Dying For LA

by Ian Jones

  Keane turned and sat half on the desk, looking down at Billy, who shrugged, easing the desk away from himself.

  ‘I don’t know nothing. I’m not involved in any of that shit, you know that.’

  ‘Sure, yeah I know that. But you do know a lot of things, and I thought maybe you can help us out.’

  ‘Seriously Mr Keane, I never heard nothing. I don’t know shit.’

  ‘OK. So how about you?’

  Keane turned his head and looked at Tattoos.

  ‘Me? I haven’t heard nothing neither. That shit took us all by surprise.’

  Nobody said anything, Billy Whizz sat looking around uncomfortably. Keane produced the bio picture of Rico Perez and laid it on the desk.

  ‘You need to keep this real quiet, but we would like to speak to this guy.’

  Billy looked at it and shook his head, then slid it across the table to Tattoos, who picked it up.

  ‘No idea, don’t know him,’ Billy told them adamantly.

  But Tattoos was looking closely at the photo.

  ‘I seen this guy, maybe a couple of times. Place called Miss Sin, in Hollywood. I got a girl that works there, he’s been in. I’m in there a lot I guess. But I don’t know him, never spoke to him. Sits on his own. Quiet. But I’d say it’s this guy, for sure.’

  The man in the suit thumped the desk and pointlessly shot him a warning glance.

  ‘When was the last time you saw him?’ John asked, ignoring it.

  ‘I ain’t sure. It’s been a while since I seen him, ask the girls, they may be able to tell you something, they’re paid to be friendly.’

  ‘OK. Thanks, that’s helpful,’ Keane said. ‘You see Billy, being an asshole isn’t ingrained in everybody.’

  Billy shrugged again.

  ‘One more thing Billy, I need a gun. For my man here. No trace.’

  ‘Come on Mr Keane don’t try this shit,’ Billy pleaded.

  ‘I’m not trying anything, but John here isn’t official. I can’t arm him myself and things are going to get ugly at some point so I got to look out for him.’

  ‘Mr Keane you gonna fit me up, I can’t …’

  ‘Fucking hell Billy, you ain’t listening. This is not about popping a cap in some asshole and you taking the blame. It’s bigger than that shit. Much bigger.’

  ‘Jesus Mr Keane,’ Billy whined.

  ‘Listen to me. Your pal here just helped, which I’m very grateful for. Now it’s your turn. I don’t care what shit you got down here.’

  He turned and pulled on one of the boxes stacked against the wall. It fell off the pile and burst open. Porn DVDs scattered all over the floor.

  ‘Now, if you play nice it will mean I’m gonna ignore these. One good turn deserves another, but I ain’t a patient man Billy, you know that.’

  Billy looked up at John helplessly, and then with a deep sigh and muttering to himself, stood up and went over to the door in the corner.

  ‘Make it a nine-mil please Billy, keep it straightforward,’ Keane asked, pleasantly.

  Billy grunted and nodded then unlocked and went inside, closing the door behind him, but John still saw a small room full of stuff. Billy returned a few minutes later with two cloth-wrapped bundles, which he laid on the desk, then stepped back. John moved forward and unwrapped them. There was a Browning Hi-Power and a SIG Sauer P226. Both guns were used but looked in good condition. He picked up the SIG, it was a gun he liked.

  ‘Good choice,’ Tattoos said, and Keane nodded.

  John checked the clip and the chamber, which were both empty, then looked hard at Billy, who rolled his eyes.

  ‘Fuck.’

  He picked up the Browning and started wrapping it up again.

  ‘I think we’ll take that too Billy,’ Keane told him holding out his hand.

  ‘Fuck,’ Billy said again and pursed his lips, then threw it back on the desk. Keane picked it up with a smile and put it in his jacket pocket.

  ‘Ammo?’ John asked, patiently, enjoying the game.

  Billy threw his arms up, then disappeared behind the door, then came back and dropped two cartons on the desk. John picked one of them up. Good quality IMI rounds, twenty in a box.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said, and meticulously loaded the clip, snapped it back into the gun then racked it so there was a round in the chamber, dropped out the clip again and thumbed in an additional bullet, then clicked it back together and pushed it down the back of his trousers.

