She was small-boned, with large black eyes and shiny black hair. She looked to be about thirty or sixteen and was delicate in the way Asian women often are. She also looked so cute I wanted to put her in my coat pocket.

“You are Noah Milano, yes? You know how to find people?” she inquired.

“I get lucky sometimes,” I said. She seemed unsure what to think about my words.

“Sorry, but you are kidding, no?” she asked. “It is hard for me to read anglo features, you understand?”

“Sure, we all look alike to you as well, right?” She got the joke this time. She smiled. It was a great smile. Forget tucking her into my pocket. I was going to marry her.

“Please, sit down,” I said.

She did. She was wearing black pants and a black coat, which she brushed back as she sat down. “Thank you,” she said. I’d never seen anyone so polite and fragile.

“Would you like something to drink? Coffee, soda, water?”

“Water would be fine.”

“What’s your name?” I asked her.

“Oh, of course. Sorry, how rude of me. I am Tran, Mai Ling,” she told me.

I told her it was a nice name and she thanked me, while I fixed her a glass of water from the boiler in the corner of my office. I had it on trial for a month. After that I’d get a deal with their competition. LA can be an expensive place for a freelancer like me. I took a Pepsi from the fridge next to it. All the comforts of home. “So you need me to find someone?” I asked her.

She sipped the glass of water. “Yes. I would like you to find my father.”

“Uh-huh. How long has he been missing?”

“About thirty years.”

“Wait a minute… And you are… how old exactly?”

“Thirty years.”

I nodded. I guess you didn’t have to be Colombo to figure this one out. “Let me guess. Your father was an American soldier in the Vietnam war?”

Now it was her time to nod. “Yes, he probably does not know I even exist. He was a badly hurt G.I., separated from his platoon. My mother took care of his wounds until the rest of his squad found him. He was a handsome man, and very kind. He was also very lonely and afraid. He sought… comfort in my mother’s arms. He did not know he had conceived me then…”

“So he left your mother without ever knowing he left the beginning of a new life along with her.”

“That is correct.”

“How long were they together?”

“It took the squad a week to find him. My mother tells me it was the best week of her life. She says she has never loved anyone as much as she did my father. It hurt her very much when he had to leave her.”

“That sounds very romantic. But why is she so sure the G.I. is your father?”

She gave me a hurt look. “Because she did not have any relations with any other men that year of course! My mother was not a whore.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to offend you or your mother.”

“That is okay. I did not really think you did.”

I felt I had to make up for that. “Your English is very good, you know.”

She blushed and directed her eyes to the ground. “Thank you,” she said. “I study English at the University in my home country.”

“So you come all the way to America to find your father?”

“Yes. It was a very hard trip.”

“I’m sure it was. But why? Why are you looking for him after all this time?”

“I have met a very wonderful man. I wish to bear his child, but I want that child to know his grandfather. Do you understand that?” She seemed a little ashamed of her own words, like she’d just said something silly.

“I understand,” I assured her, although I wasn’t totally sure I did. Sounded like a hell of a lot of trouble to go through just to find your sperm donor. Then I thought about my own asshole father. “But are you sure you’re going to like the man you want me to find?”

“If he is only half as kind as my mother has described him to be I will like him very much.”

“Why look for him here, in L.A.?”

“He told my mother stories about this place, how he loved Hollywood Boulevard and the Santa Monica pier. How he missed it...”

If you were in the jungle of Vietnam, bullets and napalm everywhere you’d probably miss Bumfuck, Kansas like crazy.

“You got anything I can work with? A picture or something? His name?”

“I have this,” she said and reached in her coat pocket. It came out holding a small, shiny object. She put it down on the table. A dog tag. Block, Nathaniel J. it read.

***

I’d done it again. I’d taken another case without asking any money for it. I’d agreed with Mai Ling she’d pay me only if I managed to track down her father. My dad would send Kane or one of his other hitmen after me if he found out about all the pro bono jobs I take. He’d probably feel I was giving the Milano family a bad name. Come to think of it, he already did so. I just couldn’t take her money though, not with all the expenses she’d already made coming all the way over here from Vietnam. I’d arranged for her to sleep over at my best friend Minnie’s place, so she could cut down on accommodation expenses. As always Minnie was delighted to get the chance to help out someone in trouble. She’s like that.

I wasn’t sure how to track down a Vietnam veteran, so I decided to do the most obvious thing and called the Army. After having been put on hold for what seemed to be longer than the Civil War I was told the Army did not release any information about its employees to the public.

