Dying For LA

by Ian Jones

  The man didn’t move at all, just continued to lazily smoke a cigarette, looking at nothing. Gallagher stopped ten feet away and coughed nervously. The man bent down and picked up a small sports bag from the floor next to him and threw it across so it landed heavily at Gallagher’s feet.

  ‘Look inside,’ the man said, in clipped, precise English.

  So Gallagher did, and squatted down. Inside was a handgun, fat, boxy, he didn’t recognise the make but he could see it had a silencer, and also an envelope and a single piece of paper. He looked up at the man, who flicked the cigarette butt away and walked over, then crouched opposite him and smiled.

  The man was big, solid, with a bald head that gleamed in the half light. His teeth were sharp and broken, and he had heavy scarring around the right side of his face and head, he was wearing all black; leather jacket, jeans. Close up he smelled of Old Spice.

  ‘This is what you do,’ the man told him, reaching into the bag, removing the sheet of paper and opening it out. ‘Is simple. These are four people. You kill them. Is five thousand. Each. Where the people are is written next to them, we knows only two for sure so far but soon will know all, so we will send you message, understood?’

  Kill people?????? What the fuck?

  ‘But …’

  ‘No buts. Tibor tells me you will do this. Now understand. To me, is nothing. I just need this done. If you don’t want to do it then OK, I find someone else. Plenty people. And Tibor will most likely hurt you bad you anyway. So, I don’t care.’

  The man stared back at him, it felt like it went straight through, and Gallagher felt a chill running deep down his spine.

  ‘But, I never killed anyone! I never even fired a gun!’ he stammered.

  The man picked up the gun.

  ‘Is simple.’ He pointed to the rear of the gun. ‘Is safety catch. You click here, is off. Then just point the gun and pull trigger. So make sure you close. Is full of shells, don’t use them all on first one!’

  The man laughed, showing more broken teeth.

  ‘There is spare magazine in the bag. After, you dump this gun and disappear. Tibor says give you some cash now. He say you owe him money. I pay it already. So, you owe me I think. There is one thousand in the envelope, is all clear?’

  Five thousand Tibor had said. But there was actually twenty being laid out in front of him. Plus the debt was paid, and Tibor was one of the worst to owe money to, that was for sure. Gallagher had been avoiding him for months, longer. And he could do this. He looked at the sheet of paper carefully. Four photographs, taken without them knowing. Three men and a woman. He didn’t know any of them, and there were no names anyway. Just a hotel written next to the black man and the woman, nothing for the other two. How hard could it be? Bang, bang, bang, bang. Twenty thousand richer. That’s debts paid, the deposit and a year’s rent on a room right there, plus clothes, and food. He could be straight again, no more jumping at shadows. He could get living again if he had some cash. He thought about waking up on the floor that morning. Like most mornings, if he was lucky. The holes in his socks. The times he had slept in car parks like this one. But with money, it would be different. He could walk around, untroubled, free. He imagined lying on a comfortable sofa, a big TV on, a cold beer in his hand.

  This was that chance.

  ‘Ok,’ he said simply.

  The man stood up, towering over him so Gallagher sprang to his feet too. Not that it made much difference, he was barely five foot seven so he was still looking upward at the man, who glowered down at him and spoke softly and slowly.

  ‘Understand me. Listen. We will be watching. We will see everything, and if you are caught, you shut the fuck up and say nothing to nobodies. You are, what is it, er … expendable! You are expendable. Disposable.’

  ‘Yeah, sure, I get that.’

  Gallagher bent down and pulled out the envelope. He opened it and saw ten crisp hundred-dollar bills.

  Yep, he could do this. For dollars, right now, he could do anything.

  The man patted him heavily on the head and walked off, disappearing into the shadows again. Gallagher heard a car start and watched Tibor pull away. He picked up the bag and made his way back out the car park.

  ***

  They stood together outside the police station. Casiano had spoken with her lieutenant and afterward promised to be at their beck and call if they needed anything. Judy was anxious, distracted and Warner kept tapping away on his mobile. John looked at his watch, half past three.

