by Gary Striker
The Peking duck looked like a practice cadaver in a med school lab. Cruz was cleaning his stiletto and sat back.
“I understand that your testimony was made under duress and that you were accused of having memory lapses.” Cruz smiled, recalling how his defense attorneys went to work by shredding my statements, like what was left of the Peking Duck sitting in front of us. “I’m asking you to do nothing. After three years on the streets, complements of Angel Holdings, a man’s memory gets foggy and his recollection isn’t as sharp as it used to be. Isn’t that right?”
Benavidas just fired a rocket into my self-assurance by reminding me of his generosity. He let me live, however mundane that turned out to be! But why?
Cruz extracted a wad of hundred dollar bills the size of a grapefruit from his pocket and left one on the table. He hustled back to the kitchen. I could hear the praise to the chef for the fabulous meal he prepared. I wonder what he would have done if it tasted like yesterday’s soup kitchen leftovers? It also gave me a chance to notice that his suit was pure silk! His shoes, also illegal, were patent leather alligator hide. The man’s necktie cost more than what I pay for rent. It was a wakeup slap in the face as to how things just didn’t work out for me. In a minute, he reappeared and headed my way.
“Walk with me”, were his only words as we exited the Fortune Cookie. I wondered if it was significant of my fortune.
“If you were to perhaps mis-remember a few facts of the case, world peace would not be affected. It was a dark night. Time has passed. There was a lot of confusion as your testimony reflects. A lot of gunfire and chaos. Facts turn into fiction. Details get obscured and you would not do well to testify for the State. It would be embarrassing. I’m considering the facts in your best interest”.
I assumed ‘embarrassing’ was a code word for ‘termination’. Mine!
“We need you in one piece, in case you were wondering”, Cruise went on, “The D.A.’s Office wanted you to vaporize, and on our turf.” We could have handed them the case on a platter, just the same.” I was not following! “There was another reason you were protected.”
Protected? Who, me? From the cops? And by one of the most influential and notorious cartels in American history! I was blown away!
“Your former employer wanted you gone. They had you on a skewer to get us. Remember the son-of-a-bitch you filled full of holes in an apparent robbery attempt of the La Cortina restaurant?” I nodded. “He was a cop in a setup scam that was supposed to shoot you. Johnny got the other scumbag cop who had his sights on you from the front door. It was a stray bullet, according to the Paper. Do you remember the elderly lady who got caught in the crossfire that you tackled?”
I nodded. How could I forget? It was total mayhem. Bullets were flying everywhere. She looked terrorized beyond all limits, but still managed to hold her composure. She would have been dead meat for sure.
“That was my mama, bless her soul”, Cruz voiced in a sigh. “She loved that place. It was her weekly treat. She didn’t know that we owned it.” It was easier that way. Whatever money she left on the table found its way back to her cookie jar. She always talked about the brave handsome cop who saved her hide. The paper never considered your act of valor to be newsworthy. It was something about plaudits for ‘The Animal’ that wouldn’t play very well into their plans.”
“I was happy that somebody found me handsome”, I thought, as we made it to the end of the courtyard.
We met Cruz’s limousine next to the walkway. The man had class. The menacing hulk of Cruz’s Oriental bodyguard approached me with a very determined look in his eyes. The man was not shy. He proceeded to explore every inch of my hide looking for a recording device, at least that’s what I thought.
“Relax!” Cruz said again, smiled and motioned his bodyguard into the limo.
“I’m not done yet, Sir,” the man protested.
“Come along, Mr. O,” Cruz summoned. “We’re all friends here, isn’t that right, Mr. Slattery”, as Cruz fired a radar guided stare into my face?
I didn’t say a word as the Chauffer gently closed the doors, assumed the helm, and disappeared into the traffic.
“Well Slattery,” I reflected, “just another day in paradise”! Or was it? It was certainly the end of an era, at least by all intents and measures, a time of severe turmoil had seemingly evaporated. “But what next”?
Aliens in the Allagash
Chapter 2
The Beginning
The early morning Los Angeles sky was giving way to the rising sun. It was a typical warm September day that greeted Steve through the window shades.
“Ah shit”, Steve complained, as he mumbled and stumbled his way out of bed that doubled as the office couch. The remains of a glass of scotch that just got kicked over into his shoe was left on the floor. It was the typical morning blues, fully equipped with a headache and the nausea of starting another day in paradise. As he made his way to the door to retrieve the morning paper that Lucy faithfully delivered every day, something felt different. Call it intuition or call it sensitivity. He could see Lucy making her way across the courtyard from the Fortune Cookie with something in her hand. When he opened the door, the morning newspaper was right where she left it about an hour ago.
“Good morning, Steve”, Lucy proclaimed with her usual enthusiastic greeting while making her way up the steps. She put an envelope in his hand.
“A man said it was important that I get this to you.”
“What man, Ming”, Steve asked, using Lucy’s birthright name?
“I don’t know”, she said with a big smile.
“All right Lucy, what’s going on? Who was that guy”?
