Dying For LA

by Ian Jones

  They entered Hollywood and Keane drove down the boulevard, then turned off into a street which was a sea of neon, pulling up right outside a dark painted place with a big awning and Miss Sin glowing in big letters.

  ‘I thought you said you didn’t know this place,’ John said as they got out the car.

  ‘Yeah well, look, I like Kyle, and I trust him. But we got an operation going down here, people trafficking, these girls are turning up all the time. This is one of the places on the list. So, I didn’t want to mention any names, just keep it casual OK? Last thing anyone needs is the CIA wielding the big stick if you know what I mean.’

  ‘Yeah, I get it.’

  ***

  Rico and Sal were drinking beer in the kitchen talking quietly.

  ‘I ain’t sure about this guy,’ Sal said. ‘We’re supposed to be invisible, right? He ain’t fucking hard to miss!’

  Rico nodded.

  ‘Yeah, and he got an attitude too. I bet Yann is going crazy on his ass in there.’

  They listened, but apart from the low murmur of voices there was nothing. No sound of any excitement, then they heard Voorhees’ mobile phone ringing.

  Minutes later the door opened and Weiss sauntered out with Voorhees behind him looking pleased.

  ‘Right. Get your asses in gear. Things are changing, we got work to do.’

  He passed Sal a sheet of paper with some scribbled writing on it.

  ‘Hollywood. Get up there and get it done. Full description, and where he’ll be. Don’t fuck this up, bring the briefcase straight back to me and then you can go celebrate. Relax. Take Karl for a beer or some shit.’

  Sal took the paper and looked at Rico then Weiss.

  ‘Really? OK thanks Yann, sure.’

  ***

  John and Keane walked in, and were met by two curvaceous girls in tight red shorts and little else. They led them into a huge dark dimly lit room with red velvet curtains everywhere and small raised platforms dotted around. There was a stage with a runway on the left and a curved bar on the right. Tables scattered randomly everywhere and booths along a centre island and one wall. There was a skinny naked girl swinging around a pole on the stage while a dismal eighties song played loudly. The place was about a quarter full, more girls in red shorts and tiny bra tops running drinks everywhere on trays, while others wearing even less cavorted in front of men at a few of the tables. They ordered a couple of beers and sat down in a booth to one side.

  John looked behind them at the bar, which ran along half the back wall in a semi-circle that jutted into the room. There were a couple of bartenders behind it, mixing drinks while some waitresses hovered. It wasn’t particularly busy back there, he could see less than a handful of drinkers sat alongside, most in the room were at the tables or in the booths, and he knew that there were more behind the many curtains paying for a private dance.

  John leaned into Keane.

  ‘Can I have the picture?’ he asked.

  Keane nodded and passed it to him and John stood up and wandered back over to the bar. There were several security guys in place, and he had to deal with this carefully. He sat down on a stool, and casually waited for one of the bartenders to get close to him.

  ‘Hey, can I ask you a question? I got to find this guy, he comes in here a lot, his name is Rico. I’m wondering if he’s been in.’

  The barman glanced at the picture.

  ‘Not sure. Hey, Jonty!’ he called out to other man working behind the bar, who walked across.

  ‘Know this guy? He does look kinda familiar.’

  Jonty picked the picture up.

  ‘Yeah, he comes in here. Not been around in a while, mind.’

  ‘Did you talk to him?’ John asked.

  Both men shook their heads.

  ‘No. You need to go ask Sugar, she spent time with him. He was sure sweet on her.’

  ‘OK, which one is Sugar?’

  Jonty scanned the room.

  ‘Must be doing a dance out back I guess. She’s got long pink hair, can’t miss her.’

  He went back to working and John returned to sitting with Keane, and relayed the conversation. They sat there, sipping their beers, watching the room. A girl appeared, and began to gyrate in front of them. Keane slipped her twenty dollars and asked for privacy, she didn’t look put out, just shimmied away to the next table.

  ‘Let’s make this quick, it’s gonna cost a fortune to sit here,’ John said, looking around for a girl with long pink hair.

  They saw her five minutes later, emerging from a curtain with a wad of banknotes in her briefs. She was short with impossibly round breasts, tottering along in the highest heels John had ever seen. They got up and wandered across, intercepting her as she stalked her next victim.

