by Rod Reynolds
Tanner took it and slipped it away, his eyes widening when he looked at the next shot. ‘Generous with his affections.’ He flashed it to Caxton and then passed it to me. It showed Kosoff tangled between two black women. ‘For smart men, some of these hotshots act dumb as rocks.’
I startled at the sound of the office door opening suddenly. Bryce and Hendricks walked in, nodding to Tanner and taking up a place behind me.
I caught my breath and turned back to Tanner. ‘What do you intend to do?’
He sat back in his chair, gripping the envelope. ‘We’ll need to start planning. He has too high a profile to whisk off the street like Bayless.’
‘For all the good it did him.’
I regretted it as soon as I said it.
Tanner glared at me but let it pass. ‘He has means, maybe he can be convinced to vamoose of his own accord until this blows over.’
I leaned forward in my seat, my throat dry. ‘Rosenberg said he’d come for me if I didn’t go through with it again.’ I held his stare and gestured towards Lizzie with a flick of my eyes. He gave a slight nod, indicating he understood the danger was to her too.
He angled himself away from us, resting his arms on the desk. He crumpled the torn piece of envelope, thinking. ‘In the first instance, Kosoff has to be informed.’
‘You intend to alert him?’
He glanced at Caxton. ‘Yates, I know you’re not going to want to hear this, but it ought to come from you. For appearances’ sake.’
‘Whose appearances?’
‘All parties.’
I fixed my eyes on the side of his face. ‘Your first concern is still protecting your operation, isn’t it?’
‘We’re making fair progress, I won’t have that compromised unnecessarily.’
‘Listen to what you’re saying; a man died unnecessarily, doesn’t that count for anything?’
‘Precisely my point. I took a risk stepping out of the shadows, it didn’t pay dividends.’
I shook my head in frustration. ‘Go arrest Rosenberg and Gilardino, I’ll testify against them in any court you want. The whole scheme goes under.’
He took a deep breath. ‘Understand: I sincerely regret what’s come to pass, and I want them held to account for what happened to Mr Bayless – and they will be, god willing. But there are two problems with arresting them now. First, it doesn’t get the Bureau to Siegel, and second it’s your word against theirs. They’ll have alibis lined up, no doubt, but more to the point, it leaves you as the only witness they’d need to eliminate to scuttle the case. The same situation as with Abe Reles – and you told me yourself you saw what they did to him.’
Reles: the button man who turned on Siegel to save himself – and ended up dead. I felt Lizzie’s hand reach for mine in my lap, kept my eyes on Tanner. ‘We’re at their mercy already.’
‘You would be acutely so.’
I leaned forward. ‘A murder charge is no use to you because you’d have to give the case to the LAPD. You’re putting your pride before a man’s life.’
‘Siegel owns half of the LAPD.’
‘So find the half he doesn’t. Do you understand what these men are capable of? I saw what they did to Trent Bayless, he couldn’t even open his eyes to see the bullet coming.’
‘You’re saying he was tortured?’
‘Severely.’
The two agents looked at each other, a note of alarm passing between them. ‘For what purpose?’
‘How should I know? Maybe because they’re animals.’
He was shaking his head. ‘That doesn’t fit observed behaviour. They wanted to know something. Could he have told them about our involvement?’
I went cold at the suggestion, a possibility I hadn’t considered. I glanced at the window, seeing nothing but the flat roof of the market hall over the street.
‘Yates?’
‘I don’t know. Rosenberg knew about me telling him to run. Bayless told them that much.’
Tanner folded one arm across his chest and ran his hand over his face – more expressive now than when I’d first told him about Bayless’ murder. ‘So it’s possible he could have told them anything.’
‘Why would they let me out alive if they knew I was talking to you? Your own men checked us for tails, so it can’t be a ruse.’
‘Much as I despise Siegel, you learn the hard way not to underestimate him.’
I got to my feet and paced to the door and back, turning it over. ‘Did we state our location in front of Bayless?’
Tanner’s eyes narrowed. ‘Not that I recall.’
