Nine

Prologue

His boss wanted to kill him.

Julio Santos let that thought run through his mind over and over again as he watched Bernardo Adrianos finish his meal. These last few days had been challenging for Julio, trying to behave naturally, to pretend that he was unaware that Adrianos wanted two of his bodyguards dead-Julio and Julio’s partner, Ricky Calaban. Ricky was even worse at hiding his feelings. Julio had sent him outside a little while ago, afraid that he’d blow everything.

Adrianos leaned back from the table and belched. He was built like a bull. He wore his shoulder-length black hair in a ponytail. Ricky had once said that both of Adrianos’s grandfathers were bald, and that Adrianos was just trying to grow out enough hair to make wigs for himself. Julio didn’t know if that was true.

Adrianos was covered in tattoos, and you could see a big difference in the ones he got on the streets when he was a kid and the elaborate ones acquired after he had become wealthy-thanks to trading in drugs, whores, and similar business ventures. None of that bothered Julio. That was just giving the people what they wanted. But Adrianos had broken faith with Julio, and that was unforgivable.

Adrianos eyed Julio for a moment, and reading the look, Julio felt more certain than ever that Adrianos was wishing him dead. Maybe Adrianos had decided to kill him tonight. The irony of it made Julio smile. Adrianos narrowed his eyes, then reached into the pocket of his big, loose pants. Julio tensed, then saw that Adrianos was sticking to routine-the boss was holding a little pearl-handled knife. Adrianos opened the knife and used the tip of the blade to clean his fingernails.

Julio thought Adrianos’s after-dinner manicure was a disgusting habit, but took some pleasure in knowing he would not have to witness it again. He forced himself to hide that pleasure.

Adrianos sighed. “It’s not really all that great, with no one around.”

No one here to kiss your ass, Julio thought, but he said, “At least you were able to get out for an evening, Mr. Adrianos.”

“Fucking cops. I need to get out of L.A. ”

Julio made no reply.

Three days ago, when the two strangers had played the tape for him, Julio had seriously considered killing Adrianos-just blowing him away without worrying about what Adrianos’s friends and business associates would do about it. The tape had been made from an illegal wiretap, the strangers told him. On it, Adrianos’s voice was clearly identifiable. He bad-mouthed Julio and Ricky, and said that he was unhappy about the number of close calls he had experienced lately.

Julio’s pride had been wounded. Adrianos had a temper that led him to behave recklessly, and he tended to get involved in matters that should have been left to others to handle-that sort of thing was exactly the kind of trouble that had put Adrianos on the FBI’s Most Wanted list. If there had been close calls, the close calls were his own damned fault. Typically, though, Adrianos was shifting the blame.

The caller, whose voice Julio hadn’t recognized, had asked Adrianos if he wanted the bodyguards to work for him in some other capacity, but Adrianos turned that idea down flat. “They’d be unhappy,” Adrianos said. “And they know too much. You know what will happen if the FBI gets one of those two to testify against me? They have to disappear.”

The more he had heard, the angrier Julio had become. Here he had risked his damned life twenty times over for the son of a bitch, and Adrianos was talking about putting a fucking contract out on him. Ricky felt the same.

But the strangers-who spoke fluent Spanish and had cautiously approached Ricky and Julio through their families-convinced them to calm down and listen to a proposition.

An extremely generous one.

The strangers would take care of Adrianos, and privately. Julio and Ricky weren’t required to do much of anything-supply a small amount of information, such as the name of this restaurant, Adrianos’s favorite. Tell them the name of the wine the boss usually drank. Subtly convince Adrianos that he could enjoy a meal at the restaurant on a night when it was usually closed. It had been easy.

They didn’t let him in on all their plans for Adrianos or tell him why they were going to all this trouble. They were rich-Julio knew that much. And there were more than just the two involved in it. Maybe one of them had lost a kid brother or sister to drugs, or something like that. He didn’t think they were connected to the Colombians or the Russians or any part of the mob. They called themselves some stupid-ass thing-Project Nine. Yeah. Whatever the hell that meant. Some vengeance deal, he was sure.

Julio didn’t care about any of it, because they were helping him to get a step ahead of Adrianos. They had already shown their good faith by buying his mother a beautiful home in Mexico, in a place where she would be safe from retribution if things went wrong. But nothing had gone wrong yet. Julio thought there was something about these guys that said they were used to getting their way, and he had confidence in them.

Julio figured they were giving Adrianos some poison in the wine tonight or something in the food. As Adrianos cleaned his nails, Julio thought he saw the first signs that the poison might be kicking in. Adrianos’s movements seemed slower than usual. He wondered if it really did take his boss longer than usual to work over all ten fingers, or if his own eagerness for the poison to take effect only made it seem so.

“I gotta drain the dragon,” Adrianos said, lumbering to his feet. He swayed. “Had too much to drink.” He slowly looked around the empty restaurant and said, “Where is everybody?”

“You have the place to yourself tonight, Mr. Adrianos, remember?”

“Oh…yeah. That’s right.” Slightly slurred. He frowned, then said, “I mean, where’s Ricky and-”

“Ricky’s watching the alley. Everybody else is in the kitchen, having a little dinner. You told them to, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” He faltered as he took a step forward. He gave Julio a hard look. “You didn’t slip something into my wine, now, did you, Julio?”

