Dying For LA

by Ian Jones

  ‘Kyle Warner’ … punch ‘was a good’ … punch ‘man’ … punch.

  Then he hauled Bortado to his feet and punched him again in the stomach and as he doubled over another in the kidneys.

  Bortado dropped to the ground, writhing on his side, snuffling, nose broken.

  John crouched down, Bortado scrabbled away, still on his side.

  ‘I’m not Australian, I’m English. London. Literally the other side of the world from each other you ignorant fuck.’

  He stood up and kicked a load of stones at Bortado.

  ‘Nice!’ Reed announced happily, and picked Bortado up like he was nothing at all and dropped him in the chair, then went back to the car, this time returning with a long-handed shovel, a big, wicked-looking axe and the Ruger John had taken off the guy in the diner.

  Bortado stared at him, he was afraid now. John could see it. The man had no idea what was going on, the bravado fading fast along with the sneer. Whatever was happening to him now, it wasn’t in the rules. Suddenly everything had become very serious for him.

  Reed then removed his t-shirt, and folded it neatly before laying it down on a rock.

  In the flesh he was even more impressive, literally all muscle.

  ‘I don’t want to get blood on it,’ he explained to John, and then walked across to Bortado, who was watching him, eyes wide with fear.

  John understood, and stepped back.

  It was Reed’s show now, the man who had to deal with drunken, violent, trained to kill soldiers who were hellbent on putting him into the ground and doing it on a daily basis.

  ‘So Tyrone, you mind if I call you that? Tibor makes you sound like an asshole. Which, incidentally, you are, but I’m hoping that now is the time you wise up,’ Reed stood right next to Bortado who cowered away, head down.

  ‘What the fuck is this? What’s going on, man? What do you want?’ he whimpered.

  ‘We know everything Tyrone. We need to talk to Pinsky. And before you start bullshitting with a “who?” or “I don’t know anyone called that” we know all about it. So, like I said, wise up. This is only going one way, and that’s my way. So learn fast.’

  Bortado whimpered but said nothing, looking at John for help but saw no comfort there, just a cold stare in return.

  Reed slapped him round the face and twisted his head so he was looking right at the soldier.

  ‘Ok, ok. So, wow you’re a tough guy, right? That’s what everyone at the precinct seems to think anyways. Now, I wouldn’t have never believed it, seeing as how John here handed you your ass in a cup without him breaking a sweat, but that’s where we are. It don’t matter. But you are in it now. Believe it.’

  Reed looked over at John, who nodded, then picked up the axe and walked over, and spoke slowly and clearly.

  ‘You see Tyrone, we aren’t here. Nobody knows about us. We can do what we like, and I know what Tom can do, I’ve seen it for myself, and you will too soon enough. Forget the cops we followed here, they don’t know us. They are just doing their jobs. They don’t care, they get paid the same as normal. Nobody gives a shit. To be frank Tyrone, you’re fucked.’ John laboured the last word.

  ‘Fucked,’ Reed agreed. ‘And what’s one more body buried in this desert anyway? Place is full of them.’

  Still Bortado said nothing, just sat with his head lowered, blood dripping from his nose.

  Reed tutted loudly then picked up the shovel.

  ‘Ok, well, we gave you a chance. Like I care, let’s make a start. You better get digging. You ain’t going back to the precinct. Or the city, even.’

  He pulled Bortado out of the chair, who squealed and tried hopelessly to resist then threw him down next to where the land began to rise up at the edge of the basin.

  Bortado rolled onto his back and then sat up looking at the two men, scared and confused. Reed handed him the shovel, then removed the Ruger from the back of his trousers.

  ‘It’s simple. Dig,’ he said.

  Bortado stared up at him, disbelieving, tears forming in his eyes. He shook his head.

  Reed racked a round into the chamber.

  ‘You’re a gangster, right? A hard man. Tough guy. You know how this works, you know what’s gonna happen. Like John said, we ain’t here, and you sure as hell ain’t either. So, get on with it, I don’t wanna waste all day.’

  Bortado looked around helplessly.

