4

I didn’t sleep that night. Nerves and doubts prickling at me. I might have finally found a way in to Lenny’s, but all I could think about was how the hell I was going to get out. Killing him in the middle of a party was going to rapidly shrink my exit options. The guests were probably going to be his high-ranking men – killers, all of them. You add the marina guards to the mix, and the odds of me getting out of there alive definitely weren’t tipping in my favor.

At 8:00 a.m. I called Willard and explained the situation at the restaurant. It was the first time I’d heard him sound excited by anything. Then again, he just wanted the hit checked off his list. I doubt he cared much whether I survived or not.

‘You’re sure the party’s tonight?’ he said.

‘By the sound of it.’

‘And you’re close enough to the chef?’

‘Not yet, but I will be.’

He thought to himself a moment.

‘Alright,’ he said. ‘Alright, let’s assume she takes you with her. You’re not going to get a gun in there. How are you going to do it?’

It was a good question. One that I hadn’t figured out a good answer to yet.

‘Potassium cyanide is probably going to be your best option,’ he said.

I shook my head. ‘Not a chance.’

‘If you’re making him drinks...’

‘Forget it.’

I’d already looked into poisons. It was too risky. Although the effects of cyanide are immediate, the victim can remain alive for anything up to three minutes. In that time Lenny would have to be an idiot not to know that I’d poisoned him and raise the alarm.

‘What about something slower-acting?’ I said. ‘Give me time to get out.’

‘Then there’s the chance of him getting treatment.’

‘That Russian guy in London, they poisoned him with radium or something.’

‘If you think you’re getting anything radioactive into that building, Michael. Just keep it simple. Use the knives in his kitchen.’

I sighed. ‘Yeah.’ But I kind of wanted to avoid that too. Lenny was a big guy. Unless I got it right, he might survive long enough to raise the alarm, and once again I’d be fucked. I needed something simple and immediate when he and I were alone – then hide the body long enough for me to get out. I really needed to get a gun in there.

I stared at the photo of Lenny in his file, his huge face staring back at me. Willard began muttering something about self-assembly plastic pistols, but even if I got them through the metal detectors, I had to count on being full-body searched. I went still as a detail in Lenny’s file then caught my attention – the first piece of information written beneath his photograph. His date of birth.

‘The party,’ I said. ‘It’s his birthday.’

I paused and stared carefully at the lobby guards. ‘I could bring him a gift.’

Willard laughed. ‘You think you’re going to sneak a gift past his security?’

‘No,’ I said – the possibilities churning over in my head. ‘That’s the point.’

‘I don’t understand.’

I kept my eyes on the guards, then glanced at my watch. A little under three hours before I had to be at the restaurant.

Yeah. I needed to find Lenny the perfect gift.

The small, silver striped box was cube-shaped. Six inches down each side, it had a removable lid secured by a blue silk ribbon. A pristine little gift-box, empty at the moment, but not for much longer. I eyed the striped lid and imagined it opening – the suddenness and the confusion. As I lost myself for a moment in the unnerving vision, Zack scurried past me down the bar. I pushed the box deeper into my bag and slid it beneath the counter.

‘All good?’ he said.

I nodded and grabbed a fresh drinks order.

Lunchtime, and the restaurant was busy. Young professionals mostly. Their conversations light, their laughter flowing easily. I listened to them and tried to keep my confidence buoyant – my hands steady. But my date with Lenny was just a few short hours away now. One of us was going to end up on a mortuary slab this evening, and it was almost as if I could feel the chill of the slab against my back already.

Zack headed for the fridge and grabbed a bottle of Pinot. As he did, he slowed for a moment and steadied himself with one hand – beads of sweat on his forehead. I eyed him carefully. I’d added a few drops of Dioxatrene to his coffee about half an hour ago, and it looked like it was starting to hit him. I didn’t feel particularly proud of myself, but I had a bigger picture to worry about – in a dog-eat-dog world, this was a side salad.

He uncorked the wine, then paused again, blinking heavily.

‘Are you OK?’ I asked him.

‘I just feel a little dizzy.’

‘Why don’t you take a break?’

‘I’ll be OK.’

He grabbed a handful of wine glasses, then stopped dead, staring into the distance like he’d heard an alarm. He set down the glasses, then scurried downstairs toward the bathrooms.

I nodded to myself – game time. I mixed a round of Bloody Marys, then glanced at a middle-aged couple at the bar who were waiting for a table. Mid-fifties. Wedding rings. A genteel air about them as they chatted to each other. They could be useful.

As I handed the drinks to the waiter, Zack reappeared from the stairwell – his sweating complexion pale as a pearl. I kept my eyes on him as he headed into the kitchen. I couldn’t see much through the tiny window in the door, but the quiet bustle that continually emanated from beyond it seemed to dull a little. Whispers and murmurs. As I tried to make out any scraps of conversation, the kitchen door swung back open and Alice made her way toward the bar.

I drifted over to the married couple. ‘Your table won’t be long,’ I said.

The husband nodded. ‘Thank you.’