I decided to go for an other approach and posted messages on every Vietnam Vet website and newsgroup I could find. It was a long shot, but I figured somewhere, someone might recognize the guy’s name and where to find him.

I phoned every Vietnam war related institution I could think of.

And finally, I hit paydirt. His name was Alexander Durden and he’d served with Block for two tours. He’d come upon my message on one of the message boards I’d posted on.

I met him in Echo Park. He was sitting down on a bench, drinking a cup of coffee which he poured from a thermo. He lifted it to me in greeting.

We shook hands. I sat down and accepted the cup of coffee he offered me.

“You know,” he said, “this is my favorite place in L.A. I know some people love the Strip, Mann’s or downtown... Me, I like the quiet here. I like sitting here, watching kids play, old people feeding the birds... Convince myself humanity is more than just a race of warmonging idiots.” He gave me a long stare. “War can really change your perspective, kid.”

“I imagine it would, Mr. Durden.”

“But shit, you didn’t come here to hear me whine. You’re here about Nat Block.”

“Yes, I am.”

“I don’t know where he’s hanging out these days, but I know the guy you’re looking for. I served with Nat in Da Nang. We kept in touch a bit the first couple of years after the war but I haven’t seen him in quite awhile.”

“When’s the last time you saw him?”

“I spotted him two years ago at a hotdog stand and we had a beer afterwards at an Irish pub. Nat just loved his Guinness.”

“Can’t blame him. I got a fondness for it myself.”

“Never had the stomach for the stuff. Tastes like molasses to me. But Nat could be very proud of his Irish heritage. Went around quoting Irish poets all the time.”

“What was the name of the bar you guys went to?”

He frowned. “I think it was Paddy’s over on Sepulveda.”

“Thanks, I appreciate the time you put into this.”

“No biggie. I know for sure that I’d like to see my little girl if I had one. Would be nice to see something good had come out of that war.”

**

It was a place to start. I contacted my buddy and occasional partner Tony Hawaii. He agreed to ask around in the local Irish pubs as well, provided the beers got paid for by me. That’s Tony all right, anything for a free drink.

**

I came home late. The door wasn’t locked. I unholstered my Glock and slowly inched the door open. There were still enough people gunning for me from my days working for my dad to be paranoid. I peered inside. No lights. No one in sight. I was paranoid? Better paranoid than dead, I decided and chambered a round.

I darted inside, hit the light with my left hand and with my right I aimed the Glock at every corner of my apartment. My apartment is a small number in West Hollywood and my frontdoor leads immediately into my living room. On the cheap couch in it was a long haired man, dressed in a black duster. He toasted at me with a bottle of Jack Daniels. “Cheers, kid.”

I put away the gun. “Kane, what the hell are you doing here?”

“I’m here to warn you. Heard you and Tony are asking around about a guy named Nathaniel Block.”

“What if I am?”

“You might not want to find him,” Kane said.

“Are you threatening me?”

“Don’t be silly, kid. You know what I sound like when I’m threatening someone.” He was right. In fact he taught me what to sound like when I had to threaten people. Not only that, he taught me what to do when threats didn’t help. As my dad’s favorite bodyguard and hitman he’d been as much as a father to me as Robert Milano, L.A.’s main mobster had been.

“Cut the cryptic shit, Kane! What are you talking about?”

He got up and set down the bottle of Jack on the table. “Drink this, crawl into bed and forget all about Nathaniel Block. That’s all I have to say.” He walked to the door. I blocked him. He made me move away from him just with his stare. He still had that effect on me. In fact, he had that effect on everyone.

Just before he closed the door he turned around and said, “Get a better lock. There are dangerous people out there.”

He left me dazed, confused and hankering for a drink. I guess he did a good thing by leaving the bottle.

When Kane’s involved it can’t be any good. And just for a moment there, sitting on my couch, sipping the bottle of whiskey, listening to the new Queens of the Stone Age record, I toyed with the idea of ditching the case. But then, in my alcohol fogged mind I saw the sweet, innocent face of a young woman eagerly, longingly looking for her own flesh and blood. There was never any doubt really. There was no way in hell I was just going to back off like that.

The phone’s irritating jingle made my head hurt. I should’ve gone easier on the Jack. It was Tony. He had good news for me. He’d found a woman who knew Block. She tended bar at The Clover.

She was easy to find, because she was the only woman in the joint. She had a full head of fiery red hair, an even fuller body and a bartender’s smile.

