Hook and Shoot Page 5

  “It’s up.”

  “How much?”

  I didn’t like getting tugged along toward his point, but he was right. “A lot. Only one or two have what it takes.”

  “Doesn’t matter. It’s the nerds and poseurs who pay the bills, and for every guy who has a shot, you’ll get twenty hobbyists. They want the secret. They want your workouts and Gil’s training. All of them coming through the door because you’re winning in Warrior.”

  “Am I? Did you sign that contract yet?”

  Eddie judged the distance between us. No chasms or moats close at hand. “No.”

  “Burch uses a frozen corpse. You use a pen.”

  “Weapons of choice, man.”

  “Puppet strings work both ways. I pull back, you’re coming all the way down.”

  “Along with Gil, his gym, his students. That’s the way you want to go, I’m sure he’ll understand.”

  “Jesus. You’re a fucking oil slick.”

  He shrugged. “All I want is to keep Warrior. And stay alive, which goes without saying, but just to be clear.”

  The limo turned west off 215 onto Flamingo Road and accelerated. We were climbing into real estate with multiple commas. Looking out at the luxury and comfort—the entitlement—did not improve my mood.

  “If you want me to keep you alive, that’s all you get. Me. Nobody else. I’ve caused them enough grief.”

  “If they can help—”

  I leaned forward and thrapped his purple Adam’s apple.

  “Gack!” He flopped over and kicked the door. I sat back.

  The limo rolled through a twelve-foot wrought iron gate that looked like a wall of black ivy.

  Eddie survived, sat up, and almost fainted. “Shit, all right, calm down.” He sounded like he’d swallowed a Muppet.

  “I’m quite relaxed.”

  The limo floated through another gate, this one with thicker steel bars and a few swirls, not trying as hard to look nice.

  Eddie said, “I need a shower. Then we need a strategy.”

  “You’ll do what I tell you?”

  “If it keeps me alive.”

  “Let’s start with you shutting the fuck up.”

  We went through two more gates, serious heavy gauge steel with concrete abutments, the houses getting bigger and farther apart. Maybe they were mansions, like once boats were big enough you have to call them yachts or people get upset. Somehow, through the tires and suspension and leather seats, I could tell the asphalt was plush. There were signs for golf cart crossings and par five holes in front yards, and I wondered what the line was between mansion and palace.

  Eddie’s place was on or over that line. The limo pulled around a cul-de-sac and through a final gate into a parking lot that turned out to be Eddie’s driveway. I got out and saw six garage doors, curved multilevel roofs, corners at all angles, and enough glass to make the place a mission statement at Windex.

  I saw four chandeliers through the windows but had no idea what rooms they were in. Maybe the same room. The landscape had hidden lighting tucked everywhere, showcasing piles of rocks and flowers, the ten-foot stone wall surrounding the place, a gurgling fountain that looked like a naked woman standing under a waterfall.

  Burch said, “I’ll check the house.”

  “See you in two years.”

  He disappeared along a stone path.

  Eddie got out and tried to take a deep breath that caught halfway through. He bent over and coughed, spat something onto the textured concrete. When he was done he straightened, smoothed his jacket. “What do you think of the place?”

  “It’s all right.”

  “Please. You ain’t been to a museum this nice.”

  “I’ve never been to a museum.”

  “Brah, you gotta get some culture.”

  “What happened to you keeping your mouth shut?”

  He muttered something about his house and he’d do whatever he wanted, but I lost most of it with him scuffing his shoes around.

  Burch came out and waved us in. We followed him along the path that curved through bushes and cactus, over a short bridge that spanned a dry, narrow creek bed, finally to the front door. The entrance was recessed stonework and two eight-foot doors made of thick, dark wooden planks banded together with black iron.

  “Did these come with battering ram insurance?”

  Nobody answered.

  Burch and Eddie walked into the foyer, polished marble tile on the floor and walls. From the door I could see all the way through a perpendicular hallway and a dim living area to the back of the house made of glass walls, beyond that a glowing pool and more concrete and landscaping that spread into darkness.