  ‘Tell you what,’ he said, ‘You two go back to doing whatever you’re doing. Me and Tom can deal with the strip club, to be honest, we’re more likely to get something out of it, keeping clear of the official involvement as it were, and we can walk over to Caesars and the MGM Grand, just keep digging. You guys get straight, and then you go to The Stratosphere later. This concierge, whatever his name is, is probably best to lean on heavily, if I know those people so the official line will be best there.’

  ‘Aidan Connelly,’ Judy replied.

  John looked at Tom, who nodded.

  ‘John’s right. Listen I’ve had to deal with strip clubs a thousand times, there’s always a soldier getting into trouble in those places. There’s ways of dealing with them for sure.’

  ‘I ain’t arguing,’ Warner replied.

  Judy looked at the three of them.

  ‘OK, so I won’t either. But promise me you’ll stay on the right side of the law. Please, this is wayward enough as it is.’

  John held up his hand.

  ‘It’s a promise.’

  ‘Definitely,’ Tom told her. ‘I’m as much under the microscope as you guys are.’

  ‘I seriously doubt that,’ Judy replied, ‘but look, it’s a kind offer. I am fighting a losing battle right now, it will give me time to straighten a lot of it out. I should be able to relax after. Well, relax isn’t the right word but it’ll be easier.’

  ‘OK. But remember. Not a word about where you’re staying. I’m serious,’ John said.

  They arranged to meet for breakfast at Caesars in the morning then got in the minivan and Warner dropped them on the strip on the corner of the MGM Grand, they watched the others disappear into the traffic heading north, then both turned and looked at the huge white hotel.

  ‘What do you think?’ Tom asked.

  ‘May as well.’

  As they walked toward the entrance John could feel his sixth sense prickling him even worse. He trusted it, it had never let him down. He slowed up, and turned, as if looking across at Excalibur on the far side of the road. And he saw it straight away. A man, ducking out of sight behind a pillar under the footbridge.

  ‘Wait here,’ he told Reed, and then set off, moving fast, the long way around and approaching the pillar from the blind side. Reed watched, confused, and then realising something was up started walking the other way toward the same spot.

  The man was still there, facing away tying to peer round the corner and John grabbed his t-shirt collar and hauled him backwards and onto the ground. As soon as he did so he punched the man twice, the first straight in the mouth breaking some teeth and the second into the right eye.

  Then he pulled him up so he was sitting dazedly leaning against the pillar.

  Reed joined him.

  ‘What, we had a tail?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  John crouched down. The man was staring at him, confused, scared.

  ‘So, who told you to follow us?’ John asked quietly.

  ‘Fuck, fuck you!’ the man replied, at least with an attempt to stay tough.

  Reed leaned down and grabbed the man’s hand and lifted it then started to twist.

  ‘Fuck you. I’m saying shit!’ The man blurted out trying to pull his arm free.

  It did no good. Reed continued to twist and there was a pop as his shoulder dislocated. The man screamed shrilly. Reed let go and asked the same question again.

  The man looked up, tears in his eyes. John searched him, there was a
car key, nearly a hundred dollars in cash but nothing else. He pocketed the money and dropped the key down a drain.

  ‘The Russian. The Russian told me. I work for Tibor.’

  ‘Who’s the Russian? And who’s Tibor?’ Reed asked.

  ‘I just run shit for Tibor. He gave my number to the Russian. I never met him, don’t know him, don’t even know his fucking name. He said he got a call, you would be at the precinct. He told me to follow you.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘When did he call?’

  ‘Fuck man, I don’t know. About an hour ago I guess. I went there and waited. You was inside, then you came out and I followed you. He told me I had to follow the two white guys. That was it. I had to find out where you was staying.’

  ‘How many are you?’

  The man spat thick blood onto the ground.

  ‘Just me. Fuck. Only me. This Russian, he asked for more, but I thought it was a bullshit job. Simple.’

