Hook and Shoot (5 page)

I thought I would enjoy looking in that direction, even at the dorm Dumpster mattress, then realized that was exactly what the freezer wanted. It crouched behind me and waited.

“Today,” Burch said.

I cleared my throat. “Gloves.”

“One of the points of this exercise is to get your fingerprints on as much as possible. So that's a no on the gloves.”

I studied the shades of brown and yellow on the fabric. When I squinted, the pattern turned into hieroglyphics of the history of the plague. I made a pact with it: if I have to cling to you in order to stay
out of that goddamn freezer, don't fall apart and I'll spread your spores to the seven continents.

I stiff-armed the floppy mattress to the other side of the garage door. Dust and mold coughed from the seams, saw my new suit, and drooled. The tang of damp cat urine lashed out, and the dust and mold bowed with respect. I kicked the mattress into place against the limo, just in front of the back door, and let it sag against the storage opening. Now we had a narrow chute that kept us hidden from eyes at either end of the aisle. If there were eyes above us—say in a helicopter—I could throw the mattress into the rotor and destroy the earth.

Burch opened the limo door. “You take the head.”

“When did you set this up?”

“What, the freezer?”

“Yeah.”

“Soon as I got into town. Let's go.”

“Which was?”

Burch pushed his tongue against his bottom lip. “Mr. Takanori called me seven weeks ago.”

“Let me guess—I'd just left him standing outside the Golden Pantheon.”

“Don't know about that. He called. I got on a plane.”

“Why?”

“Take the fucking head.”

He stepped aside so I could duck into the limo. It
smelled like hot wet pennies and shit.

“Get under his shoulders there. Don't let the bag burst.”

Burch grabbed the ankles and pulled, spun the body, got the legs through the door. The trash bag sloshed between my feet. I tried to lift the shoulders and shuffle the torso out, stepped on the bag, and almost tore it.

“Nope,” Burch said. “Out here. Now.”

I had to straddle the body getting out. My next shower needed to be two things: soon and long. We each took a leg and slid the body until we could get our arms under the lower back, then the shoulder blades. I gripped Burch's forearm to make a sling, squeezed as hard as I could, and felt a wave of satisfaction when he clenched his jaw.

We walked the body through the mattress chute into the storage unit. I tried to turn so Burch would have his back against the freezer.

He stopped walking. “You think you can shove me in there? Lock up and be on your way?”

“Sounds even better out loud.” I was sweating way too much for the work. The freezer opened wide for me.

Burch popped his forearm out of my grip and slid down the body toward the feet. I had to get under the shoulders, the trash bag sagging over my arm
and wrapping it in a lukewarm sleeve. I quit breathing again. We eased the body into the freezer, and I stepped back like it was made of cobras. Burch tucked the feet in so everything would fit.

I looked at how the bag of blood was folded around the guy's face, how it would freeze and lock his head in, cover his mouth, nose, eyes. I took a deep breath for him. “How'd he find the limo?”

“Followed us from the restaurant,” Burch said.

“You saw him?”

“No, but what's the other option? He dangled from a light post hoping we'd drive by? My guess—and I'm fucking tired of guessing—is this wanker was following Lou, hoping he'd bump into Eddie. The Elite deal's been in the works awhile now. Somebody talked.”

“So we need to talk to Lou. If they kill him, the deal's off and Eddie's stuck with Zombi.”

“You mean
you're
stuck with Zombi. Can't worry about everybody on the planet. Lou's on his own.”

Burch got the sword out of the limo. He showed me my palm prints and finger smudges on the blade, smiled, and dropped it in the freezer. Closed the lid and locked it.

“I don't need that key to get in here,” I said. Sounded like I actually wanted to.

“No, you don't. But as of right now, the only way you're getting out of my sight and coming back here
is if I'm dead. So I won't give much of a fuck, will I? How far are we from your mate's office?”

“Half hour, if you can avoid traffic and people falling through the moonroof.”

“We might be a bit late. Been starving since I saw Lou tearing up all that bread. Need to get something down my neck. You hungry?”