  Burch and Eddie didn’t see the man standing inside the door, wearing some kind of armored helmet and holding a samurai sword. I braced and lunged and realized too late it was a statue.

  Burch and Eddie turned. I tried to play it off as a stretch, but nobody stretches with the war face I had going. Eddie sucked a tooth and went left down the hallway.

  Burch spent a few seconds appraising me and the statue. “Want me to put that in the closet?”

  “It’s fine where it is.”

  “Let’s take the tour.”

  “I’ve seen enough.”

  “Not by my standards. We’ll start with the security room.”

  “Wait, what do you think I’m signed up for here? Eddie wants my help keeping him alive; you call me when you need something. And I mean really need it, like oxygen need.”

  “That’s not my understanding.”

  “Update your software.”

  He put his hands in his pockets. “Remember what I said about the only way you’d get out of my sight?”

  “Something about you being dead. I remember it made me happy.”

  “You’re with me 24/7. You know the ‘or else’ bit, so let’s skip it and get on with the tour.”

  Burch and I took a right at the hallway and entered the kitchen, a long room with high ceilings decked out like a Viking dining hall. Exposed beams, cookware, and cutlery hanging on the walls and a huge slab of carved wood for a table. The appliances were stainless steel and commercial grade. The wall along the left was made of panels that could fold on each other to make the kitchen and living room one huge space. The far wall was more glass, looking out on the pool.

  We cut across the kitchen and went through a door, down some steps into a sunken hallway.

  Burch stopped at one of the doors and punched buttons on a keypad. “Code’s 12-07-41.”

  It sounded familiar. “Pearl Harbor?”

  “Our Eddie’s a student of war, warriors, battles. You’ll notice a theme throughout the home. I’ll warn you when statues are imminent.” Burch opened the door.

  The room was ten by ten, white walls with a desk and one wall covered in flat-screen security monitors. It crashed me back to Kendall’s bookie room at the bakery.

  “I didn’t need to search the whole house just now. I came in here and checked the screens. If a camera had picked up any movement, there’d be a red light blinking in the corner of the screen and the time it happened. See, now we have red lights in the foyer, hallway, kitchen, and the hallway behind us. I clear those.” Burch punched buttons on a keyboard, and the red lights disappeared. “Those lights for the staircase, upstairs hall, and master suite are Eddie going up to take a shower.” He pointed at one of the monitors. “That’s the master bathroom. And … there’s our guy.”

  Eddie padded in bare feet over the bathroom tile in high-definition. He took off his jacket and let it puddle on the floor, went to work on his belt.

  “I’m good,” I said.

  “Anytime we leave, we clear all alerts and hit this button. It gives us thirty seconds to leave the house before the alerts start up and the alarm is enabled.”

  “How do I get back inside?”

  “Don’t worry about that. You need in, I’ll let you in.”

  “Fine. Let’s just get out of this room.” />
  “Don’t want to see the boss’s penis, huh?”

  I headed for the kitchen.

  Burch yapped from the security room, “What if it makes you feel better about yourself? Not taking a chance?”

  Burch led the way upstairs. The wide stone steps had a plush runner up the middle and made a quarter turn clockwise to the second-floor hallway. We turned right and stopped on a railed bridge that looked down on the foyer and the living room with the pool outside.

  Burch pointed at a set of double doors at the end of the hallway. “Eddie’s suite. Door just before it on the right is mine, with access to the master suite through the closet.”

  “You put that in?”

  “Original construction. I believe it’s called a mistress hatch.” He continued across the bridge into the enclosed hallway and opened a door on the right into a room bigger than my entire apartment. “This is you, for two reasons. If somebody comes down this hallway, I don’t want all three of us cornered at one end. Either way they go, one of us will be behind them. And if they head your way, I hope you can entertain them long enough for me to get Eddie out. That reminds me.” He hit some buttons on his phone.

  I heard a recorded voice, then a beep.

