Infiniti and walked back with Largo to the rental.
Pop the trunk.
Largo leans inside and fumbles until the trunk lid doinks open. I grab the lip and lift it.
Fuckers.
The drugs were gone. In their place sat a long black case. I open it. Inside is a long range Remington sniper rifle. Probably get 20 years for having this type of carbine in a built up area concealed. Largo says.
Dallas. Smart.
What?
We won't need white powder right now, but if you're going to do this meet alone, what better than to have me watch your back through that.
Largo points at the scope.
I shrug.
He smiles. Says.
Night vision.
I smile.
Dallas. Seems to think of everything. Okay. Let's have a little look around, then get in the mood for this shit. The sooner this is over the better. Mikey will be happy and I can get back to Chicago. I need to find out who sent Santana to see Carly and ...
Santana was in Chicago?
Forget it. Let's go. Let's get this over with. No one gives a shit about details these days, just results.
Ain't that the truth.
Largo gets into his car. I get into mine. He starts the car and waits for me. The Infiniti didn't feel right. It was new and had that new car smell. I turned it on, I thought it might explode, these mercenaries could make a small building evaporate without a trace. I had one of the key fobs that armed the car and allowed me to start it. No key. It just sparks into life. I double flash Largo and follow him onto Sunset Boulevard.
Traffic was heavy and slow. We seemed to stop at every traffic signal. We crawl Loring Avenue to Charing Cross Road until we end up in the lot of a Super 8 opposite the night club Dune. Largo parks beside me with the window dropped. I study his face, hairline, his teeth set on edge, his squinting eyes. He surveys the rooftops nearby looking for a vantage point he could set up the rifle.
I look at him, really look at his features, scan him through the tinted windows of this new car. He could not see me watching. A one-way mirror effect. I stare, look deeply. Chicago. I roll my window low. Wind barrels against the cars and our faces. Largo's hair waves around. I was positioned too far inside the car to really feel the wind. It was hot though. Blowing in from the desert. He squints until he closes his eyes against the dust and drifting sand. I tell him.
I need to check in with Dallas.
I hold up the untraceable cell. He nods and gets out of the car. Says.
I'm gonna have a look around. Couple of spots look good but getting there might be a problem.
I look at him and flip open the phone while rolling the window back up. Largo walks towards the entrance of the Super 8. I dial.
Dallas?
Yeah.
It's me.
Good. All well?
As can be expected.
You get my little gift?
Thanks. Not sure if it'll be useful. Not convinced what we're doing here yet. Seems a waste of time. More your line of work.
I'm sure the project will reveal itself.
Very mysterious. Hope you're not trying to spook me out.
He laughs. Says.
Don't worry. The spooks will be there. It's early yet.
That's why I'm calling I need you to do something for me.
The gift not enough.
It's not so much a request as a question.
Shoot.
I ask him a couple of questions. The answers were curved but I think I got the meaning. I know now what he is trying to say. He put the phone down. I check the balance on the cell and make 2 more calls. East Chicago. While I was talking and listening. Really listening. I could feel the wet. The cold. The aching cold of the Mid West. It made the corners of my mouth curl upward. I listen. Really listen. I don't say much if that. As I sign off I say.
I'm really sorry about what happened in New Jersey.
Wind buffets the car. I can taste salt and sand in the wind. A storm feels like it's coming.
I finish the calls. Take a cigarette and stand behind the Infiniti. The clubs exterior was painted completely black with large gold letters spelling it's name glistening in the sun. The cigarette was good.
Pop the trunk.
Largo leans inside and fumbles until the trunk lid doinks open. I grab the lip and lift it.
Fuckers.
The drugs were gone. In their place sat a long black case. I open it. Inside is a long range Remington sniper rifle. Probably get 20 years for having this type of carbine in a built up area concealed. Largo says.
Dallas. Smart.
What?
We won't need white powder right now, but if you're going to do this meet alone, what better than to have me watch your back through that.
Largo points at the scope.
I shrug.
He smiles. Says.
Night vision.
I smile.
Dallas. Seems to think of everything. Okay. Let's have a little look around, then get in the mood for this shit. The sooner this is over the better. Mikey will be happy and I can get back to Chicago. I need to find out who sent Santana to see Carly and ...
Santana was in Chicago?
Forget it. Let's go. Let's get this over with. No one gives a shit about details these days, just results.
Ain't that the truth.
Largo gets into his car. I get into mine. He starts the car and waits for me. The Infiniti didn't feel right. It was new and had that new car smell. I turned it on, I thought it might explode, these mercenaries could make a small building evaporate without a trace. I had one of the key fobs that armed the car and allowed me to start it. No key. It just sparks into life. I double flash Largo and follow him onto Sunset Boulevard.
Traffic was heavy and slow. We seemed to stop at every traffic signal. We crawl Loring Avenue to Charing Cross Road until we end up in the lot of a Super 8 opposite the night club Dune. Largo parks beside me with the window dropped. I study his face, hairline, his teeth set on edge, his squinting eyes. He surveys the rooftops nearby looking for a vantage point he could set up the rifle.
I look at him, really look at his features, scan him through the tinted windows of this new car. He could not see me watching. A one-way mirror effect. I stare, look deeply. Chicago. I roll my window low. Wind barrels against the cars and our faces. Largo's hair waves around. I was positioned too far inside the car to really feel the wind. It was hot though. Blowing in from the desert. He squints until he closes his eyes against the dust and drifting sand. I tell him.
I need to check in with Dallas.
I hold up the untraceable cell. He nods and gets out of the car. Says.
I'm gonna have a look around. Couple of spots look good but getting there might be a problem.
I look at him and flip open the phone while rolling the window back up. Largo walks towards the entrance of the Super 8. I dial.
Dallas?
Yeah.
It's me.
Good. All well?
As can be expected.
You get my little gift?
Thanks. Not sure if it'll be useful. Not convinced what we're doing here yet. Seems a waste of time. More your line of work.
I'm sure the project will reveal itself.
Very mysterious. Hope you're not trying to spook me out.
He laughs. Says.
Don't worry. The spooks will be there. It's early yet.
That's why I'm calling I need you to do something for me.
The gift not enough.
It's not so much a request as a question.
Shoot.
I ask him a couple of questions. The answers were curved but I think I got the meaning. I know now what he is trying to say. He put the phone down. I check the balance on the cell and make 2 more calls. East Chicago. While I was talking and listening. Really listening. I could feel the wet. The cold. The aching cold of the Mid West. It made the corners of my mouth curl upward. I listen. Really listen. I don't say much if that. As I sign off I say.
I'm really sorry about what happened in New Jersey.
Wind buffets the car. I can taste salt and sand in the wind. A storm feels like it's coming.
I finish the calls. Take a cigarette and stand behind the Infiniti. The clubs exterior was painted completely black with large gold letters spelling it's name glistening in the sun. The cigarette was good.
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