“Guillermo,” said Juanita, “I did get the call from Ramirez. He says
“That can’t be right.”
“Somebody’s wrong. I hope you can sort it out.”
“Where’s Ramirez?”
She gave him the hotel and room number. “How far are you?”
Guillermo looked in the distance at a giant lighted sign atop a high-rise hotel. “Almost there.”
“I don’t want you to disappoint me.”
“I won’t, Madre.”
“I know you’re a good man,” Serge told Ramirez on the phone. “That’s why I’m betting you lied that you couldn’t gain access to the family’s new address when they were relocated. They’ve just twisted you for so long you can’t see up or down.”
“How’d you know about his mother?”
“I didn’t. It was guess,” said Serge. “You told me just now.”
“It wasn’t supposed to happen like that.”
“So her condition hadn’t recurred at all,” said Serge. “She was in perfect health?”
“She was fine.”
“Hasn’t this gone on long enough? There’s still time to make it right.”
“No, there isn’t.”
“It gets worse,” said Serge. “You have a second problem.”
“What do you mean?”
“They’ve got Melvin.”
“Who’s Melvin?”
“Another kid that Guillermo apparently got confused with Andy.”
Ramirez fell down in a chair.
“I’m guessing Panama City didn’t stomach well,” said Serge. “You have a conscience, but Guillermo’s out where the buses don’t run. You couldn’t stop Battle Creek, but you can stop this…”
Banging against the wall of Serge’s room. Laughter, shouts, students getting restless and deeper into the alcohol supply.
Serge walked toward the window to hear better. “Listen to me. If I know anything about human nature, this is one you’re not going to be able to live with. There’s a defining point in every life where you have to do the right thing no matter what personal cost…”
Ramirez could no longer face Andy.
“… Tell me where you are,” said Serge. “We’ll take out Guillermo together. And I won’t say anything to Andy or anyone else about our conversation.”
“It’s too late.”
“No, it’s not! I can… hold on-” Serge pressed a hand over his other ear as more noise drowned out the call. A fire engine screamed by with all the sirens and bells, fading down the street. Serge uncovered his ear. “I’m begging: Tell me where you are!”
“I have to go…”
“Don’t hang up!”
From Ramirez’s end of the line, Serge heard a fire engine.
Chapter Forty-Eight
A1A
A ’68 Dodge Monaco raced south.
Mahoney punched buttons on a cell.
Agent Ramirez’s phone rang. He stared at it for the longest time. Mahoney’s name in the display. Then:
“Ramirez.”
“Where are you?” said Mahoney.
“What’s going on?”
“Please don’t hurt Andy.”
“Andy? Why would I do anything to him?”
“You’re the informant.”
“What are you talking about?” said Ramirez. “
“Nice ruse. Like when you’re playing Clue and hold the card for Mr. Mustard but ask other players if they have Mr. Mustard.”
“You’re insane.”
“You’re the one who told Madre about the class ring and the credit card trace.”
“Madre?”
“I know about the convenience store.”
“What convenience store?”
“The work of one of her boys.”
“Her boys?”
“You should be familiar,” said Mahoney. “You’re one of them.”
“What I am familiar with is your hospital stays.”
“Got your juvenile record. Probation lists Juanita as your employer. Fits her MO, grooming young guys out of jail.”
“How many times were you committed?”
“I also know about Andy’s mom. You had a Detroit flight the same day.”
Ramirez’s brain reached overload.
“You still there?” asked Mahoney.
“What do you want?”
“Andy.”
“I have to go.”
“Where are you?”
The Challenger screamed out of the motel parking lot.
Coleman slammed into the door again. “He told you where they are?”
“No, the fire engine did.”
“What fire engine?”
“Passed our hotel northbound. At that speed and the delay I heard on the phone, it’s a half mile, give or take. Which can mean only one hotel…”-a skidding left up a driveway-“… This one.”
“But how do you know which room?”
“We’ll just have to play that by ear.”
They jumped from the car.
“Coleman! Watch out!” Serge grabbed his arm and pulled him from the path of a speeding Delta 88 that screeched to a stop in the fire lane.
“What a jerk,” said Coleman.
“Guillermo!” said Serge.
“And there’s Melvin!”
Guillermo entered the lobby. Melvin was two paces in front and one to the right, standard separation for someone at gunpoint, unless the gunman’s left-handed.
