I made it to the Rouge Tape Club at approximately nine o'clock. I was allowed in by the bouncer, causing me to earn several unsavory looks by some of the people waiting in line. Once inside I looked around for my mark. His name was Richard Brooke. He was approximately mid-thirties and looked insignificant. But looks could be deceiving. He was one of the highest ranking people wanted by Interpol.
I went to the bar and ordered a martini. I kept my eyes peeled for any sight of the man. He approached me first, which was a good sign. It meant that he was interested enough that he couldn't stay away. He sat down beside me and ordered a vodka on the rocks.
"Hello." He said to me, while watching the bartender make his drink. I looked at his boyish face with dark eyes and smiled.
"Hello." He seemed delighted to think that I was captivated by him already. In actuality he gave me skives. It was just because he was not Sherlock. I couldn't believe that I had said that, but it was true. I was so captivated by Sherlock that it was impossible to be near him and not have some sort of physical contact.
"I'm Rich Brooke." He said with a twinkle in his eye. I giggled a little, like women do when they meet a man that they are attracted to. It never really held anything for me, I didn't giggle. I sat and observed, but oh well.
"Aria." It was always better to use your real first name. "Aquita."
"Different last name for a woman such as yourself." He looked at me interested.
"I was married. Haven't changed my name back yet. The maiden name is Somerset." I told him with a flirty grin.
"You must be here for business." He said taking a sip of his drink.
"Yeah. Of course." I said. "How did you know?" I acted like such a dumb airhead.
"Your accent. American, am I right?" He asked me. I smiled and nodded. "So what do you do?" He asked leaning closer to me.
"I am a banker." I told him. "I settle some debts, but I got a promotion a year ago. Now I scout out new locations for our bank." I handed him a card.
"World Bank Fund?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. I nodded, confident that this would convince him that I was actually telling the truth. "Interesting." He curled his hand over my martini, even amidst my protestations. "Let me get you another." The bartender poured another and Rich handed it to me. I drank hesitantly, afraid that he might have put something in the drink, but there was no way.
"Cheers!" He said with his goofy and creepy smile. I drank some of my margarita. After drinking all of it, I began to feel sick. The room was spinning and I was quite unsteady on my feet.
"You put something in my drink!" I said swaying on my feet. Rich wrapped his arm around my waist.
"Come on darling." He said loudly, amidst my protests. "I told you not to drink that last one." He escorted me out of the club.
I had been roofied before, so I knew that the dizziness, limpness, and blurred vision were all normal. Rich led me into his car, black and with a driver. When we began to move, he hit me hard in the back of the head.
I awoke to a dry mouth and pounding inside my skull. Rich was standing in front of me. I gasped as my memories came flooding back to me. He must not have used that much on me.
"Hello," he sang in his strange voice. I'm probably about to die and he's having the time of his life. I thought for a split second that this was a psychopath. Donovan and Anderson needed to be here to really appreciate Sherlock and his complete lack of psychopathic tendencies.
"What do you want from me?" I groaned. He grinned wider and knelt down beside me.
"I'm going to give you two choices. Pick one." He stood back up. "I'll let you either leave England tonight. I'll give you a new identity, the only thing is you cannot contact anyone you have known before."
"My daughter!"
"Ah yes. Well choice number two is you play a game with Sherlock and I." He grinned exposing his sharp looking teeth. "It's quite explosive."