I glanced at the freezer, the mattress and box spring chute, the open limo with the stench of death still floating around in it. “Yeah, I could eat.”

Burch and I got burgers and fries, Eddie a vanilla milk shake. He alternated between spooning it into his mouth and pressing the cup against his swollen nose. He didn't want to ride in the back even with the moonroof shut.

I told Burch where we needed to go. He did a decent job skirting the edge of traffic to get us onto the 215 Beltway, which we took almost to the Las Vegas Freeway. Just before the cloverleaf we cut north into a business complex and parked in front of a gray corrugated metal box about the size of a football field. The only access we could see was a windowless steel door with a tiny plaque mounted next to it and a small roof above.

I opened my door. Almost midnight and could still smell the hot tar from the parking lot. “Wait here.”

I hit a button under the plaque, which had
Gauntlet Security, Inc.
etched into it.

Walt's voice came through a speaker somewhere in the overhang. The cameras were everywhere. “Let me see you smile first.”

“I am smiling.”

“You look like you have to take a shit.”

“Make sure your desk is clear.”

The same tepid script from years ago. I'd found it boring the first time; he was probably falling out of his chair.

Walt said, “Who's in the limo?”

“Eddie Takanori and his bodyguard, guy named Burch.”

“Burch. Never heard of him.”

“He's British.”

The speaker hummed. “Well, bring him in anyway.”

I waved at the limo. Burch and Eddie joined me at the door. We stood there feeling stupid, then a low buzz came from the wall and something heavy clicked. I opened the door and let Burch lead the way.

The lobby was painted light gray and had recessed lighting on the artwork. Plush couches framed a glass table with bottled water and a bowl of mints on it. Eddie took one for his throat. An open hallway in the back wall led into the building. I saw three doors on the left and one at the end of the hall, all closed.

There was one door along the right side, open, and Walt stood in it with his left hand hidden by the frame.
“Hola.”
As soon as he smiled I remembered his eyeteeth were too big.

“Walt, this is Eddie Takanori and Mr. Burch.”

“Nice to meet you. Mr. Burch, what are you carrying under your left arm?”

“Sig Sauer P226.”

“Good choice. Am I an idiot if I let you keep it while you're here?”

“No.”

“Good. I hate taking guns away from friends. Very demeaning. Mine's going to be on the desk, so let's not make any sudden moves toward that holster. Mr. Takanori, it's a pleasure. And
you.”
Walt stepped into the hall and held his arms out toward me, palms up. The chunky .45 in his left was pointed somewhere along the wall. “Look at you. Jesus. Last time I saw this guy, he had a shiner and one ear about cut off. And that was before he clocked in for the day.”

“Thanks for seeing us.”

“Come on back. I like that nickname you got for yourself. Woodshed. Better than what we used to call you.”

“Aaron?”

“Psh. It wasn't to your face, buddy. We ain't morons.”

We followed Walt into his office. It was the same
gray as the lobby and hallway, with dark wooden bookshelves holding tomes on business and security and a row of small digital clocks showing international times. No photos or personal items. His desk matched the bookshelves and was wide enough for the four chairs in front of it. It had a multiline phone and a blank notepad with a pen next to it. Walt set the .45 on the pad.

Burch sat closest to the door. Eddie went next to him, and I gave them a one-seat buffer.

Walt said, “Mr. Takanori, do you need to clean yourself up?”

“I'm fine.”

Walt looked sad about the way Eddie sounded. “I want to apologize for not taking you on as a client.”

“I'll let it slide if you can start now.”

“Well, things are still somewhat complicated. Did someone attack you tonight?”

Burch leaned forward. “How do you know about that?”

“All three of you smell like murder. There's dried blood on his shirt, in his nose, and hand marks on his throat. He sounds like a talking lawn mower. Unless he's into S and M, somebody got serious with him.”

I said, “A Japanese guy jumped into the limo and tried to choke him. And stab him. Not sure about the order, but you get the idea.”

