Big Trouble

"What does this have to do with the Herk house?" asked Baker.

"We think the suitcase was there tonight. We think two scumbags took it from here and are now on the way to the airport, with possibly two hostages, one of which is the Herks' daughter. We think they're driving the police cruiser."

"What?" said Baker. "What about the officers?"

"One of them, Monica I think her name is, is heading for the airport now in a civilian car, with civilians," said Greer.

"Jesus," said Baker. "What about the other one?"

"He's back at the Herk house, handcuffed to a large entertainment unit, which is handcuffed to Arthur Herk."

Baker lunged forward and grabbed Greer by the shoulder. "Are you saying," he said, "that we left a police officer in trouble back there?"

"Easy," said Greer, removing Baker's hand. "He's fine. He's not going anywhere, but he's fine, and he's doing the federal government a favor by keeping a suspected illegal-weapons trader in custody."

"Weapons?" asked Baker. "That's what's in the suitcase?"

"We think so," said Greer. "You mean guns?" asked Baker. "I wish," said Seitz.

"Tell you the truth," said Greer, "we don't know, a hundred percent, what's in this particular suitcase. But we got a pretty good idea, and if we're right, you could say it's highly urgent that we get hold of it before some idiot does something stupid with it."

"Sounds like idiots got it now," said Baker.

"I realize that," said Greer, "which is why we're kinda hoping this is a different suitcase. But I don't think so."

"OK," said Baker, "so if it's the right suitcase, what's in it?"

Greer twisted around in his seat, so he was looking straight into Baker's eyes.

"It's bad," he said.

"How bad?" said Baker.

"Very, very bad," said Greer.

"What're you saying?" said Baker. "I mean, it's in a suitcase, right? How bad can it be? It's not like we're talking about a nuclear bomb, right?"

Greer stared at him.

"Right?" said Baker.

Greer kept staring.

"Hold it," said Baker. "You're not saying ... This is a joke, right?" He looked at Seitz, and said, "He's kidding, right?"

"I wish," said Seitz.

Puggy was relieved when the car finally stopped moving. It had been jerking back and forth, and, crowded by the suitcase in the hot trunk, he was getting carsick. He was glad when the trunk opened, although he was less than thrilled to see Snake again.

"You see this, punk?" Snake asked, showing Puggy the gun.

Puggy nodded, thinking, this guy really likes showing people his gun.

"I'm gonna have it right under here," said Snake, draping Eddie's sweatshirt over his gun hand. "It's gonna be pointin' right at you. You don't do like I say, you know what's gonna happen to you, right?"

Puggy nodded again.

"What's gonna happen, punk? Say it. Say what's gonna happen."

"You're gonna shoot me," said Puggy.

"That's right, punk," said Snake, enjoying the sound of it. "I'm gonna shoot you. Now get the fuck outta there and pick up the suitcase."

In the front of the Kia, Matt had his eyes closed completely. In the back, Eliot had his arm around Anna, hugging her tight; Niña was looking down at her hands and praying.

They were now heading northbound in the southbound lanes of Le Jeune. This was not unheard of in Miami, but it was irregular, and the southbound motorists were not happy about it. Monica, her face rigid with concentration, was yanking the wheel left and right to avoid the oncoming, horn-blaring cars. Just past the crumpled corpses of the pickup truck and the taxi, where the two drivers were screaming curses at each other in two different languages, Monica spun the wheel hard right, jouncing the Kia over a low median barrier and screeching across three lanes of traffic into the airport entrance road.

"Don't ever tell anybody I did that," said Monica.

"I didn't see a thing," said Matt, truthfully.

"I don't believe this," said Henry, slapping the steering wheel. Ahead of the car, and now behind it, traffic on Le Jeune had congealed into a nonmoving mass.

"You see what the problem is?" asked Leonard, peering ahead through the windshield.

"Looks like it's jammed up way past those lights," said Henry. "Some kinda commotion up there. Maybe they got something about it on the radio." He punched the power knob.

 ... not hearing what I'm saying. What I'm saying is, when they lose—not now, tonight, but when they play a game and LOSE—then I don't hear a peep from Gator fans.

Well, you 're not hearing what I'M saying. I'm saying that I'M a Gator fan, and I'm calling you now, OK? I'm talking on the phone right ...

Sighing, Henry punched the power knob again.

Behind them, horns were honking. Ahead, they heard shouting. Suddenly, a low, dark shape scooted past their car.

"Please tell me I did not see that," said Leonard. "Please tell me that I did not just see a fucking goat."

"OK, Mr. Herk," said Walter. "We gotta work together here. We're gonna carry this thing around the house to the street, OK? So we can get some help. OK? Mr. Herk?"