“No, sir,” Julio answered truthfully. “I’ve been sitting here, right across from you all evening, Mr. Adrianos. And you saw the waiter open the bottle. Your other team has been in the kitchen, keeping an eye on things there.”

Adrianos seemed satisfied. He walked back to the bathroom, let Julio look around in it first, and then went in. Adrianos, the fucking weirdo, always wanted someone in the bathroom with him when he was taking a leak. “Wouldn’t want to be caught with my pants down, now would I?” he was fond of saying. “Any public place, one of my bodyguards comes in with me. Always.”

Julio hated this duty, but he never let Adrianos see any hint of that. Adrianos wasn’t as stupid as he acted, and Julio had never met anyone who was as cruel as Adrianos could be when angered. The list of things that could make Julio feel queasy was short. There hadn’t been anything on that list before he met Adrianos.

“Who was that waiter?” Adrianos asked as he opened his fly.

Julio prepared to out-and-out lie to his boss for the first time in the ten years he had worked for him. “The regular staff knows you, sir. We didn’t want anyone to say they had seen you here. So-”

But he didn’t have to finish the lie after all. Adrianos staggered, then fell face forward into the urinal, his jaw and forehead striking the chrome and porcelain with a loud crack. He didn’t move.

Julio didn’t either. Even though Adrianos had betrayed his trust, Julio didn’t feel good about betraying Adrianos’s in return. Julio considered himself to be a man of honor. He kind of thought of himself as a knight who had taken an oath to protect Adrianos, and here was his liege lord-lying facedown in the piss pan. Julio was surprised to find that his stomach was a little upset.

He heard a sound and whirled, his.45 out and aimed as the restroom door opened. A young man stepped in, his black boots loud on the tiled floor. He seemed oblivious to the weapon. Julio had seen him before, although he didn’t know his name. Part of their agreement was that Julio would not learn his name. Julio reholstered the gun, one of two he wore during almost any waking hour. He had other means of attacking or defending as need be. This was no time to start being careless.

The young man had changed out of the clothes he had worn when pretending to be Adrianos’s waiter this evening. The athletic shoes had been replaced by the boots, which made him seem even taller-Julio thought he might be six five or so in his stocking feet. The apron and white dress shirt had given way to a finely tailored black sports coat, long-sleeved silk turtleneck, and a pair of jeans. Easier now to see how muscular he was-playing the role of waiter, he had slouched and behaved subserviently, while now there was nothing of the servant in him, either in looks or posture.

Julio believed that under other circumstances, he would have been able to spot this man as a threat. How had Adrianos failed to notice that the hands of his waiter were so large and powerful? He was probably about five years younger than Julio, so was somewhere in his mid-twenties. Julio assessed him with a certain professional detachment, wondering if he could take him. He told himself he could but acknowledged that it would be experience that made the difference.

The kid had dark hair and a handsome, almost angelic face-until you looked into his eyes. How had Adrianos failed to noticed those eyes? Unless Julio missed his guess, this guy enjoyed his work.

He started thinking of the man as “the mechanic.” It didn’t help his stomach to settle.

The mechanic studied Adrianos. He said, “Thank you,” without looking up at Julio.

“No problem,” Julio said.

The mechanic pulled Adrianos away from the urinal and rolled him over onto his back. Adrianos was a big man, weighing about two hundred and fifty pounds, but the mechanic didn’t seem to have any trouble moving him. He didn’t ask for help and Julio didn’t offer it.

“We’ve taken care of Mr. Adrianos’s other friends,” he said. “Except Ricky, of course. He left half an hour ago. One of my team members is waiting in the van in the alley outside. He’ll drive you to your next job.”

“Ricky’s gone?”

The mechanic looked up at him. “Is that a problem?”

“No, sir.” There really wasn’t any problem. Julio didn’t care what happened to the other bodyguard. Adrianos was dead, and Julio was rich. That was all that mattered. He let out a long breath. “Okay if I wash my hands?”

“Of course.”

As he washed up, Julio kept an eye on the other man, who seemed faintly amused by something. A phrase kept going through Julio’s head: Better the devil you know…

But that was bullshit. Adrianos wasn’t a better devil. Even if this was a double-cross, Julio now had a chance to survive. He was good at survival. There was no future with Adrianos. That was for damned sure. Julio looked at his former boss again and thought about how easily this had all gone down. These new guys were planners. What were their real plans for him? A thought struck him. “The owner of the restaurant-”

“He’s fine, but he’s no longer the owner. You ask a lot of questions.”

“Sorry.” Julio dried his hands and adjusted his coat, making sure he’d be able to reach his weapons, and started to leave. He heard Adrianos groan and turned in surprise.

“No, he’s not dead yet,” said the mechanic. He was taking something out of his jacket.

Julio moved his hand back to the.45, then relaxed as he saw that the mechanic had removed a little leather pouch with a syringe and a small vial in it.

The mechanic filled the syringe, then stabbed it into Adrianos’s neck. He removed the needle without putting pressure on the plunger, and stabbed it in again.

When he did this a third time, Julio said, “Trouble finding a vein?”

He looked up at Julio and smiled. “You’re right, of course. Better to wait until he can feel it.”