Dying For LA

by Ian Jones

  ‘Well, I’m not sure there is much more for Kyle and Judy to find out at The Stratosphere. Even if this Aiden Connelly knew him, the most he could say right now is maybe he was trying to help Deanna? But even that, it doesn’t seem very relevant.’

  John shook his head.

  ‘I don’t think that’s it, but you’re right. I think we’ve pieced it together, as much as we are going to anyway. We should probably call Kirsty when we set off tomorrow, let her know everything. See what can be done to track down Pinsky.’

  Reed tapped his glass against John’s.

  ‘I’ve learned a lot today. I’m not really, well what you would call an investigator. I’m an army cop. We have people that do more of that stuff, but not me.’

  ‘You did good. You dealt with Scott perfectly, I probably wouldn’t have got that much out of him. I could have hurt him, but that doesn’t always get what you need.’

  Reed nodded.

  ‘Well, we’ll be able to break it down for Judy and Kyle tomorrow, it’ll be something to talk about on the drive back.’

  ‘Yeah we got a lot to do. And finding Pinsky is at the very top.’

  ***

  Ryan Gallagher walked into The Mirage through the front door.

  He had already spent some of the money, he was wearing a nice new pair of trainers for a start. And a sweat shirt, and jacket. He had been able to take a shower and had slicked back his hair.

  He was confident that nobody would immediately recognise him but was careful not to meet anyone’s eye.

  He wasn’t so confident on what he was doing. He had gone out to the gun store that afternoon, and bought thirty rounds on an automatic, then stood in front of a target plugging away while someone watched to make sure he didn’t do himself or anyone else some harm. The Russian was right; it was easy, laughably so. He hadn’t been very accurate, but he reasoned that he had been told to get close and so it wouldn’t make that much difference.

  He swallowed. The target had a room on the twelfth floor. No suite for this guy. He made his way over to the elevators, there was one waiting on the ground floor; doors open.

  He casually walked in and pressed the twelve button.

  Nothing happened.

  He pressed it again.

  Still nothing.

  Then he saw the slot in the panel and the sign advising a room key was required, so just as casually he sauntered out back into the casino. What to do?

  He could get a room.

  Now that might be nice.

  No that was stupid. Mentally he slapped himself on the head. He could hardly hang around here, he needed to get away from the hotel, and fast. He turned back and watched people coming and going from the elevators.

  You are an asshole, he told himself.

  He wandered across, and let a couple walk into an elevator in front of him then got in just after. He made a show of going into his pocket but the guy had already put his card in, and pressed the button for twenty-one. With a smile, Gallagher hit the twelve. The light came on, and the lift started to ascend.

  No going back now.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The following morning after checking out, John and Reed walked up to Caesars, then queued at the buffet for breakfast. They were a bit early, it had been agreed to meet for eight, so they found a table at the back of the room and sat down to eat, comfortably anonymous, John talking about his daughter.

  Eight-thirty came and went, no sign of Kyle Warner or Judy.

  Nine o’clock, and still not there.

  ‘We definitely said here right?’ Reed asked, there were so many possibilities along the strip that if they had misheard it could be a very long day. John didn’t have his mobile, Reed had his but he hadn’t thought to give out the number.

  ‘Yeah, definitely. Buffet at Caesars, eight o’clock,’ John replied, also puzzled.

  They got a coffee top up and continued to wait.

  The buffet was quite big, but from their seats they could see the whole place so it wasn’t possible to have missed the other two. John couldn’t think how to play this, they had no idea where the others had stayed last night for a start, Kyle had gone to The Mirage but they didn’t know if he had actually been given a room there. It was possible that maybe they had found something out last night and gone this morning to check it out. He decided that was the most likely and told Reed, who agreed.

  But it was nearly ten o’clock and there was still no sign, and they were considering going back to the Paradise police HQ when Kirsty Casiano appeared, looking out of breath and harassed. She spotted them then rushed over and leaned on the table.

  ‘Something’s happened. Something bad. Come on, we got to go.’

