, I don't need any more,' I said.
'Well, the object of this harangue is this, if you are serious about becoming a private detective…'
'And I am.'
'…then I have a job for you.'
'You wily old bastard. I'm your man.'
'First I have a couple of little surveillance operations I want you to handle for me. Insurance frauds and then if you do well, and ever since I met you I knew that you would do well at something one day, then I've got a bigger job for you.'
'I'm ready, what's this bigger job?'
'More on the biggie later, it's just sex and drugs and murder and money laundering and social security fraud and people smuggling and that sort of thing.'
'And you said it was boring.'
'Believe me in books and films it's exciting, in real life…'
'More champagne?' I asked with a grin.
'Absolutely.' I got the champagne and we clinked glasses.
'To business,' we both said and shook hands.
'I'm glad you got your hair cut, you need to be incognito.'
'Incognito is my middle name.'
'Have you sorted out a car yet?'
'Not a problem, it's all taken care of. Mum's letting me have Dad's old VW Beetle that she used to cruise around in, it will do fine. It's been in the shed for years and it's old and battered but it goes and nobody notices it. I've already got a camera and some other stuff and I've enrolled in a five day Private Detective and Surveillance Professionals course, that will give me my private detective's licence and I'll be able to carry a gun. Not that I intend shooting too many people.'
'The job's yours,' he said, we clinked glasses, said cheers and knocked back our champers.