“Huh.”
“I thought Archie might get him a little work, get Farlow back on his feet and off the street.”
“Archie started in biker movies. I could see Farlow painting up actors for those. Become a makeup assistant or something.”
“Exactamundo.”
As we moved into the heavy traffic again and slowed to a crawl, Hondo said, “We need to find those two black guys, and this Kiowa person. I’m worried the women are running out of time.”
Hondo always brought us back on point. I said, “You have any ideas?”
“Same as always, ask questions, look around, follow anything that looks promising.”
“You’re awesome.”
“No, you are.”
We finally reached the office after what seemed like two years in bumper-to-bumper traffic. We stepped inside, to Archie and big Derek Pozza discussing fight scenes in movies. Archie motioned for us to sit, then continued their conversation. “Bill Smith and Rod Taylor.”
Derek said, “Darker Than Amber. I think that might be number one.”
Archie laughed and said, “Those two guys, who were friends, really went at each other. They were breaking real furniture and knocking the crap out of each other.”
Derek said, “And never came out of character. They were professionals.”
Archie said, “I talked to Bill about a month after they filmed, and he said there were some broken ribs and fingers and noses in that one.”
Derek said, “Definitely real blood.”
I wasn’t that up on a lot of old movies, though I knew who Bill Smith, was because of seeing him in a lot of old 80’s movies like Conan and Red Dawn. I said, “I’d like to see that one.”
Derek said, “The fight scene’s on YouTube. That’s what you want to watch.”
Archie said, “A great original story of John D. MacDonald’s, but the movie, other than that fight, didn’t hold up as well.”
Hondo said. “Anything going on, Derek?”
Derek said, “The two black men and the Kiowa? I may have a lead. We were waiting for you to get here.”
I heard the toilet flush, then water running. Troy came out of the bathroom, “We’re ready to get those perps and rescue our girl.” He wore a lightweight dark blue jacket and powder blue shirt with no tie, tan chinos, and black Reebok shoes with the pump button by the heel.
Hondo said, “You carrying?”
Troy said, “I have a nine millimeter I borrowed from the studio. It shoots blanks but sounds authentic.” He pulled it out of a shoulder holster and showed us. “Looks real, too.”
Hondo said, “Leave it here. Ronny and I will be armed, and that might keep you out of legal trouble later on.”
Troy sighed, then left the pistol, an older model Beretta, on the desk.
I said, “Derek, fill us in.”
He said, “Troy’s the one who came up with the info. He should tell you.”
Troy said, “I visited with some contacts and got the lowdown on what’s happening on the street. Seems these lowlifes are pimping out girls all over the area to groups of undocumented aliens because the money is all in cash, and the aliens aren’t going to rat on them if things go bad. Rumor is that they’ve killed a couple of people and hid bodies in the desert.”
Hondo said, “Where are they?”
“I don’t have the exact spot, because they move every few days to a different camp, keeping the girls busy and the money flowing. These brothers are so bad, they’re straight outta Compton.”