“Yeah,” I said, “he’s a prince. The Albert Schweitzer of the money shot.” Matos made the stank face again, glanced to Anna, and then resumed.
“Glenn Thobias,” she said. “He’s an ob-gyn, a really good one, has a lot of A-list celebrity patients. He is also the go-to resource for all the latest infertility treatment therapies. He’s given superstars mega-babies when everyone else said they’d never conceive. He’s a miracle worker. I’ve also heard he has patients from Glide, from Red Hat. He doesn’t advertise that, obviously. Why on earth a man as talented and well-off as he is would do that kind of work … I heard that Glenn performed abortion procedures for some of the performers. I also heard that he acted as physician for several of the porn actresses that carried their children to term. He’s very active with many private adoption services, placing children.”
A sick feeling slithered through my guts like an oily snake. I asked Anna for the scrap of prescription pad I’d found. “You ever hear of Crystal Myth being one of his patients? Have you ever heard anything about Glide or this Dr. Thobias having anything to do with a guy named Roland Blue?”
“Some of my patients said Crystal had been to see Dr. Thobias numerous times over her career,” Matos said, “after she started working for and dating Brett. I’m afraid I’ve never heard of a ‘Roland Blue’ before.”
“Yeah, you won’t be hearing anything about him either,” I said.
Anna handed the torn prescription pad to Matos. “This look like it might belong to anyone you know?”
“No,” Matos said. “Do you have any idea how many doctors, public, private, shadow, and street there are in the greater Los Angeles area? You have part of a number and a bit of a name. I’m sorry I can’t help you with that, Mr. Ballard.”
“It’s okay.” I took back the prescription scrap. “You’ve helped. Could you do me one last favor, Doc? If you know them, give me the names of the adoption agencies Thobias has helped out in the past.”
I excused myself from the table. I didn’t offer to shake Matos’s hand, and she didn’t offer it. Anna walked with me to the door and just outside the coffee shop. It had started to rain, and the tires of the cars running up Sixth whooshed as they drove by.
“Did that help? Really?” Anna asked. I nodded.
“Yes, thank you. I know you like to keep your business your business, but that filled in a few more pieces for me. If this is what I think it is, it’s ugly, Anna. I can’t walk away from any of this.”
“You’re out of time,” she said. “Dragon will have to bring you in if she sees you. Don’t do that to her, Laytham. This whole mess, you, it’s brought up so many bad memories and emotions for her.”
“And for you,” I said. “I wish there was some way I could tell you how sorry I am for what I’ve done. There isn’t. I can try to keep you two out of the rest of this as best I can. It’s all I can do. I’ll make sure me and my crew are out of the Limit tonight.”
“Take care of yourself, Laytham,” she said, and caressed my cheek as gently as the rain. “We still love you, and you’re still our family, always.”
I wanted to kiss her, but I knew it would just tangle her up inside. If I’d had a few drinks in me, I would have done it anyway. Another pro to drinking, kissing more beautiful women. I smiled and shuffled off down the street to find a cab.
“Ballard!” Anna called after me. I stopped and turned, looking a bit like junk-tripping John Travolta in Pulp Fiction. “We believe in you, even if you don’t anymore.” The thought of that kept me warm until a cabbie, a broad-shouldered Samoan, took pity on my drowned ass and picked me up.
“Where to?” the driver asked. I handed him a hundred.
“I have no fucking clue,” I said. “Drive me around for a bit and let me see what I can scrounge up.” The cabbie grunted and pulled out into the sporadic four A.M. traffic. I called Grinner on the secure cell.
“I need you to do a little more digging,” I said.
“Do you actually comprehend the meaning of ‘get the hell out of Dodge’?” he asked. “I am packing. I am going to the airport, I am lying to all the nice TSA people about … well, everything, and I am getting out of this cluster fuck of a town. I do have some more intel cooking for you about Glide, but just for yucks, what you need?”
I told Grinner what had happened at the Iron Cauldron, what Blue had told me before Crash Cart had turned him into salsa, and what I had gleaned from Dr. Matos. It would have been funny watching the cabbie’s face in the mirror as I laid it all out, but the cold rain had gotten into my bones, and I was having trouble not shuddering like a sick old dog. My blood was freezing acid, and it screamed for a drink, a line of coke, a hit of speed, a benzo, anything to stop the ugly burden of me. I gave it a cigarette and told it to shut up.
“Hey, you can’t smoke in here, man,” the driver began as I blew my first lungful of smoke out the open rear window. I handed him another hundred with a rapidly steadying hand, and he acquiesced.
“So what you thinking?” Grinner asked. “The Dugpa are doing something with the babies of the sacrificial victims?”
“Maybe. It’s sick as fuck to even comprehend,” I said. “Manson said something to me about children being the way to immortality, to control the future. To bake a successful Dugpa, you’d have to start indoctrinating them young. You can’t get much younger than right out of the oven.”
“Especially when you
