No Such Creature

The old eyes were red and watery and full of fear.

“D’you love me, kid?”

Owen couldn’t believe his ears; he wanted to flee. “Uh, yeah, Max. Of course I do.”

“I need you to promise me something. I need you to promise me that, no matter what happens, you will never let me go back to prison.”

“Max, how can I promise that? You know the old rule: if you-”

“If you can’t do the time, don’t do the crime. Not a rule I’ve ever lived by. My rule is, if you’re going to get caught, not. That’s why I’m the most conservative thief the country has ever seen. But if something should happen-God forbid-if something should go wrong and I’m facing a prison sentence again, I want you to promise to get me out of it.”

“Max, I’m not gonna machine-gun ten cops to get you out of jail.”

“I’m not talking about anyone else, I’m talking about me. Just think of it as putting the dog down.”

“Max, you always taught me to keep things non-violent. Now you expect me to shoot you?”

“All right, maybe you don’t do it yourself. You could hire someone. No one’s ever going to suspect you.”

Had it not been the middle of the night, and had Max looked even slightly less terrified and vulnerable, Owen might have put up further resistance, but as it was he found himself agreeing, regretting it even as he did so. “All right, yes. I promise. I won’t let you go to prison.”

“Swear it?”

“I swear.”

“That’s my boy. Now haste thee to thy bed.”

SIX

“Time for you to hit the road, Charlene.”

Zig was propped up on the pillows, watching her cute little fifteen-year-old butt waving in the air. She was down at the end of the bed totally absorbed in Zig’s collection of graphic novels-not reading them, just grooving on the drawings and exclaiming every five seconds.

“That is so cool,” she would say, and flip another page.

“I got stuff to do this afternoon,” Zig said.

“This is so beautiful,” Charlene said, pronouncing it beauty-full.

Zig could have stared at her butt all day, except for the fact that they’d already done it twice. Amazing what the kids of today would do for free drugs. Although clearly he had misjudged his proportions. There was a real art to getting it just right.

He used to prefer his females totally unconscious, courtesy of Rohypnol or some variant. In fact, he had done serious time for a couple of those. But these days he preferred them, well, compliant and relaxed but not comatose. He’d been in the mood for a bit of fun, so he and Charlene, a kid he’d picked up near Covenant House, had been playing Ex, Dex and Sex, as he liked to put it. The Ex had worn off, but the Dex was obviously still working because she was speed-focused on his damn comics.

She said beauty-full once more and that did it. Zig got out of bed and put on his pants. He picked up the girl’s clothes from the floor and threw them at her in a ball. She looked up, giggling.

“You got thirty seconds to get dressed and get out of here.”

She looked back down at the book. Zig snatched it out of her hands.

“Hey!”

“I said beat it. Now get the fuck out.”

“There’s no need to get nasty about it.”

“You don’t know what nasty means. Keep talking and you’ll find out.”

Stu Quaig sipped his beer and tried to ignore the television behind the Five Card’s bar. He wasn’t interested in poker, mostly because he’d never won a poker game in his life, and he didn’t understand the current fascination with the game. He tried not to be too obvious about staring at himself in the bar mirror, but he could see his reflection between the Glenlivet and Johnnie Walker and he definitely needed a haircut. He seemed to enjoy a peak period of two weeks where his hair looked its best, and then all of a sudden he looked shaggy and pathetic and it was time to head back to the salon.

Clem Boxley was staring at the poker game as if at any minute money might fall out of the TV screen onto the bar. Stu was still on his first beer of the night, while Clem was rapidly disposing of his second margarita. Clem could line them up and drink them down, but it didn’t do anything positive for his interpersonal skills. He was congenial, even chummy, after one or two, but once he got onto three, four or more, chummy could turn gloomy could turn hostile and then there was no telling what kind of mayhem he would raise.

Clem held up his empty glass for the cute little bartender to see. Number three coming up.

Stu glanced at the mirror where half the lounge was reflected and saw Zig coming in.

“Boss is here,” he said.

Clem turned to greet Zig with extravagant heartiness, but Zig just ordered a beer and got right down to business.

“Old guy named Max Maxwell I met in stir. Shoulda retired a long time ago, but he’s in town and I think he’s still in the game. In fact, I think he’s feeling pretty flush.”

“Why?” Stu said. “He’s throwing money around?”

“He’s too smart for that. But I can read this guy and he’s in the chips. In fact, I think he may be behind this.” He held up a couple of pages downloaded from the San Francisco Chronicle, headlined THE DIVA AND THE THIEF. “An old guy and a kid pulled this off and got away with some serious bling, not to mention cash. I think it coulda been my old friend Max and his nephew.”

“I know Max,” Stu said. “Did a job for him years ago.”

“Shit,” Zig said. “Is he going to recognize you?”

“Doubt it. Not unless he gets close.”

“Well, don’t let him. I bumped into him and his so-called nephew earlier at Slots-a-Lot and followed him. Turns out he’s staying at a fucking trailer park. Unfortunately, I don’t know which trailer is theirs-I didn’t have a card to get through the gate. But I want you guys to keep an eye on him. And I mean a close eye.”

“What kinda guy brings a kid to Las Vegas?” Clem said. “How can you have a good time in Sin City if you got, like, offspring with you?”

“Maybe he really is his nephew, who knows,” Zig said. “He was okay for a teenager. Very polite.”

“Gives me hope for the world,” Stu said, and took a sip of his Corona. He’d asked for it with no lime, but the bartender had stuck a lime in it anyway. In Stu’s experience girls never made good bartenders.

Clem raised his hand to get her attention. “Bar mistress!”

Zig grabbed Clem’s wrist. “You don’t need another drink. What you need to do, the both of you, is keep an eye on the trailer park, starting at, like, dawn. Follow Max and this kid and see who his associates are. If this is a working vacation he’s on, and you can bet your ass it is, he’s gonna be staffed up. I want to know who’s with him and what they’re up to.”

“How we gonna know what they look like?” Clem said.

“Stu’s met Max, dipstick. The kid will be with him.”

Max was reading aloud in the back of the limo. They had made the papers-even the Las Vegas papers-thanks to the celebrity of Evelyn del Rio.

“‘He was completely charming,’ Ms. del Rio said. ‘Or at least, as charming as a man can be while he’s robbing you. Yes, I was terrified at first, but it became clear very quickly that they weren’t going to hurt anybody, they just wanted their loot and out.’

“‘The loot and out,’” Max repeated. “I couldn’t have put it better myself.”

A voice addressed them from the front of the limo in a strong Indian accent. “You are utterly bewitched by this woman,” Pookie said. For some reason he had it in his head that all limo drivers hail from the Punjab.