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.'
