Don Winslow - Dawn Patrol

It sobers Teddy up a little.

Which turns out not to be a good thing, because it seems as if he suddenly remembers that he's a high-priced surgeon with connections. He looks at Johnny and calmly says, “It's not illegal for a doctor to visit a patient, and I can't control the fact that she wasn't here. As for exploding vans-”

“How did you know it was a van?”

“I have no idea about it,” Teddy says. “As I will explain to the beautiful wife of your chief when I see her. She has a beautiful smile, don't you think? And those eyes…”

“I've never met her.”

“I'd be happy to introduce you.”

The banzai part of Johnny would like to whip the cuffs on Teddy, take him to the house, and show him the other side of life in San Diego, but his more rational side knows that it would be futile and self-defeating. Teddy will have a high-priced lawyer there in five minutes, who will make the correct point that Johnny has no reason to hold his client, no reason at all. So Johnny swallows the smarmy power play about the chief's wife, along with the hard facts about being a cop in a city where great wealth lives alongside great poverty.

Johnny Banzai is neither naпve nor idealistic. He generally takes life as he finds it and doesn't waste his time or energy tilting at windmills. But sometimes it gets to him, the knowledge that if Teddy, for instance, was Mexican, black, Filipino, Samoan, or just plain old white trash, he'd be in the back of Johnny's car already. But Teddy is rich and white, with a good address in La Jolla-substitute Del Mar, Rancho Santa Fe, or Torrey Pines if you want-so he skates.

An obvious fact of life, Johnny thinks-the next time a rich white guy gets worked by the cops will be the first time. So get over it. But sometimes he'd like to take the badge, wing it into the ocean, and join Boone on the beach, rather than take any more shit from any of the beautiful people.

Now he says, “Dr. Cole, I have reason to believe that Tammy Roddick's life is in immediate danger. I'm trying to find her before the bad guys do. If you have any knowledge that would help me do that, you should give it to me right now.”

“I really don't,” Teddy says.

“Can you get home all right?” Johnny asks.

“They have a courtesy car,” Teddy says.

“With a driver?” Johnny asks, jutting his chin at the martini.

“Of course.”

Of course, Johnny thinks.

Boone gets up to make another cup of coffee.

He's trashed, aching from the beating he got back by the strawberry fields, and the adrenaline surge from the beach is long gone. His body screams for sleep, but it's just going to have to wait until he delivers Tammy to the courtroom, so he goes for more caffeine.

Petra's out.

Sound asleep on the sofa, snoring softly.

Boone tries to work up some righteous indignation over Sunny's false, unspoken accusation, but he can't. The truth is that he does feel some attraction to Pete, and if Sunny hadn't come to the door when she did, he might have done something about it.

He looks over at Pete.

Angelic when she sleeps.

But he's pissed off at her for snooping in his room. Looking at his books, digging up the stuff about Rain. Women, he thinks-it's always a mistake letting them into your space, because they prowl it like cats, check it out to see if they can make it their own.

So he's pissed at her but attracted to her at the same time. What is that? he wonders. Is it that “opposites attract” thing? He always thought that was some cheesy Paula Abdul song attached to some cartoon, but here it is. If you had to pick a woman who's totally wrong for him, out of every woman in the entire world, you'd choose Pete: ambitious, elitist, snobbish, career-oriented, fashion-conscious, argumentative, belligerent, sarcastic, ball-busting, high-maintenance, nosy…

But there it is.

Fuck.

Too complicated for me, he thinks.

Just get this case over, deliver Tammy Roddick to court, get back in time to get into the big swell. The ocean is simple-not easy, but simple- and a wave is something you know how to handle.

Just stay in the water, never come out.

But it isn't that simple, is it?

A woman's been killed, a pedophile is out there, and somebody has to do something about both those things. Dan Silver has to go down for Angela Hart's murder-Johnny will be on that until he gets it done-and Teddy D-Cup has to get squared for his little trips to Mister Roger's Neighborhood.

First things first, though, Boone tells himself as the water starts to boil. He takes the kettle off the heat before it whistles and wakes Pete up. First get through the night, then get Tammy to testify, then clean your head out in the big waves.

Then see to Dan and Teddy.

Yeah, except…

He sees movement through the edge of the kitchen window.

Out on the pier.

He pulls the curtain back for a better view and sees them out there, moving like cats hunting in the night. One of them is edging along the pier railing on the near side; another one takes the opposite side. Boone thinks he can make out two more on the base of the pier, but he's not sure.

And now a Hummer rolls slowly past in the street.

It's hard to really see them in the dark and the mist, but just by the way they move, Boone can see they're Hawaiians.

He touches Petra's arm and wakes her up.

She looks around the room, not knowing where she is.

“Go into the bedroom,” Boone says. “Shut and lock the door behind you, lie down on the floor.”

“What-”

“Just listen,” Boone says, and to her surprise, she does. “If you hear shooting, take Tammy and go out the window. You can swim into shore easily.”

“All right,” she says. “Will you-”

“I'll be fine,” he says. “Go.”

He waits until she goes into the bedroom and he hears the lock click.

Then he walks over to the cottage door, checks that he has a round chambered, and waits.

Tide, he thinks, what did Eddie offer you?

Love's a funny goddamn thing.

Makes you do shit you'd never thought you'd do.

Then suddenly you're doing it.

In Teddy Cole's case, it makes him take the chauffeured ride home, go to his garage instead of the house, take one of his other Mercedeses and head straight for the strawberry fields. He knows he's not going to find her there at night-she's never there at night-but it's the best shot he has, so that's what he does.

Love is a funny goddamn thing.

Red Eddie sits in the back of the Hummer and watches the guys move up the pier toward Boone's cottage. He checks out the two others lingering around the base of the pier and knows that for every one he sees, there are probably two he can't.

Large respect for the Samoans guarding Boone Dawg from harm. They're good at what they do.

Respect to Josiah Pamavatuu also.

The guy went the other way. Bad for his icehead cousin, to be sure, but good for him. Gonna be rough on the big man, though; Samoans are huge on family.

And Boone Daniels is a cockroach-you just can't kill the kanaka.

Eddie had actually been very relieved when he got the word that Boone wasn't charcoal. It's a blessing. What is a curse is Dan Silver, who is gripping.

“She testifies tomorrow,” Dan says. “She saw everything-she'll kill us.”

Red Eddie draws the herb smoke deep into his lungs, holds it for the count of three, then exhales. He passes the blunt to Dan as he sings, “Oh, Danny Boy, the lights, the lights are shining… Relax, Daniel Spaniel.”

“You relax,” Dan snaps, shaking his head to refuse the smoke.

Red Eddie shrugs. “I will.”

Relax and think.

Relaxation, Red Eddie knows, is the prerequisite for efficient thought. No sense in getting all geeked up-you just cut off the flow of blood to your brain exactly when you need it the most. So he takes another hit of the weed to boost his intellectual capability, and then comes to a conclusion.