She rolled her eyes and sighed, “What?”
“I thought Carl Rakes worked for Frank Meadows. What’s he doing with Mortay?”
She shook her head and got in the Lexus. Before she closed the door she said, “You don’t know shit, do you?” She drove off before I could say, No, I don’t. I got into the Corvette, which because of my bladder being the size of a weather balloon, felt small and uncomfortable. I drove as fast as I dared until a Mickey D’s sign appeared and I slid into a parking place and trotted inside. When I finally got to the urinal, it was such a relief my eyes watered. I sighed when I finished, then went to the sink and was about to wash my hands when the door opened and the three jacket-wearing men I’d seen at The Caspian Diamond walked in and stood behind me. There was no one else in the bathroom. One of the men leaned his back against the door.
I filled one hand with the pink liquid pump soap as I looked at them in the mirror and said, “I’m not who you think I am, I’m his twin brother.
The biggest one said, “Ve know you, Baca. Is nod to fool us vith your talk smart mouth.”
I angled myself at a forty-five to them, the soap cupped in my left hand. “Okay, Boris, what were you told to tell me?”
“I am not Boris, and we were to tell you nothing.”
“Well okay then, I guess I’ll be going. You three have a gay old time here in the bathroom.” I looked at Not Boris and said, “That’s a joke, get it?”
“We have a joke, too. Our joke is to beat you.”
I figured that meant talk was over.
I shot my left hand to Not Boris’ eyes, jabbing my fingers and the soap deep in them. He yelled and put his hands to his face as he fell back. I pivoted as he fell and sent a side-kick to the throat of the second one. He backpedaled into a stall, holding his neck as his eyes bulged out. The third one came off the door a little slow and reached under his jacket. I hit him a solid shot over the heart with the heel of my right palm. He made a croak and dropped to his knees. I punched down at his jaw, laying him face down on the tile.
I reached under his jacket and pulled out a Beretta, then went to the other two and did the same. I stuck the guns in my waistband and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Like William Holden heading for the last shootout in The Wild Bunch. I went to Not Boris, who was trying to get water out of a toilet bowl to clean his eyes.
“Just thought I’d tell you,” I said, “That’s used water you’re putting on your face. Somebody forgot to flush.”
He felt around and found the flush handle, pushed it a
nd said to me without looking up, “I ged you for this.”
My nerves were still jangling and that pissed me off, so I snap-kicked the back of his head hard enough to drive his nose into the edge of the toilet. Bright crimson drops pattered the water like a leaky faucet, each one leaving a tiny pink octopus with tendril arms floating on the surface. Not Boris raised his head and pinched the nose shut with a thumb and forefinger.
I said, “You tell Mortay any more of this and I’m coming for him. I won’t be playing, either.”
Not Boris said, “Mortay did not send us.”
That stopped me. “Okay, who did?”
He shook his head and said, “You know nothing, Baca.”
I was getting tired of everyone telling me that. “You don’t work for Simon Mortay?”
He shook his head, “Stupid, stupid man.”
“You want me to kick you again? Tell me who sent you.”
I could hear the others stirring behind me.
He wouldn’t talk, but smiled at me with pink teeth and terrible bloodshot eyes. I waited as long as I could, then I left before all three were back on their feet and I had to shoot somebody.
I gunned the Corvette and was on the road in seconds, squirming all the way as the pistols dug into me like sharp sticks.
CHAPTER SEVEN
I was waiting at the office when Hondo and Hunter came back. Hunter went to a chair and sat down, saying, “I aged ten years today.”
Hondo was carrying a bag of Julio’s and a jar of salsa.
I sat up, looking from Hunter to Hondo. “Where’d you get that?”