Private L.A.

Chapter 80

 

 

INSIDE THE GARAGE in the City of Commerce, Cobb and the other three remaining members of No Prisoners were glued to the coverage of the shootings at Mel’s Drive-In. CNN’s Anderson Cooper had been in L.A. already to report on the Harlow case and had rushed to the scene. So had affiliates from every major news network, all of them leading with footage of June Wanta smoking, listening to their questions skeptically, cracking jokes, and consistently downplaying any idea that she was a hero.

 

“You have no idea what kinda broad I am,” she said, rasping in laughter at Anderson Cooper, who didn’t seem to know what to make of her.

 

Neither did Cobb, who felt like he wanted to pick something up and smash it. Johnson had been his best man, the one who’d been with him longest, the most loyal friend he’d ever had. It was Johnson who’d carried Cobb, seen to his medical care after the explosion that turned his face into a spider’s web.

 

“I don’t get it,” Hernandez said. “How does a chain-smoking grandma from Minnesota kill Johnson?”

 

Anderson Cooper asked virtually the same question on-screen.

 

The old lady didn’t miss a beat. “She pulls the trigger,” Mrs. Wanta said.

 

Cobb wanted to reach through the screen and throttle the bitch, who went on to reveal to Cooper that she was in Los Angeles “seeing the sights alone because my damn fool of a husband, Barney, wouldn’t get out of his—”

 

Cobb couldn’t take her anymore and muted the screen.

 

Watson was gazing at him. “We still good, Mr. Cobb?”

 

Cobb felt the others watching him, looking to him for leadership. “You think we’re jeopardized because they’ve got Johnson’s body?”

 

The other three men shrugged or nodded.

 

“Fear not, gentlemen,” Cobb said. “I believe we’re still good to go for quite a while yet. I mean, we don’t officially exist, do we? Isn’t that what they did to us? Stripped us of everything, threw us to the hyenas?”

 

“They did, Mr. Cobb,” Kelleher said, anger flaring across his face. “And thorough bastards they were about it.”

 

“So what exactly makes any of you think they can identify us, let alone locate and catch us before we’re finished here, and long gone?”

 

 

 

 

 

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