The limo slipped into a small covered parking area notched into a three-story building. We were somewhere northwest of the Strip. Lots of trees and flowers probably got bottled water while the landscapers drank from the hose.
Burch opened the door for Eddie and the heat clamped down on us. Eddie didn’t seem to notice. Burch led the way to a thick, unmarked steel door in the corner of the parking area and pushed a button set in the frame.
We waited, Burch checking the corners behind us, then his watch.
Eddie stared at the door, leaning forward on his toes.
I checked my phone to see if my provider was allowed within this property value.
A black guy about my height and age opened the door, all smiles. He wore a dark suit and a shirt and tie I knew were a shade of lavender, but I’d call them purple if anyone asked. It moved on him like feathers on a peacock. “Mr. Takanori, welcome back.”
“Dorian, sorry for the drop-in.”
“Please. Come on. Get out of this furnace.”
Burch turned to me. “Okay here?”
“For what?”
“Be right back.” He stepped past Dorian into the building and left Eddie with me.
Dorian said to Eddie, “Something wrong?”
“He’s very careful.”
“Needs to be more careful with those shoes. Drier than a Mormon funeral.” Dorian examined me. “Dumpster’s around the corner.”
Eddie said, “This is one of my guys. We need something for him to walk around in today and half a dozen or so fitted as soon as possible. Head to toe.”
Dorian cocked an eyebrow. “You take a shower today?”
Burch came to the doorway. “All clear, Mr. Takanori.”
We stepped into a short hallway, then through another unmarked door and down a set of narrow stairs. Pushed through a heavy black curtain into a cool, round, semidark room of solid wood panels lined with suits and angled shelves of ties, handkerchiefs, shoes, and socks. Everything glowed with indirect lighting, the kind that requires engineers and technicians and Mayan calendars to dial in.
Dorian nudged me. “First time?”
“How’d you know?”
“This is gonna be fun, man. Lighten up. Enjoy it. My suits can’t do a thing for you, walking around with that look on your face.”
“What look?”
“Put your arms down. Relax your shoulders.” Dorian checked his work so far. “Why are your hands so big?” He came back in with a tape measure, pins, and chalk.
Eddie sat in a leather chair and knocked back an espresso, staring at the recessed plasma screen showing financial news with the sound off.
Burch patrolled the suits and rubbed a few ties before he finally stopped in front of me and got down to it. “Mr. Takanori tells me you’ve worked executive security before.”
“That was a while back. And security might not be the right word. Security wants to avoid trouble. I usually got hired to make some.”
“So you know what it looks like.”
I checked one of the six mirrors in front of me. “Pretty much.”
“We’re going to a meeting after this. Just do what I tell you. Anything seems off, don’t keep quiet about it.”
“You got a phone book? Only a couple pages of guys better qualified than me.”
“That’s not an option right now.”
“Why not?”
Burch glanced at Dorian, who kept working and said, “With these acoustics, I can’t hear a thing. Never do.”
Burch came back to me. “We don’t know why yet, but no one will help us.”
“You mean no one will help Eddie. Why are you here?”
His eyes were ice chips. “I’m a soldier, mate.”
I made sure Eddie wasn’t listening. He was miles away. “What’s he got on you?”
“Just do what I say, leave the stories for Valhalla. Dorian, how much longer?”
“How good does he need to look?”
“No arrests for exposure.”
Dorian stood, touched a white cloth to his forehead. They both stared at me. I felt like a piece of bad furniture.
“I’ll cover him up,” Dorian said, “but he’s going to look like a side of beef in a potato sack.”
“Twenty minutes?”
“Fifteen. I have another client coming.” To me: “What are you carrying?”
Burch opened his coat, showed me the pistol holstered against his ribs. He let the coat fall and the tailoring made the rig disappear—no bulge, no shadows. He tugged a pant leg up so I could see the strap around his ankle but not what it held.
“Nothing,” I said.
Dorian looked at Burch, who shrugged. “Boy likes to get his hands dirty.”
Likes to stay out of prison, too.
Burch said, “Mr. Takanori, we can be at the meeting in thirty minutes.”
Eddie stared through the TV, the wall, the city. “Make the call.”