It didn’t matter how they conducted their business, really. After what went down that afternoon, the Ghouls would hit Bruce’s house soon.
Maybe that night.
The advantage working in Bruce’s favor was that he was living at his mother’s. It would take the Ghouls more time to locate that record, since it wasn’t public. But that’s the nice thing about having leverage against common workaday civilians-like, say, the knowledge that they’ve purchased illegal drugs-if you need information, there is a good chance someone you know can supply it.
That might buy us ten hours. No more than twenty-four.
There was a lifetime of information inside Zadie’s house, which meant we needed to change our plan.
I called Sam. “We’re going to need those bikes tonight,” I said.
“No problem,” Sam said. “My guy delivered them both to your place today. Let me tell you, Mike. You’ve not lived until you’ve taken one of these choppers through South Beach. Now, I get my fair share of ladies looking my way, there’s no question about that, but it’s a whole different level of attraction when you’ve got all that horsepower between your legs.”
“That’s great, Sam.”
“You ever see Easy Rider?”
“Once or twice,” I said.
“Different time, different place, that could have been us, Mikey, just taking the trails, the lone road, all that. You and me, Mikey, heading to Florida, looking for America.”
“Didn’t everyone die at the end of that movie, Sam?”
“Well, I’d get a rewrite on that part,” Sam said. “I’m just saying, the wind in your hair, smell of coconut oil, ladies in bikinis hopping on the back for rides. It’s a little addictive, Mikey.”
“That’s just great,” I said. “What did you learn about Maria?”
Sam told me about his experience with Jose and the dog. “She hasn’t called yet,” he said. “But her old man, he wasn’t the kind that seemed to scare easy, so I’m going to guess that he probably sent his daughter away. Or his stepdaughter. Whatever she is. Maybe she isn’t even family. Who knows? He might have played tough with me, but I can’t see him just letting her run off.”
“She calls you,” I said, “you need to lean on her to come in, get her to Ma’s house. That’s one more person who knows Bruce, that’s one more person who could be dead by tomorrow. These guys don’t play around.”
“Got it,” Sam said.
“And I need you to call your friend at the DMV again,” I said. “I need to know who owns this car.” I gave him the license number of the gold Lincoln.
“Yeah,” Sam said, “about that friend. He’s gone rogue. I might need to get this from someone else.”
“Get it from Captain Crunch,” I said, “it doesn’t matter to me. Then let’s meet at Grossman’s in an hour. We’ll need to see about finding some clothes appropriate for a mission.”
“Body armor?”
“More like a vest with a nice logo on it, something that says ‘dangerous biker gang member.’”
“I’m ahead of you,” Sam said. “My guy gave me a nice stash of vests to choose from.”
“Who is this guy?”
“Top secret.”
“They’re all top secret, Sam.”
“You ever see Billy Jack?”
“Once or twice.”
“He’s like that guy. Deep cover, though. He said they still use his cover method as a teaching tool in the Czech Republic to this day.”
I saw Bruce and Zadie walk out of the medical center, but didn’t see my brother, Nate. That wasn’t good. “Gotta go,” I told Sam and hung up.
“Where’s Nate?” I asked Fiona.
“Isn’t it good you can’t see him? Wouldn’t that mean he’s doing his job?”
“He’s not that talented,” I said.
I got out of the car and started cutting through the parking lot. Even though I didn’t see anything dangerous, that didn’t mean there wasn’t something nearby. We were parked a good hundred yards from the entrance to the medical facility, close enough that I could see everything, far enough that Zadie wouldn’t see us and freak out. Keeping her sane and feeling safe was job one.
But now they were standing in the wide open-an easy shot for anyone. This wasn’t exactly a biker haven-the medical center where Zadie went for her radiation was just a block from CocoWalk, the make-believe downtown of Coconut Grove, so most of the people on the adjacent streets had that vacant zombie-look of people who just want some Hooters wings or a slice of fifteen thousand-calorie Cheesecake Factory cheesecake. But in the last decade, biker gangs in Miami haven’t been shy about fighting right out in the open. It’s sort of their thing-what would you do if you saw fifteen men with bats smacking the crap out of someone?
If you were smart, you’d not intervene.
At that moment, I didn’t see anyone with bats, but I wanted to make sure that if they showed up Bruce and Zadie would be safe.
The only issue is that a parking lot in front of a medical center in Coconut Grove is more dangerous than a minefield.
I dodged a Cadillac driven by a hundred-year-old woman that was backing up whether or not anyone was behind it and a Land Rover driven by a 120-year-old man who couldn’t see above the wheel and didn’t seem to mind. A Mercedes with a handicap placard nearly ran me over from the side, perhaps because the car’s windows were tinted black, to the point that you’d need a flashlight just to find your seat belt.
All that and I still managed to keep my eyes on Bruce and Zadie.
Where was Nate?
A black Lincoln Town Car skidded to a stop in front of me, ten yards or so from the front of the medical plaza. Just as I was about to reach for my gun, the window rolled down.
“Easy there, big shot,” Nate said. “This isn’t a pedestrian state.”
“Actually,” I said, “it is. And this pedestrian almost shot you in the face. Where have you been?”
“I wasn’t going to just sit here in the parking lot,” Nate said. “What if someone made me?”
“What if?” I said. Nate didn’t have an answer. He got out of the car and walked over to Bruce and together they helped Zadie across the short path of the parking lot. Her face was flushed red and she was sweating.
“How are you?” I asked her.
“Nuclear,” she said and then got into the backseat without saying another word.
“She’s always pretty fired up after radiation,” Bruce said. “She’s both wired and tired at the same time. It’s a terrible way to be.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
There was a sad look on Bruce’s face. I had to imagine that none of this was what he wanted from this life. But we make choices and we deal with the ramifications. His mother’s illness was beyond his control; everything else he’d done belonged to him. “I guess we all get old,” he said finally.
“That’s the hope,” I said, though I wasn’t convinced that Bruce was going to get to be as old as his mother. He’d pissed off the wrong people.
“Where’s that Fiona?” he asked, his demeanor brightening noticeably.
“She’s sitting in a car about a hundred yards from here,” I said. “She’s probably got a gun pointed at you, but don’t take it personally.”
“I don’t,” he said. “May I ask you a personal question?”
“No,” I said.
He ignored me. “Is she your… uh… girlfriend? Is that the right word?”
“Yes,” said Nate.
“No,” I said.
“So, if it’s no,” Bruce said, “do you think I could, if everything works out here with us, ask her out?”
“No,” I said.
“No,” Nate said.
At last, we agreed on something.
Bruce shrugged. “I thought I’d ask,” he said.
“Get in the car, Bruce,” I said.
Bruce opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it and then walked around to the other side of the car and got into the front passenger seat.