T. Parker - Iron River

The other nurse continued to hold Mike’s wrist for another few seconds. “Pulse is normal,” she said.

“I still suspect a sensor,” said Mike.

“The sensor was drenched in sweat,” said Kathy. “But they’re made to withstand that. It happens. I don’t get it.”

“I sure love the attention,” said Mike.

Hood saw Finnegan work up a lip-only smile, his jaws still wired firm and his head still immobilized by the cranial clamps. His pupils were pinpoints, and his face was bright red and running with sweat.

“Father Quang, I’d be happy to continue this discussion at any time,” said Finnegan. His voice was calm and warm. “I might be able to come up with a sin or two I forgot about today. But next time, why don’t you confess to me? Gabe and Charlie, you two would be welcome to sit in on that session.”

Kathy herded the men into the hallway outside of the ICU, then shut the locking door behind her. Two Guardsmen patrolled past, weapons slung over their shoulders.

“He’s proud and intelligent and he’s playing with us,” said Quang. “He wants attention. He wants control.”

“He knows too much,” said Reyes.

“He’s obviously very clever,” said Quang.

“He’s more than that,” said Reyes. “He is not us. You can’t understand the world by believing that it is merely like yourself. There is more and there has always been more and not all of it is good. I can’t believe you don’t see it.” Reyes turned and limped away. Hood watched him turn right for the elevator. When he turned to Quang, the padre was looking up at him with a searching expression.

“Since the death of his granddaughter, Gabriel has not been the same,” said Quang. “She was murdered and left in the desert. Unsolved. Now Gabriel expects evil, so this is what he finds. Finding it confirms his hopes. He is still looking for someone to blame. He sits in the fifth row of St. Cecilia’s every Saturday night for mass, and his eyes burn up at me until the service ends.”

Hood watched the priest walk away, following the same route as the snakebit police chief. He reached into his pocket and took out the cell phone he’d swiped from the book stack on his way out of Finnegan’s room. The charge and bars were both full. He searched contacts, new messages, inbox, sent, drafts, and voice mail and found one message, left just an hour ago. He recognized the number as belonging to Owens.

A few minutes later, he was back in Finnegan’s room. Kathy was hanging the monitor back onto its holder. “It must have just been that sensor,” she said.

“No harm done, Kathy,” said Finnegan.

Hood watched her bustle out and turn into the adjacent room.

“That was interesting,” said Hood.

“A quaint little assault by a Mexican cop and a Vietnamese priest. I love America.”

“Why didn’t you tell them what you told me that night we drank the wine?”

“What I told you that night was nonsense, Charlie. I blathered to you under the influence of wine and some sudden impulse that I attribute to another round of swelling in my brain.”

“I watched your vitals race when Quang touched you. And I watched them run off the chart when Reyes set the cross in your hand.”

“I do have strong reactions to certain people. It always helped me in sales.”

“It wasn’t the sensor.”

“I’ll let you experts decide what it was,” said Finnegan.

Hood set the cell phone back on top of the book stack.

“Strictly for emergencies,” said Finnegan. “And, you know, family matters.”

Hood sat on the wheeled stool and watched Finnegan’s vitals on the monitor.

“How was the wedding, Charlie?”

“Terrific. They’re happy.”

“Youth isn’t always wasted on the young. Did you take Beth?”

Hood nodded. “I saw Owens. She said she’d been here to see you.”

“Oh, my. What a girl. She looks better than I’ve ever seen her. Thank you so much for helping me with her.”

“You’re welcome. But there wasn’t really much of a problem between you two, was there?”

“She likes you.”

“Well.”

“Well? Just well? Our lovely Dr. Petty must be a factor here. She’s had a satisfied look about her the last two days.”

“That may be, Mike.”

“I love single-minded, dumb-as-a-dog loyalty in a man.”

Hood looked up at the vitals monitor and saw Finnegan’s usual numbers.

“Charlie, congratulations on the rescue of Jimmy. I saw him on TV. He looks ghastly and lobotomized, but I guess that’s to be expected. Tell me what happened to Raydel Luna.”

“He brokered the deal with Calderón’s government.”

“Was he shot down by Vascano?”

Hood said nothing while the Bakersfield tiger glanced back at him and he again felt no basis for understanding this man before him at this time and in this place.

You can’t know these things, thought Hood.

Finnegan worked up a slow small smile. “I’m surprised they didn’t get to Raydel earlier,” he said. “A principled man is always a valuable target. May I tell you something?”

“You may.”

“It’s never been my wish to exhaust your goodwill.”

“It is exhausted. You know things and people you’re not supposed to know. You’re not affiliated with any law enforcement or intelligence agencies that I can find. You invent histories and stories to obscure your own past, but the histories and stories involve real people and true events and you know details like you were really there.”

“There are unlimited stories and multiple truths. Not many people can let themselves believe this concept. But you can and that’s why I’ve talked with you. Opened up. Offered friendship. Charlie, I value your goodwill. I would like to encourage it. I feel the weight that is on you. There’s something on your mind, isn’t there?”

Neither man spoke for a long while. Hood remembered Finnegan telling him he could hear a man’s thoughts at eight feet or less. Maybe that would account for all he seemed to know. Hood waited.

“Weapons, Charlie? Weapons going south? I’ll bet I’m getting warm.”

“What else would be on my mind, Mike? Guns are my job with Blowdown.”

“Something new? Something value-priced and made locally in, say, Orange County?”

Hood stared at the little man, thinking: If he knows I’m surveilling Pace Arms, then my cover is blown or soon could be. But how can he know? By reading my mind a few minutes ago? We’re less than eight feet apart. Fucking ridiculous.

But Hood tried to keep his mind open and blank. “Why locally? Why Orange County?”

“Speculation only, deputy.”

“Help me, Mike. Like I helped you with Owens.”

“You already know the big picture, Charlie. You know that the other cartels all need firepower against Armenta and his Zetas. And against Vascano, who’s a bigger threat than Armenta because he recruits . Vascano’s band is growing. They’re over two thousand well-armed men. They’ll kill the cartel leaders and consolidate trade. They’ll make a nice profit off American appetites and they’ll try to win the hearts and bellies of Mexico ’s poor. They may succeed. Finally they’ll have to do battle with Calderón’s troops. Vascano is already plucking the best poor soldiers from the Mexican Army and the Guatemalan Kaibiles. The rate of defection increases weekly. Everyone needs guns in Mexico. Everyone.”

“Where are they leaving from, these new, locally made products? When?”

Finnegan again went silent. Hood glanced at the vitals, then at the stack of books, then at the flecks on the linoleum floor.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“You owe me, Mike.”

“Yes, I do.”

Hood stood and plucked the phone off the book and tossed it onto the crook of Mike’s good right arm and walked out.