I also won’t allow him to hurt himself.
My phone rings, and I see Jonathan’s name on the screen.
“I got somethin’ you need to see,” he says immediately.
“Where are you?” I ask.
“You close to home? We could meet at your place.”
Well, I do need a reason to get out of here.
“Yeah, I’m nearby.”
“Be there in ten.” He hangs up.
Glancing once more at the building where I used to live, I head down the sidewalk to my current apartment and make my way to the elevator. I’m only home long enough to take a piss before Jonathan shows up.
“Like the new digs,” he says politely as he looks around the place.
“It’s all right.” I shrug as I look around. I really haven’t paid much attention to it. The only adjective I can use to describe it is empty.
I guess it suits me.
Jonathan pulls his laptop out of its bag, and I open the fridge and grab a bottle of water.
“Want one?” I ask.
“Sure.”
I toss Jonathan a bottle, and we head into the living room.
“I’ve had someone followin’ Beni,” Jonathan says as he sits down and opens his laptop. “See this guy?”
He pulls up a grainy photograph of Beni talking to a blond guy with broad shoulders. He’s decked out in a tan suit jacket and striped tie, and they’re both drinking from whiskey glasses in the back booth of a bar. I can’t tell which bar from the picture.
“Who is he?”
“Don’t know the name,” Jonathan says. “Not much of an accent, so can’t tell where he’s from. Might be from around here. Could also be from Seattle or something. I’m still checking him out, but look at this.”
He flips to a picture I’ve already seen—Marcello’s boys in a van, presumably with our guns, and possibly exchanging them for cash or heroin. The camera angle isn’t clear enough to know for sure, but every time I see the grainy picture, I feel like I should know one of the guys in it. Maybe it’s one of the Russians.
“Looks like the same guy, don’t it?”
I flip back and forth between the pictures. Neither is a clear shot, but there is definitely a resemblance. A tingle runs up my spine.
Where have I seen him before?
“So, what are you thinking?” I ask.
“Well, either Beni knows where the missing guns are, or he at least knows who’s got ‘em.” Jonathan sits back and pulls out a cigarette. “Don’t you have a balcony or somethin’ here?”
“No, this place doesn’t come with one.”
“Open a window? It’s too damn cold outside.”
I sigh and go over to the large window in the living room. It opens to pour in sounds of traffic from below and frigid wind from above.
“Smoke quick!”