Dying For LA

by Ian Jones

  ‘You owe us thirty bucks. Now, you got somebody in maintenance around here?’ he asked brightly.

  ***

  Sammy was feeling the screw tighten.

  Moran had got on her case as soon as she had stepped into the office that morning. ABC news had interviewed a Metro worker who claimed to be at the scene, although the name didn’t appear on any witness list that Sammy had seen and the police had made no mention of at all. But true or false it was news, and Moran was blaming her, saying that they were back where they started. She should have made contact with this guy, she wasn’t focussed.

  Even Simon was starting to lose faith, she could feel it.

  In the end, out of desperation, she called Blanic.

  She knew she shouldn’t be doing it, this would just lead her to getting into even more problems with Moran but she had the information on Santa Monica now, and wanted to follow it up. Without support from the station it just wouldn’t happen, and she would be back reporting on liquor store robberies and whoever was upset with City Hall this week. She couldn’t let this go.

  Blanic answered, and was surprised to hear from Sammy.

  She spoke confidently, but carefully, not mentioning Moran or anyone else, just that she had information the British guy; John Smith, was currently in a hotel in Santa Monica. She just wanted to get down there for a day or two, stay one night and work the hotels, try and find him.

  There was nothing that nobody else at the station couldn’t handle while she was out the picture for forty-eight hours, and if it didn’t work out, then at least she had tried. Better than nothing. And it probably wouldn’t be that long.

  Blanic listened, but said nothing.

  She felt herself talking for talking’s sake, and willed herself to stop.

  There was silence on the end of the phone.

  ‘Put Frank on,’ Blanic told her eventually.

  She stood up and shakily walked across to Moran’s office, and handed the phone over. He stared at it in her hand.

  ‘It’s Costas,’ she told him.

  He grabbed the phone and covered the microphone.

  ‘Oh, you fucking bitch,’ he hissed, then closed the door on her.

  She walked back like a robot, and sat in her chair, her eyes constantly flicking across to Moran’s office. She could see him through the glass wall, hunched over his desk, phone glued to his ear. Simon watched her but when their eyes met he looked away, fast.

  She may well have made a major error this time, Moran would be really going to bat on what he thought about her, and Blanic would have no option but to listen. Moran was in charge, and she had just trampled all over him, gone right over his head, and she knew that Blanic would not approve.

  She watched Moran shaking his head, still looking down.

  She could even be out of a job.

  Then his office door crashed open and Moran stomped out. He stared at her, then walked across, his head held high, never looking away.

  He dropped her phone into her lap.

  ‘So off you go then, have fun at the beach.’

  She stared at him.

  ‘Oh yeah, make me look like an asshole, thank you for that. You got forty-eight hours, and before you book anything I want to approve it. So don’t spend one cent of our money less I say so. ok?’

  She nodded dumbly.

  ‘Yes, ok Frank. Thank you. I’ll hand over here, then get down to Santa Monica.’

  He was still staring down at her, then he leaned forward and spoke right in her ear.

  ‘You know what cutie? Your tits and ass ain’t gonna keep on saving you from the real world. Nothing lasts for ever. And I’ll be waiting.’

  He spun round and headed back to his office.

  Unable to help herself Sammy broke out a big smile, which Simon joined in with, and she blew Moran’s retreating back a kiss.

  ***

  The captain told them to wait in the canteen, which was on the next floor up. He insisted Judy go to his office so they could check in with the FBI before anything went ahead. He was justifiably nervous and needed to know that they would support any action like this. If there was any hesitation from their side, then Bortado was going nowhere.

  John and Reed sat opposite each other at the end of a long row of tables, there were officers of all ranks dotted around, drinking coffee and eating. Reed was making small talk, but John was sitting still, stewing.

  He put his rucksack on the table in front of him and looked around.

  Nobody could really see what he was doing.

  Carefully he drew the SIG Sauer toward him from under the clothes inside, all the time keeping it in the bag and then dismantled it, slowly and carefully until it was stripped down inside the bag …

  Fuck.

