Baca - Page 27

“How the heck do you know that?”

“The case I worked on in Florida, we had some guys with tattoos and we asked about them through the interpreter. Found out what some of the symbols and phrases meant, too. Skulls mean people they have murdered or killed in fights, a pirate means robbery. American money indicates they’re with the new order of Russian gangster, and those people are as smart and vicious as they come. They’re after quick money any way they can get it, and they take out anyone in their way. They’re good at money laundering, too.”

“So you think Rakes is Russian Mafia?”

“No doubt in my mind.”

Hondo said, “Makes you wonder what he’s doing with Meadows.”

I said, “Why don’t we drive down to Siberia and see if they’re there? It wouldn’t hurt to look them over a little closer now that we have our expert with us.”

Hondo pointed at the clock that read 11:00AM and said, “Let’s grab an early lunch first. I need something besides chips to take me through the rest of the day.”

As we got up to leave I moved beside Hunter and said, “You know, you being the Soviet expert and all, I’ve heard that Russian women have this technique they do with their tongues-”

Hunter elbowed me so hard in the ribs a speedloader popped loose.

**

Siberia was busy when we entered. There were probably a hundred customers scattered around the room and the vents were barely keeping up with the cloud of cigarette and cigar smoke that hung against the ceiling in a layer a foot thick. Frank Meadows was holding court in the same place as before, and Carl Rakes was coming from the bar with two drinks, neither of which was a Tunguska Blast. The wuss. Rakes wore a skintight white tee shirt and his tattoos showed through like cloud shadow. He walked in front of us and I noticed he still had the meat tenderizer mark on his forehead.

As he passed, Hondo said, “Hey, Wafflehead.”

Rakes stopped, turned and recognized Hondo, then me, “You tink id is over? My turn vill come, and I ged you, your friend, then take my time with your pretty girl here.” He looked Hunter up and down and ran his tongue across his lips like he was tasting something.

“We can dance anytime you want,” Hunter said. She was beautiful and feminine, with a healthy dose of tomboy, and people tended to underestimate her. Hunter had been in several gunfights down on the border and was a three-time State Champ in Combat Pistol. Carl had better be careful wishing for that.

Frank Meadows came over and took one of the drinks from Rakes. He said, “The fuck you doing here, Baca? My wife fired you, remember?”

“You’re absolutely right, Frankie, I don’t work for her anymore. Funny how you know Bond fired me. She went through a lot of trouble telling me she was scared you would find out. That’s a pretty good bullshit game you two play. But then again, she’s a good actor. You know, Frankie Boy, maybe you should use her in some of your flops.”

“You want something, or you come down to run your mouth?”

“We came down to go slumming.”

Frank was an ass, but he wasn’t dumb. “Just stay out of my way, understand? I conduct business here and if you cost me a multi-million dollar deal, there’ll be more mad people banging on your door than you can count.”

Hondo said, “He can count pretty high.”

I noticed several men in the crowd work their way nearer to us. They had that tough look, but were acting uninterested in our little group. I said, “Nice talking to you Frank, it always makes me appreciate breathing outside air after we’ve been close.” I motioned to Hunter and Hondo and we turned to leave, but not before we saw Rakes toast us with his glass, bite a chunk out of it and grin as he chewed.

**

As we turned onto Sunset, Hunter said, “There were quite a few Russians in there, lots of tats.”

“I thought that might be it,” I said. “Kind of a base of operations.”

“That would be my guess. Did you notice the small tats on the side of Rakes’ neck?”

Hondo said, “Yeah, looked like a couple of crooked knifes or something side by side.”

“That’s a sign he’s an enforcer and one of their higher-ups, a lieutenant, something like that. He’s camouflaged real well, acting like he’s working class, even if it is for this Meadows guy.”

“What you’re telling us is that he’s a boss of others.”

“Oh yeah.”

We thought on that as we drove to make our appointment with Loomis at the Camino Real Motel.

Tags: Billy Kring Mystery
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