Chapter 3: Dancing for your pleasure
Mando knew he had to play his cards close to his chest. If he showed any weakness or interest in the child, they would be onto him and know that he cared more than he should. That was something else he'd learned early on – never show what you truly feel if you want to stay alive. And at this moment, Mando was starting to think it would be very difficult indeed to exit the room in one piece.
So despite every single cell in his body screaming at him that it was wrong, that La Eme were the enemy and that something terrible would happen if he were to hand off the kid, that's exactly what he did, with a practiced, unconcerned "Sure".
If he didn't show how much the kid meant to him, perhaps he'd be able to hold him again.
He tried not to cringe at the sound coming out of the toddler when he unlatched him from his chest – Mando could almost feel the sense of betrayal through his bones – and held him towards a man he not so secretly hoped to kill with his bare hands if it ever came to it.
It was a lot harder to mask his surprise when the child reacted with a very distinctive and verbal "No!" when he found himself in Moff's arms. The kid could speak! Surely, this shouldn't have been such a revelation – he was 18 months old according to the clinic's nurse – but it still came as a shock, especially since he wouldn't stop repeating that word. Instead of troubling La Eme's boss, though, it seemed to galvanize him. As if he'd expected such a reaction all along.
"Now that we're all here," spoke Moff, still holding the child and doing a very good impression at not caring that he was being rejected by the tiny creature, "why don't I start?"
Greef gestured to the chair in front of his desk, and Mando had to restrain himself once more from his automatic reaction. Get the kid and get out of here. So instead, he sat, and tried to ignore the litany of "Nos" coming from the toddler.
"Do you know our other guest?" Moff asked, eyeing the uniformed man.
Said cop hadn't shown any reaction yet, and still stood silent on Greef's other side. Mando had immediately noted he was a Lieutenant, thanks to the distinctive metal pin on his shirt collar – he knew his insignias – and that gave him pause. He was no mere officer, easily bought off by a gang to look the other way. The man had standing in the LAPD, which meant Mando was probably well over his head in this whole business. What the hell was going on?
Still, Mando dutifully shook his head in answer to the question.
He was smart enough to realize that showing him the cop was a deterrent – no need to try and run off to them for help, they're involved already – but he was pissed off that they would think him that naïve. He wasn't an easily awed, recently sworn in gang member, eager to show his might to the boss. He'd been part of Nuestra Familia for 30 years. Not as an active participant at first perhaps, but he still knew all their tricks. And he thought they knew him, and wouldn't subject him to this frankly humiliating and childish show of strength.
"No matter, the Lieutenant was just leaving."
And just like that, the cop left, not having uttered a single word in his presence, although he was very obvious in the way he looked at Mando as he exited, filing in every detail about his appearance. If that was how they planned to scare him, they had another thing coming.
Moff started speaking again, but before he could continue, further humiliation was thrown in, in the shape of two young gang members from La Eme strutting in. Mando was definitely starting to hate the sight of their tattoos, and he hoped he wasn't imagining the look of unmasked disgust on Greef's face. Would they have to suffer even more of those people in their own HQ? It seemed silly to worry over such a trivial thing when every alarm bell was ringing in his mind, but Mando calmly made a note to himself that they'd also have to relocate their business somewhere else. Again.
"So that's the cabrón, who killed my brother?" uttered one of his new friends upon entering, looking disdainfully at his face.
Mando prided himself on being a lot of things: taciturn, patient, hardworking, focused, resilient, creative…to only name a few qualities. But he hadn't slept for 36 hours. His head was throbbing and his ribs painful. And the distressed sobs coming from the child who was still in his sworn enemy's arms were not helping. So it was frankly only natural that his less attractive attributes would eventually make themselves known. His bluntness, his pig-headedness, his temper flaring when pushed too hard, his dislike at being insulted in Spanish (and any other languages, really)… Looking back, he knew he should have kept his mouth shut.
"Which one was he, the ugly one who kept his face hidden, or the stupid one who didn't know how to properly hold a gun?"
But he didn't.
"I'm gonna kill you, ¡hijo de puta!"
Oh, and people insulting his mom. Something else he really, really didn't like.
Mando stood up, but before he had time to reach for his gun, his arms were encircled from behind by the second new arrival, and his face punched twice, hard. He was frankly getting tired of having his ass handed to him, and directed a vicious kick with his heavy boot between the legs of the bad-mouthing gang member. In the resulting "Oompf" coming from him, Mando head-butted his friend from behind, hearing a pleasing crack. Released, he was finally able to take out his gun, and aimed it at their hunched postures.
"Gentlemen!" protested Greef, who'd stood up. He looked vaguely amused, but only just.
