"I got rights," said Crime Fighter Jack Pendick, for perhaps the fortieth time since he had been taken into police custody.
"Indeed you do, Mr. Pendick," said Detective Harvey Baker. "You have rights up the wazoo. And I'm sure you're going to exercise every single one. But first you're going to go with these officers, who are going to take you to a nice room where you can lie down and see if you can get your blood alcohol content down below that 300 percent mark, OK?"
"Do I get my gun back?" asked Pendick.
"Of course you do!" said Baker. "Just as soon as we run a couple of tests and a giant, talking marsh-mallow is elected president."
"OK," said Pendick, satisfied. "Because I got rights."
As Pendick was being led away, Baker called the radio room, for the third time, to find out if officers Ramirez and Kramitz had reported back. They had not. This bothered Baker. He thought about sending another cruiser out to check on them. But then he decided — he wasn't sure why — that he'd take a ride out to the Herk house himself.
As soon as she was sure that the bad man was gone, Nina came out of her bedroom. She had peeked out before, when she had heard shouting; mat was when she saw the bad man at the end of the hall, by the foyer. He was wearing some kind of stocking on his head, covering his face, flattening his features, so that he looked like a snake. He was holding a gun and shouting at somebody. He did not see her. She quietly closed and locked her door. After that she heard screaming and a gunshot, and she had been very scared. She wanted to call the police, but there was no telephone in her room. So she just waited, sitting on her bed, pressing her face into her hands, until the door slammed and she no longer heard the bad man talking. When she came out, she ran down the hall, toward the sound of Mrs. Anna's crying. Hounding the partition to the living room, she stopped and put her hand over her mouth. Mrs. Anna was lying on her back with her hands under her. Her blouse was undone and her bra was pushed up; her eyes were wild like a crazy woman's. Next to her was the lady policeman who had been there the other night; she was struggling with something behind her back. Next to her was Miss Jenny's young friend Matt, whose nose was bleeding, and who was also struggling with something behind his back. By the entertainment unit, which Nina dusted once a week, the big policeman from the other night was yanking at something and cursing. On the other side of the entertainment unit, Mr. Herk was doing the same thing.
Nina ran to Anna. "Mrs. Anna!" she said, pulling down Anna's bra.
"Nina, they took Jenny," said Anna. "They took her."
"Nina," said Monica, turning sideways and holding out her bound hands. "Untie me. Desatame."
Nina picked at the knots on Monica's wrists and had them loose in a few seconds. Nina then untied Anna, while Monica untied Matt.
"I need a car," said Monica.
"My dad's car is outside," said Matt, digging in his pocket and pulling out the keys. "It's the Kia."
"Thanks," said Monica, grabbing the keys.
"What're you doin', Monica?" asked Walter, from the entertainment unit.
"I'm going after the creep before he gets too far," said Monica.
"How do you know where he's going?" asked Walter.
"He said he had a plane to catch," said Monica. "I think he's going to MIA."
"Get me loose from this first," said Walter, yanking his cuffed arm.
"Walter," said Monica, "I don't have the handcuff keys, and I don't have time to take those shelves apart. Get yourself loose and call the station and tell them to get somebody out to the airport."
"You can't leave me stuck here!" said Walter. "How'm I gonna…»
"Walter," said Monica, heading for the door, "I gotta go now."
"SHIT," said Walter, yanking violently on the entertainment unit, sending the photo of Jenny and Anna clattering to the floor. "SHIT!"
Anna caught Monica in the foyer. "I'm going with you," she said.
"You stay here," said Monica, opening the door.
Anna grabbed Monica's arm with both hands, gripping it hard. "That's my daughter," she said, "and I am going with you."
Monica could see that if she wanted to leave this woman behind, she'd have to fight her.
"OK," she said, opening the door.
"I'm going, too," said Matt, entering the foyer.
Monica looked back at him.
"It's my dad's car," he pointed out.
"Jesus," said Monica, heading out the door, with Anna and Matt behind her.
