'We can find out.'
'How?'
Meg smiled. She patted her skirt pocket on and said, 'Luis.'
'Luis? What about... damn!' She slammed on the brakes, laid on the horn, then waved and smiled weakly as a pair of senior citizens crossed four lanes of traffic on PGA Boulevard with their little dog.
'Luis and his computer. You know that printout of our references for Carmichael's file?'
'Yeah.'
'It's got his E-mail address. His IP/PC code. And they cross-index files by birth dates, Quill. Carmichael's got all of Verger's financial stuff, right? Luis can get us into those files. We can find out exactly how much money Ernst made.'
'So we bag the good doctor?'
'Oh, no. I'm dying to see what this therapy session's like. Aren't you? If we hurry, we'll just make it. And then we'll pay a visit to Luis the hacker.'
'Hurry? I was hoping you'd say that.' Quill slammed on the brakes; laid on the horn; and swung a wide, wide right turn onto PGA from the farthest left lane, leaving a horde of angry motorists screaming in her wake.
'Gotcha,' she said. 'That felt good.'
Meg still wasn't speaking to her when she pulled into the parking lot at the Combers Beach Club. She slipped the key card into the security machine at the gate, drove slowly and carefully to Luis's office door, and shifted into neutral with the gentlest of movements.
'We're here,' she said brightly.
Meg opened the passenger side door and got out. Luis waved to her through his front window. She waved back.
'Meg? Meggie? I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. All that traffic, being patient. It just got to me.'
'Taxis,' said Meg flatly. 'Taxis, taxis, taxis.'
Quill asked what she thought was not an unreasonable question. 'How can detectives take taxis?'
'Then I'll drive.'
'Meg, you drive like a potato. You are totally inert when you drive.'
'At least we're breathing when we get to wherever we're going. Hey, Luis. How's it going?'
'Not so good,' Luis admitted. He opened the driver's-side door for Quill and took her place when she I got out.
'You don't look very well,' Quill said. She bent over and peered at him. 'A little pale. Are you feeling okay?'
He shrugged. 'My heart is sad.' He turned the ignition on and raised one hand in a forlorn way.
'Luis?' Meg said. 'We've got a new chapter for you for your book. We need you to help us hack into a computer system.'
'No book,' he said.
'No book?' Quill looked sympathetic. 'I'm sorry. But I hear these sorts of things fall through a lot. Another publisher may come along.'
'I don't believe so.' His accent, which had been only slightly Hispanic in the discussions Quill had had with him, had deepened. 'I had visitors, you understand? There are people who would not like this book. People who tell me if I want to stay in this country, I must not help with this book. So I do not.'
'What people?' Meg demanded.
Luis shrugged. 'Que querdo?'
'You have a green card, don't you?' Quill said.
'I am a citizen.'
There was an undercurrent of anger in his voice - very encouraging to Quill. 'Then nobody can deport you for helping with a book, Luis. Trust me. It's a basic part of your American freedoms.'
'He can trust us,' murmured Meg. 'I think the question is how far can he trust Cressida Houghton's lawyers.'
'Was that it?' Quill demanded. 'Did a man named Hawthorne see you?'
'Who else could it be?' Meg said. 'Honestly, Quill.'
'You have visitors. In your house.' Luis put the Mercedes in gear and backed away. 'Many women with gold jewelry and fancy cars. I will garage this. Good-bye.'
'Luis!' Quill ran a few steps after the car. 'Just tell us. Did a man named Hawthorne come to see you?'
Luis hesitated, then nodded.
'Luis,' said Meg. 'Just park the car and come in to your office for a minute. Okay? We've got a way to get these guys off your back.'
'We do?' Quill said.
