‘Great work, Terry, thanks,’ Hunter said before closing his phone and returning it to his pocket. He told Garcia the news and they both finished their drinks in silence. As they got up to leave, the tall blonde came out of the bathroom and approached their table.

‘Sorry for earlier,’ she said, coming up to Hunter, her voice now charming, with a seductive tone. ‘And thanks.’

Garcia’s facial expression was a picture. ‘You’ve gotta be kidding me,’ he whispered.

‘Not a problem,’ Hunter replied.

‘I know I came across as being arrogant,’ she continued, her smile plastic, rehearsed. ‘I’m not always like that. It’s just that in places like this a woman has to watch herself, you know?’

‘As I said, it’s not a problem.’ Hunter maneuvered around her. ‘Enjoy the rest of your evening.’

‘Listen,’ she called as he turned to leave again. ‘I gotta go home and try to sort this mess out, but maybe we could have a drink some other time.’ She very expertly slipped Hunter a folded napkin. ‘Your call.’ She closed the whole thing with a sexy wink and walked out of the bar.

‘You’ve gotta be kidding me,’ Garcia whispered again.

Sixty-Three

Friday night, and The Airliner on North Broadway was pretty much packed to capacity. The spacious up-market dance club and lounge was decked out in a ‘don’t tax the imagination too hard’ airline motif, but certainly served a much finer selection of booze than any US Airways economy flight. With two large and well-equipped bars, a bumpin’ dance floor, a plush lounge area and some of Los Angeles’ hottest DJs, The Airliner was certainly up there with the best LA clubs, attracting a diverse clientele of Angelinos and tourists alike. And that was why Eddie Mills loved going there.

Eddie was a lowlife, small-time crook, who’d got caught with one-and-a-half kilos of cocaine while driving through Redondo Beach. In prison he met Guri Krasniqi, an Albanian crime ringleader. Krasniqi was never coming out of prison, but he still ran his empire from inside, and got Eddie hooked up with his people when he was released from the California State Prison in Lancaster two years ago.

Eddie was standing by the upstairs bar, sipping champagne. He was so distracted, watching a shorthaired brunette set the dance floor alight, that he didn’t even notice the six-foot-one, heavy-set man who’d come up next to him at the bar.

‘Jesus!’ Eddie almost jumped out of his skin when the heavy hand landed on his right shoulder.

‘Wazzup, Eddie?’

Eddie turned and faced the shaved headed man. ‘Tito?’ He squinted as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. ‘Goddamn, cuz. Wazzup with you?’ Eddie’s lips broke into a sparkling, shining white smile and he opened his arms wide.

Tito smiled back and they hugged like long-lost brothers.

‘When the hell did you get out?’ Eddie asked.

‘Paroled eleven months ago.’

‘No shit?’

‘No shit, homey.’

‘So how you doin’, dawg?’ Eddie took a step back to assess his friend. ‘By the looks of you, you’re doing well. Where the hell have you been living, in a cake shop?’

‘Hey, a man’s gotta eat, you know?’

‘Yeah, I can see that. A man’s gotta stop eating as well, before he bursts.’

‘Screw you. At least I don’t get to eat that goo they served back in Lanc.’

‘I’ll drink to that.’ Eddie lifted his glass.

‘What the hell?’ Tito pulled a face. ‘Champagne? Really? I guess someone is doing well.’

‘Hey man, only the best, cuz. Have some.’ Eddie signaled the barman over and asked for a second champagne flute.

‘You’re looking fly,’ Tito said, raising his glass for a toast. ‘To being out and staying out.’

Eddie accepted with a head-nod. ‘Thanks, man.’ He ran a hand down his tie. ‘This is Armani, you know?’ He nodded at his suit. ‘I make this shit look good, don’t I?’

‘Yeah, very slick,’ Tito agreed.