On the patio, Roger the dog pawed at the sliding-glass door and barked a couple of times. Sometimes when he did this, people came and let him in and gave him food. But this time, nobody was coming. Roger could hear noises in there. He pawed at the door a couple more times. Nothing. Roger sighed and went back over to resume growling at the Enemy Toad.
Eliot, after yelling at the police car that had missed him, only because he had jumped, by maybe three-eighths of an inch, stood on the sidewalk for a few seconds, bending over, hands on knees, trying to calm down. He was definitely going to file a complaint with the police department. This maniac comes out of the driveway backward, for God's sake! Knocking down the gate!
Eliot took a couple of deep breaths, collecting himself, then stepped over the smashed gate and started walking quickly up the driveway. He had almost reached the front door when it burst open and he was almost knocked over by a lady police officer, whom he recognized, after a second, as the one he'd met here the other night. She looked very agitated. She grabbed Eliot by the front of his T-shirt.
"Which way did they go?" she said.
"The police?" said Eliot. "Those idiots damn near…»
"Those aren't police," said Monica. "Those are robbers."
"What?" said Eliot. Then he saw Anna, looking even more agitated than Monica, and Matt, who had blood on his face and shirt.
"Matt!" he said. "Are you OK?"
"They got Jenny!" said Matt. "We gotta go after her!"
"They got Jenny?" said Eliot. "What are they…»
"WHICH WAY DID THEY GO?" shouted Monica, shaking Eliot's T-shirt.
"That way," said Eliot, "straight down Garbanzo. We can follow them in my…»
Monica, Matt, and Anna were already running for the Kia. Eliot caught up just in time to jump into the backseat with Anna. He was closing the door when somebody pulled it back open. It was Nina.
"Nina!" said Anna. "You shouldn't…»
"You have to stay here," said Monica, starting the car. "ЎQuedate!"
"No," said Nina, cramming in next to Eliot and slamming the door. She wasn't staying in this crazy house, especially not with Mr. Herk.
"Jesus," said Monica, mostly to herself, as she swung the Kia out of the driveway.
"Now what?" Snake asked Jenny. The police cruiser was headed north on Le Jeune Road.
"Just keep straight," said Jenny, her voice dull.
"Good girlie," said Snake. He stroked the back of her neck. She tried to pull away. He jerked her back close against him. His stink was strong in the closed car.
In the front seat, Eddie was gripping the wheel the way a drowning man grips a life preserver. His driving was erratic, but this was not unusual in Miami, a place where most motorists obeyed the traffic laws and customs of their individual countries of origin. Plus, Eddie was driving a police car, so even if he ran a red light — which he had already done, twice — nobody honked.
"Snake," he said, "there's gonna be a lotta people at the airport, and cops."
"So?" said Snake. He was not afraid of cops. He left cops handcuffed to entertainment units.
"So," said Eddie, trying to keep his voice calm, "we're inna cop car here, and case you forgot, we ain't no fuckin' cops. I'm thinkin', let's just pull over somewhere, leave the car, leave the girl, leave the guy in the trunk, take the money, and get the fuck outta here."
Snake sighed. "That's a loser talkin', Eddie," he said. "Don't you see what we done? We beat the bar assholes, we beat the cops, we beat the drug kingpin. We're winnin', Eddie. And we're gonna keep win-nin'." Snake could not believe he had wasted so much of his life hassling people for change. For fucking dimes. He was never going back to that. He was moving ahead, to the bright future that beckoned through the windshield, beyond the tightly clenched hands of his soon-to-be-ex-henchman.
Walter was so frustrated, he was about to tear his arm out of its socket. His partner was in a car chase. Involving armed robbers. This was something Walter had dreamed about ever since he'd gotten into police work, and he was handcuffed to an entertainment unit. With his own handcuffs!
