Bad Guys Read Online Free PDF

when the business involved surveillance. When he wanted to make a better impression, he drove a Beemer or Jaguar or some other type of high-end yuppiemobile that he kept back at his apartment.
    “Don’t get coffee,” Lawrence warned me. “You’ll be having to take a leak every twenty minutes.”
    I ignored him and got an extra-large, triple cream with two low-cal sweetener packets, and half a dozen doughnuts.
    “That makes sense,” Lawrence said. “Why don’t you get one more sweetener, and then you can get two more doughnuts.”
    But later, sitting in the car, he said, “You got a double chocolate in there?”
    “Aren’t you the one who mocked me for buying these?”
    “You got one or not?”
    I fished around, found a chocolate doughnut with chocolate icing slathered on top, and handed it to him with a napkin. Then I reached down for my coffee, tucked down in the cup holder, and had a sip. “Ohhh, my thanks to whoever invented coffee,” I said. “This is the only thing that will get me through this.”
    “Yeah, well, when your bladder’s ready to burst, don’t think that you’re using my emergency kit,” Lawrence said, nodding his head in the direction of the backseat, where he kept a plastic juice bottle with a screw top.
    The juice container was, as Lawrence had explained to me on our first night out, a key part of his surveillance kit. When you’re on a stakeout, and expecting your subject to be on the move at any moment, and you’ve got to take a leak, you can’t strike off searching for the nearest men’s room or slip into the nearest alley.
    Lawrence fiddled with the radio, located a jazz station, someone playing piano. “That’s Erroll Garner. This is from
Concert by the Sea
.” He kept the volume down, but loud enough that he could tap his finger on the steering wheel.
    I thanked him for picking me up at home. “We’re having a bit of car trouble.”
    “Oh yeah? What kind?”
    “We need another one.” I filled him in on the daily negotiations to try to get everyone where they had to be, and Sarah’s concerns about spending the money for a second vehicle.
    “Interesting that this problem of yours should crop up now,” Lawrence said. “What are you doing tomorrow?”
    “Usual.”
    “There’s a government auction tomorrow, out Oakwood way. Where they sell off cars and other merchandise seized from drug dealers and other lowlifes, unclaimed stolen property—people already got their insurance payment, they don’t come looking for what they lost.”
    “Okay, so?”
    “I got my Jaguar at one of those for a song. You could probably pick up something reasonable, not much money. I know the people there, there’s a guy, Eddie Mayhew, knows what cars look good and what cars don’t. I was talking to him the other day, he said they’re selling off a bunch of merchandise that used to belong to Lenny Indigo.”
    “I know that name.”
    “He just got fifteen to twenty. Joint operation, local cops working with the feds, got him on trafficking, racketeering, half a dozen other things. They seized a few million in cocaine and took his cars and other toys at the same time. Indigo had his finger into everything in this town from drugs to table dancers and prostitution to robbery. Thing is, his organization is still around, some bozo’s trying to keep it together while he’s inside, but Indigo’s still trying to run the thing from the inside. Anyway, if you’re looking for a car with an interesting history, I know where you could get one.”
    I shrugged. “Sounds worth going. Even to get a feature out of it. But I don’t think I’m in the market to buy anything. Sarah was pretty adamant this morning. It’s just not in the budget.”
    “Let’s just go, then. I’ve been, even when I wasn’t looking for a car, bought one, sold it a week later for five thou more. It’s just after lunch. I’ll pick you up.”
    We sat for a few minutes quietly, watching cars go past Brentwood’s in