Blood Money

been reactivated. The only way to remove the postings was to log in as the administrator, but when Jack typed in the username and password, he got an error message: username and password invalid.

“Somebody hijacked Celeste’s Facebook page,” said Jack.

“Hijack?” said Abuela. “Someone hijack plane?”

“No,” said Jack. “Not the plane.”

Theo glanced over from behind the wheel. “Say what?”

Jack didn’t have time to explain, and this wasn’t something that Theo could fix anyway. “Just keep driving,” he said.

Jack put an emergency call in to a tech expert who owed him a favor or two. The call went to voice mail, and Jack left the essential details in an urgent message.

“You calling who I think you’re calling?” asked Theo.

“Chuck Mays,” said Jack.

“Ah, good ol’ Chuck-my-name-rhymes-with-”

“Stop,” said Jack, saving Abuela’s ears. Apart from being famous for dropping the f-bomb, Chuck Mays was in the personal data-mining business, and he knew the dark side of social media better than any predator on the Internet. With Jack’s legal guidance, Chuck had turned those skills against an online pedophile who had targeted the Mayses’ teenage daughter. Jack had never asked for anything in return, but if ever there would be such a time, this was it.

In less than a minute Chuck returned Jack’s call, which Jack took on the Bluetooth speaker so that he could jot down notes, if needed.

“You want me to figure out a Facebook password?” said Chuck. “Are you fu-”

“Yes, I’m serious,” said Jack. “And please mind your language. I have my grandmother in the car with me.”

“Oh, sorry. My fucking bad.”

“Chuck!”

“Terrible habit. But okay,” he said, breathing deeply, “I got it under control.”

Jack glanced at Abuela, who thankfully had missed the f-bomb. She could converse one-on-one in English, but typically a stray word from some conversation between Anglos didn’t elicit a reaction from her, unless, of course, she thought it had something to do with Cuba or Castro. NBC News confirms that Iranian dictator Ahmadinejad has declared death to infidels-“Ay, Jack! Que dijo de Fidel? ”

“So let me get this straight,” said Chuck. “Of all the things you could ask for, you’re burning a favor on a Facebook problem?”

“It’s my client’s account,” said Jack. “It’s been hijacked.”

“Hijack?” said Abuela. It was one of those buzz words. “The plane?”

“No, no,” said Jack. “Chuck, excuse me a second. Abuela, the planes are fine, I promise. Really, todo esta bien con los airplane-os.”

“Airplane-os?” said Chuck.

It even made Theo wince. “Worst damn Spanish of any half-Cuban boy in Miami.”

Abuela sighed in despair, muttering something that translated roughly as “Thank God your mother isn’t alive to hear this.”

“Can we just focus, please?” said Jack. “Chuck, I need you to access my client’s account and delete all of today’s postings. Can you do it?”

“Sure.”

“This is an emergency. Don’t tell me you can do it if you can’t do it right now.”

“Piece of cake.”

“Is that a yes?” asked Jack.

“What else would I mean by ‘piece of cake’?” said Chuck.

“Allow me to translate,” said Theo. “Jack, he said: Piece-o of cake-o. Easy as pie-o. Like falling off a bike-o and hijacking an airplane-o.”

“Hijack?” said Abuela.

“Enough with the hijacks!” said Jack. “Chuck, I need to be able to count on you for this. Shut the thing down, and make sure it stays down.”

“No fucking problem, dude.”

“Ay!” Abuela shrieked, covering her ears.

Jack cringed and took him off speaker, escaping a second f-bomb by literally a half second. Jack thanked him, and as the call ended, Theo pulled up to curbside check-in. Jack got out, grabbed Abuela’s suitcase, and then helped her out of the car. Fridays were always busy at MIA, but even with the cars and buses streaming past them, baggage attendants at work, and hundreds of travelers coming and going, Jack felt alone with his grandmother outside the terminal. It was the tear hanging from the corner of her eye that got him.

He gave her a hug. “It’s going to be okay.”

“I see this before. Old people go away. They no come home.”

“Is that what you think? I’m just sending you away?”

“Like my friend, Beatriz. ‘Oh, Nana, here your plane ticket to Chicago-just a nice visit to see your niece.’ Two week later the moving van come. Beatriz never be back.”

“That’s not what this is about. Don’t ever think that I would do that.”

“Never did think. Before today.” She reached up, cupped her hand on his face. “Bye, mi vida.”

She tried to lift her own bag, which tore Jack apart. “Okay, stop. Abuela, this isn’t permanent. This is-”

“Jack,” said Theo.

Jack shot a look over his shoulder. “Not now.”

“Jack, really.” Theo was walking around the back of the car with his phone in his hand.

“What now?” said Jack.

“You need to take this.”

“I can’t.”

“Yeah, you can,” said Theo, handing him the phone. “It’s Sydney Bennett.”

Chapter Thirty

At two P.M. Jack was in Courtroom 22-A at the Miami-Dade Courthouse. Ben Laramore was seated with him at the table near the empty jury box. Celeste’s mother had refused to leave their daughter’s side at the hospital, but Jack had wanted at least one of his clients to attend.

Civil cases in Miami were heard miles away from the criminal justice center. The eighty-five-year-old courthouse on Flagler Street was once the tallest building south of the Washington monument, and its limestone facade and classic Doric columns continued to raise architectural expectations for first-time visitors. Most were disappointed. Far from the grand old courtrooms of yesteryear, Judge Burrows’ courtroom was badly renovated office space that had been converted into an extra courtroom out of pure necessity. The sagging ceiling was held up by two pillars in the center of the room, which forced Jack and his client to stand at opposite ends of the table so that each could have an unobstructed view of the judge entering the courtroom.

“Good afternoon,” said Judge Burrows.

“Good afternoon,” the lawyers replied-one from Jack’s side, five from BNN’s table. Ted Gaines’ booming voice was most audible.

Burrows was an affable old judge with more hair on his face than on the top of his head and a long, long history on the bench. Jack hoped that experience would work to his client’s advantage. The written motion that BNN