Dying For LA

by Ian Jones

  Now, she leaned forward, resting her breasts on her folded arms, just to reinforce the view.

  Frost leered, and smiled, showing yellow-stained teeth. He took a drag of his cigarette and then had a long drink, without taking his eyes off her.

  Maybe he would find a use for that Viagra he had bought after all. He’d had it long enough.

  ‘Hello Jimmy,’ Sammy said.

  Frost raised his wild eyebrows. This really was his lucky day. There was no way this broad was a hooker, and she looked real familiar too.

  ‘Hey,’ he said.

  She stuck out her hand, still keeping everything on display.

  ‘I’m Sammy King,’ she told him.

  Sammy King? Shit. He knew who she was now.

  ‘Ah. Ms King. And what brings you down here?’

  ‘I came to see you Jimmy.’

  This could only mean she wanted something. Jimmy was a drunk and a long way from what he had once been, and he knew all too well what he looked like. Stick thin, with a pot belly and what hair he had left all over the place. But if she wanted something, and really wanted it, he could turn it to his advantage. She was a looker alright, and there were worse ways to spend an afternoon. Well, five minutes of an afternoon in his experience, although it would be a great five minutes. But he had to play it cool.

  Sammy was exuding confidence, but inside feeling pretty sick. When it had been suggested she go and find Jimmy Frost all the women had offered advice, as had the men, but both sides different. Now, sitting there, trying to look alluring she was wishing desperately she was wearing jeans and a jumper. She was used to being ogled by men, and often used it to her advantage but this guy was drooling over every inch of her, practically salivating. Simon had been concerned and offered to come with her, she wished she had accepted it now. Jimmy Frost was an ugly, unpleasant individual. Sammy was here because she was looking for the British guy from last night, she had asked Chief Brady a direct question about him and she had immediately seen the effect; Brady had instantly become evasive, he looked nervous. She had tried the usual tricks but nothing worked, Brady changed the subject time and again then off camera insisted he had nothing to say. Afterwards she had gone to the team and asked them the best way to get something from the police, and everyone had said the same thing. Jimmy Frost.

  So she was here now, and desperately unsure. But she wanted to speak to the British guy before someone else did, if only she had grabbed hold of him last night, but there had been so much going on.

  Frustrating. He could be big, big news.

  ‘Oh yeah? And what can I do for you?’ Jimmy asked, fiddling with his crotch.

  ‘I’m looking for someone Jimmy. And I was told you were the man to come and see.’

  ‘Maybe, but nothing is for free baby.’

  ‘I’m happy to discuss that.’

  ‘Hmmm. So you been working at that LA Plus a few months, right? How come you didn’t come and look me up before?’ Frost asked, a hint of bitterness in his voice.

  Sammy looked around her. There were a million reasons why she wouldn’t normally set foot in this dump, and another million to never speak to Jimmy Frost. But there had been a time when he was as good as it gets, a crime reporter second to none in the city, probably the whole of California. She had even heard his name back in Indianapolis. But ten years ago, at the very top of his game, Frost been following a story about a corrupt district attorney. It was a big deal, the main event for some years. And he had been warned off, repeatedly, CBS had told him outright to drop it, which he had ignored. But always overconfident he had been outfoxed, set up, discovered by police in a motel room with an underage prostitute, several packages of heroin and cocaine and the icing on the top; two Glock handguns.

  Frost had been out of it, incoherently mumbling about being drugged, but it was no good.

  Because there was no sexual activity, he was so wasted, and the toxicology report showed no cocaine or heroin in his system just a cocktail of other illegal substances Frost avoided a custodial sentence, but it was a close call.

  The CBS news channel he worked for promptly got rid of him, they couldn’t handle that kind of negative press, nobody could. And he had slid fast down the ladder, getting work when he could, which was becoming less and less.

  He had done several stories for LA Plus, there was no doubt when he wanted to he still had the touch, and undoubtedly still had the contacts, but now he spent most of his days in Flanagan’s. He had a crappy little apartment just round the corner, and enough dwindling savings left meant reality was somebody else’s problem. For now.

  ‘Sorry Jimmy, I’ve been busy, settling in, you know,’ Sammy told him.