  ‘Look Mr Keane, about the guns. You never got these fucking things from me OK? You never did, I don’t know nothing about them OK? Billy said, still worried.

  ‘I’m not interested in chasing down your homies Billy. Don’t panic, I was never here. And you’ll get them back,’ Keane said with a smile.

  ‘Yeah, yeah. Until your buddy here blows his own head off or gets it done for him.’

  ‘I’m not too worried about that Billy. John here has proved he’s more than a match for these scumbags.’

  Keane bent down and picked up a DVD, which showed a naked woman tightly tied up while two men stood at either side of her. The title on the box was Real Rapes.

  ‘I got the feeling a lot of people would be unhappy with these Billy, and I mean a lot. I guess if I got a team down here and went right through these I’d find a lot of things that would make me real sick and cause a lot of anger in certain places. What do you think?’

  He produced his mobile phone and held it up.

  ‘One call, they can be here in less than fifteen.’

  ‘You got it wrong Mr Keane. These ain’t mine.’ Billy blustered.

  Keane held up a hand.

  ‘Just make sure you don’t never say a word about our visit.’ He looked keenly at Tattoos. ‘Both of you. If I find someone is expecting us, I’m coming back here, and I won’t be in such a good mood, am I clear?’

  ‘Crystal,’ Tattoos said.

  ‘Good. Let’s go John. I fancy a cold beer, get rid of this shitty taste in my mouth.’

  Chapter Nine

  Voorhees hadn’t left his office all day apart from to receive a pizza that was delivered. He didn’t offer to share it, just disappeared again. Rico and Sal eventually took a walk around just to get some air. It was common not to see a great deal of Voorhees during the day but normally they would have had an instruction however vague, whether it would be some kind of reconnaissance somewhere, getting information, shooting practice or an exercise of some sort. Since they first set up in LA they had spent time in the library researching LAPD response times and their options, and been sent all over the state collecting various items; guns, clothing, rucksacks, vehicles and always for cash. Always something to do. But today, nothing. In fact this had been the same for a while now.

  Unsurprisingly Sal wasn’t convinced of the benefits of his promotion, and had been attempting to persuade Rico not to do anything drastic. They had wandered around for a couple of hours before resignedly heading back to the apartment.

  Voorhees was standing inside the door, waiting.

  ‘Where the fuck have you been?’ he snarled.

  ‘Just walking Yann, just getting out.’

  ‘You been in a bar? I told you, no more, not after last time. I fucking told you.’

  ‘No, no way,’ Sal told him.

  Voorhees moved closer and looked closely at both men.

  ‘I need you to be at Union Station for eight-thirty. I got a new guy called Karl Weiss coming in, I got no idea what he looks like so you’ll have to be smart.’

  Rico paled.

  ‘Downtown? You sure that’s a good idea, after last night I mean.’

  Voorhees glowered at him.

  ‘If it hadn’t got fucked up I wouldn’t have had to arrange this, would I? So just fucking do it.’

  ‘Er … where’s he coming in from Yann?’ Sal asked.

  ‘Phoenix. And the word is he can be an asshole, so make sure you persuade him to leave any of that shit outside the door OK?’

  Both men nodded
.

  They set off in an old Chevy Lumina just after seven, they didn’t want to risk being late. Rico’s obvious nervousness was rubbing off on Sal, and both men were fighting inner demons by the time they pulled up close to Union station. They sat in the car waiting for the time to pass, which it did slowly. They made small talk, watching a policeman drinking coffee from a stand along the street.

  ‘Cops everywhere, man,’ Rico said looking all around.

  Sal was doing the same. He saw a patrol car at a junction further along past the station and two uniforms just inside the station doors.

  ‘Yeah, but they ain’t looking for us, right?’ he said pensively.

  ‘I guess so.’

  They got out of the car and walked down to the station entrance, trying like all the world to look like a couple of regular guys come to meet a buddy. Both men just wore jeans and t-shirts, which they were now regretting as the night was chilly and inside the station was no warmer than outside. The police at the doors paid them no heed as they passed.