  She was good. A professional. She glanced at Keane, then fixed on John, he was younger.

  ‘Hey, hey baby, you looking for me? I can get a friend for your dad if you like,’ she smiled, all white teeth and breasts standing to attention.

  ‘Er, yes I am looking for you, and my dad’s fine right now thanks. Can we sit down?’

  She pouted theatrically and looked slowly all around, then shrugged and followed them back to the booth. She perched on the very end, legs crossed, continuing with the wide smile, sticking with her persona. John could see she was a little older than he had first thought, probably late twenties, and had bruises just visible under the left eye on her heavily made up face.

  ‘I drink champagne, as you’re asking,’ she told them, with a slow wink.

  Keane shook his head and resignedly dug in his pockets.

  ‘That figures. Sure.’

  He gestured at a waitress who came over and stood next to Sugar.

  ‘Champagne for the lady please,’ Keane asked, passing over a twenty.

  The waitress looked at it and didn’t move, just stared back at him. Keane tutted and passed her another note, but she continued standing there.

  ‘Jesus,’ Keane murmured and passed one more.

  The waitress smiled sweetly and walked off.

  ‘Sixty bucks for a bottle of champagne!’ Keane fumed shaking his head.

  Sugar laughed delightedly.

  ‘Bottle! That’s for a glass you tight asshole!’

  John decided to move it on so they could get out of there. He produced the photo and slid it across the table to Sugar who picked it up disinterestedly and then looked at him.

  ‘We need to find this guy. Rico,’ he told her.

  She raised her eyebrows and looked at the photo again, then shrugged.

  ‘Yeah? Why?’

  ‘Because,’ growled Keane, pissed off about how it was going, and especially the champagne.

  ‘Look Sugar, we just really need to speak to him, that’s all,’ John cut in quickly.

  ‘You cops? What’s he done?’

  ‘No, I’m not a cop. I don’t know that he’s done anything,’ John told her truthfully.

  Sugar’s champagne arrived in a frosted glass and she delicately took a sip, spilling some of it down her front.

  ‘Oh!’ she said, wiping her impressive chest, ‘I’m such a messy bitch. You would not believe how dirty I can get,’ she breathed at John, big eyes fixed on his.

  Keane rolled his eyes and John spoke fast before he could say anything.

  ‘Sugar please, if you can help, it would be appreciated.’

  ‘OK. I like appreciated. How much?’

  John looked at Keane, who was about to speak when one of the security men appeared out of nowhere and loomed above them.

  ‘It’s ok Gary, I’m fine,’ Sugar said, waving the man away.

  The man looked closely at Keane and John and then moved on to another table.

  ‘There’s some cash in it. How much depends on what you can tell us,’ John let her know.

  Sugar looked hard at him, and drank some more champagne. Then she tapped a long bright pink fingernail on the table and looked around the room again. John sat waiting patiently while K
eane squirmed in his seat. Finally, she turned back to face him again.

  ‘Fine. Looking this good costs you know. Listen, I don’t really know him OK? Rico comes in here, and he always gets a dance, sometimes two. He’s sweet, he doesn’t maul me or nothing, keeps his hands to himself. He ain’t been in for a while though.’

  ‘Always on his own?’

  ‘Yeah, I think so. Actually, he was with another guy one time. Brown curly hair I think, I can’t remember, I didn’t do him.’

  ‘Did Rico talk much?’

  ‘Nah. Not really. Just he was working here for a while, and was bored. I think he was lonely.’

  ‘Did he say where he lives?’

  ‘Er, in the city for sure. He did say something … yeah, he said he was sharing an apartment. I remember now, he told me once it was real shitty. He said he couldn’t take no one back there. Not that I was gonna do that,’ she added hastily.

  ‘He never talked about anyone else, his family?’

  ‘No. Like I said, we didn’t really talk that much. He didn’t ask no one else for a dance, and he would just sit up at the bar. He seemed happy to be here, I guess it was good to get the fuck out of his apartment, right?’

  ‘Did it look like he had a lot of cash on him?’ Keane asked.