Alice stepped behind the bar, waiting to get my attention, but I kept my eyes on the couple.

I nodded toward their wedding rings. ‘How long have you guys been married?’

‘Twenty-two years next June,’ replied the husband.

‘Wow. Twenty-two years, that’s something.’

The wife smiled, then glanced around at the restaurant’s youthful clientele. ‘We’re feeling a little old here, I can tell you.’

‘It’s fine,’ I replied, and I steered the conversation. ‘It’s nice serving people who don’t immediately photograph everything and post it on Instagram.’

The wife laughed to herself. ‘My daughter does it all the time. No idea why. I never get any photos of her, just salads and desserts.’

I shrugged. ‘The mark of intelligent life is its need to share as much unintelligent information about itself as possible.’

The husband smiled. ‘True.’

‘Anyhow, not too long now,’ I said. ‘Can I get you anything?’

‘Another gin and tonic, please,’ she said.

‘Coming right up.’

I grabbed a bottle of Bombay Sapphire and started mixing the drink. As I did, Alice stared thoughtfully at me.

I glanced at her. ‘Everything OK?’

She kept her eyes on me for a moment.

‘Zack isn’t feeling well,’ she said. ‘He’s gone home.’

‘You’re kidding, really?’

‘Will you be OK covering the bar? I’ll pay you flat rate.’

‘Don’t worry about it.’

She kept her eyes on me for a moment longer, a curious hint in her eyes. As she headed back into the kitchen, I nodded to myself. The seed well-planted.

By 3:30 the lunch crowd had gone. Quiet now, just African lounge music streaming gently from the speakers. I heard Alice emerge from the kitchen door, then started cleaning the coffee machine, trying to keep myself busy. She strolled over to the laptop by the bar and switched off the music. Four hours working to a constant soundtrack, and there was that weird silence for a moment like you were lost in space.

She stretched her back, then sat at the bar. ‘Tonic and lime, please.’

‘Ice?’ I said.

She nodded.

I mixed the drink and placed it in front of her. She took a deep mouthful, then held the icy glass against her cheek.

‘How’s Zack?’ I asked.

‘He’s got a fever.’

‘Yeah, there’s something going around, I think.’

She stretched her back again, then unbuttoned her smock and slipped it off. Her breasts hanging loose against the folds of her vest. Her heavily tattooed arms glistening with sweat. I eyed the tattoos – black vines and flowers sweeping in delicate strands from her shoulders to her wrists.

She ran her fingertips up and down the glass, then smiled.

‘You’re good with the customers,’ she said.

I shrugged. ‘It keeps it easy.’

She took another sip of the tonic. ‘It’s interesting... what you said.’

I glanced at her like I had no idea what she was talking about.

‘The mark of intelligent life,’ she said.

‘Oh... yeah. Yeah, I was just chatting.’

‘It’s funny.’

‘Yeah. Although, to be honest, it’s not mine. It’s by this writer I like.’

‘I know. Zoy Rigby.’

I stared at her.

‘You’re kidding?’ I said. ‘I’ve never met anyone who’s even heard of her.’

‘I’ve read everything she’s done.’

‘Me too.’

What I’d actually read were four synopses on Wikipedia and a bunch of quotes. Her stories were depressing as hell, if you asked me, but that was hardly the point.

‘She’s amazing,’ I said.

A hint of wonder in her eyes as she stared at me. ‘What’s your favorite?’

‘All Roads Lead Here.’

She laughed gently to herself. ‘I’m surprised. Guys tend not to read her.’

‘She’s missing a few car chases, I’ll give you that. But... abandonment, loneliness. She knows what she’s writing.’

She stared carefully at me. ‘Things you know about?’

‘I’m thirty years old and still working in bars. What do you think?’

She nodded.

She took another sip of tonic. ‘So how long are you going to be in Miami?’

‘I don’t know, I’ll see how it goes. I want to get to Europe if I can... work my way across there for a while. I really want to get to India though.’

‘India?’

‘I’ve never been. Plus there’s a total eclipse there next year, I’d like to see it.’

‘All the way to India for three minutes?’

I laughed. ‘Well, if you say it like that.’ I grabbed a cloth and started wiping the bar clean. ‘It appeals to me, though. I’m a bit of an amateur astronomer.’

She smiled. ‘You should meet my son, he’s crazy about it.’

I raised a curious eyebrow. ‘You have a son?’

‘Martin. He’s nine.’

Right. He was the stargazer – and probably the recipient of all the Star Wars gifts Alice had ordered.

‘I think I was about nine when I got into it too,’ I said. ‘Saw my first Star Wars movie and bang, that’s where I wanted to be.’

She laughed. ‘Same with Martin.’

I smiled – an expression that was growing increasingly hard for me to carry. I may have been making headway with her, maneuvering myself into a trajectory that would take me into Lenny’s apartment, but I could feel that mortuary slab growing colder every minute.

Alice’s eyes stayed fixed on me as I continued wiping the bar.

‘I called them,’ she said. ‘The White Room.’