  Sal had written ‘Karl’ on a sheet of paper and was holding it up lamely as people walked out from the platforms. Rico checked the arrivals board.

  ‘Due in a few minutes I reckon,’ he told Sal.

  They sat down to wait on a bench, constantly looking everywhere, knowing there would be cameras in the station and there was nothing they could do about it but keep their heads down.

  A train pulled in and eventually a line of people appeared walking away from the platform so they stood near the exit, Sal holding the sheet of paper in front of them.

  A man walked out on his own, late twenties, tall and thin, long white hair shaved on one side, wearing sunglasses despite the fact it was night and a long black coat. He looked around, spotted them and headed over.

  ‘Jesus Christ,’ breathed Rico.

  ‘You Karl?’ Sal asked when the man stopped in front of them. He could not have stood out any more.

  ‘Yep. Who the fuck are you?’

  ‘Oh Jesus,’ Rico whispered to himself, not really believing what he was seeing. Yann was going to go apeshit.

  ‘I’m Sal, and this is Rico. Let’s go.’

  They led the way out the station and down the street to the car. Sal moved over and opened the boot.

  ‘What the fuck is that?’ Weiss asked, finally removing the sunglasses.

  Both Sal and Rico turned to see what he was looking at.

  ‘It’s a car,’ Sal told him,

  ‘It’s a piece of shit. Should be a fucking limo. Don’t tell me I got amateur hour here.’

  Rico lost his patience.

  ‘Karl? Get in the fucking car. Or I swear to God I’m gonna start breaking some fucking bones. We do not need any more shit.’

  He stood very still, right in front of Weiss, staring up into his eyes.

  Weiss stared back insolently, then looked away and stepped back, throwing his bag into the boot.

  ‘OK, OK, Jesus. What the fuck. I’m just saying.’

  Rico clenched his fists, Sal led him gently away. The last thing they needed right now was any more trouble. Weiss sniggered and climbed in the back of the car.

  They drove back to the apartment in silence, Weiss put in earphones while Rico fumed as he drove and Sal worried next to him. The walked into the apartment and Sal crossed the hallway and knocked on the office door. Weiss looked around the dismal surroundings and shook his head.

  ‘No fucking way.’

  Sal beckoned him over.

  ‘Boss wants you,’ he said, then pushed Weiss inside and shut the door.

  Chapter Ten

  John and Keane walked the short distance back to the hotel, climbed the stairs and then knocked on Warner’s door.

  The big man answered then went back to lying on the bed in his pyjamas, watching a movie on a laptop. Keane explained what he and John had done earlier without any real detail, and Warner looked impressed.

  He stood up.

  ‘So, trip to Hollywood?’ he asked.

  Keane looked at him carefully.

  ‘I think just me and John should go. I’ll tell you for why. I don’t know this place the tattooed guy mentioned but they are all the same, if it looks like we are going in strong they will clam up. All sorts own these goddamn places, nobody wants to say the wrong thing. All we got to do is ask a couple of questions about some guy who has been in there a few times, just keep it casual, no big deal. You are a big black guy Kyle, no way we can change that. You look like muscle, that’s how it is. On our own we can fumble around like a pair of assholes, nobody gonna look twice. You cool with this?’

  John looked at Warner, wondering what he would say. He could be very pissed off, see it as a slight against the CIA, and worse maybe a slight against race. He looked like he was considering it, weighing up the pros and cons, then shrugged, much to John’s relief.

  ‘No problem. I guess that sounds about right. Just don’t do nothing that’s gonna bring down any heat OK?’ He laid back down again and folded his hands behind his head.

  ‘Got it,’ Keane said, and the two men shook hands.

  They left the hotel and climbed into Keane’s car. He drove out into the evening traffic and headed south and east.

  ‘So what’s the deal with Billy? He could cause us a lot of problems if he starts running off at the mouth,’ John asked.

