The Last Leg.

December of 1992.

Vancouver.

Dino did not look like someone named 'Dino.' He was older than Phil, gray about the beard. But they had the same skin tone, which I realized was genetic and not from exhaustion. He was a lot different than his cousin – thin and wiry, dressed in a blue track suit despite the cold, and he smelled unmistakably of alcohol. He looked like the sleazy drug-dealer in every cop movie.

"Can you try to think of the address again?"

Sam pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, his other hand holding a pen over a piece of paper. So far, it had the words 'Chimaera' and 'two weeks' written on it – it was just a rehash of what Phil had told us, with the added estimated time of when Dino had borrowed money. He seemed to be full of only halfway useful information.

"I just… I sort of found it while I was around."

It was long past midday and the sun would set soon.

I suggested, "It might help if we go downtown and walk around."

Dino was clearly uncomfortable with me. He kept his eyes on Sam, biting his lip. "I guess. Maybe."

Sam underlined 'two weeks' on his paper. "Is there a good hotel around here, Dino?"

"You can stay at my place tonight, if you want," Dino said.

I pictured a one-bedroom apartment with a couple pieces of furniture, pizza boxes lying all over the floor, roaches skittering up the walls, and a few used needles tucked under empty liquor bottles in the cabinets. I had stayed in worse places, but it was a harsh change from the luxury resort Sam and I had woken up in that morning.

We took a drive around Vancouver, skipping between business centers, pausing every time Dino pointed out a possibility. He kept choosing small buildings and shops attached to others – a post office on the side of a restaurant, a lucky lotto place overshadowed by a clothing store – and I began to land on those places myself. I picked them out as soon as we were on the road, waiting for him to say something and confirm my suspicion.

He knew what it looked like, just not where it was.

He finally shouted, "Stop!"

Sam and I both jumped, and Sam hit the brakes. We jolted to a stop in front of what looked like a travel agency. It had bright, cheery signs in the windows, big pictures of people smiling. It shared a space with a private bank and an ice-cream parlor that was closed for the season.

"Which one?" Sam prompted.

"Obviously the bank," Dino said.

I pointed out the nearby parking spaces, "We're sitting in the middle of the road."

"Oh, right. Sure."

We sat in silence, Sam and I viewing the businesses through the side and rear-view mirrors. It was not a good situation to go into cold. The bank was on one side, sort of small, with a narrow entryway. Judging by the layout of the streets behind it, it probably wouldn't have a back entrance. If that was the home of a shady bookie who had the balls to name his organization Chimaera, it was going to be well-protected.

"I'll go in."

Sam stared at me like I had just pulled the pin on a grenade. "Like hell you will."

"I need to do recon, figure out if this is really the place. I can pretend I'm looking for a loan." I glanced at Dino, and then thrust my mirror down, ruffling up my hair. "It'll be fine."

"I've heard a lot of bad ideas in my time, but this one takes the cake, Mike."

"I'm trained for this. It's part of my job."

"What job is that, exactly?" Dino wondered.

Sam ignored him, "You're gonna walk in there and ask to see a bookie?"

"No. I'm gonna go in there and try to apply for a personal loan for something obviously made up. Bookies look for desperate clients, people who have nowhere else to turn. They have the kind of problems that a bank would never give them money for, so they come up with something that sounds better."

Dino shifted uncomfortably.

I turned on him, "What did you say you wanted the money for?"

He squirmed, "An in-ground pool."

"See? A pool, in Vancouver."

"What're you gonna say, then?" Sam asked.

"Something less stupid than that. I'll say I need money for a surgery for my mom, but I have no steady income and no one to co-sign."

"It's a good hook, I guess… But if they bite, Mike, how are you gonna get out of there without signing your life away?"

"I was gonna improvise that part."

"I don't like this."

"You don't have to. You asked for my help on this, and I'm giving it."

