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A short silence falls, during which Turbo stares anywhere except at me. I don’t take my eyes off him. After a time, he leans forward in his chair, meaty arms dangling between his legs, the can dwarfed in his huge hand. He shakes his head slowly at Luke. “You don’t want to get mixed up in this shit, Hoppy.”

Hoppy?

For the first time since I sat down, I’m actually amused.

Turbo glances at me. “Something funny, big boy?”

“That’s your nickname?” I ask Luke, raising my eyebrows. “Hoppy? Very dangerous, kangaroos, so I’ve heard.”

“Not a fuckin’ ’roo.” Turbo looks slightly indignant. “Dickhead here is named after a Hoppy Joe. An ant,” he says, when I look uncomprehending.

“An ant.” Now I can’t hide my smirk. “Even more dangerous, then.”

“Fuck me.” Turbo looks at Luke with an expression that implies I’m of less-than-human intelligence, but for the first time, he seems to have relaxed slightly. “Where did you dig this dickhead up? AHoppy Joeis a bulldog ant,” he explains with exaggerated patience. “They sting like a bastard, and you never see them coming.”

“Oh.”

That makes more sense.

Luke throws me another can. “Just drink your beer, Big Boy,” he says, grinning.

I have an uncomfortable feeling that I’ve just been given my Australian nickname.

Either way, the exchange seems to have broken the ice, because the next time Turbo speaks, he actually looks at me as well as Luke. “I’m just saying that you’re set up well, Hop. Out of the uniform, earning good coin with that overseas private contracting shit, from what Liana tells me. And she’s set up, too, your sister. With her husband and boys in the suburbs. It’s all come out well for you kids, and you worked hard to make that happen.” His eyes turn serious. “Don’t go fucking all that up, Hoppy. This shit is some seriously bad news.”

“Too late for that.” Luke’s tone is light, but there’s no missing the hard look in his eyes when he fixes them on Turbo. “We’re going to find Abby with or without you. I’m not asking you to rat on your brothers, Turbo. I just need to know if it’s the Banderos who took her.”

Turbo blows the ash off the end of his joint. “The club isn’t what it was back in the day, Hoppy.” He fingers his beard. “There was a big bust on the east coast last year. Over a million kilos of cocaine. It blew our major rivals to pieces, put most of them away for a very long time. It also left an opening in the market.”

“And the Banderos walked right into it,” Luke finishes for him, nodding. “So you’re in bed with the Colombians now?”

“Not exactly.” Turbo looks uncomfortable. “They got burned in that raid too, so they’re a lot more careful now. There’s a middleman who serves as our contact for the product. An independent operator, you might say. Uses the triads to run the Colombian powder out of Thailand.”

“Thailand?” I speak before I remember Luke’s warning.

Turbo gives me a sharp look.

Oh well. Too late now.

“I thought the Russians ran Thailand,” I say.

In fact, given that two major bratvapakhansfrom Bangkoksit on the Mercura board, I fuckingknowthe Russians run Thailand.

“Yeah, well, that’s above my paygrade.” Turbo gives me a wary look. “I just know that’s where our contacts operate from. Problem is, lately they’ve been asking for some favors in return for product that not everyone is happy about.”

Favors like kidnapping Abby?

I glance at Luke, who gives a subtle shake of his head.

Fucking hurry up, then, and ask what we need to know.I don’t want to sit here drinking beer all night, discussing nicknames.

“Are you still in?” Luke asks Turbo quietly.

Huh?

I look between them, confused as to what Luke is asking.

For a minute I think he won’t answer. Then the big man sits back with a resigned expression and swallows the remainder of his can. “No,” he says shortly. “I’m out. Handed in my colors a few months ago.”