Indigo Slam

When we were two blocks north of the bookstore, Pike turned into an alley, got out, and slipped away without saying a word. He took one of the cases. Clark said, 'Where's he going?'

'He's going to make sure they don't kill us while we're waiting for them.'

'You think they'd do that?'

'Yes, Clark. They would do that.'

I climbed behind the wheel, and at nine forty-two, I left Pike's Jeep illegally parked in a red zone behind the Venice boardwalk. 'Let's go.'

I led Clark along the alley to the boardwalk, and then to the bookstore. It was a bright, hazy day, just on the right side of cool. Street people were already up and walking their endless laps of the boardwalk, and shop merchants were hawking tattoos and sunglasses to tourists come to see what all the excitement was about. Tall palms swayed in the breeze. Joggers and Roller-bladers and male and female bodybuilders with great tans moved through the streams of people with practiced indifference. Clark said, 'Where's Joe?'

'You won't see him, so don't look for him. The Russians will wonder what you're looking for.'

He locked his eyes forward, afraid now to look anyplace other than directly ahead. 'Do you see them?'

'No, but they're probably watching us.'

'Oh.'

The bookstore had just unlocked its doors, and a dark-haired woman with glasses was pulling a wire magazine rack onto the walk. I walked Clark into the store and told him to wait inside with the bag and watch me through the window. I told him not to come out until I waved for him. The dark-haired woman eyed us suspiciously. Probably thought we were shoplifters.

I walked back across to the grass and waited. Three homeless men were lying on the grass there, one of them holding a fat dog. The man with the dog looked at me, and said, 'Spare any change?'

'Sorry.'

'Don't be cheap. It's for the dog.'

I shook my head. 'No change.'

The man smirked at his friend. 'Cheap.'

I looked along the boardwalk first one way, then the other, then along the beach behind me, and into the parking lots and alleys, just another guy hanging around on the boardwalk wondering if he could get his gun out in time to save Clark Hewitt's life, not to mention his own. I eyed the fat dog. 'Looks like he could use a little exercise.'

The homeless man was affronted. 'Mind your own goddamned business.' So much for small talk.

Six minutes after ten o'clock, Alexei Dobcek walked out of the bookstore's parking lot and came directly toward me as if we were the only two guys on the beach. I said, 'Where's the boy?'

'Near. Let's get Clark and go see him.'

I lifted the bag. 'We had a different idea.'

Dobcek glanced at the bag, then past me and to both sides, like maybe someone might be coming up on him fast. He smiled like I should know better than to try anything like this. 'We know Clark is in the bookstore. Why you want to get stupid like this?'

I dropped the bag at his feet. 'Look in the bag.' He glanced at the bag, but didn't pick it up. The homeless man was eyeing the bag, too. Dobcek said, 'Markov is near with the boy. We had an agreement, did we not?'

'Look in the bag. It won't bite you.'

The homeless man said, 'Can I look?'

Dobcek pasted the homeless man with dead eyes. 'Leave here before I crush your dog.'

The homeless man gathered up the dog and scurried away.

Dobcek said, 'Fucking trash.' All heart, these guys.

'Look in the bag, Dobcek.'

He glanced at me again, then squatted and opened the bag. He reached in, felt the paper, then closed the bag and stood. 'So?'

'It's Clark 's new project. Bring it to Markov, have him look at it, and tell him we'd like to work out a different arrangement.'

Dobcek stared at me, then shook his head. 'What do you mean?'

'Bring it to Markov and have him look at it. I'll wait here.'

Dobcek leaned close to me. 'We'll kill the boy.'

'Have him look at the money, Dobcek. I'll wait and so will Clark. We're not going anywhere, and Markov will want to talk about it. Tell him this is a sample.'

Alexei Dobcek looked one hard long time at the bookstore, then walked away with the bag.

I watched couples share coffee and breakfast at the little restaurant next to the bookstore, and I thought I might bring Lucy down here. She'd like the bookstore, and we could sit at one of the little outdoor tables and watch the street performers and enjoy ourselves. Read a little, eat a little. Be nice to do if I survived the next ten minutes or so.

Dobcek reappeared between the street vendor tents, and this time Sautin and Andrei Markov and a fourth man were with him. The fourth man was wearing jeans and a green polo shirt, and he was carrying the bag. Markov was wearing a sharkskin jacket and gold chains, and looked like a second-rate Vegas lounge act. A young woman in a green bikini looked at him as she Bladed past and laughed. Probably wasn't the fashion reaction he was hoping for.

When they reached me, Markov made a little wave at the bag. 'I always worry when someone change the plan on me.'

'So why didn't you just kill the boy and drive away?'

'Maybe I still gonna do that. Maybe the boy and you and Clark, too.' Markov smiled toward the bookstore, then waved toward the bag again. 'Why you wanna show me this?'

' Clark printed it. He's going to print more, and we were thinking you might like some of it instead of killing Clark and his boy. We were thinking that you might like so much of it that you'll forgive Clark for the little problem in Seattle and let bygones be bygones.' They would either go for it or they wouldn't. We could either convince them it was counterfeit, or we couldn't.

The fourth guy put the bag on the ground, and took out one of the hundreds. He snapped the bill and sneered at me. 'You sayin' this is funny?' He snapped the bill again. 'My goddamned ass it is.'

The fourth guy wasn't Russian. He sounded like he was from Georgia or Florida, and I didn't like it that he was here. He sounded like he knew about printing, and he might be able to call Clark a liar and get away with it. Maybe he was Markov's current funny money specialist. I said, 'Who the hell are you?'

'The guy sayin' you're bullshit.'

I smiled at Markov. 'You're not interested, that's fine.' The homeless guy with the dog had set up shop ten yards down the boardwalk in front of a stand selling African robes. I called, 'Hey, dog man.' When he looked over, I closed the bag and tossed it to him. 'Have a party.' I turned back at Markov and spread my hands. 'Your loss, Andrei. We're sitting on a couple million more of this stuff.'

Ten yards away, the homeless guy looked in the bag and shouted, 'Yeow! Jesus has returned!'

Markov sighed and tilted his head. 'Dobcek.'

Dobcek trotted over and pulled the bag away from the old man. The old man didn't want to let go, so Dobcek punched him once in the forehead. Hard. I kept the smile on my face like it didn't matter to me. I kept the smile like I didn't want to take out my gun and shoot Dobcek to death. Like I didn't feel like a dog because I had brought it on the old man.

The fourth guy said, 'Hey, Mr. Markov, if those bills are righteous I'd like to know how.' Wounded and whiny, as if his feelings were hurt that Markov doubted him.

I said, ' Clark 's in the bookstore. You give him a pass to come out here and talk about it?'

'Da.'

I waved Clark out. When Clark reached us he stood a little behind me, and kept his hands in his pockets. The sun made him squint so much that his eyes were little slits. Markov said, 'You look like shit.'

Clark said, 'Hi, Mr. Markov.'

The fourth guy toed the bag. 'This is intaglio, not offset. This is Crane paper.' He shook his head. 'My ass you printed this.'

Clark blinked at me, and I gave him an encouraging smile. 'Guy thinks you're bullshit. Guy wants to know how you did it.' I crossed my arms so that my hand was near the Dan Wesson and hoped that Pike was zeroed on Dobcek because I was planning on shooting Sautin. I would shoot Sautin first, then Markov, and then the fourth man, and hope that I could do all that before someone shot me. We were maybe twenty seconds from all the shooting, and if we survived the boy would still be lost, all because some cracker who knew a little printing just happened to be with Markov.