Big Trouble (25 page)

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 holstered 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,”saidGreer.“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.

“O
K, I'm listening,” said Baker. He was in the back of a rental car; Seitz and Greer were in front, with Seitz driving.

“OK,” said Greer, “because you're a cop, and you got officers involved in this, I'll tell you. But then I might have to kill you.”

“Ha ha,” said Baker.

“Yeah, ha ha,” said Greer, exchanging a look with Seitz. “Anyway, what we're looking for is a suitcase, made of metal, pretty heavy.”

“What does this have to do with the Herk house?” asked Baker.

“We think the suitcase was there tonight. We think two scumbags took it from there and are now on the way to the airport, with possibly two hostages, one of which is the Herks' daughter. We think they're driving the police cruiser.”

“What?”
said Baker. “What about the officers?”

“One of them, Monica I think her name is, is heading for the airport now in a civilian car, with civilians,” said Greer.

“Jesus,” said Baker. “What about the other one?”

“He's back at the Herk house, handcuffed to a large entertainment unit, which is handcuffed to Arthur Herk.”

Baker lunged forward and grabbed Greer by the shoulder. “Are you saying,” he said, “that we left a police officer in trouble back there?”

“Easy,” said Greer, removing Baker's hand. “He's fine. He's not
going
anywhere, but he's fine, and he's doing the federal government a favor by keeping a suspected illegal-weapons trader in custody.”

“Weapons?” asked Baker. “That's what's in the suitcase?”

“We think so,” said Greer.

“You mean guns?” asked Baker.

“I wish,” said Seitz.

“Tell you the truth,” said Greer, “we don't know, a hundred percent, what's in this particular suitcase. But we got a pretty good idea, and if we're right, you could say it's highly urgent that we get hold of it before some idiot does something stupid with it.”

“Sounds like idiots got it now,” said Baker.

“I realize that,” said Greer, “which is why we're kinda hoping this is a different suitcase. But I don't think so.”

“OK,” said Baker, “so if it's the right suitcase, what's in it?”

Greer twisted around in his seat, so he was looking straight into Baker's eyes.

“It's bad,” he said.

“How bad?” said Baker.

“Very, very bad,” said Greer.

“What're you saying?” said Baker. “I mean, it's in a suitcase, right? How bad can it be? It's not like we're talking about a nuclear
bomb,
right?”

Greer stared at him.

“Right?” said Baker.

Greer kept staring.

“Hold it,” said Baker. “You're not saying . . . This is a joke, right?” He looked at Seitz, and said, “He's kidding, right?”

“I wish,” said Seitz.

PUGGY was relieved when the car finally stopped moving. It had been jerking back and forth, and, crowded by the suitcase in the hot trunk, he was getting carsick. He was glad when the trunk opened, although he was less than thrilled to see Snake again.

“You see this, punk?” Snake asked, showing Puggy the gun.

Puggy nodded, thinking, this guy really likes showing people his gun.

“I'm gonna have it right under here,” said Snake, draping Eddie's sweatshirt over his gun hand. “It's gonna be pointin' right at you. You don't do like I say, you know what's gonna happen to you, right?”

Puggy nodded again.

“What's gonna happen, punk? Say it. Say what's gonna happen.”

“You're gonna shoot me,” said Puggy.

“That's right, punk,” said Snake, enjoying the sound of it. “I'm gonna shoot you. Now get the fuck outta there and pick up the suitcase.”