  Now he knew. After this morning he had started to suspect, he hadn’t wanted to believe it but here was all the evidence he needed. No question at all now.

  ‘It’s Keane,’ he told Reed, who looked back questioningly.

  ‘Keane’s the leak. It’s him,’ John repeated quietly.

  ‘What? No way, it can’t be. Why do you think that?’

  John reassembled the gun and spun the bag around so it faced Reed.

  ‘Take a look at this. You remember I told you Keane got me to go down to the bar with him? This is the gun I got. Check it for yourself.’

  Reed frowned and then repeated the process that John had just undertaken, still in the cover of the rucksack.

  He looked up. Now he knew. John was right. ‘Shit. No firing pin.’

  ‘Exactly. It was a set up. I get a gun that’s no fucking use. It was convincing, I mean it’s loaded, it all looks kosher, but in the event of something happening I’m done. Out of the way. I bet there’s a tracker in that minivan, that’s how the two guys at the diner found us. And that’s how they knew where Kyle was staying, and probably Judy too as Kyle was running her around. Fuck. I can’t believe it, he was the last one I suspected. Apart from you that is.’

  John stood up and walked round the table to the window. He leaned forward, resting his forehead on the cool glass, watching the traffic below.

  Reed stared into the rucksack.

  ‘Fuck.’

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Sal and Rico had got up, showered, and gone straight out for breakfast.

  Something was going to go down, that was for sure. Leo had been prowling around for most of the night, neither of them got a great deal of sleep because of it.

  Rico was also convinced that Greg and Rolf had no more idea about Leo than they did, at least they already knew Yann reasonably well for the lot of good it did them. He and Sal had been speaking with them yesterday evening, originally on the pretext of checking they had everything they needed but successfully steering the conversation round to trying to find out just what the fuck was going to happen next.

  It was obvious the two men were equally mystified, neither of them had any real idea of what they should be doing, and it was clear that being sent to an old train yard in a city they had never been to before had not been in their plans.

  They had been together for a while, and were doing their thing, whatever that was when they got the call, and made their way down to LA from Reno. Rico had mentioned that he had been told there would be four men, a team, which meant nothing to them. They had worked together, but only recently really, not more than a couple of months, so similar to he and Sal, in fact not even as long.

  Rico had asked about Leo but they had just looked at each other and shrugged, which pretty much mirrored his and Sal’s own feelings.

  Now they sat and ate, both men wondering how they could avoid going back.

  The door opened, and in walked Greg and Rolf. Both groups of men looked at each other. Rico grinned.

  ‘Come sit with us.’

  Greg spoke to Rolf who went to the counter to order, then walked across and sat down next to Sal.

  ‘So, this is breakfast then?’ he asked looking around.


  ‘Yep. Same as the last place for us. Not much choice round here, there’s a family restaurant just along the street but they don’t open till eleven. Always McDonald’s man, always. I’d kill for a Denny’s, anything different,’ Sal replied.

  ‘KFC. Jack in the Box,’ Rico offered.

  ‘Applebee’s. Or Taco Bell,’ Greg decided.

  The three men looked at each other and grinned comfortably.

  ‘How did you get out?’ asked Sal. ‘We locked up.’

  ‘Leo gave us some keys, last night. I didn’t really think about it, but I’m glad he did. We were hungry.’

  Rico checked his watch.

  ‘It’s early, you guys didn’t sleep too good then?’

  Greg looked around again, then leaned forward.

  ‘Nah, Leo was like, pacing around. All night it seemed. That guy’s weird, something going on there,’ he said quietly.

  ‘Yeah, he does seem a bit … intense,’ Sal agreed.

  ‘What’s Yann like?’ Greg asked.

  ‘He ain’t easy. Better now than he was, but he’s all keyed up too. At least he tells us what’s going on now, he never used to. Must be some kind of history between him and Leo,’ Sal answered.

