Dying For LA

by Ian Jones

  John shrugged.

  ‘It was a missing person case. I was looking for somebody’s daughter. MacMillan was just another part of the shitstorm I walked into.’

  ‘So, can he be involved somehow?’ Judy asked.

  ‘Not sure, I can’t make that fit, not with what went down at the Metro station. And why kill the major? But maybe Kyle is onto something. I suppose it could all be about Madeline. She lived with Deanna, they were friends, hell they were standing side by side at the Metro,’ Keane looked at everyone.

  ‘All the more reason to get to Vegas,’ Judy said flatly.

  ‘Yeah, I got to talk to you guys about that,’ Keane said. ‘Come out to the car lot.’

  They filed out, and Keane showed them a big minivan, and slid open the side door.

  ‘I figured with these two huge motherfuckers travelling in a normal car wouldn’t work,’ he told them nodding at Warner and Reed.

  John looked inside, it was a few years old, but a sea of leather and comfort.

  ‘Smart idea.’

  ‘I borrowed it, we got things like this falling out of our assholes. But listen up, I got bad news on Vegas, I ain’t gonna be coming with you. All sorts of pain in the ass jurisdiction issues between us and Vegas PD, no way are they gonna let me trample everywhere talking to any of their citizens.’

  ‘Really? That can’t be right,’ Judy looked confused.

  ‘I got to follow orders like everyone, and that is from the top. But I figure you probably don’t really need me, you got CIA, FBI, and Tom here is a cop, of sorts, plus you got John, if anyone gets difficult.’

  ‘Well …’ Warner started, but Keane interrupted him.

  ‘I’m sorry. I got to sit this one out. But really, you don’t need me.’

  They decided to go and eat dinner in the bar, and filed back across the street in silence. John was disappointed that Keane wouldn’t be going with them, but he supposed that they would be OK.

  They decided they would leave for Vegas first thing in the morning, concentrate on the south end of the strip, but they would get up to The Stratosphere at some point, and check out the motel that Hayter used to stay in. Hopefully they could find someone who knew something, knew more than they did anyway.

  ***

  Alone in the first-floor office that had become their base, Rico made a what would eventually become an important discovery. Back in the apartment Voorhees would lock himself away in the office and he and Sal would be none the wiser to what was going on, all they could make out was the odd word here and there. But now, he could hear every word that Voorhees said when he was talking on his mobile phone, something he did a great deal of.

  Sal had gone out for some dinner and they had eaten, then Voorhees’ phone rang. He got up and went into the office to take the call, closing the door behind him. Sal went downstairs to take a shower, so Rico was left sitting on the sofa. They were trying to make the TV work properly so he was just relishing a few minutes on his own.

  He realised he could hear Voorhees talking, and glanced over. Through the glass partition he could see the big man pensively rubbing his head. He was listening intently to whoever had called him, the phone glued to his ear, and trying to speak when he could get a word in.

  Voorhees spoke at last.

  ‘Well OK, I guess it’s your call, but I got to tell you that it’s out of my control if you do that,’

  Listening.

  ‘I don’t know, I was told it was three …’

  Listening.

  ‘Do you need me to …’

  Listening.

  ‘Yes … but …’

  Listening.

  ‘I don’t know him …’

  Listening.

  ‘I still think …’

  Listening and looking frustrated, trying to speak.

  Then he saw Voorhees stare at the phone and drop it on the desk they had put in there for him. Whoever he was speaking to had hung up the call. Voorhees stood there, static, and Rico could see he was worried. Then he picked up the phone again and dialled.

  ‘Vegas.’

  This was the only thing he said, then hung up the call.

  He walked out the office and stood in front of Rico.

  ‘Where’s Sal?’

  ‘Shower.’

  Voorhees nodded slowly.

  ‘OK, we got to step up tomorrow, get prepared. Everything will go down this week and we need to be ready.’

  ‘What we got to do Yann?’

  ‘We get four new guys, tomorrow, probably late. They’re a team, always work together, so we aren’t just gonna get some lowlife assholes. This time. But we need to make sure we’re squared away, right? I don’t want no problems, no bullshit.’