Using the results of hundreds of grunting, sweating hours in the weight room, Walter gave a mighty yank on the entertainment unit, causing it to topple forward hard, its weight dragging both Walter and Arthur to their knees. The massive unit crashed to the floor, the glass shelves smashing and the stereo components bouncing across the room. But the frame remained intact; the thick steel tubes were welded solidly together.
"What the fuck did you do that for?" shouted Arthur.
"I'm trying to break this thing," said Walter.
"Don't you wanna get outta here? Don't you wanna go help your family?"
Arthur said nothing. The truthful answer was no.
"Shit," said Walter, yanking at his handcuff again. To Arthur, he said, "We need a telephone."
"They ripped them all out of this part of the house," said Arthur.
"You got a phone in the bedroom?" asked Walter. "Down the hall?"
"Yeah," said Arthur, "but how're we gonna…»
"Help me get this thing up," said Walter, struggling to lift the frame.
"We can't move this thing that far," said Arthur.
"We're gonna try," said Walter.
"You can't make me," said Arthur.
Walter shoved the frame hard sideways; it hit Arthur in the shoulder.
"OW!" said Arthur.
"You help me move this thing," said Walter, "or I'll shove you into that wall and crush you like a bug."
With great effort, most of it provided by Walter, they got the entertainment unit upright and began dragging and pushing it toward the hall, where Walter discovered that it was too tall for the hallway ceiling.
"SHIT!" he said. "We hafta get outside."
"What?" said Arthur.
"We hafta get outside, yell for the neighbors," said Walter.
"Outside?" said Arthur. "Attached to this thing? Are you outta your fucking mind?"
But Walter wasn't listening. He looked toward the foyer; there was no way the entertainment unit would go through the front door. So how had they gotten it into the house in the first place? He looked toward the family room, and saw the answer.
"This way," he said, giving the entertainment unit a mighty and purposeful yank.
"You see anything?" asked Leonard. He and Henry were in the dense vegetation that started at the edge of the Herk patio.
"No," said Henry. "But I'm hearing plenty."
"Yeah," said Leonard. "Sounds like they're breakin' furniture in there. Either that, or rap music."
"Whatever it is," said Henry, "I'm about ready to… Hey, look at that."
"Jesus," said Leonard, as the grunting, struggling figure of Walter Kramitz came into view, dragging the entertainment unit. "Is that a cop?"
"Miami PD," said Henry. "Big boy. What the hell is he doing?"
"Looks like he's attached to some kind of… I'll be goddamn," said Leonard, as Arthur came into view.
"There's our boy," said Henry. "Leads an interestin' life, don't he?"
They watched as the large, red-faced police officer dragged the even-larger entertainment unit, trailed by the reluctant Arthur Herk, relentlessly toward the very same sliding-glass door that Henry had shot a hole through just the other night. Somebody had put a piece of duct tape over the hole.
When they got to within a few feet of the door, Henry said, "I made a decision."
"Which is?" asked Leonard.
"Which is, I'm gonna take our boy out."
"Now?" asked Leonard. "While he's attached to a cop?"
"Yup," said Henry. "The cop can't do anything to us, cuffed to that thing. And I wanna get this job over with and get outta here. The longer we stay down here, the weirder it gets."
"You got that right," said Leonard. "This is Weirdsville Fuckin' USA, this town."
"So we're gonna do this," said Henry, raising his rifle, "and then we're bookin' to the airport."
"Amen," said Leonard, flailing futilely at a mosquito. "Airport sounds real good to me."
Roger the dog was not sure what to do. On the one hand, he had the Enemy Toad to growl at. But he also had people coming toward him from inside the house, and they might have food. Plus, the other people, the ones he'd greeted earlier at the far end of the yard, had come closer. Roger recalled, somewhere in his primitive brain circuitry, that these people had tasted pretty good. Maybe he should check them out again! But what about the toad? What about the people in the house? So many decisions!
Walter tried to slide the patio door open; it was locked, with the kind of lock that requires a key to open.
"Where's the key?" he asked Arthur.
"I dunno," said Arthur. He was very unhappy. His wrist was bleeding, from where the handcuff chafed.