  ‘Yeah, sure. I bet.’ His mouth set in a firm line. ‘Well, you’re here now, and just maybe you found who you are looking for sweetheart, you and me, we could work out real well.’

  Sammy shuddered inside, she was afraid she might really vomit. She sat back up straight, cleavage away as much as she could without being obvious and dug a photograph out her bag. A still of John Smith staring at the camera.

  ‘I need to find this guy Jimmy. He was with the police all last night. I think he still is, but nobody is saying anything.’

  Frost looked at the picture and shrugged.

  ‘Don’t know him.’

  ‘Well, no I know you don’t. I mean neither do I, he spoke to me last night after the attack at the Metro station and we’re real keen to get his story.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because he was there. And the police were very interested in him last night.’

  ‘So what, he’s the attacker? This guy is a terrorist?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so. The only person we’ve been able to talk to is a guy who was walking into the Metro, and he said it looked to him like this man chased them off. But when I mentioned this to Chief Brady he got real funny about it. We got told we’re not allowed to interview any witnesses until they say so.’

  ‘Yeah, well that’s usual in things like this.’

  ‘I know that. But I need to get out in front.’

  Frost looked at her again.

  ‘Well you certainly do that missy. You do that real good.’

  ‘So can you help me? Please? Everybody says you got the connections, that someone in the police department will talk to you.’

  Frost drained his glass and lit another cigarette, considering.

  ‘Maybe. But what’s in it for me?’

  He placed a hand on her leg, filthy fingernails digging in.

  She gave him a winning smile, and with an effort didn’t move his hand away.

  ‘Well let’s just see Jimmy. Meantime, before we get to know each other better, have a drink on me.’

  She laid two hundred-dollar bills on the bar, keeping her fingers on them. She had been advised that was the going rate.

  Frost looked at the money, and then at her. He licked his lips, then sighed.

  ‘Sure. Why the hell not. OK, I can make some calls I guess.’

  She slid the notes across along with a business card, thankful but desperate. Now she could get the hell away from here.

  ‘My cell’s on that. I got to go, I’m sorry.’

  She climbed off the stool.

  He looked at her.

  ‘You’ll be seeing me again baby.’

  ‘Oh yeah, you bet.’

  With great difficulty she fixed on a smile again and walked back into the main bar, where she hurried straight across without looking anywhere and into the street, fighting the urge to run back to her car.

  Chapter Six

  Keane had advised John to get away from the Montage, he needed to get undercover, hide out of the way, and fast. The press was always hanging around the place. John could see his point, but it was shame as it was a beautiful hotel. Arrangements had been made for John, Judy and Kyle Warner to stay down in Santa Monica, which was a busy, transient location, lots of hotels and motels. Outside the police station Keane gave the address to
Warner.

  ‘Look, right now, we got nothing. Na-da. I got some clearing up to do here. I need to instruct these guys exactly what they can and can’t do, and what the can and can’t say. And if what I believe is right, I will be spreading some misinformation because if there is an inside man, or even men, it will right here in this building. I’ll meet up with you there in a couple of hours. John, you look like shit. Get some sleep,’ Keane told them, and disappeared back into the building.

  They looked at each other and climbed into Warner’s car, a dark blue Buick. They went to the Montage first so John could check out and get his stuff. Warner drove deftly, no problem with the traffic, constant lefts and rights and easily crossing the city toward Beverley Hills. John was impressed.

  ‘So you live here then?’ he asked.

  To his surprise Warner shook his head.

  ‘No. I’m based in San Diego now, Detroit originally. I’m the same as Judy, the 1-Too connection set off alarm bells right across the network and next thing I know I’m on the next plane. But I was here a long time right through to 2013.’

  ‘You did the same job here?’ Judy asked.

  ‘No, I was just your box standard agent back then. I wanted to get up the ladder, but there weren’t many opportunities, CIA in LA was low-key after 9–11. But we had a good life. My wife was a teacher, she became a drugs councillor, working with the kids, dealing with the young ones in the gangs. She put her heart in it, seriously, and then one day she gets shot in Inglewood.’

  ‘Shit,’ said John. ‘Is she OK?’