  ‘A team?’ this puzzled Rico, he had always thought they were all loners, like he was.

  ‘Yeah. Coming in from St Louis. Apparently these guys don’t fuck around, so we got to show we are for real.’

  ‘Got it.’ Rico looked around the tatty, dusty room, wondering how it would look to any newcomers. But he didn’t say anything.

  Sal walked in drying his hair with a towel, and Voorhees repeated what he had just said to Rico.

  Rico watched Sal nodding and sitting down, knowing he was thinking the same thing he was.

  What now?

  Chapter Eighteen

  They decided to get breakfast on the road so got away early in the morning. Warner drove, as usual, with Reed sitting up front next to him. John and Judy shared the bench seat behind. There was a lot of room, and everyone was comfortable for the long drive ahead. But Judy seemed on edge, constantly chatting about nothing in particular and desperate to make progress.

  Reed told them that Louisa Gonzalez had got the financial information on Major Hayter. He was in the army but basically, he had an office job, and as they already knew didn’t work weekends. He lived pretty much hand to mouth, he would get paid, make a big cash withdrawal on a Friday. Maxed-out credit cards, overdrawn at the bank. Until three weeks ago. He hadn’t taken a cent out since, so he was in credit. Even paid off some of the balance on his cards.

  ‘Was he paid to marry Deanna?’ Judy wondered aloud.

  They stopped to eat just outside Barstow, Judy and Warner sat at the table fiddling with their mobile phones while John and Reed watched the traffic go by outside the window. John realised he’d left his own mobile back at the hotel. Not that it mattered, he wouldn’t be needing it.

  ‘You been to Vegas much?’ John asked.

  Reed shook his head.

  ‘Not really. We went on a road trip when I was a kid, I don’t really remember it. My brother had his bachelor party there a couple of years ago. That was a pain in the ass, I had to fly in from Japan and then back out again a couple of days after. Selfish bastard,’ Reed smiled.

  ‘I’ve only been there once, I thought it was OK actually. I liked it, apart from all the other crap that went on at the time,’ John watched a blue Buick roll into the car park and stop, two guys inside.

  ‘Yeah, you’re some kind of badass private investigator, right?’ Reed asked him.

  ‘No, I’m a lot of things, but absolutely not that. People play me to sort out problems. That’s it.’

  The food arrived and they ate, Judy talking about her granddaughter and Warner about his kids, and both complaining about how they hated the time they had to spend away from their families. The food was fried but good, and they were hungry. It was nice in the diner, done out like an old-fashioned ranch house.

  John’s eyes kept going back out the window to the Buick. It was parked close to the car park entrance pointing toward the building, and the two Hispanic looking guys inside hadn’t moved. Warner’s phone chirped and he answered it, walking away from the table and Judy became engrossed in hers again.

  John looked around the building and then at Reed, deciding. He set a smile on his face, just two guys having a chat.

  ‘Tom, there’s a couple of guys just pulled in. They haven’t moved. I’ve go
t that feeling you know?’

  Reed didn’t turn to see out the window behind him, instead returned the look straight back at John.

  ‘Oh yeah, I know that feeling.’

  ‘It’s a blue Buick, behind you. They can see right in. I’m going to go to the gents, nice and slow and obvious.’

  Reed nodded, keeping the act going.

  ‘Right, OK, so I get your back?’

  ‘They will probably only send one in after me, so how about you go and get something from the car, be really casual about it.’

  ‘Yeah, OK. I’ll deal with the other one.’

  ‘Keane got me a gun, it’s in the car, so I’ll have to do it old school, but that’s OK.’

  ‘I don’t have one, it shouldn’t be a thing.’

  ‘Just keep watching this way, I’ll let you know.’

  ‘Right.’

  John stood up and stretched, then eased away from the table and sauntered across the room to the toilets. Out the corner of his eye he saw both doors open on the Buick. Maybe he had been wrong, and the two men would come in. He wasn’t worried, Reed was at the door and walking into the car park, he would be able to see what was going down.

  He walked in, the gent’s toilet was a large room, three cubicles on the right and urinals straight in front, with another door next to them, which presumably led straight into the car park. Sinks down the left wall. He quickly made his way across and stood at the urinal at the far end, waiting.