  John and Reed stood up, concerned.

  ‘What’s happened?’ asked John.

  ‘I’ll fill you in on the way, let’s go.’

  She rushed out of the buffet and the two men followed her, wondering what was going on.

  Her cruiser was right outside the main doors, roof lights flashing.

  They climbed in; Reed in the front and John in the back and Kirsty floored it, wheels screeching as she shot out onto the strip and headed north, siren blaring, working her way steadily through the traffic. She looked at Reed and glanced at John in the mirror.

  ‘Ok, no easy way to say this. Kyle is dead. Shot last night right outside his room at the Mirage.’

  ‘Oh fuck!’ Reed proclaimed.

  ‘What the hell happened?’ asked John.

  ‘Right, PD have already caught the guy. He just walked up and knocked on Kyle’s door. No chance at all. City are dealing with this. Perp is a local man known to us, one Ryan Gallagher, I’ve never had the pleasure. But nothing like this before they say, just low level street shit in his past.’

  ‘What about Judy?’ Reed asked looking at her.

  ‘Judy is ok. She’s safe. She stayed at the Wynn, Gallagher was arrested right outside. He is some kind of asshole, the whole thing was caught on camera, City PD went all out, made the connection and picked him up less than an hour later. He was walking to the front entrance.’

  ‘So, who is he?’ John asked.

  ‘I never heard of him but City know him, he works mostly Downtown but does hit the strip. Petty theft, begging, usual shit, no violence on his record.’

  ‘Have the police got anything on why?’

  Kirsty braked hard to avoid a truck changing lane and then swerved around it, accelerating away and blasting the horn, then cutting across sharply to turn right.

  ‘Oh yeah. He coughed alright, won’t stop talking. He was put up for it by another local hood, and this one is a real piece of work, one Tyrone Bortado, known dealer, money-lender and pimp. Bad news. PD have been chasing him around for years, nothing ever sticks. Another one I don’t know but these guys do; they know him real well. He can’t hide, they have gone for him now. Here we are.’

  She pulled up in front of another tan coloured office block, with an identical Las Vegas Police Headquarters sign across the front. She jumped out and opened the door for John and they walked in. They had to sign in, but the desk officer seemed to know what was going on. Kirsty led them through a big open plan office and then up some stairs. Judy was sitting just outside an office, her eyes red from crying. She jumped up and Reed held her tight.

  She seemed lost, unable to say anything.

  ‘It’s ok,’ Reed told her. ‘You’re safe.’

  ‘He was coming for me,’ she sobbed.

  Reed rubbed her back.

  ‘Yeah, we heard, but they got him. You’re safe now.’

  There was some activity from the office, and then a young lieutenant rushed out. He looked at them in surprise and paused, then half-smiled at Kirsty.

  ‘He’s downstairs,’ he told her.

  They followed him back down through the office and then another flight into a basement. He punched in a code by a door and walked through into the custody area, then talked to a burly sergeant behind the counter.r />
  He walked back, smiled again.

  ‘Ok, Bortado is being detained, they are gonna start questioning him. I’ll take you through to the viewing room.’

  They walked back out the door and down a short corridor, then the lieutenant pushed a door open. It was a small room, with some chairs and a window into the one next door, with a short counter underneath. A microphone fixed to it on a bendy stalk with ‘Talk’ next to a red button. John looked through the glass, standard stuff, square table with four chairs, everything bolted to the floor. Camera on the wall and microphones on the table.

  Everything was happening so quickly he hadn’t even started to try and compute the situation. Kyle Warner had been murdered by some completely random guy it seemed, and how did that fit with what they were supposed to be working on?

  He sat down with his elbows on his knees and rested his head in his hands, thinking.

  Kyle Warner was dead. Shot in The Mirage by one Ryan Gallagher, who had spilled the beans and was put up to do it by the guy about to be interviewed Tyrone Bortado. Where was the connection? What about Leonid Pinsky? What about 1-Too?

  ‘You ok John?’ Reed asked him quietly as he settled alongside.

