The Lizard Lounge stood on Industrial Road. It was a 24/7 dive bar with a claim to fame that it had only closed once in the past twenty-five years and only then to allow for the cleanup of a triple homicide that had taken place in the main bar area.
There had been a couple of other murders since then, but as they had taken place in one of the bar’s back rooms, the management had not deemed it necessary to stop serving drinks while those were cleaned up. Alongside the homicides there had been numerous shootings, stabbings and beatings. No one knew why it still retained its liquor license, but the suspicion was that the cops preferred having most of the city’s worst degenerates concentrated in the one place.
Lock and Ty stood across the street from the bar and weighed up their approach. It wasn’t exactly the kind of place you could go in and wave around a photograph with a breezy “Hey, have any of you fellas seen this guy?”. Not unless you were prepared to pay for some dental work.
A trawl of the two casinos that Andre had suggested had turned up no sign of either Hanger or Kristin. That only left The Lizard Lounge.
“I’ll go in, take a look,” volunteered Ty.
That made sense to Lock. For better or worse, Ty would blend in better than he would.
“If you see him, message me, and we’ll figure out how we get him out of there.”
“Roger that,” said Ty.
Lock watched as Ty walked across the street. As he stepped off the sidewalk, Lock observed his partner’s gait shift from a shoulders back, head straight stance to more of a gauche roll. Lock figured he was getting into character.
Ty walked past the two hulking bikers posted at the door and disappeared inside. Lock walked back to the car and got inside, ready to swing over and collect Ty if he needed to make a fast exit.
Inside, the place was suitably dark. Ty took a seat and ordered a Scotch with a water back. As the bartender fixed his drink, he scoped the place out in the mirror that ran the length of the bar. There was no sign of Hanger.
The bartender placed his Scotch and water on the bar. Ty feigned taking a sip of the whisky and followed it up with a real sip of the water.
There were two ways he could do this, the right way and the wrong way. He could ask if they had a poker game going on in back. As no one had ever seen him here before, that would be the wrong way.
Instead, he waited a few minutes, grimaced as he slid off his stool and asked the bartender to point him in the direction of the men’s room. In a place like this, it was better to be a guy with a thirst and a middle-aged prostate than a guy who came in asking questions.
Moseying down the corridor to the bathroom, he kept walking as he got to it. He kept moving, down past the women’s restroom. A sign on it read BITCHES, presumably to match the sign on the men’s room that read PLAYERS.
He opened the next door. It was a closet full of cleaning supplies and dry goods. He closed it again as someone came out of the men’s room. They didn’t give him so much as a second glance.
Turning a corner, there were two doors, one to the left and one to the right. He could hear voices behind the door on the right. Suddenly he started to doubt his plan of not asking the bartender. Walking through a closed door into an illegal card game wasn’t the smartest thing to do, especially when no one inside knew who the hell you were. Then again, there was no other way of telling if Hanger was inside. Or was there?
Ty walked up to the door and knocked.
“Yo, is Hanger in there?” he said, loud enough that those inside would be able to hear.
He stepped off to the side and waited. The chat inside fell away a little.
There was the sound of a chair being pushed back. The door opened a few inches and a short, overweight black guy peered out. He stared at Ty with yellow, liver-failure eyes.
“Some dude’s out front looking for Hanger,” he said.
The guy wasn’t buying it. Ty could tell that much from the man’s expression. He looked over the top of the man’s head, trying to get a view of who was inside.
“Get the fuck out of here,” the short guy said, closing the door, but not before Ty picked out a white guy with cornrows sitting at the card table with his back to the door.
Outside, Lock watched Ty come out of the bar and stroll nonchalantly across the street. He walked down to their car and got in.
“He’s in a back room playing cards, just like Andre said he might be.”
“You’re sure?” asked Lock.
“Only saw him from the back, but yeah, I think it’s him. I couldn’t exactly ask everyone to stand up and turn around so I could get a look at them.”
“How many in the room?”
“Seven or eight,” said Ty. “I’d say they’re all packing too.”
Lock took a moment.
“Any sign of the girl?”
“None.”
Lock cursed under his breath. It would be easier to go grab a ninety pound teenager than haul a full grown man out of there, even with firearms.
