"Morris is an important figure in this part of the country."
"As important as you?" I said.
Del Rio consulted the chess book and studied the board and moved another piece.
"Not to me," he said.
"Me either," I said. "What's Tannenbaum do for a living?"
Del Rio smiled. "He's a venture capitalist," del Rio said. "Like me."
"What's he invest in?"
"Drugs, whores, numbers… usual thing."
"Competition?" I said.
"Not really," del Rio said. "He operates east of Chino."
"The inland empire?"
Del Rio nodded, studying the chessboard. "Fresno," he said. "Bakersfield, San Berdoo, Riverside."
"Where would I find him?"
Del Rio moved a chess piece, kept his hand on it for a moment, and moved it back. He continued to stare at the board. Chollo was motionless.
"Palm Springs," del Rio said.
"Maybe I should go out and talk with him."
Del Rio smiled and moved a chess piece, sat back, and looked at the move with satisfaction.
"It would save you the drive if you were to shoot yourself here."
"Morris is not friendly."
"No."
"Is he persistent?"
"Very."
"So he'll admonish me again," I said.
Del Rio looked at Chollo.
"Admonish," he said.
"Even for a gringo he talks funny," Chollo said.
"Yes," del Rio said. "He will admonish you again."
"So maybe I'll need backup," I said.
Del Rio looked again at Chollo. Chollo was studying the board.
Without looking away he said, "Backup."
"That would be the second favor," del Rio said.
"Si."
"You wish to borrow Chollo?"
"Like last time," I said. "And Bobby Horse, too. If you would."
Del Rio leaned back in his chair and stared at me.
"They are not mine to lend," he said.
"Then, I'd like your permission to make them a proposal."
Again the silence and the stare. Chollo looked amused. Against the wall Bobby Horse showed nothing. His strong-featured Indian face was entirely blank.
Finally del Rio said, "That is respectful."
"I'm a respectful guy," I said.
"In this instance," del Rio said.
A small bird with a black back made small syncopated noise in the olive tree.
Del Rio looked at Chollo and then at Bobby Horse.
"Do you wish to listen to his proposal?" he said.
"Si," Chollo said.
Bobby Horse shrugged and nodded.
"I need some help with this guy Tannenbaum," I said. "And I need a few hard cases to go out to the desert with me and clean up a town."
"Clean up the criminal element?" Chollo said.
"Yeah."
"We are the criminal element," Chollo said.
"Yeah, but you're not their criminal element."
"What do you want with Tannenbaum?" Chollo said.
"I don't know. But it must have something to do with the thing in the desert."
"So you clean up one, you clean up the other?"
"Si."
"I didn't realize you spoke our language," Chollo said.
"Si."
"If you were to succeed in this," del Rio said. "It might provide me an opportunity to expand eastward."
"If Tannenbaum went down," I said.
"Si."
I looked at Chollo.
"He's fluent too," I said.
"Tannenbaum don't bother me none," Chollo said. "What about the desert business? You figure your criminal element can beat their criminal element?"
"That's my plan," I said.
166 sobert's. parker
"How big is their criminal element?"
"Thirty, forty guys:"
"And ours?"
"With you and Bobby Horse," I said. "There would be seven:"
"Including you?"
"Including me:' l said. "Which really makes it seventeen. As you know, my strength is as the strength of ten."
"Ten what?" Chollo said.
"You paying?" Bobby Horse said. "Big time:' I said.
"How much?"
I told him. He looked at Chollo.
"I saved his ass once before," Chollo said. "He's sort of fun for an Anglo."
Bobby Horse looked at del Rio. "Mr. del Rio?"
"I don't have a problem with it," del Rio said. "Chollo?"
"No problem: '
"Okay," Bobby Horse said.
"Can you make the phone call?" I said to del Rio. "To Tannenbaum. I want to visit him without being fired upon as I come up the driveway."
"I'll have it made," he said.
"Gracias.", Del Rio grinned.
"Si," he said.
Chapter 31
IN A DARK brown Range Rover, laden with brush gear and sonorous with stereo, with Bobby Horse driving and Chollo beside him, and me in the back seat, we cruised down Palm Canyon Drive, through Palm Springs on Racquet Club Road and into Morris Tannenbaum's circular crushed stone driveway. Beyond the house a golf course rolled toward the mountain. The house itself was modest for Palm Springs, with the usual stuccoed walls and red-tiled roof. It looked like a dozen other homes with access to the golf course, except for the tastefully understated security cameras, and the black Lincoln Towncar that sat outside with its motor running. Chollo took a Derringer from the glove compartment and put it over the sun visor. We parked beside the Lincoln. After a moment the door opened on the passenger side and a tall leathery guy in a cowboy hat and Oakley shades got out and walked over to us. Chollo lowered his window. The cowboy looked in at me in the back.
"That him?" he said.
"Si," Chollo said.
The cowboy looked at me some more, then straightened and jerked his head toward the house.
"Okay," he said.
Bobby Horse shut off the motor and we got out into the heat, walked to the front door, and rang the bell. A Filipino house boy answered and bowed us into the air-conditioned hallway.
"Please to wait here," he said and went down the hall and disappeared. In a few moments a man came out of the door where the Filipino had gone and walked toward us. He was a well-built guy, like a racquetball player, or a tennis pro. He had a crew cut. He was wearing a blue seersucker suit, and a blue oxford shirt with a button-down collar, a blue-and-redstriped tie, and horn-rimmed glasses. As he came down the hallway he was looking at Chollo. I glanced over. Chollo was looking at him. When he reached us he stopped. Still looking at Chollo, he said, "You wish to see Morris?"
"Yes," I said.
"Five minutes," he said.
"Plenty," I said.
Chollo and the suit continued to look at each other.
Then the suit said, "Follow me," and turned and went back down the hall. We followed him into a smallish room that looked out through glass doors at a modest pool, and beyond, to the green of the golf course. A big-screen television set on a high shelf was blasting out a rollicking symphony of canned laughter. The room was full of exercise equipment, Nautilus, Kaiser, Cybex; a complete set of chromeplated free weights. A flabby unshaven guy in a yellow sweatsuit was doing assisted dips on a Gravitron. There was a stair-climber and an exercycle, and a treadmill all arranged so that they faced the television. The bicycle had a reading stand attached and around it, on the floor, were scattered parts of the Los Angeles Times and the Wall Street Journal. Several half-consumed bottles of Gatorade stood around. One had tipped over and was puddling the floor. The man on the Gravitron had a thick crop of dark black hair. His unshaven stubble was gray. The contrast was a little suspicious. I noticed that the counterweight on the Gravitron was set as high as it would go, which meant that he was dipping very little weight.
"Ronnie," the man said, still on the Gravitron, "the room's a fucking mess."
Without a word, the suit who let us in went to a desk beside the door and pressed a button. The flabby guy climbed down off the Gravitron and wiped his face with a towel and took a big pull of Gatorade.
"I'm Morris Tannenbaum," the flabby guy said. "Whaddya want?"
The Filipino came silently into the room and folded up the newspapers, picked up the Gatorade bottles, cleaned up the spill and went silently out. Ronnie stayed by the door looking at Chollo, who was looking at him. Bobby Horse stood just behind me, motionless. I glanced at him. His face had no expression.