  He heard the door slowly open, a pause, then footsteps. The door closed again. He didn’t look over his shoulder, there were chrome fittings above the urinals and he could just about make out an unclear reflection of the room. A Hispanic man, wearing a blue suit, light shirt. He was moving gradually across the room, light on his feet, hand reaching into his jacket.

  John made a show of finishing, and stepped back, coughing loudly and covering his mouth, turning toward the sinks, counting slowly 1, 2, 3, 4 in his mind. The element of surprise. The man moved closer.

  John wandered over, casual, relaxed, just a guy doing what he did several times a day as he made his way toward the sinks, closing in, then shot out his left arm, and seized the man’s hand in his inside pocket through the jacket, feeling the gun that was in there. He squeezed and twisted upward, unrelenting, then pulled the man toward him. The man was shorter than him, his mouth opened in shocked surprise then gasped when John wrenched the arm up further, still with the hand pointing down. He reached out and grabbed John’s t-shirt, but it did no good, just took both his hands out of action.

  Without letting go John punched him twice hard in the face, the first one a swing which caught the man high on his left eye, the second more accurate, smashing his nose and breaking some teeth. John pushed him back hard, he fell against the sinks and John hit him again, this time in the stomach and as he doubled over John grabbed his hair and slammed him to the floor, his head smacking heavily against the tiles.

  John dug the gun out of the jacket pocket, a Ruger with a thick, long silencer. He threw it in the nearest sink.

  He pulled the man up and sat him against the wall. He was dazed and bleeding, left eye closed. John laid his right hand on the floor and stamped down several times as hard as he could, covering the man’s mouth to hide the scream.

  ‘OK, so who sent you?’ John asked, leaning close to the man’s ear.

  The man looked at him with his good eye, in a world of confusion and pain.

  ‘It all seemed really simple, right? Guy goes for a piss, and you just pull the trigger. One down. But that didn’t go to plan, so answer the question. Who sent you?’

  ‘Costa got the call,’ the man whispered.

  ‘Who’s Costa?’

  The man indicated outside with his head.

  ‘Ok. When?’

  ‘Last night.’

  ‘And what were you told to do?’

  ‘Stop you going to Vegas.’

  ‘Right, well, killing me probably wouldn’t have done it. So you would have taken us all out?’

  The man shrugged miserably.

  John looked at him then grabbed his shirt front and hurled him back against the wall, his head bounced off it with a loud crack and he was out cold. John searched him, finding nothing other than a couple of hundred dollars which he put in his pocket, and methodically broke both the man’s arms, then stood up and washed his hands.

  Then with a loud bang the door next to the urinals crashed open, and a second small Hispanic man came bundling through, tumbling to the floor. He was a mess, he collapsed prostrate on his back, his face and shirt just a sea of blood. Reed walked in after, relaxed, looking as if he had just taken a pleasant stroll. He looked down at the man John had dealt with and smiled.

  ‘Ah,’ he said, ‘Snap.’

  ‘Yeah. Apparently, they got a call last night, stop us getting to Vegas,’ John told him.

  ‘This guy told me the same. Claims not to really know who called him, just some fella gives out work sometimes. I got his cell,’ Reed held up a smart phone.

  John looked down at the man Reed had thrown in, and stamped down hard on his hand.

  ‘Ouch,’ Reed said wincing.

  ‘Helps to incapacitate these guys,’ John explained, unembarrassed.

  ‘Good point,’ Reed said, and stamped down even harder on the other hand, then dragged him across and sat him next to his colleague. He picked up the Ruger from the sink and looked at John questioningly.

  ‘Keep that somewhere. What did yours have?’ John asked him.

  Reed dug in his pocket and pulled out a wicked switchblade, easily six inches long. He pressed the button and the blade popped out, sharp, gleaming. He raised his eyebrows and pushed it back in.

  ‘He hadn’t thought it through. I got to the car and realised Kyle had locked it, and he had the keys, so I fumbled around like I was looking for them and he tried to come up behind me. I got long fucking arms,’ Reed told him.

