Crow's Nest [✓]

Chapter 11

They pulled up outside the Blue Dragon Lounge, its elegant exterior and the sound of music and chatter spilling out from within. Thomas parked the car, his eyes taking in every detail of the surroundings.
As they walked towards the entrance, Thomas tried to mentally prepare for what they might find inside. He knew the lounge had a seedy reputation, a hotbed for illegal activity, but he also knew they had to press on despite any potential danger.
Thomas scanned the room as they entered, taking note of the various patrons that occupied the space. The lounge was packed with people, some engaged in quiet conversations and others dancing to the loud music that seemed to emanate from every corner of the place.

They stepped through the doors of the lounge, the atmosphere shifting as they were immersed in the dimly lit space. The air was thick with music and conversation, the air reeking of cigarette smoke and alcohol. The atmosphere was heavy, tension and excitement palpable in the air. There was an undercurrent of danger, a sense of the illegal activity that often occurred in places like this. Thomas felt the weight of it on his shoulders, but he pushed his unease down, his focus sharpening as he searched for any sign of the drug that had landed their victims in the hospital.

As they approached the bar, the bartender, a tall man with sharp eyes and a guarded expression, raised an eyebrow at them, his gaze assessing them with a hint of suspicion. Harry met the bartender's gaze, his expression calm yet astute. He leaned forward, his voice confident but non-threatening. "We're looking for some information," he said, keeping his tone even. "Got a few questions for you, if you don't mind."
The bartender eyed them both for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly, before a sly smile played at his lips. "What, you cops or something?" he asked, his voice tinted with a hint of mockery.
Harry flashed him a small, enigmatic smile. "Wouldn't you like to know," he replied, his voice laced with a hint of playfulness. "Let's just say we're... interested parties. And information is our currency."
The bartender's smile widened, his eyes flickering between them, clearly intrigued now. "Alright, you got my interest," he said, leaning against the bar, his elbows resting on the polished wood. "What kind of information you looking for, boys?"

Thomas interjected, his voice steady and firm. "We're looking for any info you have on a certain drug that's been popping up around town called Syflocyl," he said, keeping his eyes trained on the bartender. "Heard anything about it?"
The bartender's eyes darkened for a moment, a flash of recognition passing through them before his expression returned to its usual cool mask. "Syflocyl, huh?" he repeated, his voice deliberately nonchalant. "Heard of it, yeah. Never seen it for myself, but I've heard it's nasty stuff. Why, you guys looking to score some?"
Harry ignored the bartender's implication, keeping his voice even. "We're looking to put a stop to it, actually," he said, a hint of sternness in his tone. "One of your recent customers was a victim of this drug," Thomas took out a photo of the boy, "His name's Lucas Anderson. Does he ring any bells for you?"
The bartender's gaze dropped to the photo, his expression unchanging. "Yeah, I remember him," he said after a moment, his voice quiet. "Came in a few nights ago, acting real jittery. Drank a lot, tried to chat up some of the ladies. But he was off. Different than the usual rowdy drunk."

Thomas nodded, his mind racing as he absorbed the bartender's words. "That's because he had most likely taken Syflocyl," he stated, "Did you see who he was with that night? Did he talk to anyone in particular?"
The bartender paused for a moment, his gaze shifting as he seemed to recall something. "I did see him talking to someone that night," he said slowly, a hint of reluctance in his voice. "Another guy. Tall, well-built, wearing all black. They seemed to know each other."

Harry and Thomas exchanged a look, the information sparking their interest. "Did they leave the lounge together?" Harry asked, his voice sharp.
The bartender nodded. "Yeah, they left together," he confirmed. "Didn't really think much of it at the time, but now that you mention it..." He trailed off, his eyes reflecting a hint of unease.
Thomas could sense the bartender was holding something back, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. He decided to press further, his voice firm. "Anything else you remember about the guy he was talking to? Any details you can give us?"
The bartender pursed his lips, his eyes shifting nervously. "He was definitely a tough guy," he said, his voice low. "He had that... vibe about him. You know what I mean? Like he was someone not to mess with."

Thomas shared a look with Harry. He could see Harry had thought the same thing he had. Thomas turned back to the bartender.
"We'll need you to come down to the station to give us a full statement. When does your shift finish?"
"Um, at 5 o'clock." The bartender said.
"Alright. We'll get two police officers to escort you to the station. Thank you for the help," Thomas said and took out a card with his name and number on it. "Call me if you remember anything."
The bartender nodded, staring down at the card in his hands.

Thomas and Harry left the Blue Dragon Lounge, the information they'd gleaned churning in their minds. As the noise and energy of the lounge faded behind them, a sense of restlessness settled over them both.

Thomas checked his watch, realizing it was already past noon. "We should grab something to eat, clear our minds," he said, feeling the emptiness in his stomach.
Harry nodded in agreement, the mention of food stirring his own hunger. "Yeah, we've been at it for a while," he said, his stomach grumbling at the thought. "My brain's mush anyway, some food will do us good."