‘What about after you let me out? Did you talk about it in front of him?’ I waved a finger between him and Bryce and back.
‘Yates, please.’
‘Then how do you propose they found us?’
He stood up. ‘We talked about this already, and if you’re about to start throwing stones again—’
‘Sit down, I’m just thinking aloud.’
‘He might have realised it had some value.’
Lizzie said it. All eyes turned to her.
‘The information,’ she said. ‘Mr Bayless was trying to talk his way out of his predicament. Maybe he thought he could use it as a bargaining chip if he knew where we were.’
Tanner scratched his ear. ‘That still wouldn’t explain how he came to know it in the first place.’
I glanced around the office – papers on the desk, box files. ‘You bring him up here? If he went snooping …’
Tanner waved it off – but said nothing.
‘Look, where is Siegel now?’ I said.
‘Why do you ask?’
‘Because I’m tired of playing catch-up.’
‘You think you can talk to him? Is that it?’
I put my hands in my pockets, looking at him.
‘Don’t be foolish,’ he said. ‘Besides, he travels constantly. New York, Chicago, Florida, Nevada. And you know about Arkansas …’
I thought about Hot Springs and the damage I’d done to Siegel’s operation there – the cause of the grudge. But now I needed one, I couldn’t come up with a way to hurt him; no ammunition to force him to back off. But still, it had to be there. He had enemies and he crossed lines; there would be something. There always was. ‘Forget it.’
‘I’d counsel you to do the same.’
‘Take my statement so we can be through here. Step outside with me so I can spare my wife the details.’ I looked at Caxton. ‘Would you fix the lady a cup of coffee?’
*
It’d taken more than two hours – Tanner checking and rechecking various details, Bryce sitting in and piping up with his own questions from time to time. At the end, I was left slumped in my seat feeling empty.
Tanner took me back into the main office. Lizzie looked up when we came in, a tiny fleck of red varnish on her blouse, the nail on her little finger still wet where she’d been biting it.
Tanner took out one of the photographs, and the slip of paper with Kosoff’s particulars. He placed them in a new envelope and handed it to me. ‘Approach Mr Kosoff soonest. It’s in everyone’s interest. It would be best to keep our involvement from him, at least for now. The less folk in the loop, the better.’
I pointed to the one still in his hand. ‘What about the rest?’
‘This is evidence. We’ll have it dusted for prints and so forth. We’ll need a set of yours for elimination purposes.’
I almost said I needed it to write the article for Rosenberg. Subservient, brainwashed; Gilardino’s hooks even deeper into me than I realised. ‘What would you have me tell him? That he’s been targeted for extortion but to pay it no mind?’
‘Don’t be flippant.’
‘Flippant? I just watched a man get killed—’ I closed my eyes, Lizzie standing right there, the line too explicit, wishing I could take it back. ‘I’m asking how you want me to approach this.’
‘In the first instance, he just needs to be informed. We’ve got twenty-four hours, maybe thirty-six, before tim
e becomes a pressure – gives me a chance to run it up the chain of command and formulate a plan. And there’s always the chance he chooses to pay.’
‘What would that solve? It only serves to embolden them.’
‘It buys us time, and ensconces you deeper in Siegel’s outfit. It wouldn’t be the worst outcome. It’s not as if Kosoff would want for the money.’
‘I can’t believe—’ I threw my hands up.
‘Focus on the greater good, Yates. Keep it at the forefront of your mind. There may come a point where you have to publish the article they want.’
‘What?’
‘You’ve seen what the alternative is. I’m talking about the last resort.’
‘You’re facilitating his scheme. At what point are you going to take your damn handcuffs out and start arresting people?’
‘When I have a case. We’ve been through this.’
I pointed to the envelope in his hand. ‘You have a case.’
‘I have a start. And, thanks to you, an opportunity.’
We stood there, staring at each other. Waiting for the other to blink. Then he held his hands up, palms out. ‘Let’s not meet trouble more than halfway. This is a pressured situation, take it an hour at a time. Inform Kosoff and leave it at that. It’s not for you to advise him how to proceed.’
