men.”
“Only two of them. And they were sure as hell going to kill me if I didn’t. Considering the other four are all getting off with bumps and bruises, I’d say that’s pretty damn charitable of me.”
“Don’t you care ? Don’t you feel anything?”
I thought about that and nodded.
“Alive,” I said. “Best feeling in the world. I told you I’d protect you, Father. I meant it.”
“And I said I’d surrender!” he snapped. “You killed them in my name . Don’t you understand that? I share in that guilt. Who are you to decide their lives are worth less than mine?”
“Hmm. Let’s see. A couple of gun thugs who throw Molotovs into crowded apartment buildings, versus a guy who never hurt anybody and basically does charity work for a living. Yeah, y’know, I’m gonna call that a no-brainer.”
He fell into a sullen silence. That suited me fine. The roller coaster running through my nervous system coasted over its last peak and hit a broken piece of track, crashing hard. The frenzied excitement melted into a muddled morass of slow reflexes, stomach cramps, and a pounding headache.
The car wobbled, then rattled, then groaned as one of the tortured wheels finally gave. Alvarez pulled over to the side of the road. I got out and shook my head at the tangled mess of broken rubber clinging to a bent rim. Even if I had a spare, I wasn’t sure I could get the tire off. I looked around to get the lay of the land.
“Strip’s two blocks from here,” I said. “We walk the rest of the way.”
“Where are we going?”
“Someplace with lights, noise, and crowds, while I plan our next move. Those guys won’t try snatching you in public. I want lots and lots of eyes on us.”
We walked about half a block in silence. I knew I had to say something.
“I’m sorry,” I told him. “I didn’t think you’d take it this hard. But Father, you’ve gotta understand, it’s not just about you. They want you for something, some purpose, and whatever it is can’t be good. Shooting those guys may have saved lives, in the long run.”
“I just don’t understand why anyone would want to kidnap me. I don’t have money. I don’t have any family.” He paused. “How did you do it, by the way?”
“Hmm?”
“You were there one moment, then you weren’t. I assume it’s a trapdoor? Some kind of emergency tunnel leading to the sewers? You must have dropped through and then come up in the parking lot.”
I could have pointed out that we were on the second floor, making a tunnel a tricky setup, or that I’d crossed about fifty feet of real estate in less than a breath’s time, but I just nodded instead. He needed what he’d seen to be a trick. He needed it to be a trapdoor to keep his world from spiraling any further out of control tonight. So it was a trapdoor.
The Strip was a wonderland of light, a safe harbor stretching out its neon arms to embrace us. Traffic along the boulevard moved at a crawl, and men stood at every corner, clicking their little clickers and handing out laminated escort ads to anyone who stood still long enough to take one. We passed a Metro cop, who gave us both a casual once-over before turning his attention to a pack of drunken college kids farther down the sidewalk.
“Lose the dog collar, Padre,” I said. “You’re standing out in the crowd.”
Alvarez blinked and unfastened the white tab on his shirt. No good, he still looked like a priest even without the gear. Some people just have that air about them.
I led him into the Monaco, past a pair of towering Ionic columns. The casino swallowed us in cool blue lights and the electronic catcalls of a hundred slot machines all peacocking for the crowds. Right past the entrance to the casino’s theater was a bar with no name, a simple island of liquor in the middle of the concourse near the poker tables.
“Whiskey, neat,” I told the bartender, then nodded at Alvarez. “Same for him.”
I noted, wistfully, that I was
“Only two of them. And they were sure as hell going to kill me if I didn’t. Considering the other four are all getting off with bumps and bruises, I’d say that’s pretty damn charitable of me.”
“Don’t you care ? Don’t you feel anything?”
I thought about that and nodded.
“Alive,” I said. “Best feeling in the world. I told you I’d protect you, Father. I meant it.”
“And I said I’d surrender!” he snapped. “You killed them in my name . Don’t you understand that? I share in that guilt. Who are you to decide their lives are worth less than mine?”
“Hmm. Let’s see. A couple of gun thugs who throw Molotovs into crowded apartment buildings, versus a guy who never hurt anybody and basically does charity work for a living. Yeah, y’know, I’m gonna call that a no-brainer.”
He fell into a sullen silence. That suited me fine. The roller coaster running through my nervous system coasted over its last peak and hit a broken piece of track, crashing hard. The frenzied excitement melted into a muddled morass of slow reflexes, stomach cramps, and a pounding headache.
The car wobbled, then rattled, then groaned as one of the tortured wheels finally gave. Alvarez pulled over to the side of the road. I got out and shook my head at the tangled mess of broken rubber clinging to a bent rim. Even if I had a spare, I wasn’t sure I could get the tire off. I looked around to get the lay of the land.
“Strip’s two blocks from here,” I said. “We walk the rest of the way.”
“Where are we going?”
“Someplace with lights, noise, and crowds, while I plan our next move. Those guys won’t try snatching you in public. I want lots and lots of eyes on us.”
We walked about half a block in silence. I knew I had to say something.
“I’m sorry,” I told him. “I didn’t think you’d take it this hard. But Father, you’ve gotta understand, it’s not just about you. They want you for something, some purpose, and whatever it is can’t be good. Shooting those guys may have saved lives, in the long run.”
“I just don’t understand why anyone would want to kidnap me. I don’t have money. I don’t have any family.” He paused. “How did you do it, by the way?”
“Hmm?”
“You were there one moment, then you weren’t. I assume it’s a trapdoor? Some kind of emergency tunnel leading to the sewers? You must have dropped through and then come up in the parking lot.”
I could have pointed out that we were on the second floor, making a tunnel a tricky setup, or that I’d crossed about fifty feet of real estate in less than a breath’s time, but I just nodded instead. He needed what he’d seen to be a trick. He needed it to be a trapdoor to keep his world from spiraling any further out of control tonight. So it was a trapdoor.
The Strip was a wonderland of light, a safe harbor stretching out its neon arms to embrace us. Traffic along the boulevard moved at a crawl, and men stood at every corner, clicking their little clickers and handing out laminated escort ads to anyone who stood still long enough to take one. We passed a Metro cop, who gave us both a casual once-over before turning his attention to a pack of drunken college kids farther down the sidewalk.
“Lose the dog collar, Padre,” I said. “You’re standing out in the crowd.”
Alvarez blinked and unfastened the white tab on his shirt. No good, he still looked like a priest even without the gear. Some people just have that air about them.
I led him into the Monaco, past a pair of towering Ionic columns. The casino swallowed us in cool blue lights and the electronic catcalls of a hundred slot machines all peacocking for the crowds. Right past the entrance to the casino’s theater was a bar with no name, a simple island of liquor in the middle of the concourse near the poker tables.
“Whiskey, neat,” I told the bartender, then nodded at Alvarez. “Same for him.”
I noted, wistfully, that I was
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