Dying For LA by Ian Jones (top fiction books of all time .txt) 📕

knew there was something,’ Sammy said quietly, and she meant it. She had watched the footage countless times and remembered when he had spoken to her. Blood all over him, he had just been on a train platform surrounded by armed maniacs but he had been calm, really calm, and assured. But angry, that was clear. It chilled her watching it, because she could see that he would do it. He would look for them, and he would probably kill them.

‘So, old Jimmy did good yeah?’ Frost asked, now smiling, showing the dirty brown teeth again.

‘You did Jimmy, yeah you did.’

‘I still got it baby. I got the goods.’

Sammy handed him the bank note, and pushed across a second then took a drink of wine, thinking all the time. They couldn’t use this information, not yet anyway. But they could do a report ‘acting on information’ which outlined the basics, no names, no real details. The fact that one of the people who had been innocently waiting on the platform killed three terrorists was very big news on its own.

Jimmy Frost pocketed the bank notes, eyeing Sammy all the time.

‘So where are we going for dinner babe? If I got to hang round here we need to find a decent bar.’

Sammy smiled sweetly.

‘I can’t tonight Jimmy, I’m sorry, I got to work, you know how it is.’

Frost tried one more tack.

‘We could get a hotel …’

‘I’m sorry Jimmy. Maybe next time.’

Sammy finished her wine and stood up.

‘And Jimmy, please keep digging, I would love to speak to this guy ok?’

She smiled as sweetly as she could bear then turned and walked away quickly, Simon following.

***

Rico was tired, and sat at yet another set of red traffic lights yawning. It had been a long day after very little sleep, but this was the last trip.

As Voorhees had said, it hadn’t taken long to pack up. But carrying the three heavy metal chests down the stairs from the apartment had nearly killed Rico and Sal, Voorhees had of course been no help at all. They had made the initial trip in the last remaining panel van, with Sal driving, Voorhees in the passenger seat and Rico in the back with all their gear, which in truth, wasn’t very much at all.

The new base wasn’t too far from the apartment, it was up in Hobart, but Voorhees had to go down to Long Beach first to meet someone. He had disappeared inside a rundown old house in Carroll Park for nearly two hours, Rico had banged on the inside until Sal let him out and they had sat in the back with the doors wide open and waited.

Eventually, Voorhees appeared, waddling heavily over to the van.

He held up some keys.

‘OK, we got what we need. And we got new instructions, there’s work to do.’

He lumbered around and climbed into the van, which they took as a signal the conversation was over and Sal shut Rico in the back again and they set off.

Their new home was an old train goods yard, vacated about five years previously. It was surrounded by a high steel mesh fence, complete with razor wire across the top. There were massive double gates to get in, and Sal pulled up outside wondering what they were doing there.

Voorhees passed him the keys.

‘Get Rico out the back, we need him to let us in and lock up again.

So Sal let Rico out and then drove through once he had opened the gates, then waited on the other side for him to lock up again. They drove forward to be stopped by another, smaller set.

‘Fuck, it’s like a prison,’ Sal said.

Rico appeared, unlocked the new gates, and Sal drove forward, then stopped again on the other side.

The yard was massive. There were two huge part disassembled gantry cranes that spanned the whole area, with large warehouses on the left and smaller buildings on the right. On the far side it opened out to another big open space and they could see there were still many rusting shipping containers and the remains of trailers still dotted around in there.

Rico appeared at Sal’s window and looked in.

‘So?’ he asked.

‘Home sweet home,’ Voorhees answered, pointing into the yard.

Rico opened the door and stood on the step as Sal drove forward, both men wondering where the hell they were going. Everywhere was dry and dusty, glowing orange in the late afternoon sun. A wide span of multiple railway tracks ran across behind the warehouses, with a long loading area set toward the rear.

‘There,’ Voorhees said, pointing to a building on the right.

Incredibly, for a derelict site all the glass was still present, it was clear that kids hadn’t been running around this place any time recently. There was a door set in the front, an old name plate removed from over the frame. It was a tall narrow building, four storeys, and as they looked up they could see it led onto a high, narrow bridge which completely crossed the whole yard, connecting to a round crow’s nest on a pillar with glass all around in the centre to end at a warehouse on the far side.

Sal drove over and pulled up near the door.

‘Here?’

‘Yeah.’

Rico jumped off the step and walked over to the door, finding the right key and walked in.

Inside was a small lobby with stairs to the left and a single door at the back. He looked behind him to see Sal walking in then crossed over and pushed it open to look inside. It was a locker room, lines of them all open and empty. At the back were shower stalls and toilets.

He walked back out, and with Sal following went up the stairs. First floor was just an open plan space, a few battered desks and chairs scattered around and a glass partitioned office at the rear. Next floor was pretty much the same, but had a small kitchen set into the side. They climbed the last set to the top