The Devil in Silver

“They’re locking you out?” the cop chided.

Dr. Anand reached into his coat pocket. He pulled out his set of keys. “The door only locks with one of these.”

But Loochie hadn’t tried to lock it. She’d wedged her chair under the handle and braced her shoulder against the door. A makeshift barricade.

Pepper didn’t waste the opportunity. He jumped from a seated position and onto Dr. Anand’s desk. It didn’t even seem like he rose to his feet. One moment he sat and the next he flew. Landing on top of Dr. Anand’s paperwork with his big boots.

“That was pretty good,” Loochie said, admiringly.

“Lucretia!” Dr. Anand shouted from the other side. “Open this door!”

The cop’s police radio frazzled and bleeped. The cop said, “This is a violation, miss. Miss, you can’t do this.”

“A violation of what law?” Loochie said through the door. “You name the law I’m breaking.”

The cop said, “Unlawful trespass.”

“Dr. Sam invited me into his office!”

The cop was quiet a moment. “Just open the goddamn door, miss.”

One of them rattled the doorknob. Not with any force. Just testing. Loochie had her right shoulder against the door. She grabbed the knob with her left and held it tight.

Pepper picked up the phone. He held the receiver to his ear.

Loochie said, “You have to dial pound-nine-three first.”

Pepper was surprised that Loochie remembered what Dorry told Coffee on that Saturday night, but, of course, she’d been there, too.

Pepper dialed the code first and then the ten-digit number Coffee had written on the last page of his binder. By now Pepper had memorized it.

Someone in the hall heaved against the door. The sound was loud enough, the force heavy enough, that it had to be the cop or maybe Scotch Tape. Loochie didn’t believe Dr. Anand had that much gunpowder in his shell.

No more begging. It was time for battering.

But Loochie held steady.

“You better hurry,” Loochie said.

Pepper crouched on the desk, holding the receiver to one ear. He cupped his free ear with his other hand to drown out the banging at the door.

A dial tone.

Ringing.

A woman’s voice answered.

“Hello?” the woman said.

“Do you have a sister named Xiu?”

This time, Pepper pronounced her name perfectly.

A long pause, then, “Yes.”

“Would you like to save her?” he asked.

Xiu’s sister, Yun, cried on the phone. At first, it sounded like she was sneezing. Pepper didn’t interrupt right way, even though he was in a hurry. She asked him to explain so he did—quickly—and Yun was relieved. At first she’d assumed Pepper had kidnapped her sister. (It happens.) Pepper told her about the judge in Florida, Sue’s stay in immigration jail and the denial of her medication, her escape, her recapture in New York, her stay at New Hyde Hospital, and then being pulled out of Northwest yesterday. Every few seconds, Yun muttered to herself quietly, using her little sister’s pet name, saying, “My girl, oh, my poor A-Xiu.” When Pepper had told Yun everything, she said she must hurry and she hung up immediately. Didn’t even say good-bye. Pepper understood.

He set the receiver back down in its cradle.

Sure, one could wonder if Yun would be able to find help for her sister in time. First step would be to find a lawyer. A lawyer in California? (Where Yun lived.) One in Florida? (Where Sue had been sentenced.) Or one in New York? (Where she had most recently been held.)

And this would have to be a lawyer who was willing to work for nothing because Yun was a cashier at an Albertsons supermarket in Oakland.

Then that lawyer would have to contact the courts in time.

File the proper paperwork to delay the extradition.

Head down to Florida and petition the court for Xiu’s release. (Or would it be handled in a New York court?)

The lawyer might propose that Xiu be released into Yun’s custody so the two could return to Oakland. But what if they had to appear before the same petty dictator who’d sentenced Xiu to deportation? How likely was it that such an unreasonable prick would be reasonable now? (Although bullies like that usually act a whole lot nicer when the bullied person has retained counsel. Probably just a coincidence.) But even with a (free) lawyer, that judge would still have to turn over his original order. Or another judge would have to contest the Florida ruling.

There were so many steps to Xiu’s rescue. Even with Pepper’s phone call, there were a dozen more chances for it to fail.

But if two mental patients at New Hyde Hospital could commandeer a doctor’s office and dial out while police tried battering down the door and if they actually reached the right person using a phone number that a third mental patient pulled out of his ass (or from the vast Internet computer cloud with his brain), if all those steps worked out, well, shit, maybe the others would, too. It could happen. They’d just have to practice patience now. Take the long view. Success is airmail, not email.