The evening eventually melted into night and, fortified by more than a few shots of Dark Valentine, Walker and I waited as Duffy pulled down the metal shutters and locked up the bar.
We piled into the back of Duffy’s yellow taxi and listened to Mel Torme as we checked our weapons. Walker had his usual Colt Anaconda. I had a Glock. And Duffy had an AK-47 that he’d kept as a souvenir of his military days.
“Old faithful, eh?” said Walker, as he eyed the g*n. Duffy nodded. He and Walker had served together during ”Operation Desert Wave”. And they shared some dark secrets.
“Let’s go for it,” I said. Duffy started up the cab and we drove in silence to the outskirts of The City.
The carnival was alight with neon, lanterns, multi-coloured torches. As we approached the crimson circus tent, musi