  “Dorian, Burch. Those suits for Mr. Wallace need to be let out under each arm. Call me if you need to see him again.” He put the phone away.

  “I’m not carrying anything,” I said.

  “You’ll come around.”

  “You already have a dead guy to put on me whenever the mood strikes. I’m not giving you a weapons charge too.”

  “Then you can carry spare clips for me. Be my pack mule.”

  He dragged me through the rest of the house, pointing out escape routes and choke points and dead ends.

  I ignored him for the most part and stared at the weapons hanging on the walls—everything from crossed stone axes over the living room fireplace to a Russian sniper rifle that pointed at a guest bathroom. There were tapestries of knights laying siege to cities, statues of gladiators in victory and defeat, and paintings that ranged from David vs. Goliath to Ali vs. Foreman. One showed an entire Roman legion fighting a dinosaur. I squinted at it until Burch noticed I’d stopped walking.

  “Don’t ask,” he said.

  He pointed out more things, and I stuck to my plan of should anyone invade the home I would throw Eddie out a window into the pool, then improvise.

  “I saved the best for last,” Burch said.

  “Just say you’re done, I’ll agree.”

  He stopped with his hand on a doorknob. We were in the back left corner of the living room, the lights from the pool coming through the glass wall and making everything ripple. I recognized shapes out there—an outdoor kitchen and bar, furniture, a roiling Jacuzzi that made my throat want to clamp shut, but no invading Yakuza army.

  The living room was large and square with sunken couches in the middle around a block of obsidian that was either art or a table. The hardwood floor we stood on framed the room and made another ledge to sit on and stare at the art table.

  Or the giant flat screen mounted opposite the fireplace.

  Or the fireplace. Hell if I know.

  Burch’s door led to something between the garages and the backyard. He took his hand off the knob, like he wasn’t sure I deserved it. “You need to get it through your head that you and I are in a foxhole together. Whether we like each other or not, we need to coexist. All I ask is be professional. I’ll do the same.”

  “So far your blackmail and coercion have been top-notch.”

  Burch bowed his head. “Thank you for noticing.” He opened the door and hit the lights.

  I tried to keep my jaw from dropping. It landed somewhere near that goddamn table.

  The gym looked like a showroom. The glass wall continued on the right and was made somewhat opaque by the banks of lights that ran the length of the room. There were stretching stations all along the glass, individual yoga mats with Swiss balls, bands, foam rollers, and lacrosse balls for masochists.

  The wall on the left was adorned with pull-up bars, heavy bags in all shapes and sizes, free weights and kettlebells, and a squat rack with an Olympic lifting platform next to it. Gymnastic rings and a thick climbing rope hung from the ceiling. A wide opening in the far wall led to a white-tiled recess. I could see a glass door with a digital panel next to it—steam room—and the edges of solid doors with silhouettes for men’s and women’s bathrooms.

  I came to the middle of the gym and couldn’t help but smile.

  Thirty-two feet across, four feet off the floor, made of metal and padding and canvas and vinyl. A full-size mixed martial arts cage as approved by the Nevada State Athletic Commission.

  “Thought you’d like that,” Eddie said. He stood behind us in the doorway wearing silk pants and a white V-neck shirt, a towel around his neck. His voice sounded better but still painful.

  I put my hands on the apron, smelled the canvas. “We can’t fit a full one at Gil’s place.”

  “It’s from the first Warrior event. See that bloodstain looks like Alaska? That’s Badger Curry’s blood from the war with Martin. And that’s Martin’s blood over there.”

  “Guys were fountains,” I said.

  Burch made a face. “Seems unsanitary, having it in your home.”

  I looked at the steps and the open gate above them.

  “Go ahead,” Eddie said.

  I kicked my new shoes off and dropped my socks in them, took my time up the steps and onto the canvas. It was cool, a little rough from wear and exposure. There were other stains like fisherman’s islands around the legendary mass of the Curry/Martin drainage.

  I asked Eddie, “You train in here?”

  “I get my time in.”

  Burch tugged on his lower lip and looked at the yoga mats.

