Chapter 8: Old Friends

The officer scrutinized the name on the sheet. "Yeah, we got your message. There shouldn't be any problems. Mr. Koons is waiting for you inside, Detective." Freddy followed one of the guards to the door and waited as it was unlocked. It unsettled him, being at a prison. He could almost understand how a guy like Vega could go psycho after spending four years locked up in a place like this.

The man sitting on the other side of the table stared at him as the door closed with a loud bang. "Holy shit… Orange?"

Freddy gave a half-smile. "How's it goin', Mr. Pink?" he asked, dutifully returning the alias. Sheet or no sheet, this man was still Mr. Pink to him. White was Larry, and Blonde was now Vega, but Pink would always be Pink. "I didn't know you were from Brooklyn."

The other man looked exactly as Freddy remembered him, except he was dressed in prison blues now. Christ, he was even jiggling his leg up and down in that annoying way of his. At least being in prison controlled his daily caffeine and sugar intake.

"So Joe was right," said Pink with a sneer. "You were the fucking rat."

"Yup, I was the fucking rat," Freddy acknowledged as he sat down across from the crook.

Pink was nodding his head. "I knew there had to be someone setting us up, and I was fucking right too. I had a bad feeling about this job from the beginning, and I should've fucking walked if I had any sense, but I couldn't and didn't and now look where I am!" He took a breath and with some effort calmed down. "So you're a cop, huh?"

Freddy shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. "That's right."

"You were pretty fuckin' clever, man," said Pink, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "asking White what his name was when you were fuckin' bleeding to death and the good boy couldn't say no."

"I already knew his name."

There was a pause as the other man stared at him. "Well why the fuck did you ask him, then?"

Freddy shifted in his chair. The thing was uncomfortable as hell. "None of your fucking business," he shot back. "In case you hadn't noticed, Pink, I'm the one visiting you, which means I'm the one who should be asking questions."

"Well ask away then," Pink snorted, leaning back.

"In a minute." Freddy ran a hand through his hair as he thought about how to approach this. "You and I… we aren't the only survivors of the robbery," he said finally.

Pink's head jerked. "What?" he asked. "Who else is alive? Is it White? …Blonde? …Joe?"

"It's Blonde," said Freddy. But Pink was frowning thoughtfully. "You don't look too surprised," the cop observed.

The other man shrugged. "When the ambulances came I had to fucking wait while they called another one for me, because they were taking you, White, Blonde, and Joe to the hospital. Eddie and the cop were pronounced dead at the scene. So thanks to the four of you I had to fucking wait in the parking lot of that fucking warehouse while I bled from a fucking bullet hole in my leg!"

"Well boo fucking hoo," deadpanned Freddy. "I had to lie on the ground with a fucking gut shot, Pink."

"Yeah and whose fault was that you piece of shit?" the crook snarled. "Nice scar by the way, Officer Orange. Looks like some smart bastard tried to finish you off. Too bad he couldn't do the job, huh?"

Freddy's hand, which had gone unconsciously to the scar on his right cheek, slammed down on the top of the table. "Listen the fuck up!" he shouted. "Blonde broke out of the hospital while he was recovering. There's a crazy motherfucker on the loose, and all you can do is whine about what happened? Yes, I was the fucking rat, but I was doing my fucking job and so were you. I was sent to get Joe, and if Blonde hadn't gone fucking crazy in the store then none of this would've fucking happened!" He stopped shouting, and forced himself to calm down. "I need to get Blonde," he continued. "That's why I came here. I need all the information I can get."

"Can't help you man, cuz I don't know anything about Blonde," said Pink, shaking his head. "Jesus Christ, was I the only one to follow the fucking rules during the job? I didn't tell anyone shit about me, and nobody fucking told me shit about them, all right? And even if I did know something of value about Blonde, which I don't, I have no reason to tell you, of all people. If you want information, Orange, you gotta make it worth someone's while, know what I'm sayin'?"

"Nope, sorry," said Freddy. "I'm still stuck on the part where you say you don't know anything. Because if that's true, this was a waste of my fucking time." He started to stand up.

