Kurt slipped into the Four Seasons as part of the plant maintenance crew, his Canon Eos 10 secreted in his apron, a baby palm in his arms. He flanked the lobby into the fire escape, set the plant down and tore up the stairs.
He made his way to the top secret rooftop pool. Leading Lady Number One would be up there, humping. She earned her millions smiling winsomely into the camera. Off camera she was a sexual animal. Kurt would make sure America found out.
He’d paid well for the tip off. He didn’t know who she was humping but he didn’t care. He listened carefully to her animal grunts through the service door, checked his equipment and burst through to the pool.
Leading Lady Number One was thrashing about on the poolside tiles alone. Convulsed by epilepsy rather than passion, she barked and juddered and foamed. Kurt framed and reframed. The price had gone up. This was hard news, European syndication, the works.
Her feet kicked a lounger into the pool as Kurt dashed back down the stairs to deliver and collect. He sprinted into the underground car park, leapt onto his Motoguzzi, revved it hard and lurched for the Exit.
A Japanese tourist lost control of his rented Chevrolet and scooted backwards into Kurt’s path. Kurt tried to steer round but lost it and skidded in a shower of sparks into the plant maintenance van.
The Motoguzzi’s tank exploded immediately, blinding Kurt and filling his lungs with flame. The Eos 10 crumpled into the bike frame and burned along with the rest of it.
The sirens were the last thing he heard.
Kurt didn’t make the news. The big story was the death by drowning of Leading Lady Number One, during one of her tragic seizures.