  John looked up.

  ‘Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just … well.’

  Reed clapped him on the back.

  ‘Yeah, I know.’

  ‘What about this other guy, Gallagher or whatever?’ Reed asked.

  The lieutenant, still smiling away to himself, shrugged and explained.

  ‘Mirage has cameras watching the elevators on every floor. Most of the Strip hotels do. They had him coming out of the elevator and getting the gun out. Eyewitness, a room service waiter walking down the corridor from the other side saw the whole thing. Gallagher banged on the door and then moved away. Kyle came out into the corridor and that was it. Three shots. PD went into overdrive, and picked him up as he was walking toward the Wynn.’

  ‘Towards me,’ Judy added shivering.

  ‘You’re ok now,’ Reed told her.

  ‘Yeah I know. But Kyle, he didn’t deserve it. Gallagher knew he was done for, he gave it all up, but he’ll still get life, they got the death penalty here, he should get that.’

  The door opened in the room through the window, and a grizzled detective walked in, closely followed by a uniform officer who was leading a coffee coloured stocky black man in his late twenties. The officer sat him down in a seat opposite the camera and the man looked up and waved, then laid his meaty, tattooed arms across the table.

  ‘That’s Tibor,’ the lieutenant said.

  John looked at him.

  ‘Sorry Tyrone Bortado. Tibor is his street name. Yeah, I know it’s bullshit. He’s been in that room more times than I have.’

  Another man walked in, this one in his thirties wearing a suit. He shook Bortado’s hand and sat down next to him, pulling out a thick notepad and pen from a briefcase at his feet. The detective watched him but didn’t acknowledge either of the two men now sitting opposite.

  Bortado immediately began a rant about Vegas PD and his time being wasted, the man next to him nodding sympathetically and making notes.

  The detective still said nothing at all.

  It was like watching a bad soap opera.

  Then Bortado jumped up and stared over at the window, which would be reflective glass to him. He spread his arms out wide and smiled, beckoning.

  ‘Hey you fucks! Come on in here, join the party!’ he shouted. ‘I got nothing to hide, and I don’t give a shit neither!’

  The cop standing by the door walked over and pushed him back onto his seat.

  Still, the detective didn’t move or speak.

  Bortado laughed.

  John frowned, then stood up and dug in his pocket. He pulled out some rumpled dollar bills, selected a ten and laid it down on the counter in front of the lieutenant.

  ‘A tenner says you get nothing,’ he said.

  ‘What’s a tenner?’ asked the lieutenant. ‘Oh …’

  Judy, still clearly upset pursed her lips and went into her purse, then laid another ten-dollar bill on top.

  ‘Make it twenty.’

  ‘No,’ the lieutenant said. ‘These guys are the best. He’ll talk.’

  Reed stared hard at him, then added his own note.

  ‘That’s thirty.’

  The lieutenant went to speak, then clammed up angrily, for the first time he wasn’t wearing the same fixed, cheesy smile.

  They saw the door open again, and a tall man walked in, smartly dressed, probably late forties. He stood next to the table and looked own at Bortado.

  ‘Hello again Tyrone. I’d like to say it’s been a while, but it hasn’t.’

  Bortado looked up at him and sneered.

  ‘Detective Cooper. I thought they’d retired your skinny ass, man.’

  Cooper nodded and sat down then looked expectantly across at the man sitting next to Bortado, who appeared flustered and eventually introduced himself as James Winter, attorney.

  John sat up straight to watch, maybe he had been wrong. He hoped he had. Cooper seemed very assured, ready to do his job.

  But it became abundantly clear within ten minutes that they weren’t going to get anything out of Bortado. He was cocky and arrogant, and turned every question around, laughing as the two detectives opposite tried to get some traction. Nothing seemed to faze him, he countered everything, twisting whatever was said.

  He was an expert, probably dealing with the police from very young.

  Eventually the grizzled detective started to lose his temper, which really was the end of it and Cooper called time, no other option for him. Laughing Bortado was led from the room.

