4

“The textbooks of the world will tell you different, but neon was designed to hide the plain, the ugly and the worn out,” Danny said, reading from an article on his iPad. “If you’ve ever visited Las Vegas in daylight hours you’ll understand. By day, drab weathered walls show the dirt, vomit stains and the worst of society’s skidmarks—but when the sun goes down and the rainbow spectrum of flashing neon kicks into life, the same bland tableau is transformed into an exotic menagerie of sights, sounds and possibilities. A twenty-dollar hooker in daylight hours can be enough to make a dog tuck its tail and run, but in the dark under the glamour of the blue neon strobe, the same streetwalker can appear as tempting as Beyoncé’s little sister.”

“I guess that guy doesn’t write for the local tourist office?”

Danny laughed and turned the screen towards Pamela. “I suspect not. That’s the beauty and the curse of the Internet. Everyone’s a critic.”

Fortunately, Ultima Felicidad was still beautiful when the sun was at its zenith, looking down on its devoted worshippers on the streets and beaches below.

Danny sipped a Diet Coke at one of the dozen or so chrome tables arranged outside at the front entrance of the Woo Hoo. By day, the club served a variety of food and drink, both in the air-conditioned interior and al fresco on the street front terrace.

Larry emerged from the bar and joined him at the table. Pamela had a Coke flavoured with a shot of vanilla essence and Larry touted a bottle of San Miguel that seemed to be perspiring in the late-morning heat. A dog with a shaggy brown-and-white coat limped along behind him as if aping his disability. Danny smiled and held out the back of his hand. The dog pressed a nose that was cold and wet hard against his skin, snuffling the new scent. He appeared to be a collie-cross. What Danny referred to as a “Heinz 57” due to the varieties in the genetic mix. He preferred mixed mongrels to most pedigree breeds.

“Hey, boy, how you doing?” Danny proceeded to ruffle the fur behind the mutt’s ear. The dog scooted closer, pressing against his legs.

Pamela leaned over and gently tugged on his curled tail. The dog looked between the two sources of affection.

“What’s he called?” asked Danny.

“Jacks,” she replied. “Short for One-Eyed Jacks.”

The dog turned fully to look at Danny. Jacks was missing his left eye, part of one ear and his left front paw.

“Poor little mite. What happened to him?” Danny continued to pat his head.

“Some idiot ran over him on a quad bike. Squished him up pretty good. Larry found him lying on the path down to the beach. We thought he was a goner at first but when we realised he wasn’t dead we took him to the vet. Damn fleabag cost us a shitload of money but you’re worth it, aren’t you, boy?”

Jacks placed his disfigured leg on Pamela’s thigh.

“Well, I agree. He’s great.” Danny turned his thoughts to more serious matters. “Clay gave me the story on the way over from the airport, but I need to ask a few more questions… you okay with that?”

“Sure, Danny, fire away.” As he sat down, Larry tucked his artificial leg under the table.

“I know they’re trying to muscle you into selling the club,” said Danny, nodding at the sculptured doorway. “But I need to know as much detail about this Loco outfit as possible.”

Over the next hour Danny asked for full details on the club’s takings, number of staff and their addresses, how many customers on an average week, delivery schedules, suppliers, fire exits and rear access. Pamela seemed exhausted by the litany.

“Why do you need to know all this stuff? You won’t have to go looking for these guys. I’m pretty sure they’ll come back. Clay said as much too.”

“I probably don’t need to know half this stuff, but the more I know, the less the Locos can surprise me with.”

“Tactical knowledge is king!” Larry nodded in agreement. “I wish it was like it was in the old days. I could just perch up on the roof and ventilate the lot of them.”

Pamela squeezed her husband’s hand. Danny couldn’t fail to notice the moment. Deep emotions ran just below the surface. Larry pursed his lips, his eyes downcast. His leg made a metallic clang as it struck the base of the table as he shifted position. Jacks raised his head briefly from the full sprawl he’d adopted beneath the table.

“Now, about the Locos, tell me again how many have been to the club in total?” asked Danny.

“About six or seven different faces, usually in threes. The backup changes, but Ortega always leads the way,” said Pamela.

Danny blew a snort of air out of his nose. “He’s probably a captain.”

Larry flushed red. “I’m gonna kill those toss-pots next time they come at us. They waited ’til I was out and tried the bully boy act with Pamela. It’s a good job that Clay was on hand or it could have all gone south quick-time.”