XxX

I woke up on the couch the following morning. Sam lay on a pile of blankets on the floor, his muscular, Navy-issued arms wrapped around a large teddy bear that he was using as a pillow. Dino's house was not exactly the shithole I had imagined it would be, but I was right about the one-bedroom part. I had spent the whole night listening to Dino get up to go to the bathroom, vomit, and then take long showers. His cycle of behavior was confusing until he finally made his way into the living room. He was trembling violently.

He was in withdrawal.

Dino glistened with sweat. He came by the couch and wrapped a blanket around his shoulders, grabbing a half-empty beer bottle from the table and downing it in a few desperate gulps. It was clear his vice was not alcohol. He was using it to ease the symptoms.

I got off the couch, carefully stepping around Sam to join him in the kitchen. I had spent my childhood with an addict. I suddenly liked him less.

But I still asked, "Are you okay?"

He nodded, not meeting my eyes. "Been a long two weeks."

Did you borrow the money for drugs?

I couldn't bring myself to say it. I was feeling cruel, wanting to kick this guy while he was down, but there was no real reasoning behind it – other than his similarities to my father. I wanted to blame him for what was happening to him, but Sam was the little angel on my shoulder.

People make mistakes.

Dino grabbed a bowl from the cabinet and poured himself some cereal. I sat across from him and he passed me a bowl, sliding the box and the milk toward me. I tried not to stare as he concentrated on bringing a full spoonful of cereal to his mouth without shaking and spilling it.

"Phil pays for this place, by the way. I know you were wondering."

I dug into my breakfast, "He sounds like a good guy."

He struggled for another mouthful and tipped it over in his lap. He groaned. "Mornings are the worst. It'll pass." He looked up at me, hesitant. "I've been clean for over two weeks now. I was clean when I…"

It was okay to ask now. "Why'd you borrow the money?"

Suddenly, Sam groaned and stretched, his back popping. "Oh, boy. Maybe I passed 'I'll take the floor' age. When did that happen?"

Dino stared at me for a split second, like he might answer my question, but then he addressed Sam instead. "I can show you where I met with the account woman. It was a bar downtown."

"You do that. You and Mike go do that." Sam got up, staggered a little, and then twisted around to pop his back again. He sighed. "That's better. I was thinking I would head to the records office. Town hall? How does Canada handle records?"

"What do you want to know?" Dino asked.

"Well, the bank is a real business. They tried to get Mike to sign up for an account yesterday. So, I'm gonna look into them. Maybe there's something there."

Dino looked uncertain.

"Relax. We got this."

Dino did not look relaxed.

I finished off my cereal in a few bites and grabbed my jacket. "We'll go check out the bar. Just try not to get noticed, Sam."

"Who? Me?"

"Yeah, you, the loud American."

"I take offense to that." Sam shrugged on a thick coat, zipping it up to his neck. "I was planning on using that in my approach. You know, obnoxious American businessman planning where he wants to put his new condos. Oh, no, is that a bank on my lot?"

I smiled.

Dino and I walked to the bar. It was two miles from his house. Sam took the car in the opposite direction, clutching a borrowed briefcase.

We were only a block away from the apartment when Dino said, "I know you think I'm scum."

His words jarred me. "What?"

"I can see it in the way you look at me."

Could he really see through me so easily?

I lied, "I just don't interact with a lot of people. I'm bad at it."

Dino said nothing.

Vancouver was much more populated in this direction, even in the dead of winter. Dino led me to a thriving business village packed with tourists. We stood across the street, watching the crowds shift around. Dino pointed out the bar.

"The Twisted Net. It's sailor-themed."

He was pointing at a shady little pub on the corner, with doors on two sides and people shuffling around both. It had a giant plastic ship coming out of the front, with a net hanging off it, dotted with fake crabs and lobsters. It looked like a tourist trap.

It made me wonder what a bookie was doing operating in a place like this.

We started for the street, but a voice stopped us.

"Dino! Good to see you."