"OK, then," said Walter, shoving the entertainment unit so it was parallel to the patio door. "On three, we're gonna smash this through the door."
"Like fuck we are," said Arthur.
Walter braced himself. "One," he said.
"What're they doing?" asked Leonard.
"They're making an excellent target," said Henry, sighting through the rifle scope.
"Two," said Walter.
"This is glass, you moron!" said Arthur. "You're gonna get us killed!"
"Three," said Walter, and with all his considerable strength he toppled the entertainment unit forward. At exactly that moment, two things happened. One was that Henry squeezed the trigger. The other was that Roger, having decided that he had just enough time in his busy schedule to check in with his new friends, ran headfirst into Henry's groin. The result was that the bullet, instead of passing through Arthur's skull, passed just over it. It could be argued that this was actually unfortunate for Arthur, in light of what happened next, which was that Arthur, dragged by the heavy steel shelf through the shattering window, was hurled forward headfirst to the patio, where he landed, dazed, facedown in Roger's dish, with his lips and nose pressed firmly against the Enemy Toad.
The toad, which was not about to share Roger's food, immediately emptied the glands behind its eyes, emitting two substantial, milky, highly hallucinogenic squirts of bufotenine directly into Arthur's face. Arthur moaned and yanked his head out of the dish. The toad went back to eating.
Henry and Leonard were heading for the wall, not running, but walking briskly in the dark.
"You get him?" asked Leonard.
"I think so," said Henry. "The dog ran into me, but I definitely saw our boy go down."
"Cop went down, too," said Leonard.
"Yeah," said Henry. "I think he ducked when he heard the shot."
"You got any idea why a cop would be helpin' our boy carry a big-ass shelf around the house?" asked Leonard.
"No," said Henry.
"Weirdsville Fuckin' USA," said Leonard.
"What kinda street name is Garbanzo?" asked Greer. He was reading the map; Seitz was driving. "Listen to these other streets they got here. Loquat. Kumquat. You believe that? Kumquat. Turn left here. You think they got our suitcase?"
"Sure sounds like it," said Seitz. "I mean, we been wrong before on this, but I tend to believe old Ivan was telling the truth."
"Me, too," said Greer. "He definitely did not wanna get his other shoe ventilated. That's it there, 238 Garbanzo, on the… What happened to the gate?"
"Somebody left in a hurry," said Seitz.
"Goin' where, I wonder," said Greer.
"Let's hope somebody inside can help us with that," said Seitz.
Walter was crouched in a pile of shattered glass, struggling to right the entertainment unit. He was getting no help from Arthur, who was still prone on the other side, moaning and rubbing his burning face with his free hand.
"Come ON," Walter said, shaking the shelving. "Get UP."
"My face!" moaned Arthur. "It got my face!"
"Well, whatever it is," said Walter, "we can get you some help if we get this thing…»
"GET AWAY!" Arthur screamed. "OHMIGOD GET AWAY FROM ME!"
Arthur was screaming at Roger, who was a few feet in front of him, enthusiastically snorking up a few pieces of kibble that had flown out of his dish when Arthur's face landed in it. Hearing the screams, Roger glanced up for a moment and wagged his tail to let Arthur know that he would be over to say hi just as soon as he had completed the important work at hand.
"For chrissakes," said Walter. "It's a dog. It's your dog."
Arthur turned to Walter, his face contorted by terror. "Can't you SEE?" he said. "You can't SEE her?"
"See what?" asked Walter. "What're you talking about?"
"HER!" said Arthur. "It's HER!!"
"Who?" asked Walter.
"THAT WOMAN!" said Arthur, pointing at the happily wagging Roger. "The one with the guy, you know… Bob Dole! His wife!"
Walter looked at Arthur, then at Roger, then back at Arthur. He said, "You think that's Elizabeth Dole?"