"Jesus Christ, wait a minute," said Pink, waving his hands back and forth. "That's not exactly what I meant. What I'm saying is I don't know anything about Blonde in particular. But I knew Joe since I was a kid, which is a heck of a lot better than you. And if Blonde was one of Joe's boys, judging by what Eddie said, then I might know a few things that could be useful to you. But I won't tell you nothin' for free, get it?"

Freddy sat back down in his chair. "I get it," he said calmly. "But what exactly are you looking for in exchange for your cooperation?"

Pink glanced back and forth as if looking for eavesdroppers, although Freddy suspected it was more of a nervous habit than anything else. "Look man," he said quietly. "Prison hasn't really been kind to me, all right?"

"Come to the point, Pink. What d'you want?" said Freddy bluntly.

"Transfer. Minimum security."

"No."

"Low security?"

"No fuckin' way. I'll tell you what I won't do, though," Freddy said, leaning forward. "I won't speak to the warden and tell him that you're withholding valuable information about a psychopath who's on the run. And I won't ask him to put you with a cellmate who could make your life a living hell. What's the matter, Pink?" he asked when the other man flinched. "You already met the butt cowboys in your block?"

Pink was scowling down at the tabletop. "Shit," he muttered.

"Start talking, motherfucker," said Freddy, "cuz it's your bony ass on the line."

"All right, all right." The other man looked up at him. "What do you wanna know?"

Freddy reached into his jacket pocket and took out two cigarettes, holding one out to Pink. After he had lit them both, he said, "Blonde was one of Cabot's boys, you're right about that. So if one of 'em was arrested, what would Joe do after they got outta prison?"

Pink took a shaky drag on his cigarette. "Usually the parole officer could be bribed, and the guy would be working for Joe again in no time."

"And if that didn't work? Like, if his PO was a real prick and the guy had to get a job before he could leave the halfway house?"

"Shit, Joe owned lots of companies. He owned places everywhere. He could get his boys a legitimate job at any one of 'em, and once they moved out on their own they'd be back to knocking down doors and shooting people up or whatever the fuck it was they did."

Freddy tapped ash onto the floor. "So who would organize these jobs?"

"Whoever owned the company was in Joe's back pocket. And Joe knew guys who knew people – I mean they had connections. People he could trust, y'know?"

"Yeah? Like who?"

Pink rubbed a hand through his hair. "I dunno how safe I am telling you this, Orange. Some of these guys are still at large."

"Yeah, but you're nice and safe in here now. I just want the Long Beach area. Gimme names, and if I know 'em I know 'em." Freddy tried not to show how excited he was. This was it. If he could find one of these guys, and if their connections were as extensive as Pink was making it sound, then maybe they could tell him something about Vega's old employer Matthews. And if Freddy could find Vega's old employer, then he could find Vega. A man on the run who has lost most of his contacts doesn't have many places to go.

"I don't know many of Joe's connections in Long Beach," Pink was saying. "Only two or three. There was a pimp, Rick Gladstein, but I think he's retired. Living in Indonesia or something. And a guy named Willis, who they call Hellboy. Mean son of a bitch I heard, but he knows his business."

"What business is that?" asked Freddy.

"Drug business. He supplied all of Joe's boys for a special price. And I also heard of some robber in the area. Michael something. Did a lot of work for Joe and his boys; they called him Long Beach Mike."

Freddy nearly choked on the smoke he was inhaling. "Long Beach Mike?" he repeated. "You sure?"

"Yeah I'm sure," said Pink, but Freddy was no longer listening. This might be the lead they were looking for. Long Beach Mike had given Joe his referral, and had been instrumental in getting Freddy on the inside. He didn't know where he was now, but Holdaway sure as shit would. Freddy got up and hurried to the door, leaving a baffled Mr. Pink behind him and surprising Andrews who was waiting outside.

A/N: In the movie when Freddy tells White he's a cop, you can hear what happens to Mr. Pink in the background: he has difficulty starting a car, then there's gunfire and the cops move in and arrest him. Right after Freddy makes his big admission, you can hear Pink shouting, "Don't shoot! I've been shot, goddamn it!" at the cops. He sounds more pissed than in pain. So yes, poor Pink went to jail. I wonder if anyone recognized his "real" last name?