  ‘No, no, I can’t be doing this. No, this ain’t right, I don’t know nothing.’

  ‘You wanna talk to me about right? Fuck that. I knew Kyle Warner. Dig.’

  Defeated, Bortado sobbed loudly then shook his head violently.

  ‘Ok, ok! Fuck! Yeah, yeah, I know Leo Pinsky,’ he mumbled.

  John moved closer, but let Reed do his stuff, laying the axe on the floor next to the big man, obviously, so Bortado saw it.

  ‘Yeah, we know. You ain’t telling me nothing. Dig,’ Reed poked him with the Ruger.

  ‘Wait! Just, wait. Jesus. ok, I’ll answer, but I don’t wanna die out here man. It can’t go like this man, please. You can’t, they got my record, I was at the precinct man, my attorney was with me.’

  ‘I wouldn’t give that any more thought. You were never at the precinct. PD were looking for you sure, but you hid your candy ass away. And your attorney won’t be back, that’s dealt with.’ Reed lied.

  Bortado just carried on staring up at Reed.

  ‘Fuck,’ he started weeping, unable to help himself.

  ‘I’m not asking again. Dig. Or I’ll take some fingers off, maybe a foot, to start with. Axes are perfect; quick and quiet. Apart from the screaming, that is.’ Reed picked up the axe and rested the head on the dusty ground, leaning forward on the handle.

  ‘What do you want to know! I told you, I know him! Jesus!’ Bortado was really tearful now.

  Reed sighed and bent forward.

  ‘Ok, so talk. Where is he?’

  ‘LA, he went to LA. Yesterday, he was in a hurry, listen I don’t know him real well, I just get him some shit sometimes, that’s it, you know how it is.’

  ‘Not really. You got our friend killed.’

  ‘No! No way. He called me yesterday, he was pissed. I don’t know why. It was in the morning. He never fucking calls in the morning. He needed somebody to take care of some people, that’s all he said. Offered me ten grand to find a guy, man. I was like, yeah, ok, I can do that. And that fucking chickenshit Ryan owes me, so I thought of him. All I did was get them together, I didn’t know nothing about what it was and I didn’t fucking ask, I swear. But like, I hooked them up, and then he says it was four people man. I didn’t know nothing about it and I didn’t fucking ask. But Leo didn’t have all the shit he needed or something and he was pissed about it. He rang me again, said he needed some guys to set up a tail. That’s all I fucking know. So I made a call, it didn’t sound like no thing, and told Leo to get in contact. Then he rang later and he was pissed, real pissed, he hadn’t heard nothing. He couldn’t reach my guy, and I couldn’t fucking get him neither.’

  ‘Yeah, we met Lucky. He needs to change his name,’ Reed told him.

  ‘Where the fuck is he? We never heard nothing from him.’

  ‘He’s considering a career change.’

  ‘What’s in LA?’ John asked.

  ‘Jesus, I don’t fucking know. You gotta listen to me, Leo, he comes and goes, sometimes I don’t see that motherfucker for months. But he’s been here a while, and he got business in LA. Been back and forth, but I don’t know anything about it, I don’t know nothing!’

  ‘Ok, ok, so how does he get hold of you?’

  ‘My cell, he calls my cell.’

  ‘And how do you get hold of him?’

  ‘I call him.’

  Bortado stared upward, realisation dawning.

  ‘Look man, he’ll fucking kill me.’

  ‘Fuck that. You do not need to worry about that. You got way more pressing problems. Give me the number.’

  ‘It’s on my cell. The
cops got it. Fuck.’

  Reed looked at John.

  ‘Got any questions?’

  ‘Just one. Where in LA, it’s a big city. He got a place there?

  Bortado wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, blood and tears dripping off his chin. It was over, he was broken.

  ‘I don’t think so. Maybe. I don’t know, I never asked. We ain’t buddies man, I’m serious.’

  ‘Ok.’

  Reed pulled Bortado to his feet, who stood fearfully looking from one man to the other.

  ‘So, what now? I helped, right? I gave you everything! Please!’

  ‘Yeah, yeah.’

