pointed to a pair of folding chairs against the wall. Cole shook off the offer. “We’ll stand. You said you had information. Chaplain Cloth hasn’t contacted us yet. What makes you believe he took the body of one of your own?”
“Ramon freaked out! Thought he was on acid or something. Turning pale, screaming strange shit. Goofy fuckin’ guy.” Cole noted Hector’s wild hair and eyes made him look part rodent. Hector picked up a withered joint from a naked lady ashtray, lit the end and nursed at it. Cole had to fight the impulse to snatch it out of his mouth.
“Did this Ramon say where he was going?” Paul asked.
A pungent cloud flowed toward them. Cole had always favored the earthy smell but otherwise never touched the stuff.
Hector leaned on two chair legs and touched his head to the wall. “You said on the phone you’d discuss funding. You can see our chapel here, well, she could use some upgrading. Don’t you think?”
“This isn’t a negotiation. We came to visit fellow brothers and sisters in the name of the Archbishop. You’ll be paid an extra contribution for your assistance.” Cole pulled out an envelope from his inner pocket and tossed it across the table. Hector tore through the top of the envelope. He reached inside and frowned. “Hey, there’s like only five hundred dollars here.”
“There’s the two-fifty for your monthly and two-fifty for the information. I didn’t have to give you anything except your monthly, but I doubled it,” said Cole.
Hector slapped down the envelope. “Five hundred ain’t shit for Inner Circle, and you, I heard you’re one of the bigshits that goes out on the Hunt every Halloween—”
At least Hector knew about the Hunt. That shouldn’t be so impressive , thought Cole.
Paul stepped forward, taking the lead. “What does that have to do with your compensation?”
Hector narrowed his eyes. The tip of his tongue ran the length of his bruised lower lip. He didn’t seem to enjoy Quintana’s presence all that much. Cole could have smiled for that. “Your monthly dividend isn’t meant to support your chapel. You better start selling shit, not smoking it all.”
“Hey, I’m not for disrespect. I don’t give a fuck how big you think you are. This shit, here , is my chapel. It may not be all that, but I got more than twenty jonesing for a place. I deserve my share. I quit the LP-12.” He flashed a gang-sign. Cole couldn’t understand its symbolic logic.
“You’re free to disband. We don’t need leeches,” said Cole faintly.
Hector shook his head angrily. “Fuckin’ almost got my ass capped for leavin ’ LP-12, homie . I gave up some real shit, lost one of my boys and now they’re sending some pendejos to deliver junk-drawer change. Fuck that shit. That ain’t fair. I had a feeling this would happen.”
“And I had a feeling you’d want more. But you’re not getting more, so tell us about Ramon.”
Paul glanced back. Cole had sensed it too. Someone filled the doorway behind them. It was a girl, about nineteen years old, pretty except for the pencil-line eyebrows and overcoat of facial powder. She pointed a Glock at them at a bizarre sideways angle. He’d love to see her try and fire it that way and dislocate a shoulder.
“This is the Inner Circle to pay for Ramon?” she asked. In a way Cole was relieved. Her voice was sober and sounded a few leagues deeper with the intelligence.
“Don’t say shit,” Hector ordered as he stood.
The Bishops of Midnight watched carefully and neither made a move. “We are part of something bigger,” Cole said. “You need to calm down, put those guns away and tell me where Ramon went. You want more money for your chapel, fine—we can send some tasks your way. But you have to deliver on them.”
Some eager faces bobbed in the hallway, some white, some black, some brown, all smiling for blood.
“Last chance, fellows.” Hector lifted a gun out of the back of his pants.
“We can help you
“Ramon freaked out! Thought he was on acid or something. Turning pale, screaming strange shit. Goofy fuckin’ guy.” Cole noted Hector’s wild hair and eyes made him look part rodent. Hector picked up a withered joint from a naked lady ashtray, lit the end and nursed at it. Cole had to fight the impulse to snatch it out of his mouth.
“Did this Ramon say where he was going?” Paul asked.
A pungent cloud flowed toward them. Cole had always favored the earthy smell but otherwise never touched the stuff.
Hector leaned on two chair legs and touched his head to the wall. “You said on the phone you’d discuss funding. You can see our chapel here, well, she could use some upgrading. Don’t you think?”
“This isn’t a negotiation. We came to visit fellow brothers and sisters in the name of the Archbishop. You’ll be paid an extra contribution for your assistance.” Cole pulled out an envelope from his inner pocket and tossed it across the table. Hector tore through the top of the envelope. He reached inside and frowned. “Hey, there’s like only five hundred dollars here.”
“There’s the two-fifty for your monthly and two-fifty for the information. I didn’t have to give you anything except your monthly, but I doubled it,” said Cole.
Hector slapped down the envelope. “Five hundred ain’t shit for Inner Circle, and you, I heard you’re one of the bigshits that goes out on the Hunt every Halloween—”
At least Hector knew about the Hunt. That shouldn’t be so impressive , thought Cole.
Paul stepped forward, taking the lead. “What does that have to do with your compensation?”
Hector narrowed his eyes. The tip of his tongue ran the length of his bruised lower lip. He didn’t seem to enjoy Quintana’s presence all that much. Cole could have smiled for that. “Your monthly dividend isn’t meant to support your chapel. You better start selling shit, not smoking it all.”
“Hey, I’m not for disrespect. I don’t give a fuck how big you think you are. This shit, here , is my chapel. It may not be all that, but I got more than twenty jonesing for a place. I deserve my share. I quit the LP-12.” He flashed a gang-sign. Cole couldn’t understand its symbolic logic.
“You’re free to disband. We don’t need leeches,” said Cole faintly.
Hector shook his head angrily. “Fuckin’ almost got my ass capped for leavin ’ LP-12, homie . I gave up some real shit, lost one of my boys and now they’re sending some pendejos to deliver junk-drawer change. Fuck that shit. That ain’t fair. I had a feeling this would happen.”
“And I had a feeling you’d want more. But you’re not getting more, so tell us about Ramon.”
Paul glanced back. Cole had sensed it too. Someone filled the doorway behind them. It was a girl, about nineteen years old, pretty except for the pencil-line eyebrows and overcoat of facial powder. She pointed a Glock at them at a bizarre sideways angle. He’d love to see her try and fire it that way and dislocate a shoulder.
“This is the Inner Circle to pay for Ramon?” she asked. In a way Cole was relieved. Her voice was sober and sounded a few leagues deeper with the intelligence.
“Don’t say shit,” Hector ordered as he stood.
The Bishops of Midnight watched carefully and neither made a move. “We are part of something bigger,” Cole said. “You need to calm down, put those guns away and tell me where Ramon went. You want more money for your chapel, fine—we can send some tasks your way. But you have to deliver on them.”
Some eager faces bobbed in the hallway, some white, some black, some brown, all smiling for blood.
“Last chance, fellows.” Hector lifted a gun out of the back of his pants.
“We can help you
Similar Books
