The Perfect Weapon

By Paul Broatch

How do you get away with murder?

A man is found brutally murdered in a hotel room. The beautiful woman he spent the night with, the only suspect. Except she is nowhere to be found. In a city where your every move is tracked by cameras and sophisticated AI programs how do you disappear completely?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Paul Broatch
• Release date: Jun 4, 2023

Paul Broatch

Paul Broatch has had a lifelong fascination with technology and hard science fiction books. He wrote his first novel The Worlds Within in 2014. He started the Red and While Trilogy in 2015 with the City of Lights and The Demon's Hand. He has also written two novellas Running the Rift in 2016 and Little Girl Lost.

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Paul Broatch

The Perfect Weapon

Also by Paul Broatch

White: City of Lights (Book 1, Red and White Series)

Red: The Demon’s Hand (Book 2, Red and White Series)

The Worlds Within

Running the Rift

Little Girl Lost

This is a work of fiction. Characters, institutions and organisations mentioned in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously without any intent to describe actual conduct.

Book Copyright Paul Broatch 2023

Cover photo by Juan Filipe on Upsplash

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior written permission of the publisher. Paul Broatch asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favourite e-book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Published by Paul Broatch

Table of Contents

Chapter 1 Friday

Chapter 2 Saturday

Chapter 3 Sunday

Chapter 4 Monday

Chapter 5 Tuesday

Chapter 6 Wednesday

Chapter 7 Thursday

Chapter 8 Friday

Chapter 9 Saturday

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A Perfect Weapon

Chapter 1 Friday

She sat at a small table outside the bar, her long fingers caressing the stem of a half full wine glass. Swirling the straw-coloured wine, she watched as the vortex of liquid reflected shards of light from the flashing neon advertising that flooded the street.

It was night, but the neighborhood was alive with light and noise. The footpath was crowded: People hurrying home late from work; couples strolling to restaurants and bars; groups of young people shouting, flirting and laughing together. Discordant music filled the street with a cacophony of beats as the bars and clubs competed for attention, trying to lure people inside.

Despite the warmth of the night, she was wearing a long, dark, wool coat with a hood that covered her head, leaving her face in shadow. She didn’t want to be noticed, not yet anyway. She just wanted to blend into the background while she waited and watched. People fascinated her. She liked the way they moved, how they held themselves when they stood still, their gestures, the myriad expressions that played across their faces.

The best and worst of humanity was on display tonight; sated diners and inebriated bar patrons ignored the desperate and poor sitting on the footpath—hands extended pleading for money. Occasionally, someone would take pity on one handing them a few coins or a take-away meal. She even saw one kind hearted soul delivering a warm blanket to a skeletally thin old man. As she watched, an elderly lady with wild grey hair pushing a shopping trolley bludgeoned her way through the crowds on the other side of the street. People either tried to pretend she didn’t exist or berated her for existing. The woman barely seemed to notice them, lost in the labyrinths of her own mind.

A little while earlier she had seen the man she’d been waiting for enter the club on the other side of the road, he’d been head down, withdrawn, as if blocking out the world by focussing on the concrete in front of him. Perhaps he was embarrassed about visiting the club and afraid of what people would think of him. He had been alone, of course. He was always alone. Alone in a sea of people. She’d watched him many times over the months, learning his habits, recording his every move. A non-descript middle-aged man, fixed in his ways. She felt sorry for him.

She waited a moment longer and then shed her coat. She considered leaving it on the chair for a moment but then went over to one of the beggars, a youngish woman with long dark hair and handed it to her with a smile.

It’ll keep you warm later. The woman just stared at her uncomprehendingly.

Without looking back, she crossed the street and followed the path he had taken through glass entry doors etched with writhing flames. She descended the marble steps. At the bottom stood the bouncer, a big muscular Aug with tattooed arms and a stony expression.

The bouncer watched her walk down the stairs.

Twenty, was all he said.

She pulled a silver Anon card out and tapped it on the small machine in his massive hand. He turned away and opened the heavy wooden door for her.

