Immortality Is the Suck (28 page)

saw the old security guard pointing out at me, his arm following me as I drove

by. Two uniformed officers' heads swiveled to follow my progress. I gunned the

engine and switched lanes quickly, hoping they hadn't spotted my plates yet.

Within minutes, I was back on the 405, up and under and roaring east on the

10. I didn't pull off again until I'd made the 5 interchange at the East Los

Angeles triangle. There I pulled into a small fueling station and, while I pumped

gas into my bike, I went off for a smoke and rang Alli.

Truth be told, I hadn't given the woman a second thought after we'd said

our piece in court during the Mongol trials. I'd seen her in her dress blues at

192

A. M. Riley

the ceremony with the mayor. At the time she'd been on somebody's arm. I

hadn't bothered to ask who he was.

“You good?” I asked, after the hug.

“A little wobbly,” she said, removing her hat and fluffing her bangs out.

“You know, it sounds odd, but I almost miss it.”

“Really?” Yeah, you miss those bastards. They care more about you than

anyone ever has, don't they? But damned if I'd admit it.

She looked suddenly wary. “Well, I suppose it's just that after three years,

you get used to anything.”

“Christ, I hope not,” I said. Then I saw Peter coming toward me. “Listen, I

have to go. You take care.”

“Sure. Stay in touch,” she said.

“Absolutely.”

We hadn't spoken since. I imagined she didn't want to be reminded of

things any more than I did.

“Yes?” She answered the “unknown caller ID” briskly.

“Alli, it's Adam,” I said.

A silence. Oh, fucking hell, she still thought I was dead.

“They didn't tell you?” I said quickly. “It was all a ruse to take the heat

off.”

Another silence, and then, chilly. “Nobody said anything to me.”

“Yeah. Well, that's why I'm calling,” I ad-libbed quickly. “So that you'd

know and also, to warn you.”

She was quiet long enough I thought the call might have dropped. “You

haven't heard about Bert, have you?”

My heart literally sank into my belly. I knew before I even asked her.

“What happened?”

Immortality is the Suck

193

“He was in San Antonio. You remember, he'd decided to move back in with

his family? Walking home from the 7-Eleven.”

I couldn't respond. My throat was closed and my mouth was dry.

“I'm thinking of moving to Europe,” said Alli. “Some place north, maybe.

But if you found a way to stage your own death—”

“It wasn't exactly like that,” I interrupted her. “It was more an accident.”

“Oh.”

Alli had had a boyfriend when we'd first brought her into the operation.

She had an impressive record with the ATF, but needed more field creds.

Toward the end of the first year, she'd told me that the boyfriend had had

enough.

“He knew what it would be like, and he was all right with it?” I'd said,

refilling her drink.

“He knew everything I knew. He knew I'd be living with another agent. He

knew I wouldn't be able to receive calls or see him as often as I'd like. That's not

the problem. He says I've changed.”

“What, it's about the clothes?” We both had adapted a little. I'd stopped

cutting my hair and wore it in a ponytail. Peter hated the thick mustache that

covered my upper lip. After I'd shown up at his complex in Mongol colors, a

couple of his neighbors had complained about his visitors. Alli dressed, quite

honestly, like a slut. Tight T-shirts, low jeans that exposed her rear. High-heeled

boots and so much eyeliner she looked like a panda “I thought all men secretly

wanted their girlfriends to dress like that.”

“You don't know a lot of normal men, do you?” she'd said. “But it's not the

clothes. He's right. I have changed.”

She hadn't seemed too broken up about it. But, with a twinge, I knew that

I should have checked up on her before this. I'd had Peter to talk to. Who had

she had?

“Listen, would you like to meet and talk?”

194

A. M. Riley

“Adam, it's three o'clock in the morning.”

“C'mon, Alli, no way you're asleep this early.”

A sigh. It always amazed me how long it took for people to get fed up with

me. Apparently Alli had not yet reached her limit because she said, “Where

were you thinking? Our old place?”

“Too risky,” I said. “We might be recognized. How about the Hollywood

coffee shop. You remember? The one we met at the first time?”

“I remember,” said Alli.

“In, say, half an hour?”

“We'll see,” she said. And hung up.

Immortality is the Suck

195

Chapter Twenty

An hour later I was watching the clock on the wall and starting to worry

about where I'd spend the daylight hours. Alli had possibly decided not to

show, after all, and dawn was approaching. I hadn't slept in a couple of days,

either. So a dark, safe place with a bed and maybe some blood? Would have

been heaven.

While I was stirring my sixth cup of coffee and actually daydreaming

about the open faucet of willing “blood cows” at Ozone's, a familiar young Goth

chick came through the glass doors at the front of the restaurant. Rather, she

banged against the door, causing it to open, and staggered through. A very

young child followed, probably because she had hold of his upper arm. He was

struggling.

I was behind her in two seconds. “Let him go, Betsy.”

She jumped and squeaked but did not release her apparent dinner. “If I

do, he'll run away again.”

I grabbed hold of her small hand and attempted to pry her fingers loose

from the boy's arm. She resisted me. We struggled in the aisle of the restaurant

while the surrounding patrons blithely continued eating. Good old Hollywood.

Finally, I freed the boy's arm; he dashed for the doors.

“No, stop him,” cried Betsy, taking off after him.

I managed to hold onto her until we saw him outside, hanging a right and

running, disappearing beyond the bushes bordering the restaurant parking lot.

Betsy slumped against the tiled wall, looking like she might cry. I knew

how she felt. I was pretty fucking hungry myself and the smell of the blood of

196

A. M. Riley

all the humans in the restaurant was starting to gnaw at me inside. “It'll be

okay,” I said.