I held her look. Willard had arranged a backstory for me. We hadn’t had days to sort out every detail, but I’d wing it if I had to. But to be honest, if I fell at this hurdle, I think I’d be relieved.

‘I spoke to Robert?’ she said.

Robert Kline. I knew the name, he was the manager. ‘How is he?’

‘He says you’re a fine bartender.’

She leaned her head back and ran her fingers through her hair. ‘Why did you leave?’

‘I wasn’t looking for a career there, just some quick cash.’

‘Then I don’t understand. You could work anywhere. Why here, for nothing?’

‘I like the vibe. I needed a change.’ I took a deep breath, then pushed her a little. ‘Look, if this isn’t working for you, just say. It’s not a problem.’

‘It’s not that,’ she said.

She stared carefully at me. ‘I’m catering a private party tonight. I need a good bartender. Zack isn’t going to be well enough. I need someone I can trust.’

I stayed silent.

She kept her eyes on me. ‘Do you know who Lenny Tripps is?’

I shrugged. ‘The name rings a bell, but...’

‘He runs the largest crime syndicate in Miami. It’s his birthday.’

‘You’re catering?’

She nodded. ‘It pays well. I’ll understand if you don’t want to do it though. I asked Morgan, he covers for Zack sometimes. But he won’t do it.’

‘Why, it’s just a party? They’re not going to dump our bodies in the Keys afterwards, are they?’

She smiled and shook her head. ‘It’s something else.’

She paused uneasily for a moment. ‘You hear about the Oregon bombing?’

‘What, the... the cabin?’

‘Lenny Tripps is the main suspect. Morgan won’t work for a guy who could do something like that.’

‘And you could?’

‘I don’t think he did it.’

‘You know him that well?’

‘I’ve gotten to know him. I’ve catered for him before. He’d never do something like that.’

I eyed her carefully. She may not have thought he was responsible, but what the hell did she know. She thought I was a bartender. And as I wiped the counter clean, I could feel the anger rising in me again. The deaths of all those people. Those children.

‘I’ll do it,’ I said.

‘Are you sure?’

‘It’s fine. I’ll serve him drinks, I’m not going to judge the guy.’

‘He’s a very careful man. You’ll be thoroughly searched on your way in.’

‘I’ve got nothing to hide.’

She looked me up and down. ‘You got a black suit and shirt?

‘Uh-huh.’

‘Then go home and change,’ she said. ‘I’ll see you back here at 6:30.’

She paused a moment. ‘I can rely on you to be professional?’

I nodded. ‘I’ll do the job that’s required.’

My heart was pounding like a jackhammer as Alice steered the car toward Sunset Marina. 7:00 p.m. and the sky was darkening above the tower. The yacht masts rocking gently in water. Alice spoke again about my duties that night, but I was on conversational autopilot – my eyes fixed on Lenny’s penthouse, its lights glistening against the sky.

As we pulled into the Marina Road I eyed the guards through the lobby windows, all of them watching the car as Alice made her way down toward the entrance. She pulled to a stop by the main doors. I calmed my breathing and tried to stay relaxed. As one of the guards emerged from the entrance, I glanced at my black suit jacket lying on the rear seat. Concealed beneath it was the tiny gift-box, Lenny’s birthday present now waiting inside. I listened carefully, but the gift remained silent in the darkness of the box.

The guard appeared beside the car. Muscular, but kind of awkward-looking. Thick-rimmed glasses and badly cut hair, he looked like a chess geek who won tournaments by strangling everyone.

Alice smiled easily at him as she buzzed down the window.

‘Good evening, ma’am,’ he said.

‘Good evening, Cole,’ she replied.

He glanced at me. ‘He’s the replacement for this evening?’

She nodded. ‘Rick Sullivan.’

He leaned down by the passenger window, eyed me for a moment, then stared around the interior of the car. My nerves rattled as he glanced at my jacket lying on the rear seat. I’d managed to fold my jacket around the box so it didn’t show, but that wouldn’t guarantee anything.

‘We can pop the trunk if you like,’ I said. ‘The gear’s in the back.’

Alice glanced at me. ‘Just let him do his job.’

I nodded.

Cole eyed me carefully. ‘You have any weapons, phones, or cameras with you, sir?’

‘Just a phone.’

He reached out a hand. ‘Can I have it, please? You’ll get it back when you leave.’

I reached into my pocket and handed him my phone. He kept his eyes on me for a moment longer, then stepped away from the passenger door.

‘Report to Diaz and Hoate,’ he said.

I glanced at Alice, who nodded for me to get the bags. I got out of the car, headed round to the rear and pulled two heavy nylon bags out of the trunk – all the provisions she was going to need for the evening. I laid them on the ground, then grabbed a gray sweatshirt from the rear seats. As I slipped it on over my black evening shirt, Alice glanced curiously at me. It may have been early evening but it was still boiling.

‘I don’t want to get the shirt dirty while we’re setting up,’ I said.

She kept her eyes on me for a moment, then nodded and made her way into the lobby. I took my folded suit jacket from the rear seat, carefully rested it between the handles of one of the bags and then picked them both up.