I whipped around, sensing danger in the tone. A young woman was approaching from an alley behind us. There was a car parked on the other side of it. Were they waiting here? Or was this just a terrible coincidence?

Her allies approached in my peripheral vision. Two men on either side, and one crossing the street. We were being rapidly boxed in. It was already too late to make a run for it.

I cursed myself for not seeing this coming.

"Amelia. Hi. Sorry," Dino said sheepishly.

"What're you sorry for, darling?" Amelia asked. She had a northern British accent, sharp and musical. "I've been wanting a chat with you. Been looking all over."

"S-Sorry," Dino said again.

"Let's step back a bit, clear the sidewalk," Amelia suggested. She walked back into the alley, and the men around us closed in, egging us toward isolation.

I grabbed Dino by the arm, ready to fight my way out of this.

"Come on, we just want to talk," Amelia said, drawing a gun from a holster beneath her jacket. She pointed it at the ground, but her eyes were on me. "Who are you, handsome?"

"Family friend," I responded stiffly in French, moving reluctantly into the alley.

"Even better. You can get the point across to his cousins."

Dino was a target because Phil was loaded. It made perfect sense. Phil cared deeply for his family and Dino would be easier to trick. He was an addict, someone who could be manipulated, someone who could be used as a bargaining chip, but also someone the world might not miss if this all went south. It was not a normal 'in too deep' situation, but plain old extortion.

It all happened at once.

I was dragged to the ground, my arms forced behind my back, the pavement smashing against my forehead. Everything went black for a moment.

Dino was on the ground with someone taking a pipe to his leg. It snapped.

And then they let us go.

I slumped to the ground, the alley spinning. The sound of Dino screaming brought the situation back into sharp focus. His leg was broken. I crawled over to him. "Stop! Stop moving! You're making it worse!"

He stilled, but then started shaking.

His leg had been viciously broken, his shin stuck in an odd angle, his ankle just hanging on at the end. It was already starting to swell. Dino had dilated pupils and sweat beaded up on his forehead. His hands grasped at my arms. I could feel his pulse hammering through his fingers.

"Jesus," I murmured, trying to steady him. It was not life-threatening, but it was more than I could handle on my own. "I have to go get help."

He was suddenly begging, suddenly desperate, "What if they come back?"

I would not have left him if I was not confident. "They made their point for now."

Dino held on stubbornly.

I pried his hands away. "Just stay here and stay quiet. I'll only be gone a minute."

I ran across the street, dodging cars, to call for help in the bar. When I returned, Dino had pulled himself into a sitting position against the wall. His leg lay stretched out in front of him, horrific to look at. He was holding it impressively still.

"Just hang on for a few minutes. You're gonna be fine."

I sat facing him, close enough to his leg that I could reach out and stabilize it if he decided to start freaking out again. We were alone for the moment, but adrenaline still coursed through me – and anger. I had seen a lot of bad things in my life, but I had never gotten used to it. Watching someone get beaten like that was awful – and there was nothing I could do to stop it, to protect him.

Dino said, "I wanted to pay Phil back."

I met his fever-bright eyes. "What?"

"I borrowed the money because I wanted to pay Phil back for everything." He sniffled, and then groaned. "I was gonna disappear afterward, go down south or something."

"What happened?"

"Phil wouldn't take the money, so I tried to deposit it in his bank account – and they knew something was up. They took it. I made it out before the police got there… but they took all of it."

"Wow. That… is unfortunate."

"Yeah." Dino rolled his head against the bricks. "He can't know about this. I don't want to take anything else from him. Promise me you won't tell him about this."

He had done something incredibly stupid, but sort of admirable.

I was not usually quick to trust, but Dino seemed genuine. I regretted how quickly I had judged him when I met him. Now I felt like I owed him a debt. I should have been able to keep him safe – it was what I was trained to do.

I put my hand on his good leg and said, "I'm not telling Phil. And I'm gonna help you out of this, I promise."