  Eddie strolled to the weight pile and picked up a kettlebell, started doing curls with it for some reason. “You think this place will suit your training in case you have to fight Zombi?”

  “No.”

  The smirk dropped with the kettlebell. “You’re joking.”

  “The equipment’s great, long as Gil and the rest of the guys come with it.”

  “Not possible,” Burch said. “The three of us are the only people allowed through the door.”

  Eddie said, “What about Vanessa?”

  “And Vanessa. Once she’s here tomorrow, she stays until this is over.”

  “Who’s Vanessa?” I said.

  “She takes care of the place, cooks, does laundry.”

  “So we stop by the gym and grab the guys.”

  “No,” Burch said. “Too many loose ends, too much exposure. If they get spotted coming and going, they’ll get the same offer as the security firms. Money or pain. Your man Gil leaves here one night and the next morning we get his ear in a box with a note telling us to send Eddie out. You want that?”

  “Did you see Gil’s ears?”

  “We don’t need those guys,” Eddie said. “I’ll coach you and you can spar with Burch.”

  I took a moment to savor the situation. Rarely am I in the same position logically and physically, and I looked down upon the poor, naïve crowd. “Burch, how much you weigh?”

  “A bit over thirteen stone.”

  “English, please. Wait, American.”

  “Hundred eighty-five.”

  “Right. Don’t take offense—I’ve seen you with your knife and I’m sure you’re just as good with your gun—but in here with that gate closed, I’ll destroy you. You’re a warm-up.”

  He took his jacket off.

  “Hold on,” said Eddie.

  Burch loosened his tie and unhooked the shoulder rig, staring me down the whole time.

  I wiggled my toes and figured I could knock him out without getting blood on my suit.

  Eddie waved the towel around his head. “Guys, think about me.”

  Burch froze with the rig half off and glared at him.

  “If one of you
gets fucked up tonight—I’m not saying who it would be—my security team is cut in half. Now come on. Let’s be smart.”

  “Be a professional,” I told Burch.

  He took a deep breath and clipped the rig back on, stayed busy with his tie and coat. “Mr. Takanori, whatever you need me for, I’m here. If you need me to be a training partner for an oaf, I promise I’ll hold back and not retaliate. I think half my normal physical output will suffice.”

  “Nice,” I said.

  Eddie stared at us. “Let’s calm down a bit, maybe get some sleep. You two can spar tomorrow.”

  “Right behind you,” Burch said.

  “Do we need to set up some kind of night watch schedule?”

  “The security system will handle it. I’ve got the iPad in my room; anything gets tripped I’ll know right away.”

  Eddie hesitated, probably waiting for us to start barking and chewing each other through the chain link, then he looped the towel over his neck and left.

  Burch smiled at me. “Sleep tight. You haven’t any fucking idea what you’re in for tomorrow.” He kicked my shoes and socks under the cage and walked out.

  I found the door to my room. There were four more doors along and at the end of the hallway, but I was done looking at Eddie’s things for the day. I hung my new suit up on the outside of the closet door so I could keep an eye on it and stepped into the full bathroom, all tile and glass.

  The window overlooked the landscaped front yard and low hills to the north. Because of the angle of the house I couldn’t see the driveway or anybody creeping up it, but once I turned on the shower I quit worrying.

  The day boiled off. I fell onto the bed, comfortable as cleavage, and dreamt about a warehouse of frozen claw-foot bathtubs with voices coming from them, black plastic wrinkling through the ice like rotten scabs.

  CHAPTER 9

  My old clothes were washed and folded outside my door in the morning. I put them on without making eye contact with my suit. My phone showed calls from Gil and Marcela, no messages. Wanting to hear her voice, I got her number on the screen but didn’t know what to tell her. I killed the screen and went downstairs.

  Burch sat at the slab of wood in the kitchen, drinking coffee with his sleeves rolled up. He looked at his hockey puck watch. “Vanessa, Mr. Wallace is awake. Please call the assassins and let them know it’s okay to come after Mr. Takanori now.”