Dying For LA Ian Jones (the ebook reader .txt) 📖

to stop. One was yelling and holding a gun then started shooting. Wild he said, bullets spraying all over, so he took him out. It’s how we train; the guy was a danger to the public. Can’t criticise him at all, he’s got enough trouble explaining his second job. Nothing he could do about the car making off, there were civilians around and he couldn’t risk a shot. We got some footage from the street and also the bar camera.’

He laid down some photographs. Usual black and white, showing the street. Two men, running. One wearing a dark jacket done right up, with a beanie hat, his head down. The other man was pulling his hat off, showing long, light hair, and holding out a gun. Inside the bar the two men could be seen, now both wearing beanie hats. One very careful to keep his head down, while the other man with the long hair didn’t seem to care.

Keane produced a tablet and opened up a video, again from inside the bar. All is calm, then the door flies open and the two men come in. The long-haired guy is moving fast, holding a gun then shoots, hitting a man who is sitting between two others. The other man grabs a briefcase and then they leave. Total time less than ten seconds.

Keane played the recording a couple of times then looked up.

‘So the guy who did the shooting is the one in the morgue. He is one Karl Weiss, age twenty-nine, lived in Tucson, and got a long record alright. He held up a liquor store in Phoenix two nights ago. Real chatty apparently, told the clerk he needed to raise a train fare. We’re checking the stations now, see if we can find a trace on when he got into town.’

‘So this Karl Weiss is part of 1-Too?’ Warner asked disbelievingly.

‘We’re starting to have a rethink here,’ Judy told them. ‘We’re going back through what we know and now we think it’s likely that they operate in cells, and then recruit. Previously we believed that they were an army, fluid, going where they were needed. They probably got contacts who can find them people. Could be they do it when needed. This guy has a long record like Ron says, but nothing like this. Mostly second-rate assault and robbery with violence. No connection at all.’

‘Major Hayter was in the bar with an army colleague, a Captain James Bryant, and also another man, one David Anthony Mays, and we know him. We have both of them in for questioning,’ Keane explained, putting the tablet away.

‘Who’s this Mays?’ John asked.

‘He’s a bookmaker. Ex-army, but a good few years ago now. Lot of shady shit with him, but nothing concrete.’

‘So maybe the hit was on him?’ Warner asked.

‘It could be I guess, but they took the major’s briefcase. And we got the connection to Deanna of course.’

‘True.’

John looked at the photographs again and tapped the man with the head down.

‘You know, we need to check these further. Can we get any extra detail on these photos? I reckon this is the same man we saw around the van by the Metro station.’

Keane took a long look.

‘You sure?’

‘Yeah, I am. I really think it’s him.’

The door opened and two soldiers walked in. Two Military Police, a man and a woman. The man was the singularly most impressive person that John had ever seen. He was huge, had to duck down through the doorway and his head practically scraped the ceiling as he walked across. But he wasn’t just tall, he was big. Really big. Massive shoulders, they were both wearing short sleeve shirts and his forearms were like John’s thighs. The woman walking next to him was dark and petite, and looked tiny alongside the giant.

She looked across and spotted them, and tapped the big man on the hand and they headed over. Everyone made room and they sat down opposite each other on the ends. Even seated he still towered over everyone.

He smiled and introduced himself.

‘Hi. I’m Captain Thomas Reed, and this is my sergeant, Louisa Gonzalez.’

Gonzalez nodded. She was pretty, and carefully made up, but had a pinched, mean expression, while his was open and friendly. He was no older than early thirties. John imagined that for the grunt caught stealing out the stores just the sight of him would immediately bring about a change of mind.

A waitress scurried over with more coffee, the two soldiers thanked her gratefully.

They all introduced themselves and Reed looked at John with interest.

‘I just been reading some shit about you on the way here. You sure had a career,’ he said with a grin.

John smiled back, but said nothing.

‘So, you know what went down in the subway station on Sunday, and we got a strong connection from that to your man getting gunned down in Hollywood last night. Like very strong, and John here thinks we can maybe place at least one guy in both locations. So, I guess that’s why we are all here, what can you tell us?’ Keane asked.

Reed laid his massive hands on the table, fingers spread.

‘Well, Major Donald Hayter was what we refer to as backroom. He was one of the senior guys in the supply division at Fort Indigo, been there seventeen years, made Major nearly eight of them ago. Now I’ll be honest here, neither me or sergeant Gonzalez had much to do with him. Other than the odd theft occasionally, I never really had a need to go over there. None of us did. So, we don’t really know him. I’ve only been at Indigo six months anyway. I used to see him in the officer’s club, and at various meetings every now and then. But I couldn’t really tell you nothing about him from a personal point of view.’

He passed over a slim folder.

‘Here’s his jacket, what I can tell you anyway, it’s been censored, there ain’t a whole lot in it now, like you’d