L.A. Trippin’

After I had let the salty air clean my system for over an hour I returned to the apartment. I felt like reborn and joined the others for breakfast in the kitchen. Nudjia and Mark had prepared a feast of fruit, pastries, hot chocolate and coffee. Wonderful.
When we were finished and had cleaned up the mess, we again formed groups of two and headed for different parts of the city to try to get information on the twins. We knew we were looking for two fat needles in a haystack but we couldn’t give up hope. We were sure to have luck on our side. Once again Nudjia picked the lucky straw: she and I got to stay in Venice to check out the local bars and clubs. Mark and Lucy headed for UCLA looking for Russian students, Louis and Tiko went to Sunset Boulevard, while Sarge and Quote, both in their new suits, took turns watching the loaded bus and checking out the neighborhood.
“Why do we deck, why do we dress for such a short-lived happiness? Lycidus, 1688 by Aphra Behn,” Quote said.
The suits didn’t fit too well and neither looked really happy wearing them. But as they had no other choice other than to ran around naked – which none of us thought an acceptable option, they agreed.
Sarge tried to give us helpful tips on how to ask people about the twins without arousing suspicion: “Better ask for twin bodybuilders than for a pair of giant Russians managing pretty girls.”
Thanks Sarge! How stupid did he think us? We’d come up with that one ourselves.
I handed everyone a card with the apartment’s phone number. Just in case. You never know what happens. L.A. is huge. You might get lost - or hit the jackpot.
Nudjia and I left Spooky to explore his new home and went for the Venice Boardwalk where we searched among the heaps of muscle so busy trying to impress the public. They were quite successful. Although from afar the huge bunks of meat all looked alike, none of them resembled the two brothers as we got closer. So on we went. Along the beach, through shopping centers, sport clubs. No chance.
We kept going until late afternoon. By then the heat had become so unbearable that we decided to take a short break at a street corner café. Nudjia had a headache and I was thirstier than after a midday ride through the desert. The sparkling mineral water we had took our minds off of bad luck.
Nudjia studied the card and I my wallet. I didn’t have much left. City life is so expensive. But I decided we should have a little something anyhow. Just a nice salad with lots of tomatoes and basil. Nudjia had a pastrami sandwich. The food was delicious and it made me forget my sore feet and the empty wallet.
That’s probably why at first I didn’t pay much attention to the mumbling drunk at the table behind us. Couldn’t count on Nudia either. As always when there’s food in reach her mind’s lost. But this guy was so loud that I couldn’t help but listen in. He was talking to some woman, telling her how pretty she was and that her skin was so soft all he wanted was to touch her. Quite embarrassing. I didn’t want to turn around but I really felt uncomfortable. Everyone could overhear his oily schmooze.
“Oh my uh .. blurps – sorry, miss uh .. enduring sunshine, if o .. only you knew how happy I am to have met y .y ..you after all the endless shifts at the compound. If it would be my house, I’d take you there, but I think my t ..tt  …twin bosses wouldn’t approve.”
My mind jumped into overdrive. What was it that I just heard?! Did this guy just say twin bosses or was I dreaming again. No Damon, it can’t be. How lucky can you get on a day like this?!
“My love, you have to ah ..ah …apppologize. They are very strict when it comes to security.”
This wasn’t for real. Although the sot was heavier loaded than a Vodka-flooded Russian, his English was good. No accent. Could it be that he was working for the Russian twins? I mean, how many twin bosses could there be in L.A.? And how many stupid enough to hire boozers like this one? Then again they’d probably have all kinds of people working for them.
I looked over at Nudjia. I was so excited. Although she had not paid any attention to the world around her, at least she had finished her sandwich - which meant she was open for a new input.
“I’ll be back in a minute, just need to go to the bathroom,” I said.
She nodded. As I got up I took a quick look over at the drunk. The guy was sitting alone, talking to a grilled pair of chicken breasts on a plate.
What now? Contact Sarge.
I took a quick piss, then went over to the phone booth next to the bar to call home. Sarge, Louis, even Quote would do.
I was lucky: Sarge answered with a deep “Hello!”
“Hi Sarge, it’s me, Damon. You won’t believe this, but I think we just ran into one of their guards.”
Sarge replied almost automatically, as if already right in the middle of the action, just waiting for a sign to get things going: “Stay put, son. Don’t lose the guy. If you need to, tail him. Whatever happens, don’t split up, take Nudjia with you wherever you go – that makes it easier for us to pick up the two of you later on.
