Nick shook his head. “I’d scare them all off. You know I’m with the feds now?”
Truth frowned. “You don’t come around for ten years and the first thing you think to do is insult me?”
Nick stood silent and waited.
“We may be compulsive gamblers,” Truth explained, “but we’re not illiterates. I read the story. Local boy makes good.”
Nick held up a hand. “Hold on. Don’t believe everything you read in the rags.”
“Since when is Newsweek a rag?”
Nick shrugged. “Sometimes the legend exceeds the facts.”
Truth waved a thick finger back and forth between the two agents. “He’s the partner. They called you two the Dynamic Duo or the A-Team or some shit.”
Nick said nothing.
Truth snapped his large fingers. “Dream Team. That’s it. I knew it was something like that. You two dug up some kind of terrorist cell planning to waste the Washington Monument. Isn’t that right?”
He pointed to Nick. “According to the article, you the brains and he’s the muscle.”
Matt stood stone-faced.
“The way you say it,” Nick said. “It makes my partner here sound like a bimbo with large biceps. Look at him. Does he look like he pumps iron?”
Truth examined Matt’s long, thin frame and shook his head. “Nope. So he must be good with a 9.”
“Precisely. He’s the FBI’s sharp-shooting champ three years running.”
Truth smiled. “You two aren’t here to raid the place, I know that much. They wouldn’t send that much talent for this old joint.”
“Come on, Truth.” Nick said. “This is a landmark. My father used to play here. I’d rather see it turned into a museum first.”
Truth’s smile transformed into something approaching concern. “And you’re not here to play poker either?”
Nick shook his head.
“Then it must be business.”
Nick stood motionless and let the big man put it all together.
Truth looked at Nick, but nodded toward Matt. “You wouldn’t bring the cowboy unless you felt a need for backup. Something I should know?”
Nick thought about how much he should tell him. He trusted Truth as much as any civilian.
“I’m not sure,” Nick said. “I need to see Ray Seville. Is he still playing?”
“Seville? Yeah, he’s back there making his usual donations. What do you want with a weasel like him?”
“He called the field office and left a message for me to meet him here.”
Truth smiled. “The snitch strikes again.”
“Maybe,” Nick said.
Matt cleared his throat in a forced fashion.
“Oh, yeah,” Nick said. “Matt’s in a bit of a hurry. He’s got a date tonight.”
Truth engaged Matt’s hardened face again, only this time Matt threw in a wink.
Truth smiled and held out his hand, “All right then, gents. Hand them over and I’ll get Ray for you.”
Nick cringed.
Matt glared at his partner. “You can’t be serious?”
Truth didn’t budge. His palm remained open while his fingertips flexed impatiently.
“Truth,” Nick said. “Is that really necessary?”
Truth looked at Matt this time. In a tone that denoted overuse, he said, “A long time ago there was a shootout in the parlor. A couple of drunks got carried away during a tight hand. The drunks were Baltimore PD. Fortunately, they were more drunk than cops that night and neither one got hurt too bad. When one of their fellow officers was called to the scene, he came down hard. Even though the two drunk cops were his senior, he was someone everyone respected and they obeyed his commands. Back then he made a rule: if Lloyd’s was going to stay open it had to be firearm free. No exceptions. The Mayor, the Governor. No one.”
Truth took his time to look back at Nick. “Do you remember who that cop was?”
Nick nodded, reluctantly. “Me.”
“Bingo,” Truth smiled.
Nick fished the 9MM from his holster and handed it to Truth. He looked at Matt and said, “Sorry, I forgot.”
Truth took Nick’s gun and shoved it into the abyss under his oversized tee shirt. He looked at Matt and kept his hand out. “It’s only out of respect that I don’t pat you down,” Truth said. “I trust Nick.”
Matt moaned while removing his Glock. “Forgot, my ass.”
“Relax, Truth has our back until we’re done here. Right Truth?”
“Fifteen years,” Truth said. “No one’s got by me yet.” He gestured for them to follow and he stopped after only a few steps. He pointed to an open door and said, “Wait in there and I’ll get him for you.”
Before entering the room, they watched Truth walk down the hall and open the green door. As he pulled the door shut behind him, a burst of cigar smoke escaped along the ceiling and crept toward the front door. Nick followed Matt into the small sitting room and remained standing. Matt eased onto a dingy green sofa, rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together.
The room was a windowless twelve by twelve with two corduroy sofas facing each other. Between the sofas was a carved up oak coffee table that wobbled without ever being touched. The only light came from a pair of bare fluorescent bulbs that hung from a cracked ceiling.
“I’m just glad you didn’t agree to wear a blindfold,” Matt said. “We would have missed this beautiful decor.”
“Calm down,” Nick said. “I wouldn’t want you to be uptight for Valerie.”
“Veronica.”
“Right.”
Nick paced while Matt tapped his fingertips.
Nick heard the green door open. Truth was followed by a wiry man with deep pockets under his eyes. He wore a baseball cap with the brim twisted to the side.
Nick gestured for him to sit down.
Truth said, “I’ll be right outside if you need me,” then pulled the door shut behind him.
Ray Seville sank into the couch across from Matt and pulled a mangled pack of cigarettes from his jeans pocket. He flipped open a pack of matches and flicked one against the striker. He sucked the cigarette to life, then shook the match and pointed the extinguished stick at Matt. “Who’s he?”
Matt glared.
“He’s my partner,” Nick said.
“I thought I left a message for you to come alone.”
“He’s my partner. He goes where I go.”
“Yeah, well, how do I know I can trust him?”
“How do you know you can trust me?”
Seville managed a meager grin. “Aw, come on. Me and you, we have history.”
“History?” Nick said. “I arrested you half a dozen times working Gold Street.”
Seville waved the back of his hand. “Yeah, but you was always straight with me. A lot of other cops were pure bullshit. Tell me one thing, then come at me from a different angle two minutes later.”
Nick sighed. “Listen, Ray, I’m not with the Western anymore. You want to roll over on one of your buddies, I’ll call a shoe and get him to meet you somewhere safe. Not down here in the basement of Lloyd’s poker house.”
Seville took another drag of his cigarette and looked past Nick at Matt still leaning forward, elbows on his knees, “What’s his problem?”
“I told you, he’s my partner.”
“Doesn’t he know how to speak?”
“He’s just here to intimidate.”
“Intimidate? Intimidate who?”
The guy was a pure idiot. Nick wondered how Ray survived among the predators that prowled West Baltimore on a nightly basis. Nick glanced at his watch and said, “Ray, where are we going here?”
Seville stared at the hardwood floor while the flimsy ash danced between his feet. “A couple of weeks ago I get a call from this guy asking me for a phony drivers license.”
“How did he know to call you?” Nick asked.
“I dunno. Maybe somebody told him. Stop being a cop for a second and listen.”
Nick folded his arms.
“Well, anyway, I meet him and get the info he wants me to use on the license. I usually ask some questions to see what I’m getting myself into, but this guy cuts me off before I can even start. I never been eye-fucked like that before.”
Seville took another drag of his cigarette and pointed to Matt. “Is he like your trained monkey or what?”