Headlights shot into the sky. The Mercedes sped up out of a parking ramp behind me and skidded to a stop sideways, blocking my exit. I was trapped, and whatever came next, I knew it wasn’t going to be good. If I was right and they were Russian mob, it was going to get ugly.
The front passenger door opened and the biggest man I’ve ever seen lumbered out. I’m a big man. This guy was a fucking giant. A freak. He had a huge square head, with a tattooed line of barbed wire running across his forehead. His black beard and thick hair were buzzed to military length. He was wearing a loose black suit with a black tee shirt stretched tight across his massive chest muscles. He walked slowly toward my car. I could clearly make out the bulge of a shoulder holster under his designer jacket.
I jumped out of the Crown Vic, and headed for the brute at a run. Calm in his sizable advantage, he noticed too late that I brought a tire iron behind my back. Only losers bitch about a fair fight. I arced the iron up toward his head. It would have been a great move if he hadn’t raised his arm and taken the blow on his forearm. The tire iron landed with a meaty thud. If it hurt, he didn’t show it on his face.
Fuck. This man was a fucking monster. Swinging back to strike again, I never got the chance. He drove a boulder sized fist into my chest, exploding the air out of my lungs and sending me stumbling back. In battle, the whole world slows to a syrupy crawl. I was fighting for breath when I saw his other fist sailing at me. I had time to notice four skulls tattooed on his knuckles before it connected under my jaw. My head snapped back and my feet left the ground, for a floating moment I thought everything was going to be fine. It wasn’t. I crashed down hard. Lightning sparks darted across my vision and my stomach lurched.
In the back of the Mercedes, Anya had her face pressed to the glass. She looked worried, and in a sick way I was glad. As if it were a sign she liked me. A boot to my ribs made me forget her.
The brute towered over me like King Kong on steroids. I was blurry-eyed and gasping, he hadn’t even broken a sweat. I fought to get up, but he placed one of his size 15s on my chest and vised me to the ground.
“Kak dela mudack?” a voice said from behind the giant. My chest was compressed to the point where it took all my strength to keep breathing; speaking was way beyond my power.
“You want Pasha to squash you?” The driver moved out of the giant’s shadow. He was a thin angular Russian, his head was clean-shaven and he had a bushy black Stalin mustache. A prison tattoo of a cat crawled up out of his open shirt collar, scratching its way onto his cheek. On his knuckles I saw two tattooed skulls.
“Who are you?” he asked.
Only a gasp passed my lips. My head was throbbing and I could feel the flush of blood pulsing in my face.
“Vzdrochennyi,” the giant said with a low chuckle.
“Da.” The driver pointed a bony finger at my face. “Pasha says, you look like cock that’s been jerked too hard.” The brick-like foot on my chest twisted, grinding out what was left of my breath. “You fucked up his jacket, is it your destiny to die under his boot?” I struggled out a head shake. “Ok, maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. We’ll see. Pasha?” He motioned up and the giant stepped off me. Air flooded in, burning my starved lungs. “Now, who the fuck are you, dolboy’eb? Why follow me?”
“I wasn’t,” I mumbled out as best as I could. A flick from the driver’s eyes and the giant’s huge hands ripped through my pockets. Rolling me over, he pulled my wallet out of my jeans. It had cash only no ID, I never carried any. It’s easier to be whoever you want when you carry no evidence to the contrary.
“Victor!” The redhead called from the back seat of the car. The thin man walked over and spoke Russian into the window. She said something that made Anya shake her head in denial. Her eyes flicked briefly onto me, then back to the man.
“The girl tells me you were dancing with Anya. Says you were talking a long time. No badge, no gun, not a cop. Who are you?”
“I work… for Mr. Gallico.” Trying to regain some level of calm, I rolled up into a sitting position. I fought the urge to massage my bruised jaw. Dropping LA’s mob boss’ name wasn’t a total bluff, I’d known the old Sicilian since I was a kid. I didn’t work for him, but he owed me a few favors.
