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

were forming and a couple of people had resigned. Moran had become so unpopular that most of the staff actively avoided any contact with him, and who could blame them.

Simon had started to catch it too, mostly because he liked Sammy and spoke up for her. He was young, and good at his job, and would be an asset elsewhere, but he was happy here, so she would make sure Costas knew exactly why he wanted to leave if he ever made that decision.

Her show had gone well that day, she had discussed meeting the British man who was on the platform at the Metro station but had chosen her words very carefully and not gone into too many details. There would be a time for that she knew, eventually the police would have to lift the restrictions.

She thought about John Smith and smiled. She liked him, he was very interesting, she had never met anyone quite like him. She hoped she would see him again. She picked up her mobile and wondered whether to send him a text, when it suddenly started ringing. At first she thought it could be John, but then recognised the number and shuddered.

Jimmy Frost. Shit.

She swallowed, and then answered.

He spoke in an exaggerated drawl.

‘Hey sweetheart, I just heard something. And I reckon you are going to be VERY nice to old Jimmy the next time you see him, I’m expecting a good time, goddamn more than giving me a hundred bucks is for sure.’

Expect all you want, she thought to herself, but replied through gritted teeth.

‘Oh hi Jimmy. Of course, I’m always nice aren’t I? So what did you hear?’

‘Well, before I get into that, how about we fix up a date right now?’

She swallowed again. This wasn’t getting any easier.

‘Yeah, yeah Jimmy, but I am really pushed right now. I’m behind schedule, you know how it is.’

Frost sighed heavily down the phone, she heard him smack his lips. She did not want to think about what he was going to suggest next.

But she got lucky. This time.

‘Fuck it. ok. But we meet and I am expecting a proper reward ok?’

‘Sure Jimmy, sure. Please, what have you got to tell me?’

‘Cops just got a call. 911. One of the guys they got in the frame for the Metro, and probably that army major who got offed too. He’s turning himself in.’

What?

‘Er … you sure Jimmy? Is this for real?’

‘As real as what I got waiting for you baby. He’s at the High Tower Hotel. It’s near Long Beach, a shithole but that’s where he is.’

Sammy started waving frantically at Simon.

‘Ok, wow, that is massive. Thank you, Jimmy, you won’t regret it, let’s get together real soon. Bye.’

She hung up just as he started to make his demands, and relayed the news to Simon, and more importantly to Moran who for once in his life was speechless, but immediately started to rally a crew.

If they got moving fast LA Plus would be first on scene. Again.

***

Westwood to Long Beach was one of those journeys where if you looked at a map it looked straightforward, all freeway, nice and easy but in reality could take forever.

But not this time.

They went down in three LAPD cruisers, two SWAT vans and two FBI cars, all with lights flashing and sirens blaring. John didn’t think he had ever travelled as quickly through traffic and in the dark it felt like being in a weird surreal video game. Brady and Jennings had got teams together like lightning, and they were setting up as they drove. John and Reed were in the back with a grim-faced young black officer driving and Brady in the passenger seat, his mobile glued to one ear and his radio the other.

‘Ok, the local guys have it all pinned down. Hotel has been evacuated, they are holding two guys apparently, and there is a third injured,’ he explained over his shoulder, holding onto the grab handle above the door as the car weaved in and out.

‘What do you know about them?’ Reed asked.

‘Not a great deal so far, other than they are compliant. Injured guy been gut shot. I have instructed to detain them until we all get there, but the injured guy needs the ER I’m told.’

‘How about the hotel? Any reason to be concerned there?’

‘I don’t know the place,’ Brady admitted, then looked at the driver. ‘Mean anything to you?’

‘It’s known to us yeah. Calling it a hotel is a stretch, it’s a dump. There will be some players there for sure, they happy renting rooms by the hour. But the Long Beach PD will be all over it,’ the driver growled in response.

They crested a rise, and then pulled off the freeway where the driver made a sharp left turn. The hotel was there, in front of them, a modern ugly four-storey beige building. The whole area was a sea of flashing red and blue lights, there were police vehicles everywhere. The driver pulled up as close as they could and they all got out. Brady made his way through the congestion and was joined by Jennings. They got into a conversation with a couple of senior officers at the hotel entrance. Everyone looked relaxed, unhurried.

Brady turned and waved at John, so he and Reed headed over.

Brady was smiling.

‘Let’s go on in. I think you’re going to like this.’

They walked into a dark, dingy lobby, empty apart from a reception desk which was a small square window set in the wall under the stairs. In the centre of the room two men were kneeling down, side by side with their hands on their heads. There were several officers watching over them.

‘That’s Perez,’ John said quietly to Reed who nodded.

‘The other one has to be this Sal Rodriguez character,’ he replied.

They looked at the two men then around the small lobby.

‘Where’s Pinsky?’ John asked, to nobody in particular.

‘He’s upstairs. Best be quick,’ Perez replied with a glance up at him.

‘Room 311,’ one of the