odd with the dress. The day was benign, dry but non-descript, with a lightly tapering wind and ash-smudged clouds overhead. Now Du Brokker discreetly looked about the station. His family photo told no lies, it was one he had obtained from his mother’s secret stash at home in Leipzig when he was a teenager. The three of them – Vater, Mutter und Sohn. But the Father had a scratched out face on the group shot. He had kept that until this moment. Proof his mother had a hand in his father’s death….. Now Du Brokker had to lure his prey….Du Brokker stared at the headscarve. It was a light blue. He was scheming to have it as a trophy of his victim! The target moved towards the service station. Amory could not abide that. … “OK. Wir gehen! Schnell! Dort Daruber!” Clambering out of the BMW, Amory clamped her left arm and gently urged her footfalls. Gretel stumbled along and snivelled about her dilemma.
“Ruhig, bitte!” Du Brokker and his quarry had reached the viewing platform behind the station. People milled about. Kids ran around aimlessly. Adults kissed and held hands. Teutonic vision scanned the platform.
“Listen. Relax. We are going to the vantage point to see a breathtaking vista. You will enjoy it!” Gretel tried to pull away – but not an option! The precipitous drop was coming into view…..Amory became playful, asking if Gretel wanted to make a call! That calmed Gretel, but only temporarily. Schadenfreude! Two kids, one boy and one girl, ran out from bushes near the drop. He wore dungarees and brogues (an odd combination!), while she had a frilled dress, plimsolls and a mischevious smile. They disappeared quickly as Gretel pleaded attendance with frightened eyes! “Komm! Ich habe keine Zeit!” Those male eyes were now stern and cold! “Go away!” Gretel whimpered, but her nemesis muffled it. Nobody heard anything. Du Brokker started to mutter…. “Dicke, scheisse Frauen!” He started to think about his youth. This woman. She was fat. How he hated her! She had treated him like a stranger. He felt alone.
Now, the Stasi man saw his chance. “Dickes, Schiesses Frau! Schwache Mutter. Geh Weg! Geh Weg!” With callous ambience, Du Brokker watched the body pitch and spin with a satisfied smirk! The phone trick had worked. That smirk broadened. A quick fan of the nearby vicinity – nobody about and just a choked scream from his quarry on the way to oblivion! She died afraid! Just for good measure – Amory had her handbag.
The teuton assassin stood for a moment at his scene of his latest crime. Douglas fir, scrub brush and manicured bushes sanitised the venue. In his sick mind, he dwelt on admired atrocity. The British had been suspected of the bayoneting catholic babies thing! That was impressive to the ex-Stasi man. They knew about Du Brokker. MI6 had a mole in the Stasi! Or was that admirer?
“Amory Du Brokker is in need of further counselling. He seems deluded. As if he has delusions of grandeur about his past. No need for further medication. Just a forum in which he can be confronted. Checked his medical history – no sign of any contracted diseases such as Meningitis (no dermatological symptoms such as red blotches or aversion to bright light) or head trauma which could explain his mental well-being. Possibility he may need revised proscription of Prozac to calm him down further. Anxious not to prescribe Valium as it may lead to addiction. Arrange for Nurse to take blood pressure, swab mouth for a DNA test to determine cultural lineage, take a urine sample. Any information would help! Possibly needs a blood test to check for low cell count, diabetes, Liver function or Septacaemia. Skin has green tinge/mild lesions suggesting possible blood infection or food poisoning(?). Suggested course of action – book into Hospital for further evaluation.”
Rock DJ
The hits roared out from the Denon speakers. It was the Brothers Johnson chanting “Stomp”.
Du Brokker slid his headphones over his pate and nestled them atop his head. That thatch of wires snaking from the graphic equaliser and Bass/Treble toner were ungainly, thought Du Brokker. He hated loose ends!
“Good evening, Seattle! I am on the evensong shift. Your station – SKQAW Radio. Home of Hubris! This State of Independence WILL BE!…….Brothers Johnson there. and “Stomp!”.”
“Got a caller on line two. Miss Kimberley. Hails from Dayton, Ohio. Out of town but I have lost the frown. What’s your request, little Darlin’!”
“You got Chicago. “If you leave me now”….?”
“Yeah! Sure. Bring on the Seventies. A Classic…..”. Amory tapped danced the buttons on the ultra-modern DVD/CD drive on his hi-tech spin module. The Denon surround sound system fired up the orchestration!
“If you leave me now…….” The song tumbled along….
Du Brokker had a light gingham jacket on. He wore short-sleeve under it and a pair of light slacks. His eyes were focussed on the Pit clock. The time was 19-00. His session was due to end by 21-00. His replacement then was the loose-limbed, acerbic Lacey Cort. She was a frumpy, portly white woman who jived street-credo. Her popularity on the night-plight ensured the “before midnight” slot. Her platter competed with the travelling Clubbers. So she got big money. Some late night clubs patched her playlists over the speakers. She was the star!
Chicago was mumbling to conclusion….“Hope that hit the mark, Miss Kimberley!”
Line two was busy. Three calls backed up……
“Line Two. Yup, Dwayne Coster. from Little Rock! Wants Prince – “Little Red Corvette!”.
A recollection flashed through Amory’s mind…..Staatssicherheitsdienst (State Security Service).
The chorus reached a crescendo!
“Lllllliiiiitttttlllllleeee Red Corvette!…..Baby, you’re much too fast!”
Clicked fingers got the incumbent DJ a bottle of spring water from the sound engineer (Hobe Kalt). Kalt was about thirty years old. He had attended Brandeis University to study acoustic engineering. He was a hippy dude who was good at his job.
“LLLiiiitttllleee Red Corvette!” Prince was venting his lungs!
Amory massaged his throat as he took a quick swig of the water. He gulped lightly. He checked the console again…..
Prince smothered away…..“Yea! The Purple chanteur, there! Back to line two….Debbie, is it?”
“Correct!” This caller sounded matter-of-fact!
“Mega-Watt’ll it be!” Rowdy laughter filled the studio. Crank up the frequency! Amory was playing the gallery!
“Play “Teen Spirit”. You know – Nirvana!” Debbie was giggling along, tying coils in her flaxen blonde locks. Clicking her fingers and tapping her feet. Imparting the knowledge to her “pied piper” – that made the erstwhile DJ smile….
“Hey, girl! You got it! On and On and On and On and On…..And On and On and On and On!” Du Brokker was jokily a Kurt Cobain mimic…
Chords shattered the studio as the graphic equaliser was activated!
The spin junkie off-mike….“Wow – these guest callers are forward about mores and habits! Like I can keep up!!”…..Kurt’s voice hit bass in the background…..
“No worries, Amory. Just keep it up. Remember – Lacey is up next!” Hobe was being explicit – the rival was a threat to all the other slots!
Nirvana blathered away. Hobe mentioned drug dens and excess. The shox jock talked about Courtney and Kurt’s love-ins. The record cranked chords like some demented
