The Big Enchilada

called Adrian Sweet.
    “This is Hunter. You remember our deal?”
    “Yes?” He sounded hopeful.
    “You’re off the hook—for good. The club is shut down and the guy blackmailing you is dead.”
    “Do you mean that?”
    “I do. You owe me six grand.”
    “It’ll be a pleasure to pay it. When do you want it?”
    “Right now. Bring it to the airport in two hours.”
    “The airport?”
    “Yeah, I’m going to Mexico. I was going to go with a friend, but she can’t make it. So I’m going with somebody else. I owe it to both of them.” I told him where to meet me and hung up.
    I called up Clarissa Acker and told her to get to the airport. That was that.
    I picked up the suitcase and started out. I looked back at the room. Yeah, it would play. It would play just fine.
    I noticed several of the snakes had found their way out of the broken cage and were headed toward the open back door. Black mambas loose in Beverly Hills. That should liven things up a bit. I thought about calling somebody to let them know.
    I grinned.
    Fuck it. I had a plane to catch.