HE PULLED IN. Seemed relieved to see his car still in one piece.
"What's on?"
I handed him his keys. "There's gonna be an explosion tonight. Somewhere on Wards Island. Off the approach road to Kirby. The cops'll find bodies inside. They won't make a connect. You know McGowan and Morales?"
"The Runaway Squad? Sure."
"You call them. You got a tip, right? The connect is to a man named Train. He's running the baby-breeding operation." I gave him the address.
"They'll need more than that for a search warrant."
"Save the bullshit for your column, pal. Let them get a warrant the way they always do. You know that Anonymous Informant? The one they use on every search warrant since the Supreme Court told them they needed one? Time for another guest appearance. Tell them to run it through Wolfe at City-Wide. She'll know what to do. Besides, the joint'll be full of victims, not perps."
"Right on, man. When do I know?"
"You got nothing else to do tonight, right? Maybe you're working on that movie script you're always bullshitting about writing someday. So you're monitoring the police band- I know you got a scanner. You get a call a few minutes after they get theirs."
"I'm off."
"Hold up. There's one more thing. A little girl inside the joint. Her name's Elvira. Or Juice- I don't know which name she'll use. Don't let SSC put her in a shelter or a foster home- she'll run. She knows how to do it. She needs a psychiatric hospital. And she's pregnant."
"Okay. Anything else I should know about her?"
"Yeah. She knows my name."
"Crazy people say all kinds of things. 'Specially on the psycho ward."
"Your car sucks," I told the West Indian, not saying the rest- that his word was good.
We shook hands.