  He looked balefully at the two men. How wrong could he be.

  ‘And you didn’t want to split the money. What’s your name?’ John asked.

  ‘They call me Lucky.’

  ‘That’s a bad choice today.’

  John looked around, there was a cab slowing for the junction. He hailed it and together they bundled Lucky inside. John passed the driver a twenty and told him to go to the airport. They watched as the car went off round the corner and then walked up the steps.

  They entered the hotel, and up to the main floor. John saw the restaurant sign high on the wall. Hakkasan.

  ‘Wow let’s eat there later. I love that restaurant, and we got plenty of cash.’

  Tom looked too, but it meant nothing.

  ‘You remember it from before?’

  ‘No, I didn’t know it was here. But they got two I think in London. Food is great, different gear altogether.’

  ‘Ok, yeah, let’s do that.’

  They went over to the bar and sat down at the counter. For once, this one wasn’t right smack in the centre of a casino, but close to the entrance which led over the footbridge to Excalibur. Tom bought a couple of Budweisers and they clinked the bottles together and drank.

  ‘I wonder who this Russian is?’ Reed asked.

  ‘I’ve got no idea. I’m more concerned that they knew we would be at the precinct.’

  ‘So … who is it?’ Tom asked. ‘I think it’s Judy.’

  John shrugged ruefully.

  ‘If it is one of them, and I’m not saying it is, then my money would be on Kyle I suppose, he hasn’t been really interested all day. He could be just going through the motions. But I don’t know, and I really don’t want it to be either of them.’

  ‘It sucks, it really does, we shouldn’t have to worry about this crap.’ Tom hunched forward, massive shoulders straining his t-shirt.

  John looked at the barman and dug the photo of Madeline out his pocket.

  ‘Say, you know this lady?’

  The barman, an elderly black man looked at the picture and smiled.

  ‘Lady? Ha ha, yeah, oh yeah I know Maddie, known her a long while.’

  Tom sat up.

  ‘Can you tell us about her? We want to know if she was with anybody new lately.’

  The barman shook his head.

  ‘Not really. I worked at Caesars before, she was always up there, then she just turned up here a while back. It was good to see her, she’s a nice person. She seemed to have stuff on her mind, but she was happier, last time I saw her. But that was actually some time ago now, she hasn’t been around for a couple of weeks I guess. She moved pitch, probably.’

  Her death explained it better, thought John, but she wasn’t working before that either. So that confirmed the money, again. Everything they were hearing confirmed it.

  ‘Is there anyone she was friends with around here today?’ Reed asked.

  The barman shook his head.

  ‘Not this early. If you’re here this evening you’ll maybe be able to catch someone. Depends how happy they are to talk.’

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Rico and Sal had spent most of the day attempting to clean the place up, Voorhees kept mentioning they were being joined by a professional team, and they had to look good, so they had washed and swept, and gone for lunch at the bar at the mall, then come back again and continued with tidying, aware that they were just trying to keep busy while Voorhees sat in the office on the first floor. They had no idea what he had eaten, there was no chance of getting any food delivered here, and he was never going to walk to McDonald’s.

  They ended up working in the room outside, Voorhees visible through the glass. He had been tapping away on the crappy laptop, no idea why, there was no internet, maybe he was writing his memoirs. Now, he was on the phone, raised voices again.

  He walked out and looked at the two men.

  ‘So, I have been getting shit right? Blamed for the failures. Well, other teams are making worse fuckups, I kid you not. I’m told the endgame is nigh, and it’s time for us to shine.’

  Rico and Sal looked at each other.

  ‘Now,’ Voorhees continued smoothly. ‘Good job on making this place look ship shape. Tonight when the boys get here they will be hungry, so I need you to get some food arranged, ok? Pizzas, whatever, but make sure all you need to do is collect it, I want everything ready.

  Sal nodded, satisfied Voorhees continued.