“Fuck the guinea bastard,” the driver said. “What is he to me?”
“He’s the man who’s going to have your eggs scrambled if you don’t watch out.” I was making it up as fast as my thumping head could think. These bastards could kill me and never look back. My only hope was to convince them that killing me might piss off their boss.
“Why would the Italians have you follow me?” He wasn’t convinced yet, but doubt was starting to show.
“Word is, you’re running whores in Hollywood. That’s his territory, and you ignorant pricks know it.” I knew I was pushing it, but if the bluff was going to work, I needed to act like I had the upper hand.
“The wop bastard, he controls shit,” he said without conviction.
“Then kill me and let it fall where it does.” I gave him the hardest stare I could muster.
“Maybe you bullshit.”
“Yeah, and maybe I’m not. Want to risk a war with the Italians to find out?”
“Pososi moyu konfetku.” He backhanded me across the face, but after the giant’s blow it felt like a love tap. “I see you in my rearview mirror again, you will be dead.”
“Don’t worry, if I come up behind you again, you won’t notice me until the blood’s running down your cheap suit.”
“Cheap? Versace!” He looked like he was going to smack me again. My cold eyes caught him off balance. If he was going to kill me, so be it. I was tired of playing the bitch to his macho gangster act.
With a twitch of his head he led the giant back to the Mercedes. It would have been comical watching the massive man fold himself into the car if my head wasn’t hurting so bad. In the red glow of their brake lights, I saw Anya through the rear window. She looked both frightened and sadly resigned.
While they faded into dark streets, I stayed sitting. Feeling for broken bones, I was relieved to find only bruises and scrapes. The first thing you learn in the military is keep your head down and never volunteer for anything. Only a cherry would go rushing off to try and save a woman he’d just met from a fate she may or may not have chosen. If I could have erased her scared eyes from my mind, I would have. And if my mother had three wheels, she would have been a trike. Besides, take Anya out of the picture, I still owed the Russian bastards. You let someone take you down without retribution you’ve started down that soapy path that ends with you being their shower toy.
The combination of whisky and pain made my drive home a real bundle of joy. I lived in a small rented house in Highland Park, a Latin neighborhood in northeast LA. The yuppies tired of housing prices in Silver Lake and the Westside had starting moving into the adjoining areas. We could hear the drums of urban renewal beating, but for now our corner of LA was safe.
Coming through my door, I was knocked down by hundred and twenty-two pounds of hurling Bullmastiff. Her name was Angel and she had been my dog since her owner was killed. She was my first pet. I always thought it was hard enough to take care of myself, why would I want an animal? But the fact was, she had squirmed her way into my heart. It was good to have a warm body to come home to.
Downing five aspirins with a tall glass of water, I crawled into bed. With a snap of my finger, Angel jumped onto the bed and curled up beside me. We were both snoring moments after I shut off the light.
CHAPTER 5
MEXICO CITY — AUGUST 16TH 5:23 AM
Nika looked down on Mexico City as the plane circled for a landing. Volcanoes rose up above the brown haze that smothered the sprawling metropolis. It had been over twenty-four hours since she left Moscow. In Tel Aviv, she met a man in a very nice suit who had taken her Russian passport and given her an Israeli one. The picture the agent in Moscow had taken was on the new passport, but the name was not hers. When the man in the nice suit gave her a ticket and led her to the gate, he warned her not to talk to anyone until she was met in Mexico. With a kiss on each cheek he sent her off onto the plane. The last real sleep she had gotten was in Edgar’s squat. She stayed with him for three days while the arrangements were made for her trip. The only time he tried to kiss her was just before she climbed into the employment agent’s car to leave, and that was a sweet chaste kiss. She couldn’t believe how suspicious she had been of Edgar. He was nice, and sitting alone on the plane she wished he had come with her. This was her first trip in an airplane. She tried to sleep, but every bump of turbulence sent her heart into a rapid tattoo.