She entered and stood just inside the doorway, looking around casually, surveying the interior. The club was a big room with a polished concrete floor. The floor had been cut and inlaid with curving lines of polished amber and orange stone giving it the appearance of hot embers in a fire. The ceiling was made of soft glowing panels that gave off a pale, yellow light. The central portion of the room contained pairs of couches, each made of wicker worked over a steel frame and topped with black leather cushions. Around the perimeter were taller tables of various sizes, with people sitting around them on wooden bar stools, chatting and drinking. The bar was nearly full, some couples and a few loners, or people waiting for their date to arrive. Dance music played in the background but not loud enough to be obtrusive. The air was permeated faintly with perfume and aftershave.

The man was sitting alone at a table toward the rear of the room a glass of beer in front of him.

The hostess, a petite, young woman with short, dark hair and green eyes approached, her expression warm and friendly.

Hi, how are you? Just in for a drink? the hostess asked.

That’s right, she smiled back.

I don’t think I’ve seen you here before? the woman asked with a questioning tilt of the head.

No, first time.

Ok. Welcome to Fire. The bar’s over that way. Shows are through there, if you’re interested, she said, pointing to the left side of the room where there was a mirrored wall with a big set of glass doors etched again with writhing flames. There’s an additional charge. If I can help with anything, just let me know. Menus are on the tables. I’m Hana by the way.

Thank you, Hana.

Hana walked away to clear empty glasses off a table.

She watched her move away and then strode over to the bar, high heels clicking staccato on the concrete floor. She could feel the stares of the men following her as she walked through the tables. She moved quickly but not too quickly. This had to appear like a chance meeting. If he got nervous, she could lose him.

The bar was made of pale, lightly grained wood, faced with more of the stone fragments. These had been cut so finely they were almost translucent, then backlit so that they resembled glowing, hot embers. Behind the bar, rows of bottles sat on open shelves offering every drink imaginable. There were a few groups standing at the bar, drinking and talking, mostly male. The bartender was a doll. She had long, platinum-blonde hair and blue eyes. She could have been human except for the white plastic shell on the side of her face which surrounded one eye and led down her jaw.

The bartender came over to her. What can I get you? she asked. The tone of her voice a carefully modulated mixture of warm and friendly but efficient.

Gin and tonic, thanks.

The bartender mixed the drink and placed it precisely on a coaster in front of her. The doll would of course record the transaction, her face, what she drank and how much. If she went back again the bartender would remember it all. That didn’t matter though, she wasn’t coming back.

She waved her card and the machine flashed green in payment. Picking up her glass she took a sip of the sharp liquid, leaving a moist smear of bright red lipstick on the rim of the glass. The drink was just for show. The alcohol would have no effect on her.

A young man with an open shirt and a heavy black beard, seated in one of the groups at the bar, glanced her way. He stared at her for a long time, looking her up and down, evaluating her with an open smile. He said something to his companions nodding in her direction. They all turned to look. The man straightened his shoulders, made some slight joke to his friends who laughed, then he separated from the group and headed towards her.

Complications were something she didn’t need. She walked away from the bar putting tables between herself and the young man while scanning the room as if looking for somewhere to sit. Moving as if at random she headed generally towards the back of the room and approached the man’s table. He was a plain, middle-aged guy, balding with a chubby face and pale skin.

Do you mind if I share your table? The place is pretty full, her tone was soft and slightly husky. She leaned forward as she spoke to make sure he heard her but turned slightly, exposing a flash of her white lace bra.

His eyes flashed to her breasts then he looked up at her face uncomfortably. Umm yeah, sure.

Thanks. She pushed her thick, blonde hair back from her face and gave him a smile. She watched his micro expressions, sensed his heart rate and respiration increase. He was interested but uncertain. She slid onto a bar stool at the far end of the table. Not too close, she didn’t want to scare him off.

The young guy with the beard came up to her, obviously not put off by her walking away.

Hi. Can I maybe buy you a drink? he asked. He had dark brown eyes and an open direct gaze. His shirt, unbuttoned at the top showed he was tanned and muscular. A complete contrast to the man at the other end of the table who was watching intently.

