***Echo 17...additional...Can we get an EMT over here?...yes, that is correct...side alley of the club...yeah...quick as you can...?...Over.

 'Jesus Bert....this boy doesnt look too hot..look at the size of that 'ole in 'is chest!'

'Poor bastard....looks like the Doctor as branched out ta fellahs as well...dunno if an ambulance is going to be able ta 'elp this poor sod***

I really don't think I've got much time left now. How long can a body continue to survive without its heart? Just one of life's little questions I've never got around to finding the answer to...until now. I can vaguely make out flashing blue and red lights at the end of the alleyway and the shadowy figures of two coppers standing over me...disembodied voices seem to randomly come and go...I just haven't the strength to lift my head, never mind acknowledge them...if I can just try to piece together what happened tonight...before its too late...

Earlier, Justine, a very reliable contact of mine in the past, had come through for me. She knew that I had been putting out my feelers concerning the murder case and phoned me up saying that a friend of hers had just recently come across some information which, if the price was right, would, in her own words, 'blow that fucker right out of the water'. I'd done Justine a favour a few months ago by keeping her name out of an article I had been writing. It turned out that an old friend of hers had caught wind of something that would definitely help with my story about Doctor Valentine. Her message on my answering machine told me to meet up with her American dancer friend at a 'gentleman's' club I'd often frequented - purely work related I assure you - and to ask for either Sierra or Christie. Justine told me that I would be expected and added, with a laugh, that I would NOT be disappointed.

***Heres that ambulance now Bert... Stand back....Fer fucks sake! Dont move 'im...the detectives will want ta see 'im first...go down the othah end of the alley and stop those othah bleeders from comin any further..***

Glad to be finally out of the pouring rain, and, hoping that this would be the big break that I needed, I remember slipping the bouncer a twenty, pushing open the huge batwing doors of the club, and making my way to the bar to inquire after my mysterious informant. The club was a strange place. All walks of life met here under this roof to throw down a few cold ones after a hard day's work, to escape from the daily grind of their monotonous lives...oh...and to get a good look at some outstanding tits and ass. Shop workers, plumbers and young punks rubbed shoulders with the likes of politicians, judges and high flying businessmen. For a man like me, with his ear to the ground listening for any morsel of useable newsworthy hearsay, this place was a veritable goldmine. As I stood back to let a huge breasted blonde pass by wearing only a smile and a skimpy g-string and leading an embarrassed looking city worker by his tie to a private alcove for, presumably, a special one-on-one, I instinctively took a quick scan around the room.

The atmosphere tonight had been electric. Muted rock music pounded from each of the personal alcoves vying with the solo Madonna track blaring out to the lone dancer furiously gyrating naked on the main stage and trying to insert a frankly ridiculous sized cucumber up her shaven front bum. I recall musing on her supposed state of virginity and doubted very much that this was her 'very first time'. Raucous cheers and drunken wolf whistles broke out from a roughly hewn cage in the corner of the room near the emergency exit as a group of construction workers cheered on their workmate currently stripped to his saggy underwear and getting his poor arse paddled blue by a wholesome dominatrix. The smell of alcohol, perfume covered sweat and dirty money permeated the air. At the bar a completely naked Asian girl was slowly dry humping the leg of a well known television celebrity chef as he looked on in drunken bemused wonder and kept handing her a steady stream of crisp ten pound notes....

***How long has he been here officer? Shine that light over here Debbie...Jesus, this doesnt look good at all...***

...After asking first about Sierra, then about Christie I was eventually told that Darla (The American Dream no less) was waiting for me in the V.I.P. suite up on the second floor. As I made my way to the stairs past the many tables filled with drunken revellers I remember almost tripping over a bag of some sort left beside a chair. I'd moved in close to that table to allow a bevy of red-headed nude triplets pass me by. My gaze was transfixed by their passing and as I fell forward I recall thinking that those girls were completely identical in EVERY way - even down to the small cluster of freckles gathered tattoo-like on their collected left arse cheeks. I managed to steady myself and recover in time to look back and see a solitary figure at the table, almost hidden in the shadows, swiftly dart forward and retrieve the bag before settling back into the darkness. Over the pounding of the music I heard a cultured voice say

'I do apologise my good fellow. How completely clumsy of me...are you alright?'

I mumbled that I was fine then turned to ascend the stairs to the second floor. At the top I looked back down and could have sworn that a pair of reptilian eyes glared furiously in my direction from that darkened alcove. Fierce hatred seemed to emanate in waves from those tiny orbs but a sudden light tap on my shoulder made me turn around. I was greeted by the dazzling smile of one of the loveliest young women I have ever had the fortune of running into. Wearing a full body length white lace number, suspenders and high heels, the vision of beauty introduced herself as Christie. As she took my hand and led me to a door at the end of a short corridor she turned to me, leaned in close to my left ear and breathed the words,

'Come into my office newsman..I believe you and I have something to..discuss' ..........