“I never saw him before”, Lucy proclaimed, “He met me when I was taking out the trash, then handed me that envelope and put this box in my hand?”
Lucy had a small jewelry box. Her smile got bigger as she opened it and held it up for inspection.
“Holy Shit”, were Steve’s only words!
The inside of the box had a Cartier logo inscribed on the lid. Set in a plush silk encasement was a gleaming band of gold with the engraved words, ‘Fortune Cookie’.
“The damn thing must have weighed fifty pounds”, Steve thought as he exaggerated to himself!
“Lucy, what’s going on here”, he inquired in a un-Slattery-like voice?
“What else happened?”
“Nothing. The man disappeared down the alleyway, got into a Mercedes, I think, and disappeared.”
Lucy looked perplexed, but was also thrilled to play Private Dick.
“What’s in the envelope”, Lucy asked in a voice that was more of a demand?
Steve was still mesmerized with the vision of that gold bracelet clearly etched in his brain.
“Ok, Lucy, let’s take a look at the mystery envelope”.
A folded note with the word ‘Payback’ on the front was the sole content of the envelope.
“Where’s my bracelet”, Steve thought to himself?
“What’s it say”, Lucy asked very impatiently?
“‘See Nunez. L.B.J.’. That’s it, Lucy”, Steve said as he showed her the note.
“What’s L.B.J.”?
“I’m not sure, but two choices come to mind”.
Lucy cocked her head sideways trying to think of one.
“It could be Lyndon Baines Johnson or maybe Long Beach Jaguar”, Steve said with a smirk.
“No wonder I have to feed you”, Lucy said with a scowl.
Steve looked down near the courtyard entrance.
“I have a client meeting here in a few minutes, Lucy. That might be her now.”
He pointed in the direction of the main access way to the courtyard.
“Bye Steve”. Lucy waved and headed back to the Fortune Cookie.
The morning had progressed. Steve just finished the interview with his new client. It was the cheating husband version of an ambulance chase. A pile of jewelry wrapped around a desperate arm handed him a wad of
cash and a distressed silhouette disappeared out the door. It was 11:00 AM.
“I believe it’s time to go see Nunez, or whoever the hell he is, or where ever the hell he might be”, Steve incoherently mumbled to myself.
He trudged down the steps adjusting his high dollar genuine rayon neck tie and headed across the courtyard to The Fortune Cookie.
“Here, come sit with us”. Ming greeted Steve at the door.
The usual aroma of everything that creates a hunger spasm was brewing in preparation for the lunch crowd.
“Where’s Fong”, Steve asked, referring to her husband?
Fong spoke no English, however Steve had a good command of the Chinese menu language, so they got along fine.
Steve was famished, having had no breakfast, except for a sip of rancid Scotch. Lucy always ate early with Fong and some of the crew prior to a non-stop day of kitchen chores that didn’t end until 9 PM. Steve was often asked to join them.
Fong brought out two dishes, one obviously his, which he set in front of Steve with a big smile. He went back into the kitchen to retrieve his own lunch.
“What brings you over this early”, Lucy inquired?
Steve was busy attacking General’s Tso’s Chicken and barely heard her.
“I’m gonna take a little trip to satisfy my own curiosity. This might represent a case that I was approached on some time ago.” Lucy looked inquisitive. “An auto dealership in Long Beach was being pressured to sell out to the L.A. luxury car lords when one of the sales guys got clobbered on a test drive.”
“Oh yes, I remember, big news! L.B.J. had a large customer list from the Hollywood poverty district of Rodeo Drive”, Lucy smiled sarcastically.
For the uninformed, a common millionaire had no business mucking up the turf on the famous Ro-Day’-O Drive. It is reserved for those that begin with ‘B’, as in Billionaire.
“Did they ever figure out what happened”, Lucy asked?
She was working a set of chop sticks as a surgeon would work a scalpel with ease and dexterity
.
“Not sure, Lucy. I think the case is still open, but it was ruled a murder-homicide. Pretty effective scare tactic, if you ask me.”
“So what’s up”, Lucy asked?
“I need to borrow your rental car”, Steve said cynically, referring to Lucy’s old Corolla.
“Where are you going”?
“I’m headed down to Long Beach to find this guy Nunez”.
“I can drive you if you like”, Lucy offered up quickly with an air of curiosity while again showing off that mass of gold jewelry on her arm.
“Ok Lucy. We’ll take a quick ride. I have to be back for a surveillance job”.
“Oh, the woman with the gold arms”, Lucy responded quickly, referring to his most recent, well-adorned client?
“Ok, Lucy, let’s go”.
Ming left instructions with Fong and the crew and all seemed normal. They climbed into Lucy’s Limo, as Steve called it, and headed out onto the Santa Monica Freeway. A short pleasant drive later, we exited onto the PCH, also known as the Pacific Coast Highway. L.B.J. was a short distance into town.
‘Long Beach Auto Sales, Home of Jaguar Luxury Automobiles for the Discriminating Buyer’.