I followed Alice inside, Cole right on my tail. Two of the lobby guards ushered us into the room by the reception desk that I’d seen Alice led into before. A world away from the sphinxes and lurid gold leaf of the lobby, the room looked like a police interrogation cell. Stark and windowless. I glanced around the room – no chairs, just a long metal table in the center with a whole bunch of high-tech-looking scanners resting on it.

As one of the guards picked up a scanner the size of a baseball bat, the second grabbed a device that looked like a radar-gun.

Cole entered the room and closed the door. ‘Place the bags on the table, please,’ he said.

I heaved the bags onto the table, then casually removed my folded suit jacket from its nest between the handles. I placed it on the table beside the bags, hoping they’d deal with it last.

The guard with the baseball-bat scanner stepped toward me. ‘Raise your arms, please.’

I did what I was told. As the guy ran the scanner across my body, Cole walked into view and eyed me – quietly, but intently. It felt like I was having an MRI scan of my personality, like any moment he was about to tell me everything that was wrong with me. I glanced at his tailored black silk jacket, a subtle fold in the material just beneath his right arm. He was carrying a holstered pistol. All the guards were, but Cole was left-handed.

‘Where are you from?’ he asked me.

‘San Francisco.’

‘What did you do there?’

‘Bartender.’

‘Which bar?

‘The Mandarin Oriental, The Limehouse...’

‘What does the Limehouse look like?’

‘Like an old British pub. But big.’

I’d seen this routine before at airports. Security guards asking rapid chains of questions to rattle you, see if you begin to sweat. And I was – my hands, glistening. As the guy with the baseball-bat scanner hovered it slowly down my legs toward my shoes, the second guard with the radar-gun device started unzipping the nylon bags.

‘You have family in the city?’ Cole asked me.

‘Uh-huh.’

‘Who?’

‘My mom, Helen. My dad, Richard.’

As the guard ran the radar-gun through the bags, his arm brushed against my folded suit jacket. The giftbox hidden beneath it hit the light. He stared curiously at it for second.

‘Cole?’ he said.

Cole stared at the box, then picked it up.

‘What’s this?’ he said. He turned to Alice. ‘We said no deviation from the routine.’

Alice looked as concerned by the find as Cole did. I hadn’t told her about it – I didn’t want to run the risk of her demanding that I leave it behind.

‘What?’ I said. ‘It’s just a gift. It’s his birthday, right?’

Alice stared at me like I was an idiot. ‘You bought him a gift?’

‘Yeah, it just seemed, I don’t know, rude not to.’

‘What’s in it?’ said Cole.

‘It’s just a bird... a red canary. It’s beautiful.’

Alice shook her head in disbelief.

Cole opened the room door and beckoned two more of the lobby guards inside. ‘He bought him a fucking gift.’

The additional guards stood beside me, their eyes fixed on me as Cole handed me the box. He produced a pistol from his shoulder holster and held it at his side.

‘Open it,’ he said.

I stared at the box – tiny pin holes along one side so the canary could breathe.

I glanced at the ribbon. ‘You got a knife?’

Cole eyed me carefully, then nodded toward one of the other guards – a stocky, bullet-headed guy in his late twenties. I’d seen him before. He was righthanded. He produced a flick-knife from his pocket and snapped it open. Keeping his eyes on me, he slowly ran the blade across the ribbon. The second the blue silk fell away from the box I lifted the lid. The red canary instantly took flight.

‘Fuck!’ I said.

I bumped into the guard as I reached for the escaping bird. A second of confusion – a flurry of red feathers – I slipped two fingers inside the guard’s left-hand jacket panel and switched his pistol into the inside pocket of my sweatshirt. The canary flew up to the ceiling, flapping nervously as it tried to find a way out, tumbling against the light panels. Cole sighed as it started to shit across the floor.

The guy with the scanner laughed. He glanced at Cole, then placed the scanner back on the table. ‘He’s clean,’ he said.

Cole shot me a look, then glanced irritably up at the bird.

I shrugged. ‘It was just a thought, that’s all.’

‘We’ll get it down,’ he said. ‘You can take it with you when you leave.’

‘It’s fine, just let it go,’ I said.

He gestured that they should move onto Alice.

Alice raised her arms, then turned to me. ‘You should have told me about this.’

‘I’m sorry, I was going to mention it, but...’

As the canary flapped against the ceiling lights, I kept my eyes on the bullet-headed guard. If he realized that his gun was gone now, I was fucked. But he and Cole seemed too irritated, too concerned by what might be in the bags. They rifled through the contents – not that there was anything to find except cuts of fish, lamb, and a whole delicatessen’s worth of truffles and cheeses. I stood still, my arms at my sides, but could feel the weight of the pistol sagging the fabric of my sweatshirt. I slowly folded my arms across my chest.

Cole shook his head as he took out the final jars and pans from the bags.

He sighed, then nodded to the bullet-head. ‘Alright, take them up.’