  ‘She survived. It was a close call, she’s doing good now. But the agency took pity on me, and offered me a post down in San Diego, dealing with organised crime coming over the border mostly. It was a promotion, and we really had to get out of here so I took it. 1-Too kinda fell in my lap, nobody knew nothing about it. I picked it up from New York because originally they believed it was Mexican, and after that it kinda stayed with me.’

  ‘You married John?’ Judy asked.

  ‘No. It was close. I got a daughter, lives in New York actually.’

  ‘Two girls for me,’ Judy said proudly. ‘Oldest is twenty-four with a daughter of her own. Scary.’

  ‘I got two boys,’ Warner told them. ‘Ten and eight.’

  ‘Granny Judy,’ John smiled.

  ‘OK, OK,’ Judy replied smiling back.

  ‘Granny got a gun,’ Warner said, and they all laughed.

  The hotel was called Ocean Vista, and was a simple concrete three-storey block painted white, with all the rooms opening off of front landings which ran straight across on all the levels. It was barely a level up from the cheapest motel, but to John, it was perfect. There couldn’t be anywhere more anonymous in the world, let alone LA. They had three rooms side by side on the top floor. John and Warner took the rooms at either side with Judy in the middle.

  John dropped his bag on the bed then went and stood outside his door, hands on the railing. Right in front of the building was a tiny square pool with a few plastic chairs around it and a big ‘Residents Only’ sign. There was nobody there. On the other side was a car park, and after that a bar with a Chinese restaurant next door. The main street was a four lane that ran along at right angles to the hotel on John’s left, with a fair amount of traffic flowing. There was a big petrol station immediately opposite, and there were several shops, bars and restaurants along from that. Between the buildings he could see the sea, sparkling in the February sunshine and far away the pier was just visible.

  He walked back inside, stripped off, had a shower and cleaned his teeth, then dressed and laid down on the bed. In a few minutes he was asleep.

  ***

  Breakfast, in fact any meal time in the apartment, was depressing. There was a small kitchen, but nobody ever cooked anything. Normally at mealtimes Voorhees would pass over twenty or maybe even thirty bucks and depending on the time of day one of the men would go to McDonalds or KFC. If they were really fortunate, possibly Taco Bell or even Denny’s, occasionally Chinese. That morning was slow to start. Rico and Sal had a more comfortable night, as it was now only the pair of them sharing the room, it had been five before that, all in sleeping bags on the floor. Voorhees had a proper bed in the other bedroom, which had the TV in it.

  Sal had gone to McDonalds in the end, and paid for it with his own dollars as Voorhees hadn’t got out of bed. He sat with Rico in the tiny kitchen as they ate.

  Rico checked his watch.

  ‘It’s late. Reckon we should wake him?’

  Sal prodded the brown paper bag on the table.

  ‘Maybe. I got him breakfast, it will be cold probably. But I ain’t fucking going near him.’

  Rico rubbed his eyes. He wouldn’t do it either. He sighed deeply and looked around. There was not much to see in the room, beer cans and crap on every work surface, a broken coffeemaker, a bin overflowing with takeaway wrappers. He wanted a shower more than anything but it made a lot of noise and Voorhees complained bitterly if anyone used it when he was in bed. He drank the last of his coffee and looked closely at Sal over the brim of the paper cup.

  ‘This is all shit, right?’ he spoke very quietly.

  Immediately Sal looked around him, but Voorhees was nowhere, and he was not a man who could easily sneak up on someone in this tiny apartment.

  ‘Well, it ain’t what I was expecting,’; he replied, equally quietly.

  ‘Right. I was told a team of six, with backup. Professional. But there’s only ever been five, and no backup. And we don’t never know what we are supposed to be doing. Four months we’ve been here. Four months in this shithole, and then out the blue we get told to go get a package? And that isn’t even there when we finally do it. It’s bullshit. I’m telling you.’

  ‘So what are you going to do Rico?’

  ‘I don’t know man, I really don’t. I’m here for the money, same as you. I don’t believe in no cause or shit like that I just wanna get paid.’

  Sal nodded glumly, with one eye permanently on the door to Voorhees’ room.

  Rico stood and looked out the tiny window, which gave out over a narrow alley between their block and its neighbour. There was a thin slice of a view if he looked painfully hard to his right. Beyond, he could see the city, the Hollywood hills in the distance.