"YES!" said Arthur. "IT'S HER!" He was looking right at her, and she was definitely Elizabeth Dole, a woman he had always found vaguely scary, right in front of him, on his patio. But at the same time she was not Elizabeth Dole. She had Elizabeth Dole's face and highly disciplined hair, but her eyes were glowing red malevolent orbs, and she had huge, sharp teeth. Also she was eating kibble. Arthur knew — he knew — that she was a demon form of Elizabeth Dole, and she was here to take his soul.
"GO AWAY!" Arthur screamed at the demon Elizabeth Dole. She stared back at him, her eyes glowing, her demon tail wagging. She opened her fanged mouth and spoke to him, spoke his name in a terrible voice.
"Herk!" said Elizabeth Dole. "Herk! Herk!"
"NO!" said Arthur, jerking violently on his handcuffed arm, trying to crawl backward. "NO!"
"STOP IT!" said Walter. "That's a DOG, goddammit!" But he got no response from Arthur, who was staring at Roger, whimpering. He had also started foaming from the mouth. Walter, realizing that he was not going to get any help, grabbed the entertainment unit and started to lift it, and with it Arthur at the other end. Grunting, he raised it a foot, only to drop it again when he heard the voice behind him.
"You OK there, officer?"
Walter twisted around and saw two men, one tall and one short, both wearing suits, standing in the gaping hole that had been the sliding door.
"Who're you?" he asked.
The tall one flipped open a badge wallet.
"FBI," he said. "My name is Agent Pat Greer. This is Alan Seitz."
"Thank God," said Walter. "Listen, I need you to…»
"We're looking for an Arthur Herk," said Greer.
"That's him over there," said Walter, pointing toward Arthur. "But listen, I need you to…»
"Not now," said Greer.
"But my partner is…»
"I said not now," said Greer.
Walter almost lost it at that point, but he decided that, what with him being handcuffed, and this being an FBI agent, he'd shut up for the moment.
Greer moved over to Arthur, who was still staring at Roger, who, having snorked up the last subatomic particles of kibble, was reverently licking the place on the patio where it had once been.
"Mr. Herk," said Greer.
Arthur slowly turned his head to look at Greer. His pupils were the size of dimes.
"Mr. Herk," said Greer, "I'm with the FBI, and I need you to tell me where the suitcase is."
Arthur opened his mouth, releasing a streamer of foamy drool, which dribbled down onto his collar.
"Mr. Herk," said Greer, "did you hear me? This is very important."
Arthur slowly closed his mouth, then opened it again and said, "She wants my soul. Don't let her take my soul."
"Don't let who take your soul?" asked Greer.
"Her," said Arthur, pointing at Roger. Roger wagged his tail.
"The dog r asked Greer.
"He thinks the dog is Elizabeth Dole," explained Walter.
"Jesus," said Greer, rubbing his face. To Seitz, he said, "Whaddya think?"
Seitz peered into Herk's deranged eyes. "He's gone," he said, "and I don't think he's coming back anytime soon."
Greer said to Walter, "Listen, we have reason to believe that Mr. Herk had a suitcase, probably made out of metal, very heavy. Did you see that suitcase?"
Walter thought for a moment. "Yeah," he said, "they had a suitcase. They took it."
"Who's they?" asked Greer, although he was pretty sure he knew, from what John had told him.
"Some scumbag, goes by 'Snake, " said Walter.
"Him and another scumbag was here when we got here, me and my partner. He had a gun, which is how I got… I mean, they surprised us. They took this guy's daughter" — he gestured toward Arthur — "and some little guy with a beard. The little guy carried the suitcase. They took our car. My partner went after 'em with this guy's wife."
"Where'd they go?" asked Greer.
"Airport," said Walter. "MIA. The scumbag said he was gonna catch a plane."
"He say where to?" asked Seitz.
"No," said Walter. "Fact is, Monica, that's my partner, was just guessin' it was MIA."
Greer and Seitz looked at each other.
"Whaddya think?" said Greer.
"I think we go to MIA," said Seitz.
"Me, too," said Greer. To Walter, he said, "Keep this man in custody for us, will you?" He turned to go.