My face sweating, I repacked the bags – Cole’s eyes on me as the bird continued to bounce and flap against the fluorescent ceiling lights. I zipped the bags closed, then followed Alice out into the lobby, hugging one of the bags against my chest to hide the weight of the pistol. The bullet-head handed us over to another couple of lobby guards who proceeded to escort us into one of the elevators.

As we rose through the tower, I could feel Alice staring at me like I’d already screwed up. Not that I gave a shit. All I could think about was Lenny, taking the shot, and getting out. The elevator slowed as the floor indicator signaled the penthouse. As the doors slid open, I took a deep, calming breath and eyed the marble landing ahead of me. At the far end, a gold apartment door sat in an ornate latticework frame – three more guards standing beside it. I kept the bag tight against my chest as I followed Alice toward the door, the guards nodding politely to her as they ushered us into the apartment.

We stepped into a huge, flamboyantly-decorated reception room. It was like the Sistine Chapel inside. Cream marble pillars, everything gilt edged. The ceilings painted with blue, Michelangelo-styled skies. But no angels in these skies. Instead, galloping across the firmament were flying horses and winged sports cars. I’m not kidding – in the center of the ceiling was a bright red Ferrari Testarossa with gossamer wings flapping from its roof. Jesus. If the lobby was high on the glitz chart, then Lenny’s apartment had pole-vaulted itself off the fucking map. I’m not one who cares a great deal about interior design, believe me, but it was getting easier to justify killing him every second.

‘The kitchen’s this way,’ said Alice.

I followed her as she strolled across the reception room. Through a set of open double doors I could see the dining room – a palatial table running down the center that was already set for the thirty-two guests. Alice stopped at another gold door beside the balcony windows, the soaring masts of three yachts rocking gently below us in the Marina. She knocked at the door.

‘Yeah!’ came a baritone voice from the other side.

I recognized the voice from the interviews I’d seen. Its earthy tone. Alice opened the door, and there he was – the most elusive figure on the eastern seaboard. Lenny Tripps. His doughy bulk was crammed into a black suit and crisp white shirt. Dense, wavy black hair brushed back and hanging down to his shoulders. His hairy, thick-fingered hands picking at a plate of snacks as he stood by the kitchen sink.

He put down the snacks. ‘Alice!’

He wiped his fingers on a towel, then swayed over to her and gave her a hug.

‘Happy birthday,’ she said. She glanced at the snacks by the sink. ‘You’re eating?’

‘I know. I couldn’t wait.’

She rolled her eyes.

He glanced at me. ‘This the guy?’

Alice nodded. ‘This is Rick.’

‘Birdman!’ he said.

I nodded. ‘Yeah. Sorry about that, Mr Tripps.’

‘Ha! Mr Tripps! The name is High-Lord-Emperor-of-Fucking-Infinity. Or Lenny. Take your pick.’

‘Alright. Lenny.’

‘Good choice.’

As he winked at me, the kitchen door swung open, and a woman in her late thirties wearing a white bath robe drifted in. Six foot and stunning with it, I guessed she was Lenny’s girlfriend. All cheekbones and legs, she was no glitzy gangster’s moll – she swanned through the kitchen like an aerodynamic poem. She smiled and kissed Alice on the cheek.

‘How are you?’ asked the woman.

Alice nodded. ‘Looking forward to tonight.’

The woman raised a weary half-smile. ‘Of course.’ Alice gestured toward me. ‘This is Rick, he’s going to be our bartender. This is Zara.’

As I nodded politely at Zara, Lenny stared at his reflection in the mirrored kitchen counter and straightened his tie.

‘You get the fish?’ he asked.

‘Dover sole and truffles,’ said Alice. She nodded at me. ‘If you could leave the bags by the counter.’

I placed the bags where I was told. As I did, I glanced back at Alice. She and Zara chatting – Lenny still occupied with his appearance. I leaned over the bags and slipped the black pistol from my sweatshirt into the inside pocket of my folded suit jacket. I removed the sweatshirt and carefully pulled on the jacket. As I straightened out the folds in the material, I moved the pistol again and secured it in the back of my belt. I brushed myself down a final time, then turned to find Lenny standing right in front of me.

I stared uneasily at him.

‘You know who I am?’ he asked.

I nodded. ‘I’ve been told a little.’

‘Good, a little is good. But this is a party, and I want you to relax. You can spill stuff, fuck-up the carpet, I don’t give a shit, alright?’

Zara threw him a weary look. ‘Must you swear continually?’ She shook her head to herself. ‘I’m going to get dressed.’

‘What dressed?’ he said. ‘It’s my birthday, put on a bikini!’

As she headed out, Lenny put an arm around my shoulder. ‘Alright, let me show you your spot for the night.’

He led me back into the reception room, toward a gold-plated bar area at the end of the room. Close to a hundred bottles of champagne and assorted liquors on the mirrored shelves behind it.

‘This is your castle for the night, OK?’ he said.

I nodded.

‘I’ll start with a gin sling,’ he said. ‘A little one, just to get the engine started.’

‘Coming right up.’