  Reed snapped on the handcuffs and pushed him back up the slope toward the car, grabbing his t-shirt on the way. John picked up the shovel and the axe, then looped his arm through the back of the chair and followed them.

  Reed drove back to the cruiser, the cops looked in the car as they approached but said nothing about the state of Bortado, just climbed in the cruiser and the two cars headed back to the police precinct. As they pulled up John turned around in his seat to Bortado, making him flinch.

  ‘You owe us. You get that, right? You’re still breathing. But here’s the clincher, if you say one word to anyone about what went down out there and who we asked you about I will hunt you down. It doesn’t matter to me where you are, whatever jail you end up in I’ll find you. I do not give up. And trust me, it will be painful. I will really hurt you.’

  Bortado believed every word, staring back at him and moaning.

  They climbed out the car and pulled Bortado from the back. One of the cops handed Reed some baby wipes who used a generous amount to clean the worst of Bortado’s face, then they went back into the custody area.

  The sergeant at the desk looked up.

  ‘Oh Christ,’ he started, but was interrupted by the cop with the baby wipes.

  ‘He fell on the steps sarge, it’s not as bad as it looks.’

  Nobody mentioned there were no steps and Bortado was led away, John and Reed waited for the captain

  He came in with Judy following.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘He’s pretty much confirmed what we already guessed, but he has told us that Pinsky’s in LA. Judy, can you authorise a trace on his mobile number? Bortado’s got it stored in his phone,’ John led Judy over to the counter.

  ‘Yeah, I can do that, what’s the number?’

  The captain ordered for Bortado’s phone to be brought out, he actually had three of them on him when he was arrested. They were in separate evidence bags, and all locked.

  ‘No problem,’ Reed said, and picked up the bags. The sergeant took him over to Bortado’s cell, and a couple of minutes later he reappeared holding up a mobile. There was a number under the contact name ‘Russ L’.

  ‘What do you think?’ Judy asked, writing the number down.

  ‘It’s all we got,’ John told her.

  ‘Shit. Please stop fucking saying that,’ Reed pleaded.

  John looked at him and shrugged.

  ‘Well …’

  Judy disappeared to make the arrangements, and John asked the captain to collect the minivan from the Mirage, and get it searched it for a tracker.

  They needed to get back to LA. Fast.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Sammy parked up just off the beach close to the pier and got out the car.

  She breathed in the sea air and looked around.

  So far, she liked Santa Monica. She had driven right through it, following Ocean Avenue from the south. There were a lot of hotels. Big and small, cheap and expensive. All the major brands plus many more and lots of motels too. This wasn’t going to be easy.

  But if John Smith was here, she would find him, she was determined.

  She walked over to a taco stand and bought lunch, then sat on a wall looking out over the sea while she ate. She found herself thinking about Jason, and wondered what he was doing right now. He was probably exhausted by the twenty-three-year-old stripper, although she suspected that would be over and done with. She never thought about him much, it was the proximity of the sea she decided. They had their honeymoon in Hawaii, and had holidays in Mexico and Bali.

  He probably had moved on, maybe another stripper she thought, but who knew.

  And who cared. She had work to do.

  She finished the taco, dropped the paper plate in a bin and stood up.

  An hour later she had discovered a major flaw in her reasoning. She had anticipated her usual fresh-faced appealing approach where a receptionist would be all too eager to help was the way forward, it rarely failed.

  ‘Sure, yes we got a Mr John Smith staying here, would you like me to call his room?’

  At the start, this had worked in the smaller hotels and motels to a certain extent, some staff even recognised her, although there was no sign of Mr Smith. But for the big-name brands, nothing doing, and this had become even tougher as she made her way further into the Downtown area. Here, all she would get is a surly stare, or a smirk, wherever she went.

  She would have to change tack.

  She found a coffee shop where she could sit and look out at least a dozen hotels, and hoped for the best. Maybe he would even come in for a drink. She hadn’t spoken to Moran yet, and had hoped for something definitive before she had to. But she hadn’t known the area, had never been here before, which was a mistake for sure. She should have done all the research she could first, but all she had been able to think about was getting out to Santa Monica.

