The air felt like a warm blanket. Everything about LA reminded him of a nap. A glowing haze that tricked you into believing afternoons lasted forever. The evening always came though. And that's when you would feel more awake. Since landing he hadn't thought about Toronto once.

"My man. Good to see you," said Chuck T.

Chuck banged a real big set. A lot of guys who were bigger then football players. And a lot of guys who knew how to use guns. They were all already wearing vests. Chuck had said, "you never know when shit could pop off."

The last time he visited Chuck T they had gone out for dinner and to the clubs. This time they had takeout secretly brought back to their homebase.

There was a guy who was presenting the plan. Chuck called him Doc. He was tall and skinny, wore glasses. He never named the mark by name. But everybody knew who it was. A lot of the info Doc shared aligned with what he had learned independently from his Toronto sources. That was a sign that Doc wasn't full of shit. And the further details he knew, good chance that was true.

They wouldn't make any moves until 48 hours had passed. The enemy's camp would somehow know that he had flown into LA. It would be too dangerous. They'd be ready. They needed to stay put and keep the ear on the streets. See what happens in the next two days without they themselves taking any action.

Only after that would they decide what to do next.