  ‘No, he ain’t that stupid. His dad was the main man around Santa Monica, right from way before I was a detective and still going when I was the chief. Tony ran a tight ship, lot of rackets, but he was always real tidy about everything. We knew what was going on alright, but nothing stuck and the real truth was he never caused us any problems, in fact it was a two-way street. He gave us a lot of information, anyone he didn’t like the look of came our way. If he got rid of somebody, we never found them and nobody complained. I knew some of the boys in the precinct were getting paid, but I never took a single cent. Billy started working for him, just being a gofer really. Anyway, one day, some other team starts trying to operate on their turf. A pair of Ukrainian brothers, real hard cases. And they were making life difficult, being real noisy and getting in people’s faces, but we got nothing, they ain’t breaking any laws we can see. So, Tony asks to see me, saying what am I going to do about it. What can I do I ask him? I tell him I’m sure they are up to their necks in shit but we can’t find nothing. Of course, he ain’t happy. We have this whole long conversation and I say; look if they commit a felony and we catch them that’s that, but I can’t do nothing if they’re clean. He is real pissed about it, so tells me he’s gonna get Billy to deal with it, about time he started doing some real work. So, I say fine, but any shit turns up, it don’t matter that we had this conversation.’

  ‘OK. So how did that go?’

  ‘Suddenly we got a war. Guns going off all over the place. For about three months we had a lot of extra patrols on the ground permanently, it didn’t let up. And people are scared, the phones are going crazy and the brass are all over us. So now I’m really pissed. I go speak to Tony but he just says he don’t know nothing, but I can see he’s getting upset. Then we get a body. Eleven bullet holes. This guy, I don’t recall his name but known to be an enforcer for the Ukrainian brothers. So, I go back to Tony and he’s smiling and offering me whisky and still saying he knows nothing. Next, we got another one, and now it’s the elder brother; Vladimir Cheskov his name was. He’s got half a dozen holes in him, and then nothing. Nice and quiet. It all goes back to normal, so I’m thinking Billy must have done OK.’

  ‘But?’

  ‘But. Tony gets shot in the back getting in his car. Survives, he is a tough old man. Must be about six, seven years ago now. He can’t walk, and has to pee in a bag but he’s still going. He handed over to Billy soon after that, set him up under the bar we were at. Tony cleared up; sold off his clubs and his pawnshops and all the other bits and pieces, lives down in Orange County now, I never hear from him. Billy ain’t so bad, he’s learning, but he’s only interes
ted in the right now; make some dollars on this, make some doing that, while Tony was all about the long term. My guess now is there was another firm, probably more than one making life difficult back then.’

  ‘I have to say going in the bar wasn’t like the TV. I thought you’d have your gun out and be breaking down doors.’

  ‘Nah, I don’t do that. In fact, LAPD don’t roll like that no more. Too many civil liberties. Whether that’s for the good, I don’t know. LA is famous for the gangs, the Crips and the Bloods, and they’re there, they’re real, and a whole bunch of others who wanna be just like them. Truth is, we got busy police in this city, real busy.’

  ‘Do you mind me asking Ron, what exactly is your unit? I thought maybe counterterrorism but I’m guessing that’s not it, you seem too streetwise to me.’

  Keane grinned.

  ‘Ha, no, not counterterrorism. Hell, I got no fucking clue about that stuff. We’re kinda fortunate here, we seem to be escaping the worst of that. I sure hope that continues. It’s a fair question John. Thing is, my unit doesn’t really exist but I’m the chief. The chief of me.’

  ‘You’re on your own?’

  ‘Yeah, in a nutshell. I mean, I got direct links to plenty of other departments and teams, I can get SWAT on the ground in minutes if I need to. Judy said I was the FBI liaison, which I guess is as good a way of saying it. I do that, and the CIA, plus Interpol, and a couple of others so far if needed. My job is to be the front line between the LAPD and all these other agencies. Before, it was the chief of whatever precinct or division was involved, now, they got to come to me first. I got the call on this even before we even got ID on that guy Ritorsky. The CIA were notified of course, which came back to me, and straight away it looked like a big deal. Meantime, they find out some English guy called John Smith is caught up in it, took out the bad fellas with their own gun and who the FBI of all people think is the golden boy, and it keeps on getting bigger. So, I’m here, for the duration.’

  John nodded.

  ‘Right. So how we doing so far chief?’

  ‘Well, being honest, and I never like saying this, we ain’t got much of nothing.’