  ‘I never been to LA before you know,’ he said ruefully.

  There was a series of thumps, and then the bedroom door opened. Voorhees stood there, wearing the same gown as yesterday. Maybe he slept in it. Who the fuck knew. He looked in at the two men.

  ‘What are you two talking about?’ he asked.

  ‘Nothing really, me and Sal want to see the Lakers. You know, while we are in the city.’

  Voorhees scowled.

  ‘This isn’t a holiday camp. We’re gonna be here longer, now you fucked it up last night.’

  ‘I got you breakfast Yann,’ Sal cut in quickly, and handed over the food.

  Voorhees grabbed the bag, sniffed and peered inside, then disappeared into his office, slamming the door closed.

  A minute later they could hear his voice on the phone.

  Rico sighed again.

  ‘Come on, let’s clear this craphole up a bit. It fucking stinks in here.’

  Rico doubted they could do anything about the place smelling like Voorhees but they busied themselves shoving rubbish into plastic sacks and dropping them into the big garbage bins at the back of the building. Neither man spoke much, they were just glad of something to do for a while. They rolled up the now unneeded sleeping bags and straightened their bedroom. Then Rico took a long shower, standing underneath the feeble spray until the water started to run cold.

  Meanwhile Sal had been fiddling with the coffeemaker, and believed it would now work, so was attempting to make a cup.

  The office door opened and Voorhees walked through, completely filling the small hallway. He looked in at the two men.

  ‘Been busy then?’ he asked.

  Both men nodded
silently. Sal handed him a mug of black coffee. Voorhees just stared at it, and eventually Sal put it down on the counter again. Voorhees crossed his fat arms.

  ‘OK. Well, I got four new guys coming in, one tonight the rest tomorrow. We got to get this shit back on track, right? And Sal? You’re now Number One. It ain’t working out with Rico.’

  He stared at them with his tiny eyes, then disappeared back into the office and closed the door.

  ‘Rico …’ Sal started but Rico raised his hand with a smile.

  ‘Don’t. You know what? It’s fine, I wasn’t enjoying that fucking job anyway. You’ll be good at it. Good luck.’

  He held his hand out and Sal shook it.

  Chapter Seven

  John was woken by a loud knock on his door. He sat up and looked at his watch, nearly 2pm. He had been asleep over three hours. He got off the bed and padded across to the door. It was Keane.

  ‘Come on, we got news,’ he said simply.

  They got together in Judy’s room, which was identical to John’s apart from Judy had bothered to unpack.

  Warner was in the only chair so Judy and Keane sat on the bed and John took the floor.

  Warner spoke first, handing out some poorly printed sheets.

  ‘We got some fresh intel on Ritorsky. He did his national service in Poland, and they wanted to keep him. Seems like he was a good soldier, and in line for a sniper position.’

  Warner paused and looked around.

  ‘But …’ said Keane.

  ‘Yeah, but. There was some kind of altercation with his commanding officer. Of course, we don’t have all the information, this is the military. But Ritorsky was out, and that was that.’

  ‘Sniper?’ John asked.

  ‘Yeah, and I bet we’re both thinking the same. And the even better news is we have ID on the other two men that John took out. They are Korean and …’

  ‘Korean! Of course. I knew it, I just couldn’t place it,’ John interrupted.

  ‘Yeah, both Korean. One is Ji-hoon Kong. Thirty-three, and a US resident since he was six years old. Raised in Boston, last known address is in Seattle. Now he was a good student, but ran off the rails at sixteen, started running with a gang who were moving coke all over Boston. Arrested at seventeen, then went from bad to worse, ended up in Concord doing a five stretch for arson. Then disappears, to resurface in Seattle, where his gets arrested for holding up a drug store. He gets bail, and never shows up for the hearing, so there’s a warrant out on him. Or was. Second man is Sung-min Byeon, thirty, no record of immigration into the US. We got as much as we can, which isn’t a great deal. He was a long-term resident of Incheon and his record shows he spent some time in prison for assault and kidnap, but was recently held following a rape charge. I’ve not got much more on this other than he disappeared and the police there couldn’t find him.’