Pamela tenderly laid a hand on top of Larry’s and this calmed him somewhat. Danny could see how much they loved each other. It was obvious that Pamela would do anything to look after her husband and Larry would undoubtedly die trying to protect her in return.

“So Clay is going to be away for the next few days?” asked Larry.

“Aye, he said he was really sorry about leaving just as the job was getting interesting, but he’s got some stuff on the home front in Portugal that he can’t let slide. I think there’s a lot of legal papers that need signing. He’s buying some more land next to his first plot. Don’t worry, I can hold the fort until he gets back. He’ll bring some toys back with him— equipment that I couldn’t carry on the plane.”

Larry smiled. He knew the kind of toys that the Gunn brothers played with; not the kind you got with your Happy Meal that was for sure. “This crap with the Locos has been escalating. As soon as I told him what was going on Clay hopped into his car and came straight down here.”

“Aye, that sounds like Clay.”

“What’s his place in Portugal like?”

Danny laughed. “Well, it was a building site last time I was there, but that’s quite a while ago. I’m sure he’ll have the roof on by now.”

“Don’t count on it… You know how Clay likes his time outdoors, he’ll probably leave the roof off just so he can look at the night sky from his bed,” Pamela jested.

“Nah, he’s a big fanny really. Clay’s idea of a wild night is having English mustard on his hot dog,” said Larry. Like most soldiers, he couldn’t offer a straight compliment to a friend without a side order of crap to go with it.

Danny laughed, and One-Eyed Jacks looked up again at the sound, cocking his head to one side.

“Look,” said Danny, “when these Locos come back, I want you two to get into the kitchen as quick as you can. The staff too.” Larry started to protest but Danny cut him off. “It’s not about being tough; it’s about being smart. If I go down, you’ve got more chance to protect Pamela back there. I presume you’ve still got a shotgun around here somewhere?”

“I’ve got one at home.” Larry’s face was grim.

“Bring it in… but take things easy. We all know that shooting the place up is the last thing we want. That would be worst-case scenario. Plus, the Spanish cops are all armed as standard; you don’t want those guys storming in all guns blazing as well.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” agreed Larry. He puffed out his cheeks. “Got to pay a visit to the little boys’ room.” He rose and walked inside the club.

Pamela rubbed both hands over her face. She stared at Danny for a few seconds before speaking. “You know, when this crap first started I considered throwing in the towel, going back to England, but then I look at Larry. He’s dreamed of having his own bar since our early days together. Thirty years of savings and all of his compensation from the army is tied up in this place. It became my dream too, something we could build together.”

“I understand.”

“The club means so much to me but nothing in the world would be worth losing Larry for. I came so close already with that bastard landmine.”

Danny nodded, his face solemn in agreement.

“Do you want another drink?” asked Larry as he returned to the table.

“No, I’m good thanks,” said Danny. He inched back his chair. “I’m going out to walk the area. I’ll be gone for at least a couple of hours. You’ve got my number. The slightest hint of trouble and you buzz me, okay?”

When neither of them responded he said, “The slightest hint of trouble, okay?”

“Okay,” agreed Larry and Pamela simultaneously.

“Do you need anything?” asked Larry.

“Nah, I’m good to go. Just want to get the lay of the land. You never know when you might find yourself in one of those back streets. It kind of helps if you know where the hell you are.”

Danny rose and started to walk down the street, noting its width and available cover points if a firefight did transpire. At the moment he was at a disadvantage with the bearings of an aimless tourist, but he could fix that. Jacks sprang up to follow and had to be called back twice by Pamela. Danny smiled at the dog’s enthusiasm and held up a hand in way of a temporary farewell.

* * *

When Danny was out of earshot, Pamela turned to Larry. “What do you think about Danny?”

Larry leaned forward in his seat. “I know he isn’t as big or scary-looking as Clay, but that fella is as mean as a tiger with his balls in a gin trap. Since he left the army he’s made a living as a ‘fixer’. Clay says he’s one of those guys you can call on when your back is pressed so hard against the wall you’ve got mortar in your arse crack.”

“Is that on his business card?”

Larry gave a sincere nod. “Maybe it should be.”

Pamela watched as Danny turned down a back alley some two hundred metres away. Jacks too watched with his one good eye, huffed once, then settled back into the comparative cool beneath the table.