I glanced nervously around the reception, then started mixing the drink. I tried to think straight. Alice busy in the kitchen – Zara getting dressed. There didn’t seem to be anybody else in the apartment. Now might be the best time. The bar was nearly ten feet long – I could easily hide his body behind it. There’d be blood, but there were enough rugs and carpets lying around the room to cover it up, at least for a moment. All I’d need was a couple of minutes to get out onto Palm Boulevard.

My heart jumped a gear. Fuck it, there was no point in waiting. I eyed one of the embroidered pillows on the sofa – it looked heavy enough to deaden the noise. It would sound like a champagne cork. I ran my sweating hands against my jacket, then nodded toward the balcony windows that overlooked the darkening ocean.

‘That’s a great view,’ I said.

‘I love it,’ said Lenny. ‘Nothing but sea.’

He slid open the balcony doors and took a deep breath. I stepped toward the sofa, grabbed a pillow, then reached for the pistol.

He glanced down at the marina. ‘Here, come take a look at this.’

I pushed the barrel deep into the pillow and raised the gun. As he spoke about some yacht down in the marina, I steadied my hand and aimed at the back of his head – my blood racing as I steeled myself. I blinked the sweat from my eyes, my finger quivering against the trigger. Come on, just do it. I squeezed the cold metal, then froze. Footsteps approaching the reception room. Fuck. I tossed the cushion back onto the sofa. As Lenny turned, I stuck the pistol back in my belt.

Zara glided into the room wearing a figure-hugging red dress.

‘Could you zip me up, please?’ she said to Lenny.

As he ambled over, I took a deep breath and tried to calm my maniacal heart rate.

Lenny zipped the dress, then gave her a kiss on the neck. ‘You look beautiful.’

‘Thank you,’ she said, and she drifted back toward the bedroom.

Lenny turned to me. ‘Yeah, come take a look at this.’

He headed for the balcony again, his back toward me. As I glanced again at the pillow, I heard voices approaching the main apartment door.

The door opened, the guards ushering in a flashy-suited guy in his sixties.

‘Lenny!’ shouted the guy.

Lenny grinned. ‘Paddy!’

‘Happy Birthday!’

Paddy gave him a huge hug. My heart sank. I’d lost the moment.

‘Where’s Lorna?’ Lenny asked.

‘Ah, she’s still being searched,’ said Paddy. ‘Fucking jewelry setting everything off.’ He grabbed Lenny’s cheeks in the palm of his hands and gave him a slap. ‘So how are you, big boy! Fifty-two!’

‘Yeah, don’t remind me.’

‘Ah, it’s just a number.’

‘Yeah, and death is just a word. Come on, let’s get you a drink.’

Lenny and Paddy approached the bar. I smiled politely.

About thirty guests arrived over the next hour or so. Mostly Lenny’s high-ranking men by the sound of it, with their wives and girlfriends. They were a roughlooking bunch. The younger guys were in their forties and looked like your standard rhino-skinned psycho in a suit. But then you had the older guys like Paddy, who looked like they’d died a couple of months ago, but had made the effort to turn up anyhow. As for the women – Zara aside – they were pretty much all highend Barbies. Bleached hair, seven-inch heels, and a sexy walk that looked more like they were trying to scratch one butt cheek with the other.

I kept my eyes low as I circled the table, refilling their champagne glasses. My role had shifted to that of waiter for the past hour. Dinner had been served, and as Lenny downed another huge mouthful of Dover sole I eyed him carefully. I figured that hitting him while he went to the bathroom was probably my best bet. But even though he was drinking like a fish, he was the size of a whale and seemed to have the bladder to match. He hadn’t left the room once.

As I topped up his glass, he continued regaling the table with a story.

‘So the Remmy boys are holding him, right,’ he said. ‘They’re asking for three million or they’re going to kill him. And I want to know that Sid’s OK, but they’re not going to risk putting him on the phone. So they say, ask us a question that only Sid would know the answer to. And, you know, Sid and I grew up together, so I say, when I was seven years old he broke my favorite toy, what was it? There’s a pause for a minute, then this asshole comes back on the line and goes, he says it was a blue plastic helicopter and that he can’t fucking believe you’re still bringing this up.’

The table roared. ‘Fucking Sid, man!’

‘Yeah!’ said Lenny.

More laughter. More glasses raised.

As I opened a fresh bottle of champagne, Paddy turned to Lenny.

‘So where is he?’ he asked. ‘Is he coming?’

Lenny’s mood soured. He shook his head. ‘He’s in Oregon.’

Oregon. The cabin bombing. My ears perked up.

‘How’s it going?’ Paddy asked.

Lenny quietened him. ‘We’ll talk about it later.’

I went to refill Zara’s glass, but she placed a hand over it.

‘You need to be careful with this,’ she said to Lenny.

He eyed her intently. ‘I’m going to find the bastard who did it, believe me.’

I gazed at him for a moment, my thoughts knocked off balance. I shook my head to myself. Bullshit – he’d be pleading innocence to the bombing no matter what, even to his nearest and dearest. Three dead children, for Christ’s sake. My job was to kill him. I took a deep breath and tried to stay focused.