"Hey!" said Walter. "You can't leave me here like this!"
"I'm sorry," said Greer, "but we gotta go."
"BUT I'M A POLICE OFFICER," said Walter.
"I know that," said Greer. "I know you're an excellent police officer, because I can't think of any other explanation for the fact that you're handcuffed to an entertainment unit that's handcuffed to a man who thinks a dog is Elizabeth Dole. But we really gotta go." With that, he and Seitz went back into the house.
"COME BACK HERE GODDAMMIT!" yelled Walter.
Arthur was still watching Roger. "She's gonna get me," he said. "I can feel it." He turned to Walter. "She's gonna get you, too."
"Herk! Herk!" said Elizabeth Dole.
"Turn right!" shouted Snake. "You can't see the fuckin' sign?"
The stolen police cruiser was northbound on Le Jeune, in the far left lane. Eddie, who had been too busy watching the road right in front of him to notice the Miami International Airport sign, yanked the wheel to the right, swerving across three lanes of traffic, cutting off a cab that braked, tires screaming, then spun sideways into the path of a battered 1963 Ford pickup truck carrying a large wooden crate. The truck hit the cab broadside and plowed it ahead a few feet, then came to a smoking stop. The impact caused the crate to topple out of the truck bed and onto Le Jeune, where it was sideswiped by a Toyota Tercel, breaking it open and releasing its occupants, eight goats. The goats had been destined for sale in Hialeah, for use in ritual sacrifices by practitioners of the Santeria religion, but for now they were free goats, wandering among the swerving, honking traffic.
Oblivious to the chaos he had caused behind him, Eddie veered onto the airport access road, where he was confronted by a parade of signs displaying information about parking, rental-car returns, terminals, and other matters Eddie knew nothing about.
"Which way?" he asked.
Snake, who was also not a frequent flyer, studied the signs, looking for some reference to the Bahamas, but seeing none.
"Just keep goin'," he said.
"OK," said Eddie, "but up here we gotta pick a road, Arrivals or Departures."
To Snake, it seemed like a trick question. On the one hand, he thought maybe they should go to Arrivals, because they were arriving at the airport. On the other hand, they wanted to depart from the airport, so maybe they should go to Departures. Snake thought about asking the girl, but he didn't want to admit that he didn't know, plus she looked pretty much zoned out. Finally, he decided just to take a stab at it.
"Departures," he said.
"Departures it is," said Eddie, swerving again.
When Detective Harvey Baker arrived at the Herk address, he noted that the driveway gate was lying across the sidewalk, and that the police cruiser wasn't there. He parked on the street and walked up the driveway. The front door was open. He stood on the doorstep for a moment and listened; there were footsteps coming toward him through the house. Removing his revolver from his shoulder holster, he stepped to the side of the door and waited. The two men emerged from the house, walking quickly.
"Hold it," said Baker. "Police."
The men stopped and turned to face Baker. The taller one sighed.
"We're FBI," he said.
"Can you prove that?" asked Baker.
"If you let me get out my badge, yes," said Greer.
"Very slowly," said Baker.
Greer took out the badge wallet and flipped it open. Baker glanced at it and bolstered his gun.
"I'm Detective Harvey Baker, Miami PD," he said.
"I'm Agent Greer," said Greer. "This is Agent Seitz. I don't want to be rude, Detective, but we can't stay."
"Can you tell me what's going on here?" asked Baker.
"To be honest," said Greer, "no."
Greer and Seitz started down the driveway. Baker followed them.
"Hey, wait a minute," he said.
"We don't have a minute," said Greer, over his shoulder.
Baker grabbed Greer's arm and spun him around.
"Well, make a minute," Baker said.
"Detective," said Greer. "We're dealing with an extremely important federal matter here, and I'm very sorry, but we don't have time to explain it to you." He and Seitz turned and started walking again.
"Hold it right there," said Baker.
Greer and Seitz looked back. They both stopped walking, because Baker had his gun back out.
