by Ian Jones
He hadn’t met the apartment’s other occupants, Angie had only been living here a week or so. He wasn’t even totally sure where he was in the city, but he knew he was way north of the strip. He’d been walking for hours last night, or so it had seemed.
He sighed deeply, and pulled his feet out the bottom of the sleeping bag, staring at the holes in his socks.
Life sucked.
He’d been broke and on the street for way too long. The only positive in his life, and it had been a close call, was that he had stayed off the hard drugs. He was absurdly grateful for that, considering just how crap the last ten or more years of his life had turned out, but he knew all too well it could have ended up worse. He’d witnessed that descent many times. Angie spent pretty much every cent she earned in alleyways and on the back seats of cars all over Vegas on heroin, and always needed more, she was only just out of hospital after yet another trick beat her badly. And she looked fucking awful, but despite his meagre lifestyle, he still had his baby face and puppy fat. He stood up, and looked in the small mirror on the back of the door. He wasn’t looking good either, he had to admit it, fading black eye and greasy spots. His shock of bright red hair was a curse, it was easily recognisable from a distance. He had dyed it but it never really took, so now whenever he was out he always wore a beanie.
There were too many people looking for him, way too many. All of them no good, some really bad, and the rest pure fucking evil. He’d sought out Angie down to pure desperation, with luck nobody would know where she was either. He needed to make some fucking money, that’s what he needed to do.
He looked around the room again wanting nothing more than to hide away. But he couldn’t stay here. He needed to sort his shit out. He looked in a couple of drawers and rooted around inside, knowing there was no point. There was no cash in this room, that was for damn sure.
He pulled on his trainers, which had maybe just weeks left until they completely disintegrated then shrugged into his jacket and with a resigned look back at Angie left the room. He was in a short narrow hallway, a door open on his left showed a small sitting room, with several people lying on the floor. The place stank. The next door was a bathroom, which he used. Then a tiny, filthy kitchen. There were two other doors on the opposite side of the hall which were closed, and he ignored them. He knew of old there was no point minesweeping this apartment, nobody here would have anything worth stealing, so he let himself out the front door.
He put on the hat and walked down two flights of worn litter-strewn steps then he was back on the street. He checked his jacket pockets and was relieved to find his cellphone, he’d managed to not try and sell that for a couple of bucks. He frowned, there was a message.
From Tibor.
Fuck. He knew exactly what that would say. He was going to spend the day hiding. Again. Fuck, he needed to raise some cash, he was never going to do it tucked away out the back of a store or a restaurant, hoping for some scraps.
But he pressed the button anyway, and was for the first time pleasantly surprised. Tibor was offering him something!
The message said ‘I got a job for you. You’ll see five g’s once I get my three. If I was you I’d do it.’
Five grand! Yes please!
He saw the message had been sent a couple of hours before, shit! He sent a reply with a lame excuse about his girlfriend being ill. Tibor knew Angie, so he wasn’t expecting any sympathy. He got a message back immediately that said ‘Be at Caesars for 2. Car park level 4.’
That gave him a couple of hours to get down to the strip, he should be able to do that, wherever the fuck he was right now. He stood still and looked around, and spied a medical centre he knew. He’s taken Angie there a couple of times, and knew it was only ten minutes to Freemont.
He set off, willing his trainers to stay together as he had quite a walk in front of him.
***
John was enjoying being in Vegas with Tom Reed. The big man seemed to be having a good time, away from Indigo, and the army, but still working. They decided to stay in the Luxor after looking around, and paid cash for rooms side by side, high up in the East Tower.
John felt reasonably anonymous, the strip and all the hotels were as busy as ever and he was confident they had not picked up a tail after Barstow, but he knew for certain that people would be looking. They ate a light lunch in the Tropicana and then decided to walk down to the police station, they had walked everywhere so far and it was easier and more forgettable than flagging down cabs. They followed the road, walking past the Mile High Club on the other side, which was still locked up tight.
They saw the minivan parked outside, and walked in through the entrance. Warner was sitting in a chair by the front windows, and had watched their progress.
‘You guys walk from the strip?’ he asked.
‘Yeah,’ Reed replied.
Warner raised his eyebrows and shook his head slowly. Any exercise was for other people. John looked at the clock, only just twenty past, so he sat down to wait for Judy. She arrived bang on 2.30, bustling through the doors, still looking stressed. She waved a quick hello and went over to the counter and talked to the man at the desk, who picked up the phone.
Five minutes later a side door opened, and a fresh-faced Hispanic policewoman with curly black hair walked over to them and introduced herself. She led them into a small room next to the lobby, inside was a round table and plastic chairs scattered around.
‘So … how can I help?’ she asked.
‘Deanna Hayter, you probably know her as Deanna Clark, I think you already got a call,’ Judy said.
Casiano nodded.
‘Yeah, that’s right. LAPD. But they didn’t ask a whole lot.’
Judy was confused.
‘You told them about Madeline, and her daughter?’
Now Casiano looked lost.
‘Er … I don’t think so. Sorry, yeah, they asked me about Deanna, and I sent them what I had, but it wasn’t a long call. They didn’t ask a whole lot. I don’t recall talking about Madeline. Maybe I did, sorry!’