Moff, on the other hand, was livid, and remonstrated his minions in rapid Spanish. Mando heard his patronage being insulted again, in muffled, pained voices, but he took no notice, because in his anger, Moff had put the child on the ground, belatedly tired of having to hold a gesticulating toddler. And said toddler was now walking, unsteadily, towards him. He didn't have time to marvel at this further new development, because he'd just gotten an idea. Maybe, just maybe, they could still make their escape.
As soon as the child was within reach, Mando grabbed him, earning himself a happy squeal. It was funny how easy and automatic it was to hold him against his left side, when it had only been a few hours since he'd started having him in his arms. With his free hand still holding his gun, Mando took advantage of the reigning confusion to break the glass sensor of the fire alarm, located near the door. On cue, it resounded noisily, and triggered the water sprinklers. If the alarm worked correctly, it would have also automatically opened the garage door, in order to evacuate both people and smoke quickly. But Mando was pretty sure that would be the case – after all, he'd been the one who'd installed the system. He just never told Greef what it did exactly.
Not waiting another second, Mando ran for it, hoping it would be the last time today he had to reach his car in such a hurry. The truck seemed worryingly far away once he'd exited the office, but he was pleased to see that he had been right – the garage door was slowly coming up. He heard voices behind him, but thankfully no gunfire yet, and once behind the wheel, he saw how close Moff was from him. He was tempted for about half a second to somehow run him over, but decided against it, and focused on making his escape backwards, his poor tires squealing again and the child in the same sound register.
Once safely outside on Slauson Avenue, Mando realized he has no idea where to drive to. He had to avoid the South Figueroa Corridor because it would soon be packed with morning commuters, but that left him with little options. Home was obviously out of the question, but he knew that they wouldn't go far if he didn't stop and think for a little while. Too many things had happened and he needed to figure it all out before making any (more) stupid decisions. And for that, he needed some shut eye, desperately. Same with the kid, he was sure. The little tyke hadn't slept for who knew how long, and although he didn't know much about children, he was pretty sure they needed a lot of rest.
That decision made, he headed north for the USC campus, where he was familiar with an underground car park lacking surveillance cameras. He drove the long way round, turning randomly and checking his mirror every other second.
The sun had risen just above the horizon when he parked, and Mando was glad to find himself once more in the dark. Soon, the streets would be filled with people excited about the upcoming 4th of July weekend, and the temperature would rise considerably. Better to allow himself a couple of hours of sleep now, and think about his next move once the roads had cleared up a bit after rush hour.
The kid looked just about ready to drop off, now that the engine had been shut down, and the excitement left (hopefully) behind. Mando felt like he held him silently for a long time, but it probably only took about 5 minutes for him to fall asleep in his arms. Once he was sure he was deeply in dreamland, he very cautiously laid him on the backseat, finding an old plaid to cover him with, although he was quite sure he wouldn't get cold anytime soon. Satisfied, Mando painfully waited another half hour to be certain no one had followed him, then stretched out as best as he could on his seat, and shut his eyes, hoping he wouldn't be sleeping too deeply in case anything was to happen.
Being pushed in a cupboard. Darkness. Stuffy smells. Voices pleading. Holding his breath. His mother.
His father. Gunshots. Then nothing. Nothing for a really long time.
Mando opened his eyes.
As it turned out, nothing happened, and Mando was surprised to see that he had slept soundly for almost two hours, despite his dream. He hadn't had this particular one for a long time.
The parking lot had filled, but no one had paid attention to his old truck with the bashed in rear window, and for this he was very glad, feeling, if not refreshed, at least ready to figure out his next move.
He stretched, and saw that the kid was still asleep in the back, his chest reassuringly going up, and down, and up again. Mando let himself be transfixed by the sight for a little while longer, his thoughts slowly becoming clearer.
It was now obvious that the child had been the asset Greef had sent him to get last night. But La Eme had also dispatched their own guy, with a different instruction – to kill said asset. Mando wasn't sure why and when the rival gang had eventually changed their minds, and decided that the child should be captured alive. But it was clear that they had at one point: Moff had had every opportunity in the tire shop to kill the kid, cop or not, and hadn't. What remained to be seen was why exactly his own gang had decided to join forces with La Eme, and for what reasons. What could possibly interest them both in an 18 months old kid?
He almost wished he had been able to stay a little longer, and actually hear what Moff wanted to say. But he had chosen to make his escape when he could, knowing the opportunity was too good to miss. He hoped he would be able to reach Greef at one point, and hear him out. Mando still felt indebted to him, despite his contradictory feelings.