Sorry, no. Just here for a show. She needed to get rid of him quickly.

Me too. Maybe we could go together? he persisted.

No, thanks, but no thanks.

Ok, he didn’t look that happy at the rejection but shrugged and walked away.

She turned back towards the plain guy at the other end of the table, as she did, she crossed her long, tanned legs.

Are you here for a show as well? She sipped her drink again slowly.

Mmm, yeah, he mumbled, briefly making eye contact.

I’m Delilah, by the way.

Joe. His eyes shied away as he said it.

Hi Joe. Nice to meet you.

After a pause, Do you prefer real girls or the dolls? she asked, then added, The shows I mean, I prefer the dolls.

He gave her a slight smile in return. A stronger response this time, pupil dilation and a slight flush.

Ah, you too, huh. She laughed lightly. What do you do?

Software. I’m a systems analyst for a screen app company.

Ok wow. That’s cool.

He smiled. She suspected that no-one ever told him that.

How about you?

I’m a nurse. I look after a very sick rich man. It’s my night off.

She chatted casually to him, gaining his confidence but not pushing too hard. He seemed intelligent but shy and harmless to her. She hated deceiving him like this, but there was no other option for her.

She moved closer to him and waited while he nervously swirled the drink in his glass, clearly unable to think of what to say to her, and judging by his pulse rate, her approach was proving very effective. Shall we go see a show? she asked him after a while.

He nodded. They walked over to the other side of the room, threading their way through the crowded and noisy bar. She slipped her arm through his, touching his hip with hers. He glanced up at her, uncertain. She smiled and led him on.

They passed through the mirrored door into the showroom. It must have been huge, the walls were invisible, lost in darkness. The blackness was only broken by the platforms that seemed to float: islands of light in a dark sea. The floor of each platform was lit from below, displaying a single dancer. Sometimes spotlights would flicker on and off creating a stroboscopic effect, so the dancers seemed to jerk, almost like puppets controlled by invisible strings. The air was heavy with the smell of sweat, hormones and alcohol.

A large, heavy-set, security man approached and took their payment.

Hey Joe, the bouncer said amiably. He had obviously seen Joe many times before. He glanced at the beautiful woman on Joe’s arm and an admiring smile crossed his face. He gave Joe a little nod of approval.

They went deeper into the room, got another drink, then sat down in one of the booths. On the platform in front of them, a topless young woman was dancing seductively. She wore a very short mini skirt that changed colour as she moved when the light struck it from different angles. One of her arms was made of burnished chrome and she had a doll tattoo running across her back and down the other arm. She moved slowly and smoothly to the music, twisting and turning, and then with a little pirouette she unwound her skirt. She felt Joe give a little start. The doll’s body was impossibly perfect, toned and tanned. Joe was entranced and excited. She snuggled into his side, studying his reactions and eye movements, identifying exactly what he liked.

Taking his hand, she placed it on her thigh. He turned to her, surprised, but he didn’t remove it. She pretended to watch the dancing girl closely, making him believe that that was what was exciting her. He turned back to the stage, and they sat there watching for a while.

When the girl’s set was finished and the music had died, she turned to Joe, You want to know a secret Joe? She placed her hand over the one on her thigh and caressed it slightly.

Sure.

I’ll tell you why I prefer dolls. She leaned over and whispered in his ear.

He looked at her in shock. No, that’s not possible.

I can prove it to you later if you like. I know a hotel not far from here. Would you like that? He nodded; his excitement evident. She smiled. She had him, and why not? She’d hacked his accounts and knew him—and his preferences—all too well.

The music started up again and a muscular young man came out onto the platform dressed only in a leopard skin loincloth. A group of young women not far away hollered in appreciation.

**

After the show she led him down through bustling streets towards the hotel, chatting to him and keeping him occupied, focused on her. The clubs and bars were still busy and there were plenty of people on the street. Most ignored them but a few paused to watch the beautiful woman in the flax-coloured dress arm in arm with an unremarkable man.

They entered the hotel reception and went to check in. The machine displayed a map of available rooms prompting them to select a room and length of stay. He glanced at her, uncertain what to do,