Lenny clapped his meaty hands together, then addressed the table. ‘Let’s hear it for the chef, huh?’ he said. ‘Alice, get out here! Alice!’

She emerged from the kitchen, the table erupting with applause as she did. She smiled easily as Lenny beckoned her over.

‘This woman,’ he said. ‘I swear, greatest chef in the world!’

He put his arm around her waist as she stood beside him. ‘You want another restaurant? You want a chain? Just tell me.’

She smiled again, then gestured for me to hand her a glass of champagne. I poured a fresh glass and gave it to her.

She eyed the guests dubiously, a wry smile on her face as she raised her glass. ‘To Lenny,’ she said. ‘May the eagle of good fortune circle your home, and may the hamster of Colombian trade deals nestle on your porch.’

The table cheered and laughed.

‘To another fifty-two years,’ she said.

The table raised their glasses. As they drank, Alice leaned down, whispered something into Lenny’s ear, then kissed him on the cheek. I glanced at Zara, who looked more than a little uncomfortable with the exchange.

Alice straightened herself up and addressed the table. ‘I hope you have a great night, all of you.’

Lenny threw her a look. ‘What, you’re not going?’

‘I have to.’

‘No...’

‘I have to.’

Shit. I stepped forward. ‘I don’t mind staying. Tidy

^up.’

Alice glanced at me.

‘Fuck tidy up!’ said Lenny. ‘We need drinks. Birdman’s staying!’

Alice kept her eyes on me. ‘Are you sure?’

I nodded.

‘Good man!’ said Lenny.

He smiled to himself, then beckoned me over. As I made my way toward him, he reached into his jacket and produced a thin plastic pouch full of grayish powder.

‘I’m going to teach you how to make a very special Mojito,’ he said.

Paddy laughed. ‘Mo-ji-to!’

‘It’s a regular Mojito,’ said Lenny. ‘And a just little of this.’

Alice’s eyed widened. ‘Lenny...’

‘It’s my birthday,’ he said. He handed the pouch to me. ‘Just a little. Dab a cocktail stick in it.’

I nodded, then gazed curiously at the powder.

This might be easier than I thought.

Ten past one, and the apartment was quiet aside from the gentle pulse of Nina Simone. The lights low in the room now, it looked like some Vatican boudoir. Alice was long gone, as were most of the guests. Just Paddy and a couple of other guys lounging on the sofas with their girlfriends – all of them silent. All of them comatose on Lenny’s special Mojitos. It hadn’t smelled like heroin to me, but whatever the powder was, a single dab had booted them off the planet. I grabbed Lenny’s glass and poured in every last grain of powder from the pouch – had to be a tablespoon full. I figured that would be enough to turn his brain to liquid.

I dressed the glass with a mint leaf, then waited for him to return. He’d disappeared into his bedroom twenty minutes ago, arguing with Zara. I’m not sure what the fight was about, but things had turned sour between them soon after Alice left. As I stacked away the used champagne bottles, I could hear Lenny’s muffled voice booming through the apartment, Zara’s accent turning decidedly French as she yelled back at him. With a slam of the bedroom door the apartment went quiet. Lenny swayed back into the reception room, dragging a hand against the wall as he tried to keep his drunken body upright. He glanced aimlessly at Paddy and the guys slouched unconscious on the sofas, then headed over and joined me at the bar.

He gazed at me, glassy-eyed.

‘How are you doing?’ he said.

‘Good,’ I replied.

I slid the drink toward him. ‘Mojito. Compliments of the house.’

He stared blankly at it for a moment, then perched himself on a bar stool. He took out a cigar, bit off the tip and started to light it.

Silence as he toyed with the glass. I willed him to drink, but he just gazed miserably at it, puffing away at his cigar.

‘I used to make a fine Mojito,’ I said. ‘But this? This wins the award.’

He stared at the glass for a moment – then pushed it away. ‘Ah, not in the mood. Some birthday, huh?’

I eyed him uneasily. ‘It might bring a smile to your face.’

He shook his head. ‘Give me a whiskey.’

Shit. I poured the whiskey, my blood pounding as I glanced back at the embroidered cushion on the sofa beside the bar.

Lenny rolled the cigar around his lips as he gazed into the middle distance. ‘I love her, you know,’ he said. ‘Zara.’

I nodded. ‘Of course. She’s lovely.’

‘Yeah. Why do they want to make it so complicated then? Hmmm?’

I checked that Paddy and the others were still comatose, then took a casual step toward the end of the bar nearest the sofa.

‘Wants to get married for Chrissake,’ he said.

I kept him occupied, kept him talking. ‘Marriage not for you, huh?’

‘Fuck marriage. It’s like sitting at the wheel of a self-driving car. You think you’re making decisions? You ain’t.’

I casually walked over to the sofa and grabbed the cushion – if he asked why, I’d say it was for his bar stool. But he didn’t even notice. He just kept puffing at the cigar, gazing into nothing. I quietly removed the pistol from my belt, making sure I stayed out of the reflections behind the bar.

He took a sip of the whiskey.

‘You think I’m rich?’ he said. ‘That I got a good life?’