  Rolf appeared, and placed a tray down on the table. He had purchased two extra coffees, which both Rico and Sal believed to be a good sign.

  ‘Thanks a lot Rolf,’ Rico said.

  ‘No sweat, we’re the workers, right? Got to stick together.’

  Exactly what I was thinking thought Rico.

  ***

  They sat in the canteen for nearly an hour, before the now decidedly unsmiling lieutenant appeared, and very reluctantly ushered them upstairs to the captain’s office.

  It was a big room in a corner, lots of windows and light. Judy was already inside sitting on a sofa, still clearly upset.

  John stood in front of the desk with Reed behind him. The captain was on the phone, then he hung up.

  ‘Ok, so we have been taking a good look. I’m sure you understand I got to know what I’m dealing with. Mr Reed is a serving member of our armed forces, rank of captain, and his superior officers appear to hold him in high regard. You on the other hand Mr Smith, are more of an unknown although it does seem you got a lot of support from the FBI.’

  He leaned back in his chair and looked up at them with strangely staring eyes. He did this for a while, unspeaking. John believed it would work wonders when he was interviewing someone, it was like he could see right through them.

  In the end, he smiled briefly and leaned forward.

  ‘Right. You get Mr Bortado for two hours. Nobody at this precinct is going to show any interest on why you are doing this or what you plan to do. That is my courtesy to the FBI, and the CIA I guess, hopefully one day I’ll get my reward. The conditions for this are real simple; one; he comes back here again alive, two; he remains in handcuffs, three; two officers travel with you. They will be in a separate vehicle and take no active part in whatever proceedings you instigate. And no, none of this negotiable.’

  He looked up.

  ‘Am I understood?’

  ‘Perfectly,’ John told him. ‘Thank you.’

  The captain stood.

  ‘Well ok. I need to do some work with the custody sergeants, this ain’t something I ever did before. None of us have. Let’s meet in the yard in fifteen minutes. I’ve got you a car.’

  He walked out, and they followed him. John stopped Judy.

  ‘Stay here Judy.’

  ‘What? No way. I need to be involved John, you can’t …’

  He interrupted her gently.

  ‘Look, nobody is going to get killed. ok? But we need the answers. It’s best you aren’t there. Sometimes dirty is the only way, and I am sure that is not how you want to do things. So stay here, and try to pretend none of this happening. That way, you knew nothing about it, you are not involved at all and there’s no reason for any more problems for you. Please Judy, stay here.’

  She looked at him, and then Reed, who put his arm around her.

  ‘John’s right Judy, you know it. We’re way off the programme now. This is his world. I’m just here helping is all.’

  The captain was waiting in the stairwell.

  Judy looked at him and then at John, then she sat down without saying anything.

  They went down to the basement level, and the captain entered the custody area. There was a small office to one side, which John guessed was used by lawyers when they needed to discuss whatever level of hopelessness their current client faced, and they were shown into it.

  Both men sat down on either side of a table, which was opposite a rack filled with pamphlets issued by the Vegas PD, all of which basically said don’t break the law.

  The office smelt of sweat and lost causes.

  A young cop, big but not in direct comparison to Reed spotted them and walked over.

  ‘I got what you need,’ he told Reed, who nodded.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘No sweat, I’m on the detail, you follow us, we know a perfect place.’

  ‘Cool, thank you.’

  He walked off, John looked at Reed, who smiled briefly.

  ‘I think I know how you want to play this John. I got a good idea what’s on your mind.’

  The captain appeared, and showed them out a side door into a big yard, which served the custody area. It was secure behind a solid pair of steel gates, there was a PD cruiser and a dark Chrysler sedan waiting there. The young cop was standing next to the sedan, and Reed went over. Beyond the yard was a raised car park, with police vehicles dotted around.

  The door opened again, and Bortado was led out, still grinning, hands cuffed behind his back. The two officers holding his arms shoved him roughly toward the cruiser, but the young cop intercepted them and they put him in the back of the sedan, slamming the door closed. John walked across.

