F Wilson - Deep as the Marrow

Soon as we get somewhere, Poppy thought, I’ll have to work on her. Bring her out. And figure out what to do with her.

Yeah. Soon as we get somewhere.

But where was she going? And what was she going to do when she got there? My next move, she thought. Good question. What do I do now? She wished Paulie was here. She wasn’t good at this sort of stuff, but Paulie’d know what to do.

The thought of Paulie started an ache deep in her chest. She remembered his funny laugh, his crooked smile, always trying to be a hard guy when he didn’t have a mean bone in his body. And now he was dead. She didn’t want to remember him like that, all soaked with blood, his face so pale, his dead eyes staring. She wanted to remember him in bed, doing wonderful things to her…

“Why are you crying?” Katie’s voice startled her. She wiped at her cheeks and her hand came away wet and stained with mascara.

Poppy sniffed and stifled the building sobs. Can’t go to pieces now. Got to hold together for Katie.

“Because I’m sad, Katie.” How did she say this? She didn’t want to start answering questions about lovers and death. “I… I lost a very dear friend today.” She felt something touch her. She looked down and saw Katie’s little hand patting her forearm.

“That’s okay. I’ll be your friend.” And that only made Poppy cry harder. I’m a basket case, she thought. I’ll kill us both if I don’t get off the road and pull myself together.

Somewhere north of Baltimore she spotted a GAS-FOOD-LODGING sign before the Edgewood exit.

She’d never heard of Edgewood and figured maybe that was good. Who’d look for her in Edgewood, Maryland?

She hit the Exit 77 ramp and the first place she came to was a Best Western. A Denny’s and a McDonald’s occupied the opposing corners.

Perfect.

She pulled into the parking lot, turned off the engine, and sat there, unable to move, feeling like she suddenly weighed a couple of tons. She felt so totally alone, so unsure. Was stopping here the right thing? What would Paulie do?

He’d probably say. Get off the road, park the truck around back, and hole up until you’ve made a plan. Don’t go running around without a plan.

Okay. She’d make a plan. But first she’d have to like figure out how to pay for the room. Cash or credit?

She opened Mac’s wallet and went through the credit cards. All those different names—James King, Eric Coral, Francis Black, Steven Garter, Jason Rattle, William Boa… stolen cards or real accounts with phony names?

Weird, she thought. All snake names. That couldn’t be a coincidence. And she remembered what Paulie used to say about him—“a real detail guy.” Not the type to get caught with hot plastic. Probably a good bet they were real accounts.

Good. She’d rotate them and save her cash. Mac sure as hell wouldn’t be reporting them stolen.

“How come your face is all black?” Katie said.

Poppy glanced in the rearview mirror. Her cheeks were a mess of black smears.

“That’s mascara. I kinda like to pile it on.”

“How come? And how come your lips are all black too?”

“Because I use black lipstick, silly.” Poppy wondered at all the questions, then realized that Katie had never seen her without a mask until this morning.

“And how come you got earrings in your face?”

Poppy glanced in the mirror again. She barely noticed the diamond stud in her left nostril and the fine silver ring through her right eyebrow anymore. Nobody she hung out with gave them a second thought. Hell, most people she hung out with were pierced a lot more than her. A lot more.

But they did make her stick out in the straight world. She’d never minded that before. Liked to flaunt it, in fact. Thumbing her nose at all the uptights.

But the last thing she wanted now was to stick out. The rings had to go.

But not all of them.

“Want to see another?” She pulled up her shirt and showed Katie her pierced belly button. “What you think of that one?” Katie made a face.

“Eeeuuuuw! How come—?”

“That’s enough questions for now. Let’s go get us a room.”

“We’re staying here?” Her eyes lit up. “Oh, goody! I hope the bed’s got Magic Fingers!” And Poppy did something she’d thought she might never do again. She smiled.

14

“I think we’ve got trouble.” Alien Gold had said he was calling from a parking lot in Falls Church. His words made Carlos’s back muscles bunch.

“Tell me.”

“Nothing doing at his house. We drove by twice and didn’t see anything unusual. But it looks like the shit’s hit the fan at the second address.” The Falls Church house. Carlos squeezed his eyes shut. He knew it!

“What has happened?”

“Cops all over the place. Looks like it might have been a raid or something. Couldn’t get a good look.”

“Our friend’s car… the Jeep?”

“Couldn’t tell you. I mean, what with all the squad cars, the ambulances, the EMS trucks, who could see? We passed by and did a typical rubbernecking thing, but the cops on the street kept us moving. Did see a body, though.”

“Was it?”

“Couldn’t tell. Wrapped head to toe in a sheet and rolling toward the meat wagon.” Mierda! This could be disastrous. But he could not let Gold or Llosa know he was upset.

“Return immediately. We must make plans.” He hung up and drummed his fingers on his belly. He had contacts down at D.C. police headquarters. He would contact them and find out exactly what had happened in the Falls Church house.

Worst case scenario was that MacLaglen was dead. That meant his treacherous little tape would soon be on its way to numerous federal agencies. And that meant that Carlos would be on his way to the private airport where he kept his new Gulfstream V.

MacLaglen alive and in custody would be almost as bad. MacLaglen had a lot of pride, but he would be facing grievous charges. How long before he struck a deal to give up the one who had hired him? Carlos guessed he’d last about a day. MacLaglen in custody would also prompt a hurried trip to the airport.

But what about Maria? If Carlos had to run, he’d never be able to return. He might never see his Maria again. So she’d have to come with him—like it or not. He’d have Llosa grab the perra and drag her out to the plane.

But where could he go? Colombia would be the safest as far as extradition was concerned, but extradition was only one of his worries.

After all, he had failed. Either through his damned tape or his confession, MacLaglen would expose a plot by the drug cartel to assassinate President Winston. Attempts to put la compania out of business, either by a frontal assault or by legalizing its product, would intensify.

Somehow he couldn’t see Emilio Rojas welcoming him with open arms. He might have to find a new home. He’d worry about where later.

He looked up the number to the airport. Best to call and make sure his jet was fueled and ready to go.

15

“Whoops, there’s some news,” Poppy said. “Leave it there for a minute.”

“I don’t like news,” Katie said.

She had the remote pointed at the motel TV, her thumb poised over the button. She’d been in the middle of channel surfing when Poppy spotted the word HEADLINES on one of the D.C. stations.

“It’s only for like a minute, honey bunch. I just want to hear something.” Poppy leaned forward, listening. The big story seemed to be President Winston’s sudden admission to Bethesda Naval Hospital—“for a check-up before leaving for Europe next week.”

“Look, it’s Uncle Tom,” Katie said.

“Right, honey bunch. Just let me listen a sec, okay.” This super-straight-looking babe—Heather Something—who looked like she’d never had a beer, let alone a joint, came on and started plugging legalized drugs.