“You fucking jerk,” she said to me, slapping at my chest.

“I know. I know.”

“No, you don't know. He's running right back to the same son of a bitch, I

bet.” A fat tear rolled down Betsy's face. She scrubbed at it angrily, leaving a

black mascara smear across her cheek.

“What?”

“I'd finally gotten him away and…and now…” She sank into a booth.

“Damn.”

“Got him away?”

“You stupid cop,” she wept. “Why are cops so stupid? Do they give a

stupidity test before they let you join or something? And what are you doing

here anyway? I thought they'd dusted your stupid cop ass ages ago.” She wiped

at her face some more. Now the mascara streaks were an op artist painting

across her cheeks.

I dipped a napkin in water and clasped her chin. “Hold on.”

While I scrubbed the makeup off Betsy's face, she said, “I thought I could

do something, you know? Finally. I thought, well this is why this happened to

me. Now I can do some good. But it doesn't matter. I can't help anyone.”

I stopped my motions and looked hard at her. “Do some good?”

She leaned across the table and said, “Look at us; we're like superheroes,

aren't we? So, I figured I could save all of the other kids.”

“We aren't superheroes,” I told her.

“Don't you get it, cop? We're gonna live
forever
. Doesn't that mean

anything to you?”

Come to think of it, well, I hadn't thought of it. “No?”

Immortality is the Suck

197

“We are as gods. I remember, Freeway used to tell me that to be a Mongol

was to be special. Maybe he'd die but somehow he'd also live forever. And that

meant everything to him. It gave him purpose. I felt a little jealous sometimes

when he'd talk about it.”

Belonging to the club could make you feel like that. It was dangerously

seductive. “And now you've found
your
purpose?”

“There's monsters and then there's monsters. I free the kids and…take

care of their abusers.”

“So, that's how you solve the blood issue. Clever.”

She caught my sarcasm and her face changed just a little. Distant and

careful. “What do
you
do?”

“I don't know. I hooked up with Ozone for a while.”

“Then you can't judge.”

“No, you're right, I can't. Betsy, have you heard from Freeway recently?”

The odor of Coco by Chanel and the click of high-heeled boots.

“Christ, Bertoni, can't a girl be a few minutes late without you picking up

some bitch off the street?”

An arm draped around my shoulders; long, silky dark hair swept into my

face as Alli's cool soft lips pressed against my cheek. “Hello, lover,” she said,

dark eyes three inches from mine, mocking. She turned her head and said to

Betsy, “Who's this?”

“Alli, this is Betsy. She and I have been working together.” I watched them

size each other up.

“You called a cop?” said Betsy.

“Alli's an old friend.”

“Right.” Betsy popped out of the booth and started walking for the exit.

“Wait a minute.” I intercepted her, but she slid under my arm like a

greased pig.

198

A. M. Riley

“Later,” she said, pushing her way through the glass doors. I followed.

“Betsy, we aren't through talking.”

“I am.” She turned around, walking backward, to say, “Caballo says hello.”

“What? Hey, wait a minute.”

But she had turned and was gone in a blur. I thought, for a second, of

giving chase. But Alli was still waiting in the restaurant and, while Betsy's

activities were of interest to me, they didn't seem immediately related to a

pending gang war.

“So it looks like you really
are
alive,” said Alli, chin lifted in a considering

manner as I rejoined her at the table. “Though somewhat the worse for wear.”

My hand went to my cowlick. “What do you mean?”

“Jesus, Bertoni, sit down.” I sat and she reached across the table to do

some collar straightening, hair pulling and, as I had with Betsy, she wetted a

paper towel and dabbed at my face. “Looked in a mirror lately? You're a sight.”

“No, actually, I haven't really had time—”

“You said on the phone. Something going down?”

“It sounds so cracked I have trouble believing it and I was there. I know

there's at least one undercover agent, but I don't know who the agent in charge

is, or even if he knows what just went down…”

“Stop,” said Alli. “Start from the beginning.”

“There's a new OMG in town,” I said. “Big as the Mongols. Maybe even

bigger. And they are determined to start a war. Last night a fight erupted in the

ranks and now the lot of them are scattered all over the LA basin.”

“Christ. Did you call the gang unit?”

“Well…” I hedged. “That's the thing. Legally I'm still dead.”

This is too weird for the straightforward, pragmatic woman who partnered

with me for three years. “What the hell are you up to, Bertoni?”

Immortality is the Suck

199

I brought out my wallet and extracted the piece of paper with my notes on

it. “Just get someone to check out this address. I don't think they've been there

long. There must be something you can dig up to give reasonable cause for

search and seizure.” I wrote out the address on a napkin and she took it from

me.

The waitress came by and refilled out coffees. “Are you ready to order?”

The clock on the wall was approaching five a.m. “I can't, sorry. I've got to

find someplace to crash and…and…” I had to find some blood soon. Alli was

exuding a rich odor like Kahlúa and crème. Every time she shook that glossy

hair behind her shoulders and licked her lips, I wanted to lunge across the

table and sink my teeth into her throat.

“I've got a bottle of Johnnie Walker and the latest Harley catalog back at

my place.”

“Oooh, biker porn,” I replied. “You temptress.”

“I'll open up the sleeper sofa,” she said. “C'mon, it'll be like old times. We'll

stay up all night talking guns and hogs and planning what to do next.”

It was the best option, I thought. “Okay.”

“You ride here?” she asked, standing.

“Of course.”

“I'm the black Sportster in the parking lot. My place isn't far from here.

You can follow me.”