I glanced a final time at Paddy and the guys, but none of them were even close to consciousness. I pushed the pistol deep into the cushion again, my heart thudding as I stepped toward Lenny.

‘Bastards trying to bring me down everywhere,’ he said. ‘Motherfuckers.’

I carefully took aim at the back of his head.

‘Fucking Oregon,’ he said, his voice nothing but a whisper now. ‘You hear about that? Three children. Children. Just to bring me down.’

I closed my eyes and tried to keep the steel in me alive. He was a drug trafficker, for Christ’s sake – who cares if he didn’t do it? He was my ticket to freedom. I squeezed my finger against the trigger, but the cold metal held firm against my skin. I just stood there, hovering.

A guard’s voice from the main door. ‘Paddy’s car’s here.’

The guard stared at me for a second. ‘Lenny!’

The guard reached for his gun. I swung round, but the other two guards already had me in their sights. I dived behind the sofa, bullets tearing through air. As Lenny got to his feet, more guards hurtled toward the apartment. I glanced around the room. Fuck.

No other way out – no choice. I turned and sprinted for the balcony window, a hail of gunfire around me. As I ran, a bullet splintered off a marble pillar beside me – Lenny toppling to the floor as the ricochet caught him in the chest. I leaped up onto the railings and launched myself out into the night air, out into the two hundred foot drop to the yachts beneath me. The air racing past me as I hurtled toward a sliver of black between two of the yachts. Blurred masts and darkness, the marina accelerating toward me. I crashed into the water and sank deep, thudding into the mud at the bottom of the marina. I lost my breath as the pain tore through my legs – as I struggled to pull myself up to the surface shimmering only a couple of feet above me.

Gunshots hit the water as I broke the surface – I swam for the cover of the yacht decks. I’d only have a few seconds before the lobby guards would be out here. I glanced around the blackness of the marina. Lights in the distance. A beach, maybe four hundred feet away – people walking. I took a deep breath and dived back under, pulling my way through the black water toward the beach. Flashlight across the surface above me. I waited for the light to swing past me, then raised my head for a second. Another breath and I was back under, fighting to keep swimming, the pain of the impact searing through me.

I kept swimming, kept pulling at the water, but the panic in me was giving way to pain. I stopped a moment and raised my head above the surface. The beach was getting close, maybe a hundred and fifty feet. The distant hum of a power boat behind me, cars screeching out of the Marina Road. Fuck, they’d be covering the beach. I needed to move. As searchlights hit the water, I dived back down and raced as best I could for the beach.

Sand and stoned scraped against my hands as I reached the shore. I blinked the salty water from my eyes, then glanced behind me. The power boat was searching the sea maybe two hundred feet to my left. I pulled myself out of the sea and scrambled onto the beach, tourists staring at me as I hobbled toward the main drag. Cars pulling up on the Boulevard to my right, I lowered my head and tried to conceal myself in the crowds.

‘There!’ came a voice in the air.

Footsteps running behind me. The neon storefronts ahead of me, a blur of movement. As a camper van rolled past me down the Boulevard, I scrambled behind it, the lumbering van giving me a moment of cover as I crept into the crowds on the other side of the road. I glanced back – Lenny’s men searching the crowds, two of them crossing to my side of the road. I needed to hide. I glanced at the bars and restaurants on the strip, but this was Lenny’s turf. I didn’t know who might be on the lookout for a guy in a soaking suit. I could almost hear his guys messaging every person they knew in the area. But The Pepper Bar – it was just around the corner. If Danny Perino hung out there, then it was a good bet the guys in there weren’t friends of Lenny’s.

Hushed tension in the crowds as three more cars screeched to a halt on the Boulevard.

‘There!’ yelled one of Lenny’s guys.

I sprinted down the back streets, the pain tearing through me as I tried to get my bearings. The Pepper Bar was the next street on the right. Guys yelling behind me in the backstreet as I cleared the corner. I caught sight of the glowing pink entrance to the bar – Danny’s black Lamborghini parked outside. I scrambled toward the entrance, one of the security guys blocking my path as I reached the door.

‘I need to see Danny!’ I said.

‘Easy,’ said the security guy.

‘Tell him Michael’s here!’

‘He’s busy.’

I glanced behind me – Lenny’s men were hurtling out of the backstreet. As they searched the road, I barged passed the guard and tumbled down the stairs – the guard chasing after me. I darted into the crowds of the main bar, then gazed at the private room that Danny had shown me into. As I ran for it, the heavy by the door stood in my way.

‘Danny!’ I yelled. ‘Danny!’

The guard from the entrance bounded over toward me. ‘Grab that fucker!’

As the heavy at the door took hold of me, the door opened and Danny stuck his head out. A group of five guys silhouetted against the LED screens in the room behind him.

‘Michael, what are you doing here?’ he said.

I caught my breath. ‘I need to speak to you.’

‘I can’t talk right now.’

‘I mean it, Danny!’

‘Not now!’

I leaned in toward him and lowered my voice. ‘Danny... I think I might have just killed Lenny Tripps.’