The impressive sign greeted them as they pulled into the lot with Lucy’s limo. A front fender dent and patches of rust were hardly fitting attire that they were sitting in. Steve assumed it must have been the reason that they were ignored by three sales reps.
Jaguar was a gratuity car, and a very famous one at that. It wasn’t the posh Bentley that rolled the streets of Rodeo Drive, but it was a well-respected present for those needing a last minute gift or gratuity, similar to what we normal people would give, such as a tie clasp or wrist watch. Hundreds of these gratuity items were sold right here out of L.B.J., where they kept a huge warehouse full of these cars for immediate delivery.
“Let’s go see if I’m employed”, Steve said to Lucy as they made their way through the car lot.
An irritated looking sales guy approached.
“May I help you, Sir”, he inquired?
What he really meant to say was, “The junk yard is down the street”, Steve surmised.
“I’m here to see Nunez”, Steve asserted with a Slattery voice of authority, in an equally irritated conjecture.
He escorted them to a waiting room, which was more akin to a lavish hotel lobby with all the fixings and amenities.
“Just a minute, sir”, was his exit interview as he disappeared down a hall into the showroom. Lucy looked ever more inquisitive.
Steve fiddled around looking for the note as a well-dressed casual looking man approached.
“I’m Roberto Nunez”, he greeted them with a big smile and warmly shook Lucy’s hand before extending the same offer in to Steve. This was a big change from the previous greeting
“Please call me Bob”, the man said with a big smile, grace, and efficiency of an executive assistant.
“You must be Mr. Slattery”, he asked, apparently knowing the answer to the question. “And who might this lovely young lady be”?
Ming smiled as it appeared that the man’s demeanor was very agreeable to her.
Steve handed the note to Nunez. “This is Miss Chao”, he answered.
“Please call me Lucy”, Ming said as she corrected Steve’s formality.
“It is a pleasure to meet you both”, Nunez said with a bow of his head and pocketed the note.
Steve was ready to find out why they were standing in the reception of L.B.J.!
“What do you need, Bob”, Steve asked in an attempt to short-circuit any further frivolities?
“I need you to come with me”, Mister Slattery.
They followed Nunez to a showroom dripping with chandeliers and linens, not to mention fine crystal for the guests’ refreshments. Nunez stopped in the middle of the showroom amidst a field of brand new gleaming road machines.
“This is yours, Mr. Slattery”, he said, as Nunez set his hand on the hood of a British Racing Green, fully leather appointed luxury sport machine bearing the inscription, ‘XJ’. “Does this meet with your expectations, sir”?
“Nunez, if this is some kind of a joke, I’m not gonna be a pleasant person to be around”!
Ming kicked Steve in the shoe.
“This is certainly no joke, Mr. Slattery”, Nunez broadened his smile. I know who you are and I’m here to deliver this fine automobile to you, if you let me”, Nunez returned.
Ming kicked Steve again.
“I’m sorry, Bob. In my business, situations like this don’t smell like roses”, Steve countered.
“Not to worry, Mr. Slattery, you are among friends. Please relax and enjoy”.
Nunez had easily taken command. Two non-alcoholic Pina Coladas were delivered.
“I was getting very thirsty”, Lucy said as she downed the first sip before Steve had the other one in his hand.
Nunez spent most of the next half-hour performing the new vehicle introductions, and mostly to Lucy with his gentlemanly courtesy. Once again, Steve had lost touch with reality.
“Slattery, you’re gonna get dead in a hurry if these lapses continue”, he mumbled to himself. He did the best he could to regain consciousness. Steve was stoic in the front seat of an automobile that most people wouldn’t let him touch.
Nunez snapped Steve out of his trance.
“Mr. Slattery, please join me in my office so that we may complete the transaction. I believe you will be most satisfied as a member of our ownership family. I promise that we will take very good care of you, sir.”
Nunez requested Steve’s personal information and summoned a technician from the service shop.
“Please sign these documents, Mr. Slattery, and you will be able to go on your way in your brand new luxury roadster”.
A service technician entered. “Yes, Mr. Nunez”, the technician asked with a polite courtesy?
“Hernandez, would you be kind enough to g
et Mr. Slattery’s new ride ready and put it on the delivery ramp, please”?
“Yes sir”, were his only words as he snapped an about-face while accepting the keys from Nunez.
Reality had a way of sobering one’s inhibitions. Again he fell victim to a very disconcerting loss of control.
“Slattery, you must be on dope. You’re so intoxicated that you can’t think straight”, he cautiously thought to myself.
Early afternoon in Long Beach was in itself intoxicating. Ming and Steve stood on the delivery ramp reminiscing the reality of events for the day so far. She grasped her own wrist to reassert her state of consciousness. They had not mentioned Cruz or recent encounters with the Angel Holdings staff. The gleaming XJ approached from one direction and Nunez from the other. The driver stopped on the ramp and greeted them with an open door, then hustled himself back to the shop. Nunez briskly approached.
“I trust that you find all to be satisfactory, Mr. Slattery”, he asked, as he handed Steve an envelope? It was sealed with some contents and papers, near as he could tell.
