THE INFORMANT.

CHAPTER 12: THE INFORMANT.

Gomez walked into a restaurant in Chinatown, alone, while his men waited outside. He was in a turf he had little leverage in.

Standing at the entrance, he scanned and assessed the room. It was filled with Asians. They threw stares of disgust at him, but he ignored them.

Adjusting his suit, he walked straight to the bar, and sat on a stool. A male bartender stood behind the counter.

"What can I get you?" the bartender asked.

"Tequila," Gomez said simply.

"Coming right up," the bartender nodded, as he went ahead to serve Gomez the drink.

Gomez received it, and chugged it down with one gulp, gently placing the cup on the counter. And took a deep breath.

'Where could he be? I've looked round this bar and there is no sign of him,' Gomez reasoned within himself.

"Am looking for someone, the informant. Do you know where I can find him? Gomez asked the bartender.

"I don't have any idea," he replied sluggishly.

"You sure don't know where he is?" Gomez persisted.
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