was legendary, like the bogeyman. Everyone knew what she was up to, but five levels of law enforcement could never touch her. Witnesses were petrified, and those who did talk ended up in the Miami River, not all in one place.”
“How does that help us?”
“There was a big raid with her brothers. And when arrests make the paper, there’s an address.” Serge turned the knob again. Frontpage story with four-column photo: Two men and a woman being led handcuffed from a south county hacienda. “Here we go. And I lucked out. Not only the address, but a photo of the house… Man, she looks young there.”
“But what are the odds she’s still living at the same place after all these years?”
“You’d be surprised.” Serge dropped coins in a slot and pressed a button. A copy spit from a printer. “These old families don’t move.”
Serge slid the folded page into a pocket and left the microfilm room. They waited at the elevators.
“Hold on a second,” said Andy.
“What is it?”
He ran back toward the microfilm room. “I forgot something.”
“I’ll be here.”
Andy went inside, stuck a spool back on the machine and fed coins in a slot.
Chapter Fifty-One
I-95
A ’73 Challen ger drove back toward Fort Lauderdale. Serge avoided interstates in most situations, except when time was critical.
“Time’s critical!”
“What are you planning?” asked Andy.
“Can’t tell you,” said Serge. “Sorry, but it’s for your own good. You’d become an accessory.”
“They killed my mom.”
“I know.”
“I should be the one.”
“Andy, don’t throw your life away.” Serge took the Broward Boulevard exit as an Amtrak pulled into a station by the overpass. “Outcome will be the same.”
“But I want revenge myself.”
“It pains me to see this change.” They crossed the bridge to the beach. “You’re one of the good guys. Leave this to me and forget about it before these assholes turn you into something you’re not.”
“Can I at least be there? For closure?”
“
“Will I be able to see from there?”
“I have a funny feeling everyone will be able to see.”
The Challenger reached A1A and turned south.
BAHIA CABANA
Serge ran back in the room with a bucket of ice and jammed two water bottles inside.
City and Country passed a joint and watched more tube.
Serge pulled a map from his suitcase and laid it down next to the microfilm printout from the library.
“We’re going to dinner now?” asked Country.
“What?” Serge combed streets.
“You swore to take us to this great place,” said City.
“When?”
“Fifty times. Pick one,” said Country. “And after your last lie, you gave your word it would be today.”
“I’m working.”
“You always say that.”
“This time I really am working.” Serge circled a spot on the map in ballpoint. “Something big’s come up.”
“We’re tired of being stuck in this room.”
“Why aren’t you taking advantage of the pool?” asked Serge.
“Because we were waiting to go to dinner!” said Country.
“We fucked up and believed you,” said City. “This is just like when you ditched us on the side of the road.”
“Except worse,” said Country. “It’s a perpetual ditch. Popping in and out. Stringing us along with promises.”
“I promise.” Serge rummaged through his hanging toiletry bag. “Just let me wrap this up.”
“You’re doing it again,” said City. “At least last time we could get on with our lives.”
Serge dug through all the pockets, then started again with the first.
“Are you listening to me?”
“Where are my car keys?”
“Andy took ’em.”
Serge’s head swung. “Andy’s not in the room?”
“Duh!”
“But I told him to stay put,” said Serge. “Where’d he go?”
“He took your keys, so I guess somewhere else.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
City took a hit. “What’s the big deal?”
“Oh, Andy, Andy, not again!”
“Again what?”
“When did he leave?”
“Just before you came back from getting ice,” said Country. “Surprised you didn’t bump into him in the hall.”
Serge grabbed his map off the dresser and ran out.
“When are we going to dinner?”
Students in the next room flipped quarters into shot glasses.
Serge charged through the door. “Need to borrow your car.”
“Here…”
Keys flew across the room and broke a mirror.
Serge jumped in a station wagon and raced south.
SOUTH OF MIAMI
A ’73 Challenger rolled down a quiet residential street with burglar bars and neglected lawns.
Andy slowed, reading mailbox numbers. He reached what he was looking for and stopped at the curb. A microfilm printout in his lap, the old
He drove off.
The Challenger parked seven blocks away at a baseball field with a rusted Pepsi scoreboard. Standard getaway vehicle placement from the movies. Andy set out on foot. The Glock slipped from his waistband into his underwear. He stopped to pull it up.
