The interior of the diner was dim and smelled like grease, smoke and too many humans packed into a small space. A couple Hell’s Angels eyed me as I made my way across the floor, and I hoped my boots and leather jacket wouldn’t offend them enough to pick a fight. I wasn’t here to toss bikers through windows, amusing as that sounded. I needed to find that contact.

A dark figure in a corner booth caught my eye, and a thin hand twitched in a beckoning motion. Easing around a waitress, I walked over and slid into the seat across from him, trying not to curl a lip. The human was pale and unnaturally thin, with sallow cheeks and lank, greasy hair hanging to his shoulders. The huge sunken eyes, glazed over and unfocused, told me everything I needed to know.

“Griffin said you’d be able to hook me up.” The human’s voice was a raspy whisper, greedy and hopeful. He feverishly scratched at his arm, like he had spiders crawling on it. “Fifty bucks to tell you what I know, that was the deal.” He scratched his other arm, leaving thin red welts down his skin. “You got the cash?”

“If the information is good,” I replied, thinking I was going to kill Griffin when I got back. How in the hell was this a “reliable contact”? “Let’s hear what you know, and I’ll decide if it’s valid.”

“No way, man.” The human shook his head, making his hair whip back and forth. “That wasn’t the deal. Cash first, then info. Take it or leave it.”

“Fine.” I stood, dusting off my hands. “I don’t need info this badly. Enjoy your nothing. I’m gone.”

“Wait!” The human half rose from his seat, flinging out a hand. I paused, glancing back with cool disinterest. “All right, all right,” he hissed. “I’ll tell you what I know. But I’m not crazy, okay? I know what I saw.” He squirmed, casting wary looks around the diner as if someone was listening to us. No one was; the whispered rambles of a junkie in a dark corner didn’t merit a second glance here. I sat down, waiting silently, while he assured himself no one was lurking in the shadows in the next booth. Finally he hunched forward across the table, his eyes even wilder than before.

“My buddies and I, we have this squat several miles past the Strip, right? One of those big, half-finished hotels that was abandoned when the recession hit. It’s been empty for years, and we don’t bother no one, okay?” He sounded defensive, as if he thought I would care what he and his friends did on other people’s property. I didn’t say anything, and he dropped his head, his voice becoming a harsh whisper.