I ordered a Guinness. I was happy to see the redhead made a little a clover in the foam just like there was supposed to be. My mother’s Irish blood ran the thickest when I was in a bar.

“You talked to a friend of mine yesterday. His name’s Tony.” I said.

“The guy with the nose and the loud shirt? About Nat?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. He told me you might know where I could find him.”

“He told me there could be some money in it for me.”

“Isn’t my undying gratitude enough?” She gave me a cold stare. If I believed that, I might as well have believed in leprechauns.

I shoved a twenty across the bar which she scooped up like it was a handful of Doritos and safeguarded it behind her shirt. There was enough room there to hide a small country’s national debt.

“Block came here every now and then. Then some night he got himself a bit drunk, and me a bit wet.” Charming little lady. “I got my sister to fill in for me and we left for his apartment and a roll in the sack. Strange thing is, when we were done and the booze had left his blood he seemed to get a bit paranoid. Told me never to come to his place again, never tell anyone where he lived. I figured that was okay, he wasn’t too much of a hotshot in the sack anyways. Didn’t see him after that either.”

“When was that?”

“Couple of weeks ago.”

“Do you still remember where he lived?”

“He didn’t exactly fuck my brains out, honey. Of course I do. But he told me not to tell anyone, remember?”

I tested her loyalty with a fifty. She failed. Pro-bono jobs are okay, but they cost a fortune.

**

It was a crummy apartment building in Hollywood. The landlord had apparently tried to make up for the lack of maintenance by putting an ice machine in the hall.

I could hear country music on the other side of what was supposed to be Block’s door. I knocked.

“Go away, I ain’t buying nothing!”

“I’m not here to sell anything. Just let me talk to you for a second.”

“I told you to fuck off.” Friendly guy. The ideal dad.

“Please, sir. It’s about your daughter.”

The door swung open. He was more than six feet tall and all hardened muscle in an army green tanktop, faded jeans and army boots. His eyes were ice cold, blue steel.

“My name is Noah Milano. I was hired to look for-,” The mention of my name seemed to freeze him.

“God dammit, you’re Robert’s kid. He finally decided to fuck me over, didn’t he?” Lightning fast he produced a Beretta from the small of his back.

I kicked him in the stomach, as hard as I could. He fell back inside the room and I pulled the door shut. The Glock was already in my hand as I took cover behind the ice machine. The door opened again and six rapidly fired shots banged into the ice machine.

“You don’t understand,” I yelled. “I didn’t come here because of my dad. I just wanted to help a sweet young woman that – “ The sound of my voice was drowned out by six new shots. There was no other option left than to defend myself.

I jumped from behind the ice machine, pulling the trigger like a madman. Some bullets chipped off pieces from the open door, some went into the wall but at least three went right into Block.

It was only when I was sitting against the ice machine, drenched in sweat that I realized what a crazy stunt I’d just pulled, blazing away like that. I might’ve hit someone other than Block. And that wasn’t the only thing I had to worry about. What was I going to tell poor Mai Ling?

**

I learned I’d just shot one of the busiest hitmen in L.A. The detective who took my story almost congratulated me for taking the guy down. Usually they kick the shit out of me in the interrogation room because of my dad. It was a novelty I could get used to.

The cops called me a taxi but were not friendly enough to give me a ride back to the hotel so I could pick up my car. When I got out of the cab and walked over to my Mazda I could see there was someone sitting in the passenger seat. I went for my gun and remembered it was still with the LAPD, something they needed to round out the case. As I got a closer look I could see it wasn’t necessary anyway. The person sitting in my car was Kane.

I got in beside him.

“You could just call, you know,” I said.

“You wouldn’t answer it if you knew it was me,” he said.

“You’re right about that. You fucking knew, didn’t you?”

“That Block was a hitman. Of course. I told you to leave him alone.”

“Professional courtesy?”

“Shut it, kid. You know why. I don’t want to see you hurt. You’re a pain in the ass but your dad would kill me if I’d let anything happen to you.”

“Right. Knew that was the reason. Now get the hell out of my car. There’s a young woman waiting over at Minnie’s place who’s about to get her heart broken.”

“I left you another bottle of Jack in the backseat. Thought you were gonna need it.”

He glided out of the passenger seat and disappeared into the streets. I took the bottle and stared at it. For a few seconds that seemed to be hours it looked attractive. Then I tossed it back on the seat. I’d made a promise, years ago when I quit working for my dad I was never ever going to take the easy way out. I wasn’t going to start now.

I’m coming, Mai Ling. I hope you’re not going to end up hating me.

The End