Free One Minute to Midnight (Black Ops: Automatik) by Nico Rosso Page B

building.
    “I’ll hit the Imperial.” Ben shifted his phone from his front jeans pocket to the inside of his coat, where he’d definitely feel any notifications. Especially from Mary. “But if I wanted to take a lady out to a nice meal, maybe candles, where’s a spot for that?”
    The guard didn’t hesitate. “El Pantano. In Dansville.”
    Ben knew the Spanish translation. “The swamp?” He lowered his voice so it didn’t echo through the hall. “I already threw down with asshole truckers at a diner. What’s going to happen at the swamp?”
    An easy chuckle lifted out of the guard. “It’s not that bad. It’s good. Sit down. With candles.”
    “I got to trust you on this one, man.” Ben put out a fist, and the guard bumped it with his hard knuckles. “Ben.”
    “Oscar.”
    They exited the main building, crossed concrete patios with basic tables and benches, and approached the tall, wide gym. Plaster peeled at the corners to reveal the cinderblock structure. The roof sagged in places. A tenth of the money that had been put into the police rec league could bring the exterior of the school gym to top shape.
    The interior was just as bad. Oscar held the door open for Ben, then the two of them proceeded onto the water-stained court. Half of the folding bleachers had been pulled out. The old scoreboard still burned with a home loss.
    “Romero.” Oscar’s voice reverberated throughout the gym, all the way to the office doors on the far end. He turned to Ben. “Hopefully he’s here. Either this or the math room.”
    A tall Latino man in his forties exited the offices, a wary look on his face. He walked like an athlete across the floor, a little stiff in one knee and his lower back. But the man Oscar called Romero was still in good shape and had a full head of black hair slicked back.
    “What’s up, Oscar? Who’s this?” Romero still didn’t smile.
    “No trouble today,” Oscar replied.
    This town was used to trouble. Ben imagined that if someone was on the outside of the illegal business, they were always on edge.
    “Ben Louis.” He extended a hand, and Romero shook it.
    Oscar angled toward the door but asked Ben, “You good?”
    “All good. Thanks for your help.”
    “You got it.” Oscar gave him a small salute before exiting the gym.
    Romero’s caution remained. “What can I do for you, Mr. Louis?”
    “It’s more about what I can do for you.” Once again, Ben fell into his sales pitch. He produced a bracelet and gave it to Romero, explaining all the benefits. And how coaches and student athletes were really the ones who deserved this kind of leg up. And he kept thinking about Mary. Was she pitching the same BS as him? Or was she taking cover in an alley and picking off bad guys with only five shots in her .38?
    “And you’re not asking any compensation?” Romero put the bracelet on and stretched his back a little.
    “Not at all,” Ben reassured.
    “And we’re not required to be in any ads if we don’t want to be?” The coach walked to a worn basketball and dribbled a little as a test. His skills were sharp.
    “Only if you get in touch with us.” Ben’s phone buzzed. He had to slow himself down instead of tearing it from his coat. “I’m sorry, I’ve been waiting to hear a piece of news from back home and I have to get this.” He removed the phone and let out a long breath when he saw the message was from Mary.
    In and out of the train yard clean. Warehouses smell like CLP. We have to recon further.
    Romero dribbled and shot the ball with good form. It swished through the basket. “Good news?”
    “Yeah.” CLP was military-grade gun oil. He knew the smell and how it felt on his fingers as he cleaned his weapons. Good news, they had a location. But it didn’t make anything easier. He texted back, Received. At high school. Let’s go out tonight. Wear black.
    It’s a date . Her message blinked on, then faded out. If only it was going to be an evening out. Drinks,