Could you trust a couple of loadies with something like that? Yeah, right. They’d be racing to see who could babble about it first. No, Salinas’s approach made the most sense.

Snake held Salinas’s gaze and shook his head. “No. This is just a personal policy. No group coverage.”

6

If Snake had felt high after leaving Il Giardinello last night, he was stratospheric now. He’d done it! He’d stared down the goddamn Colombian cartel. They blinked!

Or at least Salinas did. But that was enough. He’d sent the message and it had been received loud and clear: You don’t fuck with Snake.

He began punching the air—left-right-left—as he made his way to his car. He was Ali, he was Tyson. Float like a butterfly, sting like a cruise missile. When he reached the car he knew he was too wired to sit behind the wheel.

A car? A car? Even a fucking Concorde would be too slow right now!

He grabbed his laptop from the trunk and set off walking through Georgetown like he owned it. Up Wisconsin, then left toward G.U. along the cobblestone streets with their obsolete trolley tracks, past the brick-fronted town houses, and up to the campus.

The walk burned off enough adrenaline to allow him to seat himself in the library and plug into one of the computer jacks. He logged onto his account and checked his e-mail.

He grinned when he saw the letter from Vanduyne, a rush of pleading, whining, moaning how it was all a mistake and how they got cut off by accident and to contact him again right away and please-please-please don’t take it out on his dear little Katie.

Yeah, well, maybe it was an accident and maybe not. Maybe this was a game Vanduyne was playing. But Snake was boss. Even the Colombians knew that now. And Snake didn’t allow games, or even accidents.

He began typing a reply that would tell Vanduyne just that, then stopped. Nah. No reply. Let the pussy stew. Let him go crazy waiting for a reply. He’d get his reply.

Tomorrow morning.

In his mailbox—his real mailbox.

7

Poppy watched through the eyeholes of her mask as Katie drained the glass of milk.

“Want some more?”

Katie shook her head.

Poppy glanced at her watch. Three hours since the fit. The kid had woke up about an hour ago but still didn’t seem to be all there. Her color was better but her fine dark hair was all like tangled.

At least she hadn’t had another fit, thank God. And she wouldn’t, either, as long as Poppy had something to say about it.

“Aren’t you hungry?” Another shake of the head, then a sob. “I just want to go home.” Poppy slipped her arms around Katie and hugged her close.

“I know you do, honey bunch. And you’ll be going home real soon, I promise you.”

“But when?”

“I don’t know exactly, but it won’t be too long.”

“That’s what my Daddy always says.”

“When’s that?”

“When we’re in the car and I ask him how long till we get there, and he always says the same thing: ‘It won’t be too long now.’ Even if we just started out, he says, ‘It won’t be too long now.”

Poppy laughed. “Yeah, my Daddy used to say something like that, only he’d go, ‘Not much further now.’ I guess all daddies are alike.” Except mine’s dead.

She thought about Dad, how she’d heard about his heart attack six months after he was buried. And she still remembered Uncle Luke’s voice on the phone: “That wasn’t no heart attack. Your father died of a broken heart. And we both know who broke it, don’t we.” Yeah, she knew. Totally.

Katie pulled away and stared at her. “Why are you wearing a Minnie Mouse mask?”

“I told you how I can’t let you see my face, but I thought you’d like this one better than the Roseanne mask. You do, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And how about your new clothes?”

Katie looked down at her plaid shirt and Oshkosh overalls. “They’re okay, I guess.”

She’s right. Poppy thought. They’re okay. Barely okay.

She’d sent Paulie out for new masks and dry clothes and underwear. She’d given him the size and that was about it. He’d done good with the masks—Minnie for her and Mickey for him—but the clothes… “At least they’re dry.”

She reddened and looked away. “I’m sorry.”

Poppy grabbed her and hugged her again. “Don’t you be sorry! Don’t you dare be sorry! That wasn’t your fault. It was ours. We forgot to give you your medicine. That won’t happen again.”

What’s up with me? she wondered as she pressed that skinny little body close against her. She hated kids. Never wanted any, but now all she wanted to do was like hold and protect this one. It’s like I’m a different person.

She remembered waking up with a headache, and hearing this rattling and thumping coming from somewhere in the house. She’d tried to wake Paulie but he was like dead to the world. So she got up and went to see… and went to pieces when she found the kid in the middle of a fit.

Not the first time she’d seen a fit. God, no. She’d seen far more than her fair share and had hoped and prayed she’d never see one again.

“I promise you. Glory,” she whispered into her hair. “It’ll never happen again.”

Katie said, “My name’s not Glory.”

Poppy stiffened. Glory? Had she really called her Glory?

“You’re right,” she said quickly. “Of course it isn’t. What was I thinking?”

Was that what this was all about? Glory? Was Katie the kid Glory might have been? If she’d lived? She repressed a shudder. That was scary. And yet…

The phone rang in the other room. She left Katie on the bed and opened the door enough to poke her head through just as Paulie picked it up and said, “Yeah?” Had to be Mac.

“Yeah, she’s fine… Nope. No problems. Got the pill into her just like the directions said…”

Poppy caught his eye and glared at him through the mask. He shrugged, like. What else am I supposed to say?

Better say nothing, Paulie. Mac finds out you almost messed up his little package and he’ll be like all over you.

She was still pissed at Paulie. Really, how could one man be so stupid? He had the pills in his goddamn pocket. All he had to do was— She cut off the train. She got crazy every time she thought about it. Better to leave it alone.

But she was still royally pissed.

“What?” Paulie was saying. “Aw, come on! You gotta be shitting me, man!” Uh-oh. What else had gone wrong?

She saw Paulie glance at her but his gaze skittered away. He turned his back and lowered his voice, but she could see his shoulder muscles bunching up and knew he was arguing. He stole a second gun-shy look her way, then took the phone into the bedroom.

Obviously, Paulie and Mac weren’t seeing eye to eye about something. She wondered what it was. No matter. She’d find out soon enough. She closed the door and returned to Katie.

Took a long time, maybe fifteen minutes, before Paulie knocked on the door.

“You wanna come out here a minute?”

She slipped out the door, closed it behind her, and immediately pulled off the mask. Cool air felt great on her face. Hot and humid inside that plastic. She blotted the moisture off her face with her sleeve, then looked at Paulie. Jesus, he looked totally spooked. His eyes were darting all around the room, anywhere but at her.

“What’s wrong?” she said.

“That was Mac.”

“Who else would it be. What’d he want?”

“He says the package’s father ain’t cooperating.”

“Ain’t cooperating? You mean he don’t want her back?”

“I don’t know exactly. Mac says he’s giving him a hard time.”

Poppy looked at the bedroom door. Jesus! Somebody steals your little girl and you haggle over the price? Like what kind of father does that?

“The son of a bitch.”

“Yeah. So…” Paulie was staring real hard at the floor. “So Mac wants us to send the guy a persuader.” Poppy froze, staring at Paulie, who was still looking at the floor. She’d been gut punched once, and that was how she felt right now. She thought she was going to puke. But she controlled it. And she controlled the urge to launch herself at Paulie and start screaming like a banshee. She controlled everything.