I giggled. “That was your lawn we drove across?”
“Yes, it was!”
“And your garden gnome?”
“What’s that got to do with anything!” Grimal barked.
Gary and I burst out with laughter.
After we got a hold of ourselves, we told the police what they needed to hear, and let them lead away old Carlos Pretto. The rest got to go, although that took a great deal of convincing on our part. As I argued with Grimal, I saw Gary sidle up to Ricardo and slip something into his pocket, something small and round that flashed like fire. I gave him a wink.
At last we finished, and we headed back to our car. The Panamanian vehicles were wrecked. We made them walk. They should have to pay at least a little bit for all the trouble they caused.
Gary walked with the tin box under his arm.
“That was a good deed you did, Junior.”
He nodded. “Working the desk for so long, I forgot how complicated all this stuff can get, how you have to compromise some of your ethics for the greater good.”
“And it does get messy. The Panamanians were right. At least we have balanced that out a little today.”
“We’ll balance it out more,” Gary said. “You and I will get to work tomorrow pulling on the right strings. The Pretto family and all the other families deserve the compensation they were promised all those years go.”
“And I deserve a long hot bath. I better check in with Octavian. I said I’d call him. Let’s see if I can get a signal out here.”
I checked my phone, and then stared at the time and date in shock.
“Oh my God, I almost forgot!” I cried.
Fourteen
Gary stared at me, worry etched on his face. “What?”
“I can’t believe this,” I moaned. “I’ve been so careful, planned everything so well, and then I mess it all up at the last minute.”
“What happened? Did someone get away? Was the Volcano Stone switched with a replica? Tell me!”
“I forgot my grandson’s birthday party. It’s on right now!”
“A birthday party?”
“Yes! I’m going to be late! Oh, what an idiot I’ve been.”
“We just survived a gunfight, and you’re worried about a kid’s birthday party.”
“Come on. Drive me back to my house. I need to get his gift. Never mind the red lights, I’ll handle the chief of police!”
After a frantic race across town, me rushing in and grabbing his present, and then another frantic race to the skate park, we made it just in time.
The indoor skate park was a converted warehouse on the edge of town that had been filled with ramps and humps of concrete so young people who thought they were invincible could fly around on skateboards doing unlikely tricks and making spectacular crashes. The interior walls were all covered in graffiti (encouraged by the city council because it reduced the amount of graffiti elsewhere), and to one side was a burger bar. That’s where the party was being held.
We headed for it on a walkway around the outer edge of the skate park, protected from the skaters by one of those clear barriers they use in hockey rinks.
A good thing, too, because a teenager slammed into the barrier right next to us at a high enough velocity that his beanie flew off.
“Ouch,” I said.
“Oh, he’ll be fine,” Gary replied. Indeed, the boy was up, beanie and all, and shooting for a ramp before you could say “hairline fracture.”
All over the skate park, which was the size of a football field, teen boys and a few girls were zipping around on their boards, doing the most amazing things. It really was impressive to see, almost beautiful.
One girl of about twelve who caught my eye stood at the top of a steep ramp twice as tall as she was. She stood balanced on her board, only the back part of it on the lip of the precipice, the rest hanging over. With a snap, she brought it down and in the blink of an eye shot down the ramp, sped along an open part, hit another low ramp and flew into the air. Her board spun beneath her, and I thought I was going to see another bad crash, but it landed upright and she landed on it. She banked around another ramp and zoomed back the way she had come. It took me a second to realize that flipping her board in midair had been part of the trick.
“They should make agents do this in field training to learn balance and dexterity,” Gary said.
“And fearlessness,” I added. “Keep mum, Junior. I’ve never told any of my family what I used to be.”
“Smart move, mum. Mum’s the word.”
As we got to the burger bar, Martin waved from amid a crowd of his friends.
“Hey, Grandma!”
I felt a flush of pride and acceptance. Here he was, surrounded by other teenagers, and he acknowledged my existence! The carefully wrapped present in my hands probably didn’t hurt.
He got up and limped over, a fresh scrape on one knee.
“What happened?” I asked.
“He totally wiped out trying to grind the bowl!” one of his friends said. “It was epic!”
I had no idea what that young man had just said, but apparently Martin wiping out and drawing blood was a good thing, something to win approval. Bleeding got more points with your peers than an A-plus in English. Way more.
“You’re just in time,” Martin said, his gaze straying to a pile of packages on the table.
“Well then, maybe I’ll have the honor of having my present opened first.”
“Sure!” He turned uncertainly to Gary. “Um, hi.”
“Oh, how silly of me. This is my friend, Gary Wycliff. He was in town, and I wanted to see him. I haven’t seen him in so long. I hope you don’t mind him coming.”
“No problem. The cake is huge. Pleased to meet you.” Martin and Gary shook hands. I felt glad to see Martin