„Tell me, what is your exact location? I’m coming over right now. We haven’t got the rental cars yet, so I’ll just grab a cab. It will have to do.”
“We’re in Antonio’s, it’s on…”
“Yeah, I’ve been studying the map. I know the place. Will be there in say five, ten minutes max.”
As I got out of the phone-booth the sot was still blabbering to the chicken.
For a second I thought about how the situation resembled that of Who’s workers, with everybody waiting for the chicken to answer. But at least Who’s chicken chattered from time to time. This guy would have to wait more than a lifetime before his would even do as much as fart. Dead as a doornail it was, to quote good ol’ Dickens. The sot didn’t notice, though. Lucky for me.
I paid the waiter with my last cash. One dime left. I needed to find an ATM soon.
Also I hoped Sarge hadn’t put his old stuff back on.  L.A. was full of freaks dressed as if they’d be starring in a monkey show, but Sarge in battle gear - he’d be sticking out like a frigging parrot. Everybody would know he was for real. He’d said he’d wait in the cab around the corner. Let’s just hope for the best. I checked my watch; it was time. He’d be there.
Sarge had told me to tail the guy when hewould start moving. We were lucky: he hadn’t. Instead he kept talking to the grilled chicken. I decided to send Nudjia out to fill in Sarge on the situation.
Meanwhile I kept my eyes on the guy. I don’t know if he’d noticed me or if he just didn’t like the chicken’s answer, but all of a sudden he got nervous.  As if in a hurry, his hands all shaky, he stuffed first one entire chicken breast into his mouth and then, without having finished the first, shoved in the other. Not a great sight with the sauce dripping from the sides. With the chicken breasts pushing his lips out of his face, he almost looked like a damn monkey.
After swallowing hard twice he called the waiter and payed without waiting for the cheque, apparently adding a nice tip - judging from the smile the waiter put up as he tried to help the guy  out of his chair. Things didn’t work out exactly as intended – the sponge fell back twice, but as two other waiters rushed over to help they managed and together they got him out the front door safely.
I stayed close behind to see where he had his car parked. It was a huge Chrysler, just a few meters from the entrance. I spotted Nudjia and Sarge waiting in a shabby cab around the corner. Thank God Sarge still had the suit on. The cabdriver wore a turban and green sunglasses.

I expected the guy to lock the car or maybe take something from the trunk, whatever – he was in no state to drive - but no - he got in, gave the two waiters another tip, turned the ignition and drove off. I sprinted over to our cab - the driver already had the engine running - jumped in and off we went.
“Follow car, Sir?”
“Yes, like I said, follow the damn car,” Sarge said, spitting out the window.
Traffic was light, making it easy to tail the Chrysler. At least that was what I thought. But the sot was slower than a turtle. And he couldn’t drive straight. He was constantly changing lanes which had the entire driveway honking like crazy. With all the noise he was causing, we practically could have gone shopping on another block, we’d never have lost him. On the other hand, if the cops would pick him up before he’d be able to deliver, we’d lose our only chance so far to find the gang. I prayed to Granny’s ghost to prevent that from happening.
Somehow we were lucky. Maybe Granny again, I don’t know.
As we drove past a building that looked like a giant had parked his binoculars on the sidewalk, the Chrysler suddenly came to an abrupt halt.
“Shit, we’re too close,“ Sarge said. “Pull back man, pull BACK!“
Too late. As the Chrysler set back, it bumped right into us, causing several hungry blood clots to trigger a series of hemorrhages inside our driver’s brain-pan.
But instead of checking out the damage he’d just caused to the cab, the sponge hit the gas with a vengeance, aiming for the garage as if nothing had happened. Probably lost his glasses, though. The car’s right fender had started scratching a nice abstract pattern on the concrete. Before I could even start to think of counting, three men in black, each sporting crew-cuts and dark sunglasses, sped out of the garage, tore the guy from behind the wheel and inside the building. After a minute or so one of the MIBs got back out and walked over to our resurrected cab man who by now had left the car and was calling for an entire flock of Asian goddesses to grant him revenge as he headed for the main entrance.
“Sorry Sir,“ the MIB said, using his tree-trunk fist to stop our cab man in mid-air. “You can’t get in.“
“But this motherfucker just wrecked my car!”