  John looked at Judy, who was still shellshocked, desperately trying to get some sense out of what had happened.

  ‘Let me try.’

  ‘No way,’ the lieutenant said.

  John ignored him, still talking to Judy.

  ‘We know everything Judy. Me and Tom have put it together. Bortado was involved, but it’s not his idea. It’s a Russian, name of Pinsky, and we have to find out where he is. Please, do whatever you can with these guys and let me and Tom deal with it. And not here. We have to act, and quick. No disrespect to anyone, but Bortado is way too comfortable here. He can play the system, he knows it inside out. It’s too easy for him. But we can open him up, and we really don’t know how long we have.’

  ‘That’s not going to happen,’ the lieutenant’s smile hadn’t returned.

  John looked carefully at Judy, who returned his gaze.

  She nodded.

  ‘Can I talk to you lieutenant?’ she asked.

  Unhappily the lieutenant stood up and they left the room.

  ‘This is bullshit, we can break this guy,’ Reed said, annoyed.

  ‘You can Tom. He’ll cave once you start, that’s for sure. I’ve seen these guys over and over.’

  ‘Yeah, me too.’

  ‘Tough guys when they know nobody is going to break any rules.’

  ‘For sure. And you’re right John, we got to get on with this.’

  ‘This is only gonna get worse if we don’t. There’s only one answer to all this, but not in here. Not now.’

  They waited impatiently, then the door opened, and Judy walked in without making eye contact with either man, followed by the now sheepish looking lieutenant and also a captain who looked at the two men sitting in his viewing room appraisingly.

  ‘This is an unusual request, even from the FBI,’ he opened with. ‘I’m Captain Day.’

  ‘Hello Captain, I’m John Smith, this is Tom Reed. So, you know all about Kyle Warner, and you also know we are facing a race against time now. People are getting killed. We need the Russian.’

  Day looked confused and looked at the lieutenant.

  ‘Who is this Russian?’

  ‘Leonid Pinsky. We started hearing about a Russian just yesterday and John and Tom found out who he is. He’s driving this, he got Bortado to
find a shooter. Ryan Gallagher won first prize,’ Judy explained.

  The captain looked around again.

  ‘And you want to do what with Bortado?’

  Reed stood up, and immediately both police officers stepped back without thinking about it.

  ‘We need to frighten him. He’ll talk. He’ll never say nothing to you guys,’ he said simply.

  The lieutenant shook his head, but the captain looked up at Reed.

  ‘So, tell me about Pinsky.’

  ‘He’s involved in the LA Metro shootings, and also the death of an army major,’ Reed replied.

  ‘And Kyle Warner,’ Judy added defensively.

  ‘We’re getting close. They tried to stop us even getting here to Vegas in the first place. And there will be even more killing, and very soon if we don’t find him. This guy thinks he can do whatever he wants from what we’ve heard,’ John said.

  The captain mulled it over while the lieutenant started telling everyone loudly about procedure.

  ‘Look, Judy …OK, I never met the lady before, but she’s FBI. You two I don’t know. I got an MP and a, well I got no idea at all asking me, no telling me, they want to remove a detained prisoner from the precinct so they can question him about some Russian. Because apparently, we can’t do that ourselves,’ the captain sounded more puzzled than annoyed.

  John and Reed looked at each other, well aware of how it sounded.

  ‘We are asking Captain, not telling. But we are fighting time here, and losing, we need answers. If we get Bortado out his comfort zone he’ll buckle. Listen, we’ve both seen this before.’ Reed said.

  The captain said nothing, just looked into the empty room next door. Suddenly, where they were all standing got very quiet.

  ‘You got two hours. Not a minute longer. Lieutenant, get Bortado ready, he stays in handcuffs and I want two officers right behind them, wherever they go,’ the captain announced suddenly.

  ‘Thank you, Captain. We need a car,’ John asked him.

  The captain stiffened, then nodded.

  The lieutenant started to speak, but stopped abruptly when Reed walked over and bent down.