They could call the cops. He had Adorno’s details, and he was sure she’d be delighted to arrest Hanger. But there was one problem with that. The first thing Hanger would do would be to lawyer up. As soon as he figured that he had something that they wanted, he could use Kristin as collateral.
Lock had no intention of handing Hanger any kind of power. Not when they still had no idea where Kristin was.
“What if we would use some kind of distraction?” said Ty.
“Like what?”
“I don’t know, fire alarm, something that will get him out on the street.”
“You think those guys are going to leave their game for a fire alarm?” said Lock.
“Point taken,” said Ty.
Ty had something, though. It would be one hell of a lot easier to grab hold of Hanger if he was outside. A fire alarm might not do it, but he knew something that would.
He grabbed his cell phone and found the number for Adorno’s unit.
“It’s Lock,” he said when she answered. “I found our boy. I thought you and your colleagues might like to swing by and pick him up.”
“Oh yeah, where he is?” she asked.
He told her.
“You might want to bring some numbers,” he added.
“Don’t worry, every cop in Vegas knows what to expect going in there.”
“How fast can you make it here?” asked Lock. “We’re not sure how long he’s going to be here for.”
“Give me a half hour. If you see him leave before then, lemme know.”
“You got it,” said Lock.
“We’re giving him to the cops?” asked Ty when Lock had finished the call.
“No, he’s going to give himself to us,” said Lock.
Twenty-five minutes later, they watched as Adorno’s car rolled down Industrial Avenue. Tucked in behind her was a mini-convoy of LVMPD vehicles, including three patrol cars and a SWAT unit.
Hanger hadn’t left the bar. He was no doubt still hunkered in the back room with no idea his life was about to change.
Ty was already posted at the back of the Lizard Lounge. Lock pulled out, drove to the end of the block, turned and parked next to the alleyway. He could see Ty standing halfway down the alley, tucked in against the wall, waiting for the rats to start leaving the sinking ship.
Lock texted Ty the signal. He watched as Ty walked up to the service entrance at the back of the building, hammered his fist against it and began shouting.
There was the first whoop of sirens from out front. The door opened and a motley crowd of people started spilling out as a patrol car tore down from the other end of the alleyway.
Hanger was one of the first out. Wild-eyed, he saw the patrol heading straight for him as the scene descended into chaos. He started running in the opposite direction, heading straight for Lock.
Ty ran behind him, almost on his heels, staying just a few yards behind him. As they got closer to Lock’s car, Lock scooted down in his seat so that Hanger wouldn’t see him as he ran up to the car.
A second later, the car’s rear passenger door was flung open. Lock could hear Ty’s voice.
“Get in, dude, quick. Hanger half jumped and was half pushed by Ty into the back seat. Ty closed the door. Lock hit the central locking, sat up in his seat and pulled away.
In the back seat, Hanger looked around. He grabbed for the opposite door. Ty grabbed both his wrists, slipping the loop of a PlastiCuff over one then another and cinching them tight as the car picked up speed.
They hit the end of the block and Lock accelerated. He checked his mirrors, half expecting to see a patrol car tucked in behind him.
His cell phone rang. He tapped the answer icon. It was Adorno. She sounded out of breath.
“Did you see him? I thought you said he hadn’t left. Where are you?”
Her words spilled out in a rush, all the reassurance that Lock needed that they hadn’t been spotted.
Hanger started to speak. Ty clamped a hand across his mouth.
“That’s the cops, dude,” said Ty, nodding to Lock’s cell.
“We didn’t see him leave. We pulled out when we saw you arrive,” said Lock. “Are you positive he’s not there?”
There was the sound of commotion in the background. Adorno was speaking to someone else. “Well, go check again.”
A patrol car sped towards them. Ty shoved Hanger’s head down and ducked down himself. It kept going.
Adorno started to speak again.
“What?” said Lock. “I can’t hear you. You’re breaking up.”
He hung up on her.
Ty had his hand clamped around the back of Hanger’s neck, pushing his face into the seat so hard that he was having trouble breathing. Finally, Ty let him up.
Hanger looked at Lock. There was fear in his eyes.
“Who the hell are you?” said Hanger.
Lock stared at him in the rearview as the sound of the sirens began to fall away.
“Hey, Carl, you ever hear the expression jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire? Well, we’re the fire. But don’t you worry, we’ll throw you back into the frying pan just as soon as you take us to Kristin Miller.”