I stared at him a minute longer, then turned away. I reached for Lizzie’s hand to help her to her feet. ‘We need to talk alone a moment. Have you arranged somewhere for us to stay tonight?’
He nodded to Caxton, who picked up the telephone. ‘We’ll make a start on that now. Make yourself comfortable.’
We stepped back into the antechamber and I closed the door. Lizzie made to speak, but I moved her away from the frosted glass, my finger to my lips. Then I pointed to the staircase leading to the exit, mouthed, ‘GO.’
I kept hold of her hand, eased open the outer door and led her down to the street.
*
I fumbled for the ignition, looking at Lizzie. ‘Check their window. Is Tanner watching?’
She twisted her neck to look out and up. ‘The light’s reflecting on the pane, I can’t make it out.’
The engine caught and we took off with a jerk. I pointed through the windshield to the familiar sedan parked across the street. ‘There. That’s Bryce’s car. Watch it as long as you can.’
She swivelled in her seat as we sped past it.
‘Anything?’
‘I can’t see them.’
I pushed the car on and made a turn to get out of their line of sight, Lizzie having to brace herself against the swerve. Back on the straight, she righted herself in her seat.
‘Are you okay?’
She nodded, looking stunned.
‘It’s best they don’t know our whereabouts. For the time being.’
She said nothing, a loaded silence. I glanced over, saw her watching me, wheels turning behind her eyes.
‘We can contact Tanner whenever we need. It’s safer this way—’
‘I think you did the right thing.’
I glanced again, her face taut. ‘Then what’s spooked you?’ The question seemed ludicrous as soon as it left my mouth.
‘Something Agent Caxton said. When he brought the coffee while you were gone. It seemed innocuous, but now I think about it …’
‘Liz?’
‘He asked if I had family in the city, or if you did.’
‘To stay with?’
‘He didn’t say.’ She turned to the road, her voice distant. ‘Maybe I took it wrong.’
I checked the rearview again, everything behind us a blur.
*
It was dusk by the time we pulled up at the Pacific Journal building. A cool wind was blowing off the ocean, the sun taking the last of the day’s warmth away with it.
We went straight to Acheson’s office. His secretary had left for the day but he was inside, the door open. An oversized angle lamp illuminated his desk at point blank range, the only light in the room. The sky outside was dark enough that I could see my reflection in the window behind him; the image was dim and distorted in the black glass, rendering me insubstantial.
He got to his feet as soon as he saw us in the doorway, his eyes bright. He made his way over and pumped my hand, then took Lizzie by the shoulders, causing her to break into a smile. ‘It’s tough to surprise an old man like me, but this is a good one. Come in.’ He waved us inside and closed the door. ‘How are you?’
‘Still walking and talking.’
‘That’s more than some of these hacks manage on a good day.’ He said it with a humourless grin, leaning on the door handle for support. He looked from me to Lizzie and back, a note of hesitation in his manner. ‘Don’t take this the wrong way but … is it safe for you to be here?’
‘As safe as anywhere else. Anyway, we’ll be gone in no time.’
‘That’s not how I meant it.’
‘I know.’
He held my stare a moment, then blinked. ‘Good. Did you speak to Detective Belfour?’
I nodded, flopping down onto a chair. ‘The name was a put-up. He’s FBI.’
He bulged his cheek with his tongue. ‘What in god’s name are you wrapped up in?’
‘It’s better you don’t know. We ducked out on him and his men, I’d guess they’ll contact you at some point, so if you could see your way to forgetting you saw us …’
‘You’re on the run from them?’
‘No. Trying to stay ahead of them.’
‘Doesn’t that amount to the same thing?’ I started to reply but he waved me off. ‘It’s better if I don’t know. I’m just glad to see you.’ He looked at Lizzie. ‘Both of you.’
‘It’s all Siegel, Buck.’ I cradled my face in my hands and rubbed my eyes, fighting exhaustion. ‘It all goes back to Siegel. Did you manage to track him down?’
