The stars had just begun to disappear when Seraph walked out of the Prince Club. In the east, a faint glimmer of dawn was beginning to peek its head out over the horizon, lighting up the inky blue of the night sky. Seeing that he had to go to school in about four hours and he had a lot of work to do, Seraph had decided to go for his early morning jog down at the park a little earlier than usual in the tracksuit he was already wearing. With his wiry frame and easy running style, Seraph looked just like any other fit person recuperating from a limp that was running around in the early morning. Diverting from his usual routine, Seraph stopped partway and walked down to the edge of one of the ponds where some ducks and swans were floating about living their best lives. He started looking through the flowers and plants at the water's edge. After searching for a while he found what he was looking for. It was a small, brown, vine-like plant with a purple flower growing right at the edge of the pond. He rolled up his sleeves and reached into the water, carefully digging out the plant and taking extra care not to damage not to damage the small bulbous root at the bottom. When he had it out, he snipped the vine off with his thumbnail. Then, he gently placed the radish-like bulb in his pocket strolled the rest of the way home. He walked up the rusted old stairs to his shabby, dilapidated apartment, pushed the door open, and entered the rotting one-room apartment.

His dad was sprawled out over the coffee table full of empty beer bottles, drooling while he slept. Seraph ignored him as if he were a part of the furniture, turned on the light and moved to the kitchen. He removed the small, white plant-bulb from his pocket and placed it on a flat piece of board. After thoroughly washing his hands and checking his fingers for any cuts or scratches, he put on some medical gloves. He began to dissect the bulb with a small, sharp knife and scraped out the greenish middle, which he put into an old cup and started to crush it into a creamy green paste with the heel of an old sheath knife. When that was done, he put it to the side, took another flat piece of board and cut out a section roughly the same size and shape as a large coin. Then he carefully tacked a small piece of rubber across the circular piece of board and slipped his middle finger through it. Satisfied it held securely against his fingers, he removed it. Then, using a small screwdriver, worked a thin, four centimetre screw through the centre. He lay it back down on the kitchen bench, and by working downwards with a small three-sided file, sharpened the edge of the screw as finely as a needle point. After cautiously pricking the point against his left thumb, he put the file down and started smearing the acidic-smelling green paste in the old cup into the thread of the screw with a popsicle stick, making sure none went near the pin prick on his thumb.

It didn't take much, and when the thread was filled with paste he covered the screw with cotton wool and placed it in a small thick, cardboard box, which he then placed in a small plastic bag. Setting that aside, Seraph put the cup, popsicle stick, and anything else that came into contact with the green paste into a different plastic bag and threw it into the garbage bin. Then, after cleaning up any remaining mess around the entire place, placed the plastic bag containing the cardboard box at the back of the fridge behind the beer bottles and flicked off the light. 

Later that night, just before eight o'clock, the group gathered in Perry's office and were standing around drinking coffee before the punters arrived. "There's nothing to worry about now," Seraph reassured the group. "Just um... hang out like any other night.... I'll, uh... be at the top of the staircase just in case, but I, um... I don't think anything'll happen tonight." Seraph was right in his prediction about Friday night, and everything went smoothly. There was only one little bit of trouble all night. A couple of young, off-duty policemen who should have known better came up wanting to get in. They were both drunk, so Billy barred them. The biggest one was bad-tempered and tried to push Leslie out of the way. With all the tension in the air, the bouncer's nerves were on edge. They weren't in the mood for this, so Leslie gave the cop a quick backhand that split his bottom lip and flipped him backwards over the hood of a car parked out front. When the young cop got to his feet, he flashed his badge and threatened to do all sorts of things. Billy noted the policeman's name and number.

"Do you know what I am and what I can do?!" the cop screamed as he stood up, mopping the blood from his mouth with a handkerchief. 

"Yeah, I know exactly what you can do smartass," Billy said. "You can get yourself a nice big road map of Armastus, 'cause when I tell Perry about your little performance you're gonna need it."

Billy gave Perry the cop's name and badge number. A week later, Probationary Constable Kevin Cooney found out just how much pull Perry Gilbert had when he was getting the stitches taken out of his mouth during a doctor's surgery in a town over 1000 kilometres away. 

"So apart from that, it was a fairly quiet night for you lads," Perry said as they were having a drink in his office after the club was closed.

"Yeah, it was good," said Billy. "And no sign of Rossiter either, or anyone like him."

"He was there, though," Seraph said quietly.

"What?" said Billy, shocked.

"Yeah... I saw him out the window, on the other side of the road... Twice."