Funny how the first thing people learn about another language is the swearing. The guy was almost crying and pointing at his bumper. He probably would have stood a good chance at a B-movie audition. I was a little astonished, to say the least, by his reaction because I couldn’t remember the car even having a bumper. Sarge and I got out to check the damage for ourselves. I’d been wrong, it did have a bumper – that is, sort of. A chrome pipe screwed onto the grill was doing the job. And that’s what the Chrysler had hit. It definitely wasn’t the first time. A well dosed kick to the other end probably would have straightened out the piece of junk in a second.
“Calm down Sir,” the MIB said. “I saw what happened. That’s why I’m standing here in the goddamn heat offering you an appropriate amount to settle the problem.”
Eyeing the cab man as if he was some mindless alien vegetable, the MIB waved a huge stack of bills into the guy’s face. They quickly took care of the man’s tears. He grabbed the cash and his smile got wider the longer he counted the bills. From where we were standing it looked like it was more than enough to buy himself at least two more cars. His huge grin confirmed my guess.
“Very kind of you, Sir. This more than settles the matter,” he said bowing slightly, one hand holding the turban.
At least he was honest and didn’t ask for more.
“Fine, then we don’t have to fear any legal action from you, Sir?”
“No, of course not. I’ll continue my tour now. Bye Sir, and thanks again.”
“Nice to have done business with you, Sir. Please remove your car from the garage’s entrance now. We can’t have it blocked by a crashed cab.”
The MIB’s face had turned into ice again. I sure hoped he wasn’t part of the Russian gang. We’d be in big shit.
The cabdriver recounted the cash as he walked over to us, still smiling. We hurried back into the car and drove off.
“This is a verry scarry place,“ Nudjia said. “We shouldn’t come back herre.“
I watched the MIB through the back window as he stared after us. I guess she was right. It didn’t feel good at all.

Sarge had a different opinion on things: “Finally we know where they’re at, son,”  he said all excited.
“Where to now?” the driver asked, smiling in the rear view mirror.
I watched his neck. Fascinating. Hair everywhere. It crawled up from his back straight up the neck, only to disappear under the turban. It didn’t get to see daylight again until it sprouted out of his ears.
“Let’s get back to the apartment to make some plans for the next step,” Sarge said.
“110, Ocean Front Walk, please.”
“Wait a minute Sarge. I recall Tiko’s Dad talking about a mansion with a garden and a driveway. He didn’t mention any concrete binoculars.  Either we have the wrong guys or the wrong place. Driver, please stop the car. I want to get out,” I said.
“Please love, don’t go.“ Nudjia pleaded.
But I had to.
“I can’t stay with you now, Nudjia. We need to keep an eye on this place. Don’t worry, nothing will happen. There are too many people around.“
Then I said to Sarge: “I’ll stay and watch the MIBs  and the binoculars, you go and get the others or come pick me up later.”
“Damn good thinking, son. All right, if you think you can handle this alone, I’ll take your lady friend along so we’re two for directions when we return. We’ll be back as fast as we can, either to pick you up or to replace you. Here’s a mobile phone – in case you need to contact me. The home number is first on the list.”
“Thanks Sarge,” I said. Then to the driver: “Please take a right here and let me out.”
I kissed Nudjia goodbye, she lip synched “Take care love,”  - I promised to do so and off they drove.
As I watched the car getting lost in the traffic I tried to think of a way of staying undetected among the crowd while also keeping an eye on the binocular’s entrance.
Because of what happened when the sponge hit the concrete wall we knew that the main entrance had to be situated somewhere in the middle between the two lens-tubes. The second he hit the building the MIBs had poured out from behind the tubes, so there must have been doors to the sides. I didn’t see a café or anything else that could have served as a base, so I decided to just keep my distance from the building. I walked from store to store and used the reflecting shopping windows to check on the place. Nothing moved.
I got bored.
Suddenly Barbara Cartland’s twin, all pink and stuff but without the dog, poked her stick into my back saying: “Young boy, would you please be so kind as to help me cross the street?”.
She had this Martian gna gna gna - voice, you know, like in the movie. I felt sorry for her. She wouldn’t make it alone. I had to help her to the other side. Too much heavy traffic rolling by. But the next pedestrian crossing was half a block away. I hoped I wouldn’t miss out on a clue or something. As we walked over there I tried my best to look over my shoulder as often as I could without appearing too rude to the lady. It didn’t work out.
