Long Lost - James Scott Bell Page 0,79
hat.
It was fully dark when he got back to the office. He went around to the rear stairs. A lone orange light bulb on the side of the building cast a sunset glow.
Right on a guy sitting on the stairs. A black guy, wearing a hoodie and big red basketball shoes. Sitting in such a way that no one could get by.
“Excuse me,” Steve said.
“Hey, lawyer man,” the guy said.
“You need a lawyer?” Steve said. “You in some kind of trouble?”
“Uh-uh. You are.”
Steve looked at him. He seemed about nineteen, twenty. Though he could just be young looking. “What kind of trouble am I supposed to be in?”
The guy stood up, pulled a piece from under his hoodie and pointed it at Steve’s face.
“I don’t believe this,” Steve said.
“Believe what?”
“Guy waiting for me outside my office at night with a weapon. Man, I get that back in LA. Why don’t you just shoot me now?”
“You crazy?”
“A little bit.”
“Man, you are.” The guy seemed almost amused. “Let’s go.”
“Go where?”
“Your car, man.”
“What?”
“Now.”
Steve decided he did not want to get shot. He did not want to go to his car, either. But if it was just a matter of money, the guy could have whatever he wanted. Even the Ark at this point.
He walked to his car, the guy behind him.
“Get in,” the guy said.
“What?”
“Get in your car. We’re goin’ driving.”
“You don’t have to do this,” Steve said. “If you want money, I can get you some money.”
“Just get in now.”
Steve unlocked the door and got behind the wheel, leaving the door open. The guy reached around and unlocked the back door. He got in behind Steve. “Drive out to the highway,” he said.
Steve started the Ark and backed out of the lot. Taking it slow. When they got outside the town line, the guy decided to talk again.
“Now you listen,” he said. “You the lawyer gonna defend that guy?”
“What guy?”
“You know what I’m talkin’ about.”
“Then why don’t you tell me what you want.”
“Damien didn’t go after that guy.”
“Who says?”
“I says.”
“Were you there?”
“I seen the whole thing go down.”
“Oh yeah?”
“That’s right.”
“You want to tell me what happened?” Steve kept the car going at a steady pace. One pothole and maybe he’d get a hole of his own, in his head.
“All you need to know is I seen it and Damien didn’t do nothin’.”
“Are you prepared to take the stand in court and swear to what happened?”
“I ain’t takin’ no stand.”
“Then what do you want from me?”
“You make sure your guy goes down.”
“Me? I’m his lawyer.”
“You gonna lay down,” the guy said.
“What, you mean throw the trial?”
“Yeah.”
“Sure, that’d look real good.”
“You know how to work it. You do it all the time.”
“Why would I want to?”
The guy said, “Pull over.”
They were near a field, which in the night only looked like a huge sea of black. Not a bad place to leave a body. But if the guy had wanted to kill Steve, why bother convincing him to take a dive on a trial?
He stopped the car on the shoulder of the road. The headlights shot out down the highway and died in the dark.
“Do I have your attention now?” the guy said. His voice seemed to change. It was more . . . deliberate.
“You definitely have my attention,” Steve said.
“Good. You just keep your eyes forward and listen. You are into things you do not know anything about. You are being used.”
Definitely a voice change. The manner, too. Steve said, “Who are—”
“Shut up. I said listen. Do you know what’s been happening in LA, the big news on the street?”
Steve tried to think of something. Couldn’t. He waited.
“There’s been some gang killings. Not just killings. Executions. Not just executions. Messages. Bodies skinned. Skins hung out.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Steve said. “I read something on that. Some psycho.”
“Not just any psycho. The happy psychos up at Beth-El.”
Steve’s throat clenched. “Can you prove that?”
“The investigation is ongoing.”
“Whose investigation? Are you a fed?”
“Listen, these guys want the gangs in LA to start blaming some Aryan for these things and then go for broke, start taking out a few white people at random. Then it’ll be open season. That’s the profile.”
Hearing the sound of his own breathing, Steve said, “I want to know who you are and why you’re telling me this. I want you to tell me why I should believe you.”
“I don’t have to tell you nothin’. This is just a warning. And you need to tell us what you know.”
“You don’t give me ID. You come