  ‘Let’s go and check the car,’ John suggested and they walked out into the car park.

  The Buick was unlocked, keys in the ignition. They looked over it carefully, it was a rental, collected at LAX around the same time that they had left that morning according to the paperwork inside, reserved in the name of Franks. They disregarded that, there was an obviously fake ID in the same name in the door pocket. Reed found a fat envelope in the glove box and opened it. Full of hundred-dollar bills.

  ‘Shit, got to be fifteen grand here,’ he whistled.

  ‘Stick it in your pocket, that’s Vegas paid for,’ John replied with a smile.

  They stood by the car looking at each other.

  ‘You know what this means,’ Reed spoke quietly.

  ‘Yeah. Yeah, I do, unfortunately.’

  ‘Who is it? Judy’s been acting kinda weird.’

  John nodded. He didn’t want to think about it, but there was no choice.

  ‘I dunno. Maybe someone at the police station, although Keane said he wasn’t talking to them there.’

  ‘Fuck.’ Reed kicked at some stones.

  ‘Look, I don’t have any idea. You’re right, Judy has been edgy the whole morning and Kyle never stops fiddling with his damn mobile.’

  ‘It could be me,’ Reed looked at him seriously.

  John smiled. ‘No Tom, one thing I do know, it ain’t you. It’s more likely to be me. You got thrown into this.’

  ‘Hell it ain’t you. Christ, you’re the only one who seems to do anything.’

  They looked at each other. Tom stuck out his hand and John shook it, then they began to walk back to the diner. John stopped and went back to the car and pulled out the keys, then caught Reed up.

  ‘Way to take out the trash, you fucked that guy up for sure,’ Reed told him.

  ‘Same for you. Listen, don’t say anything about those guys to Kyle or Judy ok? Just keep it close for now, I’m not saying it’s either one but we need to keep ahead.’

  ‘Yeah, agreed. For sure.’

  A rusty picku
p rumbled past, John threw the Buick keys and the phone into the back.

  They walked in. Warner was tapping away on his mobile, while Judy was talking on hers, pacing up and down and gesticulating.

  Reed carefully dug out a hundred-dollar bill. Warner looked up, and shook his head.

  ‘It’s done. CIA’s dollar, they got enough.’

  John and Reed glanced at each other and smiled, the bonus sitting in Reed’s pocket.

  ‘So let’s go,’ Warner said, and they filed back to the minivan with Judy in tow, still talking on her phone.

  They got underway, and eventually Judy hung up and sat back, looking up at the car roof.

  ‘You ok?’ John asked.

  She looked at him, and John saw for the first time the lines and bags around her eyes. She looked exhausted.

  ‘Yeah, I guess so. Like I said, I got a case going to trial, as usual there’s the same old bullshit. It’s hard to be on top of everything when I’m out here. I mean I want to be doing this, but you know, I got my day job. I’m burning the midnight hours just to keep up.’

  That explained why she was so jumpy.

  ‘Sit back, we still got probably another two hours to go. Get some sleep. You could even lie down on the seat behind you.’

  She looked at him gratefully and did just that. John looked back a few minutes later and she was curled up with her eyes closed.

  ***

  Rico and Sal discovered their first drawback the following morning. They had decided to sleep up on the top floor, and when they were awake went downstairs to realise they couldn’t really hang out in the communal area, as Voorhees was asleep in the office at the back, they could see his huge bulk on a mattress in the corner behind the glass partition. They had fixed a sheet across the outside window to try to nullify the daylight but he was still clear as day inside the office, and they could hear him snoring.

  Rico had a shower then they picked up a set of gate keys and the two men walked out looking for breakfast. It was a good distance across the yard to the first gate, which they opened and closed and repeated for the second. Then they were out in the street looking around.

  Not much to see. To their left the road curved around, with warehouses and industrial units, a tyre garage just along from where they were standing. To their right were some smaller units, which all looked closed and a short run down to a crossroads so they walked there and looked both ways along the wide main street and saw a faded, grubby hotel on the left, so decided to head there, not a lot of choice. As they neared it, they spotted a small semi-circular mall facing them across the street, so they dodged the traffic and headed over.