  ‘He always looked after me, I mean, like sure I could get more, but often a lot less. He was OK. I wouldn’t say he was rich.’

  She was getting bored of the conversation, eyes constantly looking around, finding her next contributor.

  John dug in his pocket, and pulled out a hundred-dollar bill, and then wrote his mobile number on a napkin and pushed them over to her. She immediately added the cash to the rest in her knickers and then looked at the number written down.

  ‘We going out later honey?’ she asked, smiling sweetly.

  John smiled back.

  ‘No, sorry. But if he comes in, maybe you can call me, ok?’

  She considered.

  ‘Ok.’

  They stood up, and moved out. John bent down to Sugar as he passed.

  ‘Keep that number, ok? I’m John by the way. You may want to call it, I can help stop whoever’s doing that to your face,’ he told her.

  She raised a hand to the bruise and stared at him.

  ‘I …’

  ‘Think about it, I can help,’ he interrupted, and they walked out the strip club.

  ‘Let’s get back to the hotel, get some sleep, tomorrow’s a new day, right?’ Keane said aggressively as they climbed in the car, still smarting about the damage to the contents of his wallet.

  Chapter Eleven

  General Morgan sat behind his desk, mouth open, looking up at Lieutenant Clay disbelievingly.

  Clay returned the look impassively. Like the majority of staff in their section of the Pentagon he thought Morgan was an asshole, the man hadn’t been here that long considering, and had managed to pretty much piss everyone off. Even that morning he had been stalking around complaining to anyone who couldn’t get out of the way quick enough about his lacking a secretary. Like he really needed one anyway, she only made him coffee and passed over a whole bunch of bullshit memos anyway. He knew the history; Morgan was a relative, some in law or something of an assistant to the previous army chief of staff, who had retired a couple of years ago. Now, nobody seemed to know what to do with him so he had ended up here, which was their loss.

  ‘When did you find this out? I mean, how am I only being told this now?’ Morgan asked in a strangled voice.

  ‘Because sir, I was only advised about the situation a couple of minutes ago. I came straight in to tell you, that’s the first thing I did. Sir.’

  Morgan’s cheeks reddened.

  ‘Well, who notified you?’

  ‘It came direct from Fort Indigo sir.’

  ‘Did it? But …’

  Morgan stopped, speechless. Indigo had been his, he had been CO there for over five years, right before he was moved to the Pentagon. He knew everyone on the base, well everyone that mattered. He couldn’t believe that not one person there had thought to call him personally.

  ‘Right. Well, find out who is dealing with it! I need to speak to them. And that is urgent lieutenant.’

  ‘Sir, it will be the MP XO, and you …’

  ‘I know that!’

  In agitation Morgan picked up a pen and threw it down again. He couldn’t remember the MP XO at Fort Indigo, he wasn’t even sure where they were situated on the big base out in California.

  Clay said nothing, just continued standing easy.

  Morgan scratched his nose. What to do, what to do.

  ‘Right lieutenant, please find me the officer I need to speak to. And get me Colonel Carter on the phone. That will be all.’

  Clay snapped his heels together and wheeled out the room, smirking as he did so.

  Morgan watched the door close and stood up, looking around aimlessly. Like most offices at the Pentagon, his had no windows, just grey walls all round. He looked down at his desk, breathing in and out slowly and deliberately.

  Was this down to him? It couldn’t just be coincidence surely. But he hadn’t done anything to cause this. Anything that had happened was nothing to do with him, it couldn’t be.

  He stared at the calendar. March 3rd. Now it was way too soon.

  He sat down heavily. He needed to think.

  ***

  They met for breakfast in a diner just down the street from the hotel, John and Keane recounting the events of the previous evening. John kept quiet when Keane briefly talked about the meeting with Billy without mentioning the guns, and neither of them said the name of the strip club.

  The plan for the day was to take an in-depth look at the three women; Deanna Hayter, Madeline White and Jane Elliot. Judy would see if she could find an apartment or in fact any building rented out to a Rico Perez, or if there was a credit card, mobile or anything in his name. Warner wanted more information on the two Koreans.

  John couldn’t help feeling dissatisfied, Keane was right; they had nothing, or next to nothing anyway. He had spoken to Keane about trying to find the van, but there didn’t seem much hope. Keane believed it would have been left in Compton or Lynwood with the keys in, best way to get rid of an unwanted vehicle in LA apparently.

