Bill Kearns sat patiently awaiting his informant, downing another drink on expenses. This had been a very productive partnership so far, bringing several of his top stories to the newspaper. The stories had received much publicity for him and brought quite some heat down on the paper. The accounts had been a collection of salacious tales of local businesswomen and how they earned their positions of power.
His tip-offs had come from a member of the local men's rights group who had risen in notoriety and a position of some strength before the humiliation of their leader had dragged scorn upon them. Most of the group had scattered to disassociate themselves from the ridicule but some of the hard-liners had regrouped and were determined to get revenge on the culprits.
Bill knew his stories had hit a raw nerve by the cold shoulder he now received from his female co-workers and the combative attitude of his fellow headliner Sam Murray. It was Sam who had written the expose on Kevin Ordish, the leader that had brought the group to its knees and she knew Bill was out for retribution.
Each team meeting would deteriorate into a verbal slanging match almost always split down the gender divide. To Sam's eternal anger the editor would side with Bill citing the rise in readership and sales following each of his revelations and she would have to pass by Bill's desk as smiled smugly at her.
Bill rubbed his hands with glee when he received his latest text for a meeting and darted out of the office under the watchful eye of Sam. The added bonus of bringing her down a peg or two was priceless but also there was the upcoming vacancy of the head editor of the paper. After forty years in the job Terry Owens had called it a day and now sat counting down the days to his retirement.
Although the job would be advertised it almost certainly would be a shootout between Bill and Sam, either of them would be the youngest editor in the history of the paper. One more grand headline could be the cherry on the cake for Bill and a knife in the chest for Sam. As the crumpled figure entered the bar Bill smiled to himself, he shoots, and he scores.
Vinnie had been one of the prime runners of the men's group until its demise and he held a personal grudge against all the women involved. By the grin on his face Bill
knew this could be just what he was hoping for, "Afternoon, mines a pint."
Bill waved the barman's attention, "one more." Edging the newly arrived pint towards his accomplice Bill leaned in, "Well what do you have for me? and please no more bollocks about 'Inanna.'
"Inanna is fucking real and one of these days I will bring you the proof of it," he snapped angrily about his prime conspiracy story. Taking a long slow gulp of lager Vinnie leaned back in his chair and smiled smugly, "do this right and we will fucking finish them." After a belch, he pushed a white card towards Bill.
Turning the card in his hand Bill perused the card front and back, the only information was an address and a company logo 'Madames.' "What's this?"
"That's a private club for ladies only," Vinnie leaned in close so Bill could smell more than just alcohol on his breath.
Bill waited patiently for more as Vinnie returned to his drink, "I really hope there's more to come."
"Oh, you bet there's more," Vinnie's yellow teeth flashed as he sneered. " The only men allowed in are the bar staff and then only if they fit the bill if you know what I mean."
By the leer, Vinnie gave him Bill guessed what that meant, "yes but there still plenty of men's clubs that have scantily clad barmaids."
"Oh really, that you can do or say whatever you like to them and they can't complain." His pint slammed on the table to emphasize his point splashing lager across Bill's paper, "shut up and take it." The humor had dropped from Vinnie's face, "no way you'd be able to treat any female staff like that anymore."
Now Bill's attention had been roused, "are you totally sure about all this."
"One hundred percent, we've got a lad working in there." The lascivious smile had returned to Vinnies face, "he tells us things would turn your hair white." Pulling his chair up close to Bill, "plus the members are very interesting."
For once Bill didn't mind the bad breath, "how do you mean?"
"I've done little reconnaissance myself and seen some very familiar faces entering that place," his eyebrows lifted mockingly. Vinnie finished off his pint and rose, "I'll leave it with you and I'm sure you'll be in touch."
The scruffy figure disappeared through the doors as Bill toyed with the card, his eyes darted over the address, might be a nice excuse for a walk.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The address was in the more upmarket part of town, mainly office buildings and apartments. This was the hub of the business sector, not the obvious place to find a feminist strip joint. The building itself was very unassuming, just one in a row of large wooden doors identified only by the brass plates on the front.
Bill scrutinized the plaques as he slowly strolled along the street, various solicitors, tailors, investment management, private men's club and quietly located in the middle 'Madames.' Crossing over Bill took a look at the facing building hoping to locate a for rent sign, finding one almost adjacent he jotted down the name and phone number.
After hiring out of the office, Bill perceived a week's solid surveillance should gain enough knowledge on whether to continue the enterprise. At the least he would have gained the names of some of the members and if they were important enough to sell the story.
Bill hired one of the paper's freelance photographers to watch the building and to daily send him pictures of all visitors to the club. Located in the office opposite he snapped at every lady who came and went through those doors, not knowing or caring about the who or why. His payment as had been the case in previous work with Bill was cash in hand, definitely not through the newspaper's books.
As the days went by and the photos stacked up in his inbox Bill grew increasingly excited. The faces had started as unknown office workers to quickly seeing high movers and shakers appear. If what Vinnie had told him about what happened on the inside was true Bill knew he had a real story to drop.
When several high-ranked council officials appeared Bill could barely conceal his glee, this story would seal his promotion. When he didn't think it could improve any higher, he opened up a photo of his arch nemesis Sam Murray leaving the club, two birds with one stone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Vinnie sat smugly at the bar awaiting Bill, waving him over as he entered. "Knew you'd be calling soon."
Ordering their drinks Bill maneuvered them to a side table, "well you were right about the members."
"I told you," Vinnie sniggered to himself. "Going to be fun bring all those bitches down."
"Certainly will but we need hard evidence from the inside," Bill leaned in to whisper. "Will your man take some video or photos of what goes on in there?"
"Nope," Vinnie slumped back in his chair. "Already asked him, no can do."