  ‘I think we’re going to be given a new mandate tomorrow, if things don’t change we are going to have to get rid of one, maybe two people, so the focus will be on that. I’m hearing it’s being dealt with but I don’t believe it. Other people are making worse mistakes it seems. There is every chance you will be mobile tomorrow, I will work out the pairings when we meet the new guys tonight. But I need you to be sharp, be the best, hold your heads up. We were here first.’

  ‘What went wrong Yann?’ Rico asked.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You said another team fucked up. I wondered, what went wrong?’

  ‘They dropped the ball Rico. Underestimated their targets. I wanted to deal with this problem before but was overruled, now I am back in charge. And we do it right.’

  He looked at the two men, then walked back into the office, obviously pleased with himself. He stopped then turned and looked at them.

  ‘Say, go get me something to eat, will you? I’m famished.’

  He held out a twenty.

  Sal walked over and took the money, and then left with Rico, headed for McDonald’s. They were happy to go. It sounded like it might soon be all over.

  ***

  At five-thirty John and Reed walked into the Mile High Club. Inside, it was a big square, an L shaped stage in the far corner complete with shiny poles and a bar along the back wall. There were booths along the remaining walls and tables dotted around the centre. Next to the stage was an archway with ‘Private Invitations’ written across it.

  There were a few guys scattered around, some watching a girl in zebra stripe knickers do her stuff to a pop song John vaguely remembered.

  There was nobody at the greeter station, it was still early but a slim middle-aged woman wearing way too much make up hurried over when she saw them entering, another one too long under the sun lamp.

  ‘Table or booth?’ she asked. ‘No food until seven.’

  ‘Table’s fine, and I think we’re ok for food,’ replied Reed.

  The woman looked up at him in wonder.

  ‘Jeez, I’d love to take you home! I’d get some peace at last,’ she muttered, and led them over to a table toward the stage.

  ‘Thanks,’ John said. ‘Can we get a couple of beers, and any chance we can see the manager?’

  Her eyes flicked around the room.

  ‘Maybe. I don’t know that he’s in.’

  ‘Well, do you think you could look? It is important.’

  ‘Sure, why not.’

  She tottered off on high heels, head held high, still belie
ving she looked twenty-one.

  Reed looked all around him.

  ‘Man, these places are all the same. It doesn’t matter what city, what country you’re in, they’re all identical.’

  ‘Yeah. How do you want to play this?’ John asked.

  ‘How about you take the lead, and I’ll chip in when I think it’s needed? I meant what I said, I’m forever in these places.’

  ‘Ok.’

  The woman returned, and placed two cold bottles of Miller in front of them, condensation running down the outside. A man followed her over, older, tall, heavy build, long grey hair in a ponytail. He leaned on a chair back at the other side of the table.

  ‘What can I do for you fellas?’ he asked.

  ‘We just need a few minutes. We need to ask you a couple of questions about Deanna,’ John told him.

  The man rubbed his head with both hands, and thought for a while, eyeing John and Reed carefully, then sighed and sat down, laying his arms on the table. He had a badge with ‘Manager – Rob Johnson’ pinned to his plaid shirt.

  ‘What do you want to know? I guess you know what happened to her.’

  ‘Yeah, we do. And it wasn’t what the press are saying. I can’t go into any details, I’m sorry, but it’s a lot more than a bunch of crazies with machine guns in a subway,’ John replied.

  Johnson looked surprised, then leaned forward, cupping his face in his hands.

  ‘Ok, say I buy that. Why?’

  ‘We think that she was paid to marry an army major.’

  Johnson shook his head.

  ‘Yeah, I wondered, that wasn’t really Deanna, it made no sense. She wasn’t interested in men, other than the ones paying her.’

  ‘Yeah, we’ve been told about that. Look, we just need some help. People are dead. Did she mention any money to you?’

  Johnson looked off into the distance, clearly weighing everything up in his mind. He sighed again.

  ‘Actually, yeah. She did. Look, I liked Deanna. She was hard work at times, her own worst enemy, but she was here a long time. I never had no problem with her.’