Walt leaned back in his chair. “You're sure he was Japanese.”

Burch and I looked at each other. Racism hovered. “Yes,” Eddie said.

“Huh.”

Burch said, “Expand on that, please.”

Walt asked me, “Your ass on the line here?”

“I suppose.”

“All right, then. The way it started, I get a call from a Japanese gentleman who would not give his name. Says we might hear from Mr. Takanori, asking for personal protection, and we should decline. Now, you tell an ex-Marine he shouldn't do something, guess what he does first chance he gets?”

“But you turned me down,” Eddie said.

“Let me finish, please. I tell the guy we already have client consultants, and he's welcome to go screw a garbage disposal. He informs me that anyone we put on the job will be killed, guaranteed, along with the client. Meaning you.”

Eddie sniffed.

Walt said, “Again, that kind of statement only pushes me in the other direction. He says that, I'm ready to strap on a vest myself and tuck you in at night just to prove this shithead wrong. Then he says, in addition to keeping its employees alive, Gauntlet will earn ten thousand dollars a day, every day we
don't protect you.”

I could hear the digital clocks tick.

Eddie said, “These guys offered to pay you to stand down? Let me get killed?”

“Offered
and
paid. Every day ten large goes into our coffers.”

“From who?” Burch said.

“Traced it back through four dummy companies before we gave up. Far as we know, we're being paid ten grand a day to consult on security for the transportation of floating bath toys.”

“Bath toys,” Eddie said.

“Primarily ducks. That's what our taxes will show.”

Burch knocked on the arm of his chair a few times. “And you're okay with this?”

“Me personally, no. Makes me sick. But the folks who sign my checks see free money, no risk. And I'm willing to bet we aren't the only shop that took the offer.”

“No one will help us,” Burch said.

“Except Woody here. What brought you on board?”

“Blackmail.”

“Ah. Hope they're covering expenses.”

Eddie started to talk, had to bow his head and rub his throat.

I said, “On the phone we talked about new management for Warrior.”

“This town, you never know what's pure bullshit
or just plain horseshit. But some guys are talking about a debt Eddie owes to the Yakuza. A debt they've come to collect.”

“Which guys?”

Walt shrugged. “Just guys. It's funny—some of them are heavy in the stock market, and they're hung up on whether to buy or sell Warrior. I tell 'em Eddie dying would be bad for the company, but they aren't so sure.”

“That's hilarious,” Burch said.

Eddie slumped in his chair. Blood trickled out of his nose. He left it alone.

“This doesn't make sense,” I said. “If they want payment on the debt, what good is it to kill him?”

“Maybe they figure his death is worth more than the cash,” Walt said. “A statement.”

Eddie cleared his throat, like unclogging a drain. “Stop talking around me like I'm a goddamn lamp. They want my company, and they're attacking on all fronts to take it. They sent a fighter to get a man inside, and now they know I'm working a deal to keep him out. So they're going to kill me and make sure the last thought I have is of them destroying everything I've built. Pissing on my legacy.”

Burch said, “Boss, let's stick with what we know.”

“That's what I
do
know. That asshole in the limo told me.”

I said, “What, the prayer? You don't know Japanese.”

“I know enough. And it wasn't a prayer. He was reciting my epitaph.”

Walt walked us to the door. Burch cracked it, looked out with his hand near the pistol. A hot breeze kicked into the lobby.

“It's clear,” Walt said.

Burch ignored him and went to check the limo.

Eddie shook hands with Walt. “Thanks for being straight with me.”

“Hey, wish I could do more to help. But I follow orders, whether I like them or not.”

Eddie didn't look impressed by the loyalty.

Burch stepped inside. “Ready.”

Eddie followed him to the car, moving like he was getting stiff from the tussle in the limo.

Walt waited until they were out of earshot. “You serious about the blackmail?”

“Yeah.”

“What is it?”

“You got enough over me.”

“True. But you're in this for real?”

“Until I find a way out.”

“I think you and Burch are outnumbered,” Walt said.

“How bad?”