21/02/2021

least O’Brien wasn’t. O’Brien was the con man, and Hauser the tough guy. A vaudeville team. Hauser had a way of hitting you before he said anything just to break the ice. Then O’Brien gives you an Old Gold- just like a cop to smoke Old Golds somehow. . . and starts putting down a cop con that was really bottled in bond. Not a bad guy, and I didn’t want to do it. But it was my only chance.
I was just tying up for my morning shot when they walked in with a pass key. It was a special kind you can use even when the door is locked from the inside with a key in the lock. On the table in front of me was a packet of junk, spike, syringe- I got the habit of using a regular syringe in Mexico and never went back to using a dropper- alcohol,cotton and a glass of water.
“Well well,” says O’Brien. . . “Long time no see eh?”
“Put on tour coat,Lee,” says Hauser. He had his gun out. He always has it out when he makes a pinch for the psychological effect and to forestall a rush fr toilet, sink or window.
“Can I take a bang first, boys?” I asked. . .”There’s plenty here for evidence. . .”
I was wondering how I could get to my suitcase if they said no. The case wasn’t locked,but Hauser had the gun in his hand.
“He wants a shot,” said Hauser.
“Now you know we can’t do that, Bill” said O’Brien in his sweet con voice, dragging out the name with an oily, insinuating familiarity, brutal and obscene.
He meant, of course, “What can you do for us,Bill?”
He looked at me and smiled. The smile stayed there too long,hideous and naked, the smile of an old painted