Greef had taken on the boss' role only recently, following the old boss' death. It had been both a painful and welcome experience for Mando. Painful, because for lack of a better word, the old boss had been like a father to him for the last 30 years. A ruthless, hard to please father, but a father nonetheless. Greef, on the other hand, had been the nicer, though slightly unreliable younger uncle. And no one, Greef included, had expected he'd be boss one day. This made for a more laid back organization all around, and for this Mando was grateful: it had allowed him to start dreaming about a way out again. And he had. Up until the previous night, when faced with an impossible choice. But there really hadn't been any decision to make: how could he have abandoned the kid? Although he'd been much older at the time, Mando had also been rescued as a child, and it seemed only fair that he should now do the same.
Thinking about that awful day, when he'd waited and waited until his parents came back for him, knowing in his heart that they were dead already, made him look at the small bundle in the backseat again. Mando couldn't be sure the kid's parents were dead as well, and he felt terrible for not being able to tell him one way or the other, even if he was too small to understand. The not knowing was the worse. He wished he could just hand the child off to the police and let them do their work, but he knew it was impossible, now. And more importantly, that he'd have to leave L.A. if he wanted to keep him safe. Although he hadn't heard Moff's plan – he even started to think this whole meeting was an elaborate trick – he was pretty sure it was nothing good where the kid was concerned. The Lieutenant hadn't been introduced to him just for show. Trusting the police had always been a difficult thing for Mando, but now he knew for certain he couldn't. He was on his own.
The easy choice would be to go to Baja, and find his Nuestra Familia brothers there. But given Greef's involvement, there was no way to know how far this whole situation went. He knew the boss in Tijuana and several ways to cross the border without being noticed by the police – either American or Mexican – but driving south was probably what they would expect from him. So he nixed that idea.
Driving to Phoenix or Las Vegas would mean changing State. And Mando realized that if he were to do that, his kidnapping, for lack of a better word, would become a federal crime. He'd then have to deal with even more agencies. Even if the kid no longer had parents, he was pretty sure that Moff would do everything in his power to make his life miserable – worse than the LAPD, he would have the FBI after him.
If Moff was indeed set on getting the child back from him, for whatever nefarious reason, that left him with one direction, north. This would allow him to stay in California, but leave L.A. behind.
With that itinerary in mind, and the fact that the country was about to celebrate its independence, he started thinking about one possible destination where he and the kid might be safe for a while. When he was forced to rejoin the gang at the old boss' insistence 3 years ago, there was another family he had to leave behind. One who had also welcomed him with open arms when he was 18. And perhaps they'd welcome him back. Mando wasn't sure, but it was his best shot.
He couldn't help but feel betrayed by his gang, or at least Greef – he had allied himself with La Eme, when they were supposed to be arch-rivals. It was worse than that for Mando, though. It was personal. The Mexican Mafia had been responsible for his parents' death, after all. How could he trust him now? Mando desperately wanted to speak to his boss, make sense of things, but now wasn't the moment yet.
Now, he had to change cars. They had to get going. To keep moving. Good thing he was in a parking lot, then. That had been his first intention when he reached the place, but he'd decided sleep was the priority.
Mando started by opening his trunk, making sure not to wake the kid from his apparently deep slumber or cut himself on the exploded window glass. The truck was more of a home than his apartment, and he felt sad for having to leave it behind. But it meant he had useful items hidden away. Items he was glad to have kept here – he wouldn't have to figure out how to go to his place. Sure, he'd miss some stuff, but he could very well leave the city without. He'd learned early on how to live with few creature comforts.
From there, he gathered an old gym bag, containing a change of clothes, but also $800 in cash, hidden in a secret compartment. From under the different seats, he gathered ammo, an extra gun (he decided to leave the one he'd collected from the dead La Eme gang member behind, though, thinking it would bring him bad luck), some tools and a tablet which had never been connected to the phone network, but could prove useful with Wi-Fi. His phone, still off, was similarly abandoned.
Keeping an eye on his car, Mando started checking the other vehicles around him. He was looking for one that wouldn't give him too much trouble to open and start – and apart from the most recent models, that wasn't really a problem for him – but there was another thing he hoped to find: a child's car seat. He couldn't continue holding the child while he drove, and if he could avoid having to pay for one and risk being discovered in L.A., all the better.
He was in luck – a dark grey SUV seemed to be just what he was looking far. Perhaps a bit too conspicuous for his liking, but it had a car seat in the back that looked just the right size for the kid.
One eye on his car, and the other on the parking lot's entrance, Mando got to work. Thanks to the tools he'd collected from his trunk, it took next to no time. And five minutes later, the still sleeping child was strapped in, after a couple tries on the frankly ridiculously difficult to work around harness, the engine on, and the course in his mind set.
North.