  ‘Over to you, ok?’ the young cop said, and set off for the cruiser.

  ‘Don’t say anything to him ok? Nothing at all,’ John advised Reed, who nodded and climbed into the driver’s seat of the sedan, racking the seat back hard toward Bortado who had to move out the way. John got in the passenger side, and Reed drove toward the cruiser, which turned on its roof lights and set off toward the gates. They opened slowly, and the two cars made a right turn onto a four-lane road, heading west.

  Bortado leaned forward.

  ‘Hey who the fuck are you guys? You don’t look like fucking cops. Believe me, I can smell them a mile away.’

  Neither man said a word, instead John started a conversation with Reed about motorbikes.

  His accent clearly confused Bortado, who tried several more times to butt in, to no avail.

  ‘Well fuck you then!’ he declared, and sat back, sulking.

  John was aware of the time constraint they faced, they really didn’t want to be driving any further than they absolutely had to. They followed the cruiser, which made good progress, and it turned off the street onto a smaller road which ran north west. The buildings started to thin out, they passed an industrial area, then a couple of trailer parks.

  John checked his watch.

  Forty minutes.

  They turned again, and then there was nothing, just desert scrub, a two-lane road, very little traffic. The carried on for a few miles, then turned onto a rutted track which rose up, a high dust cloud behind both cars.

  Another couple of miles, and the cruiser braked.

  The young cop jumped out, and leaned across the bonnet pointing.

  Reed nodded, and made a sharp right onto what was little more than a trail. The car bumped and rattled across the desert, every time it went across a big rut there were loud clangs from the back of the car.

  John looked at Reed.

  ‘Exhaust?’

  ‘Nah, don’t worry about it.’

  He drove on, peering forward and then stopped sharply.

  John looked around, but there was nothing to see, just desert. Reed climbed out, s
o John did too. Bortado was straining to look all around him, cursing loudly but both men ignored him.

  Reed walked around the car.

  Next to them was a basin in the desert, almost perfectly round, the bottom about fifteen feet below where they were standing.

  The cruiser was just visible, both cops had gotten out of their car and were leaning against the front wing, pretending not to watch.

  ‘Perfect,’ said John. ‘Totally perfect.’

  Reed opened the rear door and yanked Bortado out of the car. He did it with such force that Bortado fell onto his face, unable to stop himself. Roughly Reed pulled him upright.

  ‘Oh yeah, I see, so that’s how it is right? Well fuck the pair of you assholes, I don’t give a fuck. You take these fucking bracelets off I’ll show you, I don’t care how fucking big you are, you pumped up fucking freak, I’ll kill both you motherfuckers you see if I don’t,’ Bortado ranted.

  ‘We’ll see,’ Reed said quietly, and pushed Bortado stumbling onward down into the basin. He fell, rolled over and stopped halfway, then got his knees.

  ‘You fucking asshole. I don’t know you. I never seen either of you motherfuckers. What, you police don’t talk? You fucking with the wrong guy. Your buddies should have told you. I swear to God when I get out this shit I am coming for you. I don’t give a shit how big you is. You better get the fuck away from this bitch. I’m fucking coming after you.’

  ‘Shut up. We ain’t the police,’ Reed said mildly as he walked past, and hoisted Bortado up by the arm and shoved him the rest of the way down.

  Once they were at the bottom Reed went back up to the car and returned with a tired old steel frame plastic chair. He set it down in the centre, then produced a key and unsnapped Bortado’s handcuffs then stepped back next to John.

  Immediately Bortado reared up and got into John’s face.

  ‘Like I need some fucking Australian motherfucker on my case. What? I’m supposed to be scared? Because you got a giant for a fucking babysitter?’

  John stared back at him, their noses millimetres apart, and then with both hands shoved him back, hard, right in the middle of his chest. Bortado stumbled backward, then dropped to the ground. John ran forward and grabbed his hair and punched him three times hard in the face.