Great, thought John. Airhead.
Warner sat down uncomfortably.
‘OK Kirsty, let’s say we reset. Let’s assume we’re discussing this for the first time. So, we understand that you knew Madeline, but not Deanna, what can you tell us about them?’ he asked.
Casiano looked around at them.
‘I know they are both dead, killed in that terrorist strike in the subway in LA. So you mind me asking what your interest is?
Judy took over. She was well used to dealing with local police, and knew exactly how to handle it. She produced her ID and smiled at Casiano, and asked her to sit down.
‘Ok Kirsty, so here’s what we know. This is John Smith, and he was down on the platform when it went off. He has given us information that leads us to believe it’s not so straightforward as terrorism, but we aren’t releasing this so I’d be obliged if you can keep that to yourself for now. These two big guys are Kyle Warner from our old friends the CIA, and Tom Reed, a captain in the army. Deanna recently married, did you know that?’
Casiano shook her head, eyebrows raised.
‘No, I didn’t.’
‘Well, she did, to an army major. And he’s been killed too, shot dead in a bar in Hollywood. We believe it’s all connected, and the theory we are working on right now is that Deanna was being paid to hook up with the major. Why, we don’t know. Who wanted it, we don’t know that either. So, we’re trying to work backwards, if you see what I mean, maybe we’re wrong and it’s possible that Madeline was the target, we can’t rule that out. It could even be just the major.’
Casiano considered.
‘OK, well, let me tell you what I know. I met Madeline a few years ago, we had a couple of run-ins, but I actually liked her and at one point tried to help her. In the end she trusted me and we ended up getting along, she became a kind of covert informer, she was real useful at times, she worked out of the hotels, knew everyone and we t
ried to look the other way for her. It works like that same in this city as everywhere. She had been with Deanna a long time, they were serious, so I got to know her too. Deanna was working the strip clubs, but she was still hooking, on and off but not enough she got any attention.’
John looked at her, surprised.
‘You said she was with Deanna, they were serious. You mean like a couple?’
Casiano frowned.
‘Well, yeah. Like for ever. Why, is that a problem?’
‘Kind of, but this is another thing we didn’t know. And she married the major,’ Judy prompted.
‘It’s hard to believe; I don’t understand that at all. I saw Madeline two weeks ago, she never said anything other than she was happy now, they had some money, she was going to get out the game, prove she could be a mom to Carrie. She was optimistic. I actually believed her.’
‘Right, well that fits. That would add up to Deanna being paid to get with the major,’ Warner rumbled.
‘I guess so.’ Judy didn’t look convinced.
‘So let’s start with Deanna, what can you tell us?’ Judy asked, producing a notepad and pen.
‘This is what I know from talking to Madeline. Well, she was born in Henderson. White trash family; dad the local booze hound, earning dollars with bare knuckle fights and mom on the game. Two brothers, no contact at all with any of her family, who are incidentally still alive. She moved up to the city when she was nineteen, had some lowlife boyfriend who was a small-time coke dealer, she was carrying it around for him, got herself arrested. That’s how it starts. She stayed up here, started working as a street hooker, got a real bad beating and went to the strip clubs. Madeline helped her out along the way and they got together, ten years now. She wasn’t a bad person, not really.’
‘OK, when was the last time you spoke to her?’ Judy asked.
‘Deanna? Not for a month or so. I was at the apartment, she was just leaving for work. But she seemed ok, she did say she was working on something that would be good for everyone.’
‘Nothing else?’
‘No, like I said, my main dealings were with Madeline.’
‘Right, and what can you tell us about her?’
‘She’s interesting. Or was, I guess I should say. She came here when she was twenty-three, basically ran out on an abusive relationship with her pimp in Colorado. She was a heroin user, got busted for soliciting, and got in a rehab programme. Cleaned up for a year or two, but still working the streets so straight back on it. Busted again, rehab or jail, she took the rehab. But this time, she made it stick. Moved up to the hotels, I think she got lucky with a concierge someplace and got her foot in the door. She’s been doing that since, but was moving around the hotels, everybody knows her, there’s always work for prostitutes in this town, and she was pretty for a whore, I know I shouldn’t say that but it’s true. Anyway, I brought her in about six, seven years ago after one of her tricks went apeshit at the Venetian making out he’s been robbed. Madeline was there with a second hooker called Marianne Glass, who is a real menace, and definitely stole the money. Nothing to do with Madeline but she ended up here. But I know Marianne all too well, so I worked it out. Me and Madeline struck a deal, and she’s given me some gold over the years. Yeah, I liked her.’
‘Is this Marianne still around, is she a friend of Madeline’s?’
‘I’d say they weren’t friends, but often there’s a guy who wants a couple of girls, so they probably worked together now and then. I don’t know where Marianne is now for sure, we’ve had dealings with her over the years but she gets away with it, complaints get dropped nine times out of ten once it looks like it could get public. Madeline was at Caesars, but she told me she just switched to the MGM Grand, not sure why, Caesars was a goldmine for her.’
It was interesting stuff.
‘Any chance we can see the apartment?’ Warner asked.
