[center]----------------------------------------------------------------------------- June, 1960, Salisbury, Rhodesia -----------------------------------------------------------------------------[/center] The second floor of the Village Idiot was home to the latest tunes from America and Europe, and the latest fashions, which could sometimes make a man want to vomit for all the colours, and the bell bottoms, ridiculous. At least the sound quality was getting better as the demand for the music grew and more people were willing to spend money to take in a show. The Village Idiot had been able to upgrade it's in house speakers the year before . The two officers stepped through the heavy doors, and a pair of thick curtains, that separated the various portions of the establishment and found themselves in the midst of a haze of cigarette and marijuana smoke. At the far end of the room a four piece band, made up of attractive white women who had dubbed themselves the [i]Peppermints[/i], was playing a rendition of the Beatles "Ain't she Sweet". The crowd, who was certainly more subdued than you average Beatles crowd, was singing along nonetheless. Mac reckoned there had to be about two hundred people in the room, a mix of men and women, black and white. The sign of modern Rhodesia. "Always liked these guys." Mac rumbled to Sas, the two leaning together to be heard over the singing. "Yea, their alright." Sas said with a nod. "Certainly worse noise. This marijuana shit gives me a headache though." Well technically illegal in Rhodesia, marijuana had been making leaps and bounds in recreational use. There had been steps taken to have it properly enforced but Cornell Inc, the tremendously powerful tobacco company, had quickly stepped in, bought out any significant supplier of the drug and started lobbying the government to allow them, and only them, to sell it, with a decent tax to be paid into government coffers of course. The whole matter was still tied up at senior government levels and so the police more or less ignored it unless someone was dealing it in plain sight. "Onward and upward?" Mac jerked his head toward the door and the two officers made their way to the third floor where the [i]Wilted Roses[/i], a batch of older mixed race men, and one woman, were playing good old fashioned jazz. Their audience was considerably younger than that of the Peppermints, though Sas noted a collection of younger black folks closer to the stage who seemed really in to it. "Ladies and Gentlemen," The singer crooned as he began to work up the next song. "How about a big hand for our local law enforcement!" He gestured to the back of the room and everyone swivelled to look at the two officers. Mac waved, Sas smiled, and a polite applause took over the room. Not everyone of course, but hey, anything was better than a thrown beer bottle. "And now, on the piano, let me introduce you to Veo!" A handsome thin black man stood and bowed to the applause, his salt and pepper hair covered by a fedora hat. "On the saxophone, his twin brother Feo!" Twin was right. The second man was a spitting image his brother, though he had shaved his head and grown a large beard. "My beautiful partner and lead vocalist, Mihndy!" The woman waved and offered a short bow to the crowd as she swayed to the bassline that stlll thrummed out from the bassist. The two officers didn't stick around to hear the rest. There was assuredly going to be some cocaine in that group, and without a drug dog and some backup they were hardly going to start asking everyone present. "Last one..." Sas muttered as they climbed toward the last floor. The base of whatever was going on up there could be heard hammering through the heavy doors, so deep that you could feel it in your chest. How it had not been so obvious on the floor below was beyond them. The doors opened and a wall of marijuana rolled over their heads even as sound assaulted them like a tidal wave. The band, the Evan Catz, was barely visible through the cloud. It was an assortment of black and white males, all clad in blue uniforms that were reminiscent of French Cavalry from the 18th century. None of them wore shirts, the jackets were open to show off chests glistening with sweat even as long haired bounced around them as they moved about the stage in no particular order that Mac and Sas could see. "What. The. Fuck." Mac mouthed to Sas and the black man shrugged, grinning as he did. This new noise, sort of a weird tribal hip hop crossed with rock and roll was mind numbing. Any number of women filled the space between them and the band, their screams almost drowning out the band whenever one of the band members flashed his jacket open or blew them kisses. Judging by the uncertain step of virtually everyone in the room, band included, people were well drunk at this point. Those at the rear of the crowd had become aware of the two massive police officers and an open space had formed around them as people moved away. That was fine by Sas, neither he or Mac liked people in their personal space. A doorman, perched on a metal bar stool and probably as stoned as the clientele, nodded friendly like from nearby. He, like the two monkeys by the front door, was a huge man and undoubtedly on steroids. Mac had half smashed the man to death about a year ago during a fight during which time he had tumbled the big man down three flights of stairs. The doorman had been so out of it thanks to whatever drugs he was on he barely remembered the incident, though he'd never tried anything again. "Well, unless we can convince the Captain to roust out the Specials, we won't be doing any serious work here tonight!" Mac had to shout to be heard and Sas nodded before turning back to the doorway. The two officers pushed through it and back into the stairwell where the air suddenly seemed cool and welcoming. "Wellp, I'm good for the night. Let's get the fuck out of here." Sas said with a groan. "So many lovely ladies and not a thing I can do about it while on duty." The two made their way down the stairs and back into the chaos of the lowest floor. A bar tender caught their eye as they left and gave them a wave before they stepped out onto the street. A line had formed while they were gone, down the street and around the corner. They knew that the moment the police vehicle had driven away, the whole line would be let into the place. In the meantime, the staff had to try and keep some sort of an illusion respectability. "Night officers." The doorman said as they exited, batons clacking against flashlights, a sound suddenly very loud in the seeming silence of the street. "Night Harold. See you in a few hours." The two Constables made their way back to the Land Rover and climbed in. The huge engine turned over on the first go and Mac moved the vehicle back out into the street. They picked up speed and vanished into the gathering night.