“What are you looking at, boy?” Miss Cartland said. “Waiting for your girlfriend? Take a lesson from an old lady. Don’t! Don’t show her your impatience. Girls love playing games, you know. She must be awfully pretty, the way you keep looking for her. But listen, boy. As I said, girls love the game. And it has nothing to do with brains. Stay out of reach from time to time, that way you’ll find yourself becoming more interesting.”
How the hell do I tell her to shut up? She had it all wrong anyway. But what was worse, she also distracted me from my mission. I needed to get rid of her fast but in a nice way.
Finally the crossing sign said ‘Go’, so we walked over to the side the binoculars were on. Good for Barbara, bad for me. We were so close I couldn’t watch the place without attracting attention. Just a small alley separated me from it. I needed to get back to the other side again.
Also by now Miss Cartland’s continuing blabber was really getting on my nerves.
“Look Lady, I helped you cross the street but, although it might not look like it, I’m very busy here and despite of what you think my girlfriend has nothing to do with it. Thanks for the advice, but with this I kindly ask you to shut up!”
“Oh, you’re so sexy when you get angry and confused. You little volcano, you….  The girl must be very happy with you. You’re not by any chance Italian are you? My poor husband was half Italian. Ooooh Italy, Ohhh Sooooole Miooooooo …..”
Oh my God, now she even started singing … People were interrupting their ratrace as we became the center of  attention - something I had tried to avoid at all cost.
Just then my eyes caught a glimpse of a huge silver car leaving the binoculars’ garage with a bang. Probably the exhaust pipe hitting the pavement. It quickly gained speed.
“Dear lady, sorry to interrupt your show, but I’ve got to go,” I said.
“Taxi, TAAAXIIIII!!!”
I had one stopping right in front of me, rushed in and said to the driver: “Follow that silver car, the one speeding away two blocks ahead.”
We drove off with screeching tires, causing people to shake their heads in discontent.
I was just able to overhear Miss Cartland’s last words. Clasping her hands in front of her face, she blabbered: “How wonderful youth can be, with all that raw passionate power.”
Had I been so unclear? How come grown-ups always misunderstood us?
But soon my thoughts got lost in the wind hitting me through the open window. This driver was good. There were just two or three cars between us and the silver brick. The cab man changed lanes constantly as not to draw too much attention. After all both cars were speeding considerably.
We had left Venice and were climbing the Hollywood Hills. I used the time to think. Suddenly I remembered I had just a dime left. And how could I be sure that we were chasing the right car? Maybe this one had nothing to do with it all. I had to call Sarge. He would know what to do. Maybe he could help me with the fare and tell Louis to drive over to check on the binoculars.
I decided to send Sarge a message telling him about the problem. A phone call would have given too much away to the driver.
Sarge replied instantly: “Don’t worry, kid. You’re doing great. Proceed as you think best. Once you got all the information you can get, tell the driver to bring you back here. We’ll take care of the fare.”
Good, I thought. At least I don’t have to worry about money. But was I doing the right thing? I didn’t know for sure.  No time to think anyhow. As I looked out of the window I noticed traffic had grown scarce. To avoid being spotted the driver kept a larger distance to the other car. We were approaching the mansions with gardens the size of small villages. I had never seen the likes of such. I thought of Lucy. She probably knew about the who’s who and which is whose in these parts of town.
After a while we were alone on the road. The silver car was nowhere to be seen. I didn’t like it.
The driver stopped the car.
“What now?” he asked.
“Let’s drive just a bit further - to the top of the hill. If we can’t see him from there, I guess we lost him. In that case, just take me back to Venice beach, Ocean Front Walk.”
We were driving again, but slower. As we approached the top of the hill, just by chance I watched a huge gate sliding into its lock, blocking the view. But that last split second was all I’d needed to glance at the huge driveway that led away from the gate. A second later and I wouldn’t have remarked a thing.
“Did you see that?” I asked the driver.
“See what? There’s nothing here. Or do you mean the gate over there? That mansion belongs to one of our best customers, an Eastern European businessman, abroad most of the time. His wife likes to party. She also rents part of the house to others. She often calls us to pick up guests.”
Not bad. And from what I’d seen the place resembled Wild Cloud’s description.
“Thanks,” I said. “But I guess it’s the wrong place. A shame we lost the other one, though. Well, doesn’t matter - shit happens. I have his number plates, I’ll get him the next time. Let’s drive over to Ocean Front Walk.”
