within the backlighting as they disappeared into the mist.
Using my mini-light, I located the shell casing and pocketed it after holstering my weapon. Odds were nobody would even report the shot, much less find the ricochet, but the fewer bits of evidence lying around the better. I trotted down the alley, slowing to a determined walk when I reached the street. Checking my watch, I saw it read quarter to midnight.
As I strode I considered what Tyrell had said. I hadn’t thought about the underground sports market until then, but high-grade steroids could bring a mint. If I couldn’t wrap this thing up soon I might have to get Tyrell to cough up the name of his supplier and interview him – and so on up the chain. Maybe the security guard could be persuaded to back me up in my inquiries. If not, I had a couple of freelance bounty hunter friends that didn’t mind taking my money to crack a few deserving lowlifes’ knees.
The sharks kept their distance for the moment, and three blocks later I slipped into Vyazma , another dive on the outside not so different from the one I’d dashed through. This time, though, the familiar clientele was relaxed, no more wary than usual, sparse on a Monday night.
Sergei nodded at me from behind the bar, and a couple of acquaintances lifted hands when I entered. The tapman had a frigid MGD already opened when I stepped up to the rail, and I took an appreciative pull, dropping a bill onto the counter. That vanished with a swipe of a towel as if by magic, at least thirty years practice behind the move. “ Za vas, ” he said.
“Thanks. Game going yet?” I turned to lean an elbow on polished wood as I surveyed the joint. As I was here, I might as well play a few hands. Just to keep in practice, you understand. Besides, Sergei wouldn’t appreciate me hitting him up for info only to bolt out the door. He had an old-school attitude about relationships and respect.
“ Da . Two tables. Seat should be open.” Sergei’s English was nearly perfect, but he stubbornly refused to use even the simplest articles such as “a” and “an” unless forced and like most Russians I knew he couldn’t resist dropping bits of his mother tongue into every conversation.
“ Spasibo .” I lowered my voice and rotated back to him, hunching my shoulders. “Sergei, you heard anything about some high-grade pharmaceuticals arriving in the next few days?”
“ Da .”
“Any word on the supplier?”
“Don’t put me on the spot, solntse . I don’t want you get hurt.” Sergei had called me sunshine in Russian as long as I can remember, since I was a child…back when my father was alive. The two men had been close.
“I’ll make it worth your while. I can play a few rounds.” The offer was pro forma.
“With you, Cal, there is no few rounds .” Sergei held out his hand, palm up. “Guns.”
With good grace I handed over my Glock and the holdout .38 from my ankle. Once he’d secured them below the bar – he had an arsenal down there most days – I turned to walk my beer through the pub area to a door in the back. The man-mountain named Rostislav moved aside, turning the knob and pushing the steel slab open. They knew me well here.
No few rounds indeed, I thought. I could walk away any time I wanted. Snap , like that .
As Sergei had said, two of the four poker tables were running, a 1-4 limit seven-card stud and the usual 2-5 no-limit Texas Hold’em. Each had a seat or two empty.
Being Monday night, these were small games with barely a few grand on the felt all told. This operation was off the books, technically illegal, but with the old regulated card rooms and new tribal casinos in California, it was hardly worth Vice’s time to bust it or others like it as long as they kept their noses otherwise clean. When I was on the force I’d driven at least half an hour out of the city to find a legal place to play, but now that I’d become a civilian doing that seemed damned inconvenient when
Using my mini-light, I located the shell casing and pocketed it after holstering my weapon. Odds were nobody would even report the shot, much less find the ricochet, but the fewer bits of evidence lying around the better. I trotted down the alley, slowing to a determined walk when I reached the street. Checking my watch, I saw it read quarter to midnight.
As I strode I considered what Tyrell had said. I hadn’t thought about the underground sports market until then, but high-grade steroids could bring a mint. If I couldn’t wrap this thing up soon I might have to get Tyrell to cough up the name of his supplier and interview him – and so on up the chain. Maybe the security guard could be persuaded to back me up in my inquiries. If not, I had a couple of freelance bounty hunter friends that didn’t mind taking my money to crack a few deserving lowlifes’ knees.
The sharks kept their distance for the moment, and three blocks later I slipped into Vyazma , another dive on the outside not so different from the one I’d dashed through. This time, though, the familiar clientele was relaxed, no more wary than usual, sparse on a Monday night.
Sergei nodded at me from behind the bar, and a couple of acquaintances lifted hands when I entered. The tapman had a frigid MGD already opened when I stepped up to the rail, and I took an appreciative pull, dropping a bill onto the counter. That vanished with a swipe of a towel as if by magic, at least thirty years practice behind the move. “ Za vas, ” he said.
“Thanks. Game going yet?” I turned to lean an elbow on polished wood as I surveyed the joint. As I was here, I might as well play a few hands. Just to keep in practice, you understand. Besides, Sergei wouldn’t appreciate me hitting him up for info only to bolt out the door. He had an old-school attitude about relationships and respect.
“ Da . Two tables. Seat should be open.” Sergei’s English was nearly perfect, but he stubbornly refused to use even the simplest articles such as “a” and “an” unless forced and like most Russians I knew he couldn’t resist dropping bits of his mother tongue into every conversation.
“ Spasibo .” I lowered my voice and rotated back to him, hunching my shoulders. “Sergei, you heard anything about some high-grade pharmaceuticals arriving in the next few days?”
“ Da .”
“Any word on the supplier?”
“Don’t put me on the spot, solntse . I don’t want you get hurt.” Sergei had called me sunshine in Russian as long as I can remember, since I was a child…back when my father was alive. The two men had been close.
“I’ll make it worth your while. I can play a few rounds.” The offer was pro forma.
“With you, Cal, there is no few rounds .” Sergei held out his hand, palm up. “Guns.”
With good grace I handed over my Glock and the holdout .38 from my ankle. Once he’d secured them below the bar – he had an arsenal down there most days – I turned to walk my beer through the pub area to a door in the back. The man-mountain named Rostislav moved aside, turning the knob and pushing the steel slab open. They knew me well here.
No few rounds indeed, I thought. I could walk away any time I wanted. Snap , like that .
As Sergei had said, two of the four poker tables were running, a 1-4 limit seven-card stud and the usual 2-5 no-limit Texas Hold’em. Each had a seat or two empty.
Being Monday night, these were small games with barely a few grand on the felt all told. This operation was off the books, technically illegal, but with the old regulated card rooms and new tribal casinos in California, it was hardly worth Vice’s time to bust it or others like it as long as they kept their noses otherwise clean. When I was on the force I’d driven at least half an hour out of the city to find a legal place to play, but now that I’d become a civilian doing that seemed damned inconvenient when
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