  His picture was etched in her brain, she would be able to spot him she knew it.

  She just needed luck to be on her side.

  Since she had her fair share of it in the past, surely it wouldn’t let her down now.

  ***

  The flight from Vegas to LAX took a little over an hour, which was nothing, although it had to be a lot more for Reed who was squashed into an economy seat. John gave him the aisle but it was still way too small, although he didn’t complain. There was no other seating available on the flight, which was the first they could get out the city.

  They had wiped down the Ruger and the SIG Sauer carefully, then dismantled them and deposited the parts in wastebins all around the strip before they had left for the airport.

  Reed had spent most of the time waiting to board talking on the phone, and now as they hustled out of the airport with only carry-on luggage they got straight into an olive green sedan being driven by Louisa Gonzalez.

  ‘So how was Vegas?’ she asked, as she moved her way into the typical LA traffic.

  ‘Not so great, since you ask,’ Reed replied, looking sideways at her from the passenger seat.

  ‘Ok, well, I’ve done everything you asked. So, we headed for Santa Monica?’

  ‘Yeah, I guess so, that all good John?’

  ‘Yeah. I need my mobile, there’s an urgent call I need to make.’

  The journey was short, but took a while, stop/start pretty much all the way, but finally Louisa pulled into the car park in front of the Ocean Vista hotel.

  They all got out the car and John went straight up to his room with the other two following. He checked his mobile. Seventeen missed calls.

  One from Judy.

  Sixteen from Ron Keane.

  He showed it to Reed who shook his head.

  ‘That motherfucker,’ he rumbled.

  John pressed a button and held the phone to his ear. Keane answered immediately. John told him they were back and Keane said he would head over as soon as he could.

  John hung up and looked at Reed.

  ‘Ok.’

  They went back down to the ground and John took position, sitting on the low wall that ran between the car park and the pool. Reed and Louisa crossed to the opposite side and sat down against the side of the building that contained the bar and the Chinese restaurant, hidden from view when anyone pulled in. John sat patiently waiting, a slither of blue sea visible between the buildings on the other side of the wide street.
>
  Twenty minutes passed, and then a pale blue Ford pulled into the car park, moving slowly. Two men inside, a heavy white man driving and a young Hispanic man in the passenger seat. They were looking all around, scanning the area and then settled on John, both men fixed on him.

  They stopped the car about twenty feet away.

  John didn’t move. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Reed moving fast around the other side of the car park and Louisa standing up.

  The Hispanic man opened his door, and climbed out of the car, still looking at John.

  The white man was talking on a mobile phone, and then he also got out of the car.

  John sat still. Watching.

  The white man made a decision. He glanced around and took out a gun from his pocket, a battered CZ 75, and held it loosely, then both men started walking forward.

  John stood up.

  The men stopped for a second, then continued moving toward him.

  John stepped forward.

  The white man raised the gun.

  ‘Now ….’

  And that was all he said. Reed grabbed him from behind, lifted him in the air by his shirt and threw him hard down on the ground. John went for the Hispanic man who was so startled he froze, then turned to run but John was on him and wrestled him backwards against the car.

  The Hispanic man was wiry and strong, he grabbed hold of John’s hand and started to twist but John pushed back as hard as he could and then kneed the other man hard in the groin, making him exhale loudly and double over, releasing John’s hand.

  John stepped back and kicked him solidly in the face, then grabbed him by the hair and slammed his head down onto the ground, finally stamping down on the fingers of both hands, crushing the bones.

  He stepped back and looked over at Reed who was standing over the other man prone at his feet. Louisa appeared and shook her head.

  Reed shrugged.

  Together they bundled the men into the car and Louisa parked it at the back and then joined Reed who had walked over to where he had originally been.

  John retook his position sitting on the wall.

  Keane arrived twenty minutes later. He was on his own, and spotted John but drove right around the car park first. John could see his head twisting from one side to the other as he circled. Eventually he parked and slowly walked across. He fixed on a rueful smile as he approached John.