They followed Casiano in her cruiser and she drove south and west, not far at all, then pulled up in front of a squat apartment block, the end of a group of three identical buildings.
Casiano tapped in a code at the door and they followed her up some stairs to the next floor. There was a door crossed with police tape. She pulled it free, produced a key, opened up, and they walked inside.
The place was wrecked, not a complete piece of furniture anywhere.
Judy showed them around and explained.
‘So, after the call for an intruder, we got told that Carrie wasn’t allowed to visit Madeline until we had cleared it, so we came by and searched the place. When it first came in a patrol came by and did their usual, but nobody had been hurt, there was no sign anyplace of the guy. I got alerted after, so back we came. We found nothing really, a tiny bit of cocaine that Deanna admitted to, some cash. That was it.’
‘How much cash?’ John asked.
‘Getting on for five thousand, enough for us to be interested but it was Madeline’s business after all. We didn’t take it.’
‘You didn’t find any notes, letters, or anything. Any computers? Did you check their phones?’
Casiano shook her head.
‘No, look, at the time, this was a domestic, and we weren’t there responding to the intruder call. Nobody had been assaulted, the guy did not enter the apartment. There was no reason. We just did what we were asked, I didn’t agree with it at the time I guess but it’s what it was. Look, it’s always the same, you know, in hindsight I wish I’d done more and now I sure mean it but then, we just took it for what it was. Carrie was real upset.’
‘It’s not your fault, I understand,’ Judy told her.
And John did too. There was nothing more the officers could have done, they were here purely on a public safety issue and there was no crime; the guy whoever he was had disappeared days before. Nobody was to blame.
‘We got a call a couple of days ago, there was a disturbance here. Routine patrol came by, and found the place like this. No sign of anyone, and no prints anywhere. Door wasn’t forced neither.’
‘So, they had a key,’ Warner guessed.
‘Oh yeah. The super here had no idea about it, he wasn’t anywhere near the place. My guess is it came from inside the PD, I hate to say it but I can’t see no other way.’
‘Shit. So, you got yourselves an inside man,’ Judy said.
‘Or woman.’
‘Yeah, or woman.’
‘Look, I shouldn’t say this, but I would really like to help. And I got to say, LAPD weren’t real interested. I got no reply at all to the email I sent, and they got everything I had,’ Casiano spoke earnestly. ‘Now I got the FBI, CIA, and I have no real idea who the hell these two guys are asking the questions I should have been asked before, right?’
‘Aaah, right, sorry, yeah I should have explained better. So yeah, Tom here is an MP, he’s helping us with the major’s murder. Like I said, we believe it is all connected. And like I told you, John, well John was there, in the Metro when it happened. And he’s kinda worked on stuff like this before. Whatever this is,’ Judy explained apologetically.
Casiano looked at John.
‘I can’t believe you were there. Unbelievable.’
John nodded.
‘Yeah, and we are on the right track. We just desperately need some answers.’
There was nothing more to see in the apartment so they left, and followed Casiano back to the police station, but now John had the feeling that they definitely weren’t wasting their time.
Chapter Twenty-One
He entered the car park through the vehicle entrance and followed the ramps up through the levels. It would have been easier to have just walked in through the hotel but as usual Ryan Gallagher had no idea who he might bump into, he wasn’t a popular figure among security in the strip hotels anyway. It was busy; cars parked in long lines and he was careful to stay as much in the shadows as he could, Caesars was a hotel in particular he had to stay well away from and he was decidedly uncomfortable just being in the car park. He made it u
p to the fourth floor, there were a lot more empty spaces here. He walked away from the ramp, looking for Tibor. He was justifiably nervous, he’d been skating on very thin ice for a long time, and had been getting away with it purely by staying out of the way, but now he was in the open. He swallowed hard, what if this was just a trick?
He stopped dead. He couldn’t believe this had just occurred to him. He farted wetly. He realised he was literally about to shit himself.
Fuck, what was he thinking? He’d walked all the fucking way here and now was in a car park on his own with Tibor for company.
He was dead. He was so fucking stupid. He deserved everything he got.
He turned, ready to run and then headlights blindingly flicked across at him. He jumped, and peered over. Low-slung sportscar; one man sitting in the driver’s seat, arm hanging out the window. He walked forward cautiously. No choice at all now. Nowhere to go. Greasy cold sweat dripped down his back. He approached the car at an angle, reasoning he could see better and spotted the spiderweb tattoos on the arm.
Tibor.
But he looked to be on his own.
‘Hey!’ Gallagher called out, trying to keep the fear from his voice.
Tibor was watching him, a half-smile on his face. As soon as Gallagher got close Tibor leaned out the window, raised his arm and pointed across the car park, back the way that Gallagher had just come. Gallagher stopped and looked over his shoulder, confused, what the fuck now?
‘Go talk to the Russian,’ Tibor told him.
‘What?’
But Tibor said nothing else, just pointed, so Gallagher warily turned and walked back, past the ramp, staring into the gloom and then he could just make out a man leaning against a car, right where there was hardly any light at all, impossible to see him clearly from this distance so with growing dread he continued on, every step toward his inevitable doom.