Read Online 24 Declassified: 03 - Trojan Horse by Marc Cerasini - Free Book Online Page A

the sheets, Clad only in his chinos, he unbolted the door and flung it open.
    Dobyns was nearly a head shorter than Tony— around Fay Hubley’s height. But his girth more than made up for his lack of stature. If anything, Dobyns had only gotten fatter since the last time Tony had seen him. At five-six, Dobyns had to be tipping the scale at three hundred pounds.
    “Hey, Ray, come on in,” said Tony, stepping aside.
    Dobyn’s face was round, florid, and freckled. Sweaty strands of short-cropped red hair protruded from under the brim of a white Panama hat. He was probably forty, but his baby fat made him appear ten years younger. Pudgy arms dangled from the sleeves of a long Hawaiian shirt, and thick, hairy legs stuck out of white linen shorts. On his wide-splayed feet, dirty, ragged toenails thrust out of the tips of his worn leather sandals.
    “Did I interrupt you?” Dobyns asked with a leering grin. He looked around the room. His eyes instantly settled on the computers scattered on the desk, the floor, the bag of plastic credit cards and magnetic card readers stacked in the corner.
    “Ah, I see you’re up to your old tricks, Navarro.”
    Tony closed the door. “The usual thing. I’m using the Internet to fill a warehouse in Pasadena, only the stuff’s going in one door and out the other, if you get my drift. In another week I’ll disappear with two-hundred thousand dollars’ worth of merchandise.”
    Dobyns nodded, impressed.
    “What about you, Ray? What have you been up to?”
    Dobyns removed his hat, tossed it on the bed. “A little of this, a little of that. Lately I’ve been moving Prada knockoffs north—some of the top boutiques in Beverly Hills are my best customers, too. Can’t trust anybody these days.”
    “How did you know I was in town?”
    “A little birdy told me. One of those official -type birdies.”
    Tony remembered the Mexican policeman watching him unload. Dobyns always did have great con nections. Then again, a guy like him would need protection to survive down here.
    The bathroom door opened and Fay Hubley emerged. She’d dressed in a short denim skirt and skimpy purple tank top.
    “I did interrupt you,” said Dobyns with a lewd smirk.
    “This is Fay, my new partner,” said Tony.
    Fay crossed the room, entwined her arm in Tony’s. “I’m his girlfriend, too, but he’s too afraid of commitment to admit it,” she said. Fay nuzzled Tony’s neck, gently bit his earlobe.
    Dobyns’s smirk widened. “I’d say get a room but you already got one.”
    Tony gently pushed Fay away. “Get back to work.”
    Fay tossed her long, curly blond hair and strolled over to the desk, Dobyns’s eyes following her every move. “Lucky man,” he said.
    “Want to go get a drink?” Dobyns asked.
    Tony shook his head. “Anything you have to say to me you can say in front of Fay,” he told the man.
    “Fair enough,” said Dobyns. “Last week I lost a shipment. Prada handbags. Fourteen thousand units—fuckin’ Feds snapped them up on the border. The goddamn line wasn’t moving anyway—”
    Tony cut the conversation short. “What’s this to me?”
    Dobyns’s eyes moved from Tony to Fay, then back again. “I was wondering if you’ve got room on your score for a third party. Things are getting tough down here. The gangs are muscling in on all the action— MS-13, Seises Seises , the Kings—that’s one of the things I came here to warn you about.”
    Tony sighed and rubbed his neck. Fay pretended to study the monitor in front of her.
    “This grift is marginal, not much left to go around,” said Tony. The man’s face fell. Tony figured it was time to throw him a bone. He placed his arm around Dobyns’s shoulder. When he spoke again, it was in a conspiratorial whisper. “Hey, listen Ray. Maybe I can cut you in on one piece of action.”
    Dobyns grinned. “Speak, kemosabe.”
    “There’s a guy down here, showed up in the last two or three days. He’s another con man who uses