They shot the breeze for an hour or so, reminiscing about their time in the slammer. Eddie told Tito that he was working for a foreign outfit, being as evasive as he could. Tito had no intention of pushing it. To disguise the real reason he was at The Airliner, Tito kept dropping names sporadically, asking Eddie if he knew what became of certain inmates – Do you remember such-and-such? How about so-and-so? That sort of thing. Tito knew Eddie used to hang out with Ken Sands when he was inside. Slowly, Tito moved towards the subject.

‘Say, Eddie, how about Ken?’ He could swear he saw Eddie tense for an instant.

Eddie finished the rest of his champagne, his eyes fixed on Tito. ‘Ken? The dude got out, didn’t he? No parole, served the long run too.’

‘Did he?’ Tito played dumb.

‘Yeah, got out about six months ago.’

‘That guy was the epitome of a bad motherfucker.’ Tito laughed nervously. ‘Have you been in touch?’

‘Nah, man, I just heard he was out. He’s got his own issues to deal with. Things he wanted to get done when he got out, you feel me?’

‘Like what?’

‘Damned if I know. Maybe he wanted to get back at whoever got him inside in the first place. But I pity whoever it is he’s got a beef with.’

‘Damn straight. Didn’t he use to share with that Albanian badass dude? That Guri character? You know him, don’t you? I saw you talking to him a few times.’

‘I talked to a lot of people when I was inside, so did you. It helps pass the time.’ Eddie played it down.

Tito nodded. ‘Do you think Ken is back dealing again? That’s what he used to do before he got busted, wasn’t it? Maybe he teamed up with the Albanians. I hear they run a tight operation.’

Eddie reassessed Tito with a doubtful eye. ‘’Sup, cuz, you looking for a job or something? Or you just looking to score some shit?’

‘No, man, I’m good.’ Tito ran a hand over his shaved head.

Eddie nodded. ‘Uh-huh. So why are you so interested in Ken? Did he owe you money or something? If he did, just let it go, bro. It ain’t worth it, you dig?’

‘Nah, man, just asking, you know?’

‘Yeah, I can see that. But asking too much can get you messed up, you know that.’

Tito lifted his hands up in a surrender gesture. ‘Just making conversation, homes, that’s all. I couldn’t really give a rat’s fart for how he’s doing.’

Eddie said nothing, but looked a little out of his comfort zone. Tito was sure he knew more than he was letting on, and that was good enough for him. He’d pass that information on to those two damn cops who crashed his party. Let them bring the heat onto Eddie. That was the best he could do.

‘Let’s have another bottle,’ Eddie said, already beckoning the barman over.

‘Hey, man, I never say no to champagne, you know what I’m sayin’? Let me just go to the pisser first.’

As Tito made his way towards the rest room, Eddie was already heading downstairs to the smoking area, the quietest place for a phone call.

Sixty-Four

It was late and Tito had consumed another two bottles of champagne back at The Airliner with Eddie. By the time he got back to his apartment in Bell Gardens, he was well on his way to hangover hell in the morning.

Tito stumbled through his front door. Champagne had a strange way of getting him drunk very fast, but the truth was he enjoyed being drunk. And getting drunk on expensive champagne paid for by someone else felt even sweeter. His tongue was feeling a little furry, though.

He opened the door to his fridge in the kitchen, poured himself a large glass of orange juice and downed it in one. He returned to the living room and dumped his heavy body onto the old maroon sofa that smelled like an ashtray. He sat there for a minute or two before deciding that he needed a little pick-me-up, something to get the blood flowing again. Tito got up and approached the sideboard by one of the walls. He opened the bottom drawer, took out a small silver box together with a square, frameless mirror, and brought it all over to the dining table. From the box he took out a hand-folded paper envelope. He tapped out a generous amount of white powder onto the mirror and made a long, thick line of it using a razor blade. That was special stuff, finely cut. Premium Colombian powder that he never shared with any of the skanky, second-rate whores he brought back to his place. No, this was for his pleasure, and his pleasure alone.