He levered himself off the door handle and crossed back to his desk. He opened his top drawer and rustled through it, finding the paper he was looking for and placing it under the light. He stared at it for a moment and I wondered what he was thinking. Then he looked up at me. ‘I don’t mind telling you, I wrestled with whether to relay this or not.’
‘He finds us wherever we go. You’d only be levelling the playing field.’
He brought the slip of paper over to me, favouring his right hip. ‘It’s not what you think.’
I got up to take it from him, waiting for him to finish.
‘He’s in Nevada. You’ve heard of Las Vegas?’
I nodded once, but didn’t understand. I knew of the place – a railroad stop in the Mojave desert that had legalised gambling to scalp the Boulder Dam construction crews a decade back. ‘What’s his business out there?’
‘Purportedly, building a hotel-casino.’
I looked at Lizzie, could sense the words had sparked the same thought as me: Hot Springs. ‘Is it legitimate?’
‘I couldn’t say. He’s a lifetime criminal; would that give him more or less incentive to try going straight?’
I shook my head and looked away, no answer to offer.
‘Regardless, I spoke with Peter Brown at the Las Vegas Sun – do you know Peter?’
I shook my head.
‘He says this “monstrosity” – his word – is due to open in a fortnight, so Siegel pays a visit to the site most days. If you really are minded to speak to him, that’s your avenue.’ He stepped back, pressing his knuckle to his lips. ‘Charlie, at the risk of labouring the point, I would urge caution.’
I put the address in my pocket. ‘What would you do in my shoes?’
‘I don’t know the ins and outs, I’m not best placed to comment. What I would say is that if you’re running from the Bureau and towards Siegel, something seems very amiss to me.’
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lizzie look away from him and hang her head.
*
I stopped by my desk on the way out, to make use of the telephone. The newsroom was sparsely populated at that ho
ur, but still a few friendly faces came over to exchange greetings. Buck was discreet, so I doubted he’d told them much, and there were unspoken questions in people’s faces – but none came right out to ask where the hell we’d disappeared to for weeks on end. Suited me that way – and Lizzie kept it all at bay with idle talk about our time upstate.
My desk was overflowing with newspapers, unopened mail and message slips, the telephone buried. I set about clearing it all away, but as I swept the messages to one side, the one at the top of the pile caught my eye:
Hector King, Los Angeles Times, telephoned to speak to you Wed Dec 15, 1250hrs (Working for the enemy now, Charlie??)
Earlier that day. A bolt fired through me, surprise that he’d bothered to follow up on my request, hope that one of his legmen had turned up something on the girls. I dialled the Times, twisting the cord around my finger, untwisting it again. The operator tried to connect me to King’s extension, but came back saying there was no answer. I hung up, wheels spinning under me. I stuffed the message slip in my pocket, picked up the phone again and dialled a different number, distracted now – by Hector King at first, but then by thoughts of Las Vegas.
I could be there by morning. Tiredness weighed on me, the prospect of more hours behind the wheel, racing across the desert. And if I went, then what? Pull up at Siegel’s joint and tell him to go straight to hell? I thought about his eyes in the back room at Ciglio’s, and Rosenberg’s warnings about how much Siegel wanted me dead. What was to stop him putting a bullet in me and Lizzie on the spot? Bury us in a hole in the desert where even the vultures wouldn’t trouble to look. The futility of it all brought on a lunatic notion: set his hotel ablaze, watch it go up in flames. The ashes of his master plan scattered on the wind—
A voice answered, cutting off the madness. A bad line. ‘Mr Kosoff’s office.’
I was at a loss for words, realising I’d given no thought to what I would say. ‘This is Charlie Yates from the Los Angeles Times, I’d like to speak to Mr Kosoff.’
‘Mr Kosoff isn’t taking unsolicited calls. Are you a reporter, Mr Yates?’
‘Yes, but—’
‘Switchboard can direct your enquiry to our press office. Hold, please.’