Greer said, "You're making a very big mistake, Detective."
"Listen," said Baker. "I don't know why you're here. But I'm here because I got two police officers who I sent here, who have not reported in, and now I come here and find the gate busted down and the door open and you two here, and I wanna know what's going on, now, and if you don't tell me, I'm gonna arrest you, and you can stick your important federal matter right up your federal ass."
Greer looked at Seitz. Seitz shrugged.
"OK," said Greer. "We'll tell you. But it has to be on the way to the airport. You can ride with us."
"Are my officers at the airport?" asked Baker.
"One is," said Greer. "The one you should be worried about."
The Kia, with Monica at the wheel, rocketed north on Le Jeune at eighty miles per hour, thirty-five over the speed limit. Monica was leaning on the horn and pretty much disregarding traffic signals. Matt, next to her, his feet braced hard on the floor, was trying not to look scared. In the backseat, Nina was praying softly in Spanish. Anna was weeping, her body shaking. Eliot, not sure whether this was the right thing to do, put his arm around her shoulder.
"She's gonna be all right," he said.
"You don't know that," Anna said. "You didn't see that man, the way he… he… " Anna lost it there, thinking about Snake, with his hands on Jenny.
"They can't get far," said Eliot, feeling a little guilty about the way part of his brain was thinking how good it felt to have his arm around her. "I mean, this is a city, there's police everywhere."
"He's right," said Monica, veering wide to pass a bus. "My partner will report it, and those guys'll be in custody by the time we get to the airport. "I hope, she added to herself. She was wondering if she shouldn't have made sure Walter could get loose, or taken the time to call it in herself. She was also wondering if she was right about the airport.
"Anybody got a cell phone?" she asked.
"I do, but not with me," said Anna. "Why?"
"Never mind," said Monica. "We're almost at the airport. We'll call from… shit."
Ahead, traffic was stopped. People were getting out of their cars. One man had climbed on the roof of his car to see what the problem was. Up ahead, in the space between the lines of cars, a small, dark shape skittered sideways, into and then out of view, followed by a running man.
Matt said, "Was that a goat?"
The cruiser drifted slowly along with traffic on the roadway next to the Miami International Airport terminal. Snake tried to comprehend the signs announcing a bewildering array of airline names — TAM, LTU, Iberia, KLM, BWIA, Lacsa — none of which gave any hint, at least not to Snake, as to where they went.
Snake saw an empty stretch of curb to the left, next to a parking garage under construction. It was supposed to have been finished a year earlier, but it was being built by Penultimate, Inc., which was far behind schedule, and way over cost, because large pieces — Penultimate blamed incompetent subcontractors — kept falling off. The garage entrance was blocked by barricades, which were also provided by Penultimate at a cost of nearly three times per barricade what the other barricade suppliers had bid.
"Over there," Snake told Eddie, pointing to the entrance.
Eddie pulled the cruiser up to a barricade. He looked back at Snake.
"Move that thing and drive in there," said Snake.
Eddie, no longer arguing with Snake about anything, moved the barricade, drove the cruiser into the unfinished, dimly lit garage, then got out of the car. For a moment, standing outside, he thought about running, but he saw Snake watching him through the rear window. He got back into the cruiser.
"Now gimme your sweatshirt," said Snake.
Eddie started to say something, then took off his sweatshirt. It had once been light blue, but was now basically the color of grime. Underneath he wore a T-shirt that may once have been white, although at this point there was no way to tell. He handed the sweatshirt back to Snake, who draped it over the gun in his right hand. With his left, he gripped the back of Jenny's neck and forced her head downward, so that her eyes were a foot from the gun barrel.
"You see the gun, girlie?" he asked.
Jenny nodded.
"When we get outta this car, I'm gonna have this in my hand, pointed right at you. You do anything stupid, anything, and I will kill you. OK? You got that?" He squeezed her neck hard.
Jenny nodded again, grimacing.
"That's my good little girlie," said Snake.