Page 114 of Into the Fire

Wobbly on his feet, Evan walked back across the bay, glancing up to see Teardrop blocking the bottom of the stairs. As Evan approached, Teardrop shifted back on his heels, arms crossed high on his chest.

“The man wants to see you,” he said.

“The man can come see me himself,” Evan said.

Teardrop grinned a wolfish grin. “You don’t wanna do Bedrock like that,” he said. “Listen to me, bro, I may be getting kicked soon, but don’t think I won’t do one last job up in here.”

“Then you won’t get out of here anytime soon.”

“Oh, I’m sure Bedrock’d make it worth my while.”

Evan considered. Gave a faint nod.

He followed Teardrop to Cell 37, concentrating so as to not slip on the steps. The Armenian Power lieutenants, inked up as members of the Glendale chapter, parted to let them through.

Bedrosov sat on a makeshift king-size mattress built of two stacks of twins shoved together. Except for a single unoccupied bunk bed against one wall, the rest of the cell was empty, a testament to his influence. The bottom bunk was bricked in with packages of instant ramen, hundreds of them, the vision Monkey Mouth would see if he ever dreamed pleasant dreams.

Bedrosov’s soft, plump hands were folded loosely between his knees. He looked at ease, a man without a care in the world. His voice was soft, that familiar pragmatic purr. “Paytsar Hovsepian?”

Evan said, “You know my name.”

“You broke Casper’s arm,” Bedrosov said.

“Why do you care?”

“There’s an order. When that order is disrupted, business is disrupted.”

And to you, Evan thought, there’s nothing worse than business getting disrupted.

Bedrosov’s face smeared into a mocha streak atop a shirt. Evan blinked several times hard, and it reassembled itself.

“I didn’t mean to mess with your gang,” Evan said.

“Oh, I’m not one of these animals,” Bedrosov said.

If Teardrop or the lieutenants were insulted, they gave no sign of it.

“I don’t belong here,” Bedrosov continued. “I’m only a part of this temporarily. But while I’m here, I like to ensure that things go as smoothly as possible for me.”

“If Casper hadn’t attacked me,” Evan said, “things would still be going smoothly for him.”

Bedrosov tilted his head back and examined Evan. He was an extremely still man, so every move seemed freighted with significance. “If that’s the case, if Casper attacked you, I will let it slide. Be sure not to initiate any violence on your own during your stay.”

Evan nodded, but Bedrosov remained motionless, the picture of control. His eyes were unblinking, reptilian. Evan had read once that there were more psychopaths in business than in any other field. The man before him seemed a perfect case study.

Evan started to back out.

“You seem vaguely familiar,” Bedrosov said. “Have I seen you somewhere?”

A tingle of heat moved through Evan, dampening his undershirt with sweat, the electronic wristband sticking to his skin. “Not unless you service your car at the AutoZone at Washington and Hoover.”

Bedrosov said nothing. He just stared.

Evan lowered his gaze as if intimidated and backed the rest of the way out.

47

Kill You Tonight