make it.”
“Get the hell off my land!”
“Soon as I get what I came for. You got a nice pad here. Isolated. View of the whole basin. Sit up here getting stoned, having some skank getting you off. Hard work for her.”
Leon loved to see how people lived. How big they made their lives. It was so meaningless. Life was short and you were dead forever; all the shit you built up meant nothing.
“I’ll tell you what,” the old man said, showing no fear. “You best get outta here.”
Leon smiled. “Tough old bastard, aren’t you? I gotta ask you a question, and you better have a good answer. I’m not here by accident. There’s this dude thinks he’s God’s gift to the planet sitting in his pad at Incline Village. He brought me all the hell the way out here to get some answers. I’m a kind of a liaison between him and you. So let’s cooperate so I can get out of your way.”
This information changed Cillo’s expression. Now he knew the name of the game. His voice went down to a more civil tone. “All he had to do was call. What does he want to know?”
“Where your nephew is. The one who has the woman who’s causing all this trouble.”
“I don’t know.”
“Now, now,” Leon said. “Let’s be smart. I didn’t come all the way out here, put up with assholes and mean dogs, for ‘I don’t know.’”
“It’s the truth. I don’t know where he went,” Cillo said. “I tried to bring him in, but so far, he’s out there, and you’ll have to go find him. I can’t help you. If I could, I would. If he contacts me, I’ll let your boss know.”
Leon frowned. The nice-guy attitude didn’t last long. The bastard couldn’t resist getting back to his tough prick self. “Let’s get something straight. I haven’t eaten in a long time. Makes me mean. I don’t want to get mean. Like I said, I didn’t fly three thousand miles to hear any bullshit. I asked you a question, and I want an actionable answer.”
“He cut me off. I got no idea where he is. Now get the hell out of here,” Cillo said. “This conversation is over.”
Leon left his Glock on the rock and stepped into the pool.
The old man tried to get up, but Leon was fast on him, grabbing the guy under the chin to lock his head and partially choke him out before he intended to bounce his head on a rock, then drown him. But the old codger, in spite of age and fat, had some fight in him. He pushed off with one foot against the side of the pool and Leon slipped back, hitting the protruding rocks. Now, enraged, he grabbed the old man and put an MMA chokehold on him.
Leon leveraged the bastard, worked him around, and got the hold he wanted. He kneed him in the crouch to get him off balance, then slammed him back against the side of the pool, smashing his skull on the rock. As the man slipped under, momentarily out cold, Leon held him down. Scene still looked good for a slip and an accidental drowning.
Accidents look as good as suicides. No real follow-up.
But then the bastard came alive like some horror-movie dude, grabbed Leon’s ankle, and tried to drag him down with a seriously strong grip, forcing Leon to back off. The way Cillo came up coughing, spitting, and fighting, Leon had to smash him in the face repeatedly, then jump on him with his knee against the bastard’s throat, pinning him under. Even then, the old man showed remarkable fight, and it took a hell of a long time to get him to settle and get done with it.
Finally, the kicking and struggling stopped. The last gurgle and bubbles came next. Leon knew soon the bowels would let loose, and he didn’t want to be in the water. He got out, breathing hard, soaked—amazed at how strong and determined the old fool was. Probably the damn Viagra.
Leon cursed himself for being lax. The last guy, so willing to die, so beaten, had affected him in dealing with this guy, and he wasn’t happy with himself about that. If it was to look like he slipped and fell in, he must of slipped a
“Get the hell off my land!”
“Soon as I get what I came for. You got a nice pad here. Isolated. View of the whole basin. Sit up here getting stoned, having some skank getting you off. Hard work for her.”
Leon loved to see how people lived. How big they made their lives. It was so meaningless. Life was short and you were dead forever; all the shit you built up meant nothing.
“I’ll tell you what,” the old man said, showing no fear. “You best get outta here.”
Leon smiled. “Tough old bastard, aren’t you? I gotta ask you a question, and you better have a good answer. I’m not here by accident. There’s this dude thinks he’s God’s gift to the planet sitting in his pad at Incline Village. He brought me all the hell the way out here to get some answers. I’m a kind of a liaison between him and you. So let’s cooperate so I can get out of your way.”
This information changed Cillo’s expression. Now he knew the name of the game. His voice went down to a more civil tone. “All he had to do was call. What does he want to know?”
“Where your nephew is. The one who has the woman who’s causing all this trouble.”
“I don’t know.”
“Now, now,” Leon said. “Let’s be smart. I didn’t come all the way out here, put up with assholes and mean dogs, for ‘I don’t know.’”
“It’s the truth. I don’t know where he went,” Cillo said. “I tried to bring him in, but so far, he’s out there, and you’ll have to go find him. I can’t help you. If I could, I would. If he contacts me, I’ll let your boss know.”
Leon frowned. The nice-guy attitude didn’t last long. The bastard couldn’t resist getting back to his tough prick self. “Let’s get something straight. I haven’t eaten in a long time. Makes me mean. I don’t want to get mean. Like I said, I didn’t fly three thousand miles to hear any bullshit. I asked you a question, and I want an actionable answer.”
“He cut me off. I got no idea where he is. Now get the hell out of here,” Cillo said. “This conversation is over.”
Leon left his Glock on the rock and stepped into the pool.
The old man tried to get up, but Leon was fast on him, grabbing the guy under the chin to lock his head and partially choke him out before he intended to bounce his head on a rock, then drown him. But the old codger, in spite of age and fat, had some fight in him. He pushed off with one foot against the side of the pool and Leon slipped back, hitting the protruding rocks. Now, enraged, he grabbed the old man and put an MMA chokehold on him.
Leon leveraged the bastard, worked him around, and got the hold he wanted. He kneed him in the crouch to get him off balance, then slammed him back against the side of the pool, smashing his skull on the rock. As the man slipped under, momentarily out cold, Leon held him down. Scene still looked good for a slip and an accidental drowning.
Accidents look as good as suicides. No real follow-up.
But then the bastard came alive like some horror-movie dude, grabbed Leon’s ankle, and tried to drag him down with a seriously strong grip, forcing Leon to back off. The way Cillo came up coughing, spitting, and fighting, Leon had to smash him in the face repeatedly, then jump on him with his knee against the bastard’s throat, pinning him under. Even then, the old man showed remarkable fight, and it took a hell of a long time to get him to settle and get done with it.
Finally, the kicking and struggling stopped. The last gurgle and bubbles came next. Leon knew soon the bowels would let loose, and he didn’t want to be in the water. He got out, breathing hard, soaked—amazed at how strong and determined the old fool was. Probably the damn Viagra.
Leon cursed himself for being lax. The last guy, so willing to die, so beaten, had affected him in dealing with this guy, and he wasn’t happy with himself about that. If it was to look like he slipped and fell in, he must of slipped a
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