  Judy’s mobile began ringing shrilly, and when she got up to answer it Keane’s started, leaving Warner and John sitting at the table finishing their coffee.

  Keane came back over quickly, eyes alight.

  ‘I got news, this could be something …’ he began.

  Judy appeared right next to him.

  ‘A Major Hayter got shot dead last night in Hollywood. The husband of Deanna Hayter,’ she finished for Keane who looked at her and nodded dumbly.

  ‘What?’ asked John.

  Keane looked at Judy, but she smiled and waved at him.

  ‘Over to you Ron, you tell a good story.’

  ‘OK, well, here’s what we know. Just before midnight last night two men walked into Steel’s, which is a sports bar just off Hollywood boulevard. No more than two minutes’ walk from where we were John. Major Hayter was in there at a table with a couple of other guys; one of them an army buddy from what we got so far. The men approach the table, one pulls a gun and shoots Hayter in the face, the other grabs his briefcase and they split the joint. The major’s army buddy follows them out. There was an off-duty LAPD cop pulling some hours as a security guard at an all-night pharmacy and he hears the shot and runs into the street. One of the two men then starts shooting, and the cop plugs him. The other man jumps into an old Toyota Corolla, there is a third man waiting in that and they get away. The guy the cop shot dies at the scene. That’s where we are.’ Keane looked around at everyone.

  ‘Wow,’ John said finally.

  Keane nodded.

  ‘You got any more on your side Judy?’ he asked.

  ‘Well, not really. They’re running an ID on the guy that was killed in the street, and LAPD are doing all the usual, so we sh
ould get ballistics later today.’

  ‘One more thing,’ Keane said. ‘The gun the shooter was holding; Walther P99. It was on the ground next to the body. With 1-Too stamped on the grip’

  His mobile beeped, and he looked at the screen.

  ‘OK, I just got the details of the MP dealing with this for the army, I’ll give him a call.’

  ‘So the link is Deanna, right?’ Warner asked. ‘Maybe the major was the target and supposed to be with her at the station. It still don’t make a lot of sense though.’

  John shook his head.

  ‘No it doesn’t, apart from they were after the briefcase. Maybe it was hers, and he just got in the way.’

  ‘I’m surprised he was in a bar, he just got told his wife is dead,’ Judy ventured. ‘But I guess it takes all sorts.’

  ‘We’ve got a body, and we’ve got a gun. There’s a lot we can find out from them, I know it takes a bit of time but they’re looking at the AKs from the Metro station right now too. So we could have a whole lot more this time tomorrow,’ Warner told them.

  ‘This is going to twist and turn, I can feel it,’ Judy said morosely, and sat down again.

  Keane walked in, bright and efficient.

  ‘OK, the army want to help. Major Hayter was some kind of supply officer at Fort Indigo. I just spoke to an MP there called Captain Reed. He wants to meet, he’s coming out here. He said he’ll be about an hour.’

  ‘Army helping?’ Warner and Judy asked together, quizzically.

  ‘Yeah. Sure this shit never happens but don’t knock it, we need all we can get.’

  ***

  Sammy and Simon sat together at the meeting table, Moran on the other side along with a couple of other people from the technical side of the news team. But at the top was Costas Blanic, the charismatic president of the channel, and rarely seen in the office. Blanic was an Albanian migrant who ended up in the US toward the middle of the sixties, an orphan who had been smuggled out when his entire family were murdered after speaking out against the ruling party at the time, at the height of the Marxist state. His mother, father, grandparents, two brothers and a sister all slain in one night. Costas had been staying the night with his cousin. The gunmen came for them too, but his aunt; his mother’s youngest sister had some spirit and was able to get them away. She got to Greece, and then on a ship bound for New York. Once there she did everything she had to and made a home for Costas and her own daughter in Brooklyn, with just the vaguest knowledge of the English language and no understanding at all of life in the west. After a year that would have destroyed even the hardiest person the seven-year-old Costas did what he had to, and got on with it. He did well at school, and university, working all the time to put food on the table, as did his cousin, and his aunt.