"Jesus," Leslie exclaimed. "What was he doing?"

"Nothing," answered Seraph. "Just walking past. I think he was casing the joint for tomorrow. He was dressed up as a street cleaner..." 

"Bloody hell," said George, taking a hefty pull of his scotch and dry. 

"It'll be fine," Seraph said, trying to ease the manager's worries. 

Seraph ended up giving Leslie and Billy a few brief instructions about what he wanted them to do on Saturday night - which wasn't much at all - then went home. "So let me get this straight," Billy consulted Leslie after Seraph had left. "You start out the front with me at eight. Danny lobs in at nine and you go upstairs with Seraph. We keep Perry's Rolls parked out the front with the doors unlocked. Seraph hits Rossiter in the club somehow, you bring him downstairs, put him in the Rolls, then you and Seraph drive off. Did I miss something?" he genuinely asked. "That can't be all there is."

"Sure sounds easy, don't it?" agreed Leslie, shaking his head slowly. "Too easy if you ask me." He scrunched up his face. "I mean how's he gonna get Rossiter out of the club without a great commotion? Shoot him, stab him, what? It's got me fucked."

It was Saturday night, and Leslie and Billy were standing out the front of the club doing their job when Danny Carter arrived at nine o'clock on the dot. Danny's hands were in his trouser pockets and he had his usual cheeky grin plastered across his craggy face as he walked up the street. 

"So, what's the story boys?" were the first words out of his mouth as he approached the two bouncers. "Gettin' a bit too much for you sheilas, is it? Got to put a real man on for a change?"

"Yeah, you're right again, Danny," smiled Billy. "As soon as Perry said to get a good man for tonight, you were the first bloke we thought of."

"Fair enough too," Danny replied with a nod of his head.

"Les is feeling a bit crook to tell you the truth," Billy told him. "He might be going home a bit early."

"Bit crook are ya, love?" said Danny, turning to Leslie. "Oh, that's no good. Might be just a bit of PMT coming on."

"Dunno what it is," Leslie said. "I've been like it ever since I changed me pill. I'm going upstairs anyway." Leslie then threw a straight left hook at Danny, which stopped about a centimetre from his already badly broken nose. "I'll tell Perry you're here," he winked.

"Is Les fair dinkum crook?" enquired Danny, as Leslie disappeared up the stairway into the club.

Billy looked at Danny for a moment. "Come here Danny," he said. "I'll tell you exactly what's going on."

Seraph was standing silently at the top of the stairs. He grabbed Leslie's attention as soon as he got to him.

"Is Mister Danny here?"

"Yeah. Just arrived."

"Okay, good... So um, stick around me, but not too close? Like... try to make it seem like you're not with me. I'll give you a nod, and as soon as you see me walk towards Mister Perry, follow straight behind. Okay?"

"Good as gold."

"Alright then." Seraph clapped his hands together lightly and started bouncing on the spot to psych himself up. "Let's... just uh, wait around and for him and see what happens." 

With about two or so metre separating them, they stood like sentries at the top of the stairs, giving everyone who entered a thorough perusal: Leslie in his tuxedo and Seraph in his tracksuit. Seraph, being unknown to the patrons was able to keep his ominous presence unobtrusive. Leslie on the other hand, being almost a part of the furniture at the club, had to put on a bit of a casual front so as not to alarm any of the regulars who might get a bit worried if they were to see him scowling at the top of the staircase all night instead of  being out the front, greeting them and joking around with Billy.

Around them, the beautiful Prince Club Hostesses in their slinky, black evening gowns would glide effortlessly among the well-dressed gamblers, taking orders for the drinks or getting change or plastic chips. Every now and again, one of the croupiers or dealers would look up from the rattle of the dice, the clicking of the roulette wheel or the flicking of the cards on the blackjack table and glance curiously, through the blue cigarette haze which swirled in the lights above the green felt tables, at Leslie and Seraph standing grim-faced, menacing and unmoving at the top of the stairs. They were all certain something was going on, but a lot of things went on in the Prince Club that didn't really concern them. They did their job and minded their own business. If it was something to worry about, they were sure Perry would have told them.

If Perry himself was worried, he didn't show it. He was his usual urbane self, moving easily among the patrons, sharing a joke with the men, but mostly chatting with the small crowds of adoring women who seemed to follow him everywhere. Occasionally, if he was going to the office to cram some more money in the safe, he'd look up and catch Seraph's eye. Seraph would shake his head almost imperceptibly and they'd carry on as normal. To anyone who didn't know, it looked like a typical, possibly busier than usual, Saturday night at the Prince Club.