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“No fuckin’ way, man,” I snapped. “What if the DEA’s got your joint cased? Do you think it’s a good idea to let them see her come here if she’s gonna be a double agent?”
Jack nodded grudgingly. “Alright – where, then?”
“Tell her the alleyway behind the Ace of Clubs. Midnight.”
The Ace was a dive bar downtown surrounded by clothing shops and knickknack stores. At midnight, nobody but a handful of barflies would be around to hear gunshots. I was friendly with the Ace’s owner; I knew he hated bums, and did his best to keep the alley clear of homeless types.
For what I had planned, a lack of eyewitnesses was a plus.
Jack frowned again. “That’s a shitty place to meet.”
“It’s out of the way. Plus there’s four or five ways out if the federales show up and we have to make a run for it.”
Jack sighed and took Venus off hold. “Hey Ali – how about the alleyway behind the Ace of Clubs? Say, midnight?”
“Yeah… okay.”
My plans depended on things working like clockwork. Maybe not German clockwork, but at least not South American. I needed her to not be a flakey bitch, so for the first and only time in the conversation, I spoke up. “Be on fuckin’ time. And if you tell the Feds about this, you’re dead. Understood?”
Jack was furious, but he couldn’t argue with the results: after a pause, Venus answered, her voice small and scared.
“…understood.”
114
The meet was set for midnight. I called Benjy and let him know to be there at a quarter to twelve, waiting in the shadows.
“And get out of town for the rest of the day,” I said. Venus might go see him beforehand and start blabbing, which would fuck things up royally. “Go for a long ride up north. Get dinner over in Bakersfield or somethin’. Basically, stay out of Richards until later tonight.”
“I don’t know if I can do this, Lou,” he whined.
“So you’re gonna let the club down?”
“…no…”
“You’re gonna let us all go to jail?”
“…no…”
“And all because some whore stabbed you in the back, and you ain’t man enough to take care of business?”
He didn’t answer that one.
“Remember what I said? This ain’t Ali any more – this is Venus, a cokehead stripper. Who are you going to go see?”
“…Venus.”
“Who?!”
“Venus.”
“Good. Be there at 11:45 in case she shows up early.”
I hung up the phone.
Now I just had to take care of a few minor details.
One: make sure Venus couldn’t go contacting the Feds for backup.