I didn’t want to appear suspicious. You never know who knows who. Sarge had warned me not to give away even the tiniest part of our plans.
“Hope you don’t mind me asking dude, but why did we chase that car in the first place? And what do you need the number for?”
“Oh, never mind. My sister thought he was one of the movie stars whose autograph is still missing in her collection. She’s a bit too shy to ask so she sent me to do the dirty work.”
Lucky to’ve come up with that one.
“An expensive hobby your sister got there, gotta tell you that. Chasing ghosts might get you nowhere.”
“She sometimes sells some to other fans on ebay. With the money she makes she can hunt for new ones.”
“All right to me. People make their money in the strangest ways, nowadays.”
He seemed to believe me.  Good. I really didn’t want him to know what we had going on.

My friends came running out the door the moment we arrived at the apartment. They must have been staring at the street for hours. Louis was the most excited, almost trembling, waiting for me to spit out the news. Lucy looked a bit worried. She hadn’t heard from me for a long time so she’d probably imagined the most dreadful things happening to me. Nudjia embraced me the moment I got out of the cab. She had a few tears running down her face.
“Thank God you rreturned safely. The silence drrove me crrazy.  But I feel betterr now.”
She kissed me hard. Her lips were cold - I wanted more. Spooky eyed me from behind the glass door as if reading my thoughts.
“Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam, Be it ever so humble, there’s no place like home. J.H.Payne in Clari, or the maid of Milan, opera 1823,” Quote said.
“Thank you very much for the ride,” Sarge said, as he payed the driver.
“He didn’t get the signature - but luck changes, you know. Don’t give up hope, boy! Here’s my card. I’ll get you a special rate next time.”
“Thanks man,” Louis said.
As the cab drove away, he turned and asked: “What signature?”
“Well, I had to come up with something, you know. To keep him from getting too nozy. It’s a long story, Louis. Let’s get inside so I can tell you all the news.”
We all sat down around the dining room table. At the end of the world the sun began its drowning routine. The warm colors were getting more intense and we could feel the romantic mood that came with it start spreading in the room.
I gave my friends a short version of the first part of my watch. I felt a bit ashamed for  my lack of observation skills and the mishap with Miss Cartland. I’d completely misjudged the situation. I never thought she’d turn into such a clog.
But as you already know, things turned out fine in the end anyhow. Besides, what counted was the result. Did I manage to find out enough about the sot and his team? Given the circumstances, I thought I had. Nobody cared about the Cartland part. So I carried on with my tale and after some ten more minutes, I finally got to the information everyone was waiting for.
“As we arrived at the top of the hill, I could just see this huge metal gate closing with a bang. The car was gone. Of course I can’t be a hundred percent sure, but I really do believe this was the one it entered. The cab man told me they’d often do tours to this address. When the owner is away on one of his frequent business trips, the wife has all kinds of people staying over and partying. Oh, I almost forgot; he also said that the guy is originally from Eastern Europe. Made his money with constructing pipelines in Russia and such. Since that was all he said and I didn’t see a way to gather more information without arousing suspicion, I then asked the man to drive me back here, like Sarge had told me. I just made up the story with the autographs to make it all look as harmless as possible.”
“You did a mighty fine job, son,” Sarge said, thinking loudly. “I think we have a hit here. What you just told us definitely has these guys’ foul smell to it. They are clever, I have to give them that. I bet they use these so called parties as a cover-up for their business. Not bad, not bad at all. But then, these sons of bitches don’t know nothing about us. That we came all the way over here to end their shit. But we need to be patient – and careful. We also need more assurance before we act. Just think of what would happen if we’d attack a house with the wrong party inside …. Apart from the embarrassment, with all these rich and famous people living in that neighborhood, most of their lives filled with lost time, word gets around faster than anywhere else. We would risk losing the effect of surprise for the real deal.”
You could tell Sarge definitely was in his element, judging the situation,planning. It really felt good having him with us. Even more so, now that we were getting closer – finally.
On the other hand, I also felt really good. The success of my mission, if only just partial, filled me with pride. Not just that I’d enjoyed doing it, observing people. I also thought I was quite gifted in the matter. I hope you don’t think me too smarty pants, but that was how I felt. I had managed to find out quite a few of the things we needed to know, even with that old lady in the way. So I guess you could say I had more or less succeeded.