Less than two minutes later, Harry was in the restaurant. Sarah was waiting for him, seated at a booth. He walked over. “Did you already order?”

“No. Thought I’d wait for you. Did you get the gas?”

“No. They want an arm and a leg,” said Harry. “Listen, why don’t we go on to the next town? We can fill up there and get something to eat. The gas will probably be less.”

“What, you think you’re going to save three cents a gallon? Besides, the waitress already brought me water,” said Sarah.

“Good.” Harry picked up the glass and downed the whole thing in a single gulp, then wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “Now I don’t need to buy any. Let’s go.”

“God, Uncle Harry, gimme a minute. Let me get my purse.”

Harry was guiding her by the arm.

“Anybody ever tell you you’re a penny pincher?” she said.

“Yeah, matter of fact, most of the women I’ve dated. Probably why I never got married.”

“I can understand that,” said Sarah.

For the moment all Harry wanted to do was put distance between themselves and the tarp-covered trailer in the parking lot behind the restaurant. If they were lucky, the driver was headed to Mexico. Then Liquida could follow it home.

TWENTY-SIX

I’m sorry to hear about your daughter’s friend. I don’t think I have to tell you that. I think you already know. You’re in a great deal of trouble with this Liquida.” Joselyn looks at me over the rim of her wineglass as she sips a little Chardonnay. “What exactly did you do to make him so angry?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh, come on. You can tell me,” she says. “It’s just the three of us sitting here and I’m willing to bet that Mr. Diggs already knows.”

“If I knew I would tell you. But I don’t.”

“Why don’t you tell me the truth?” she says. “Or else…”

“Or else what? You’re going to get your crystal ball out, smack me in the head with it, and do another mind meld?” I say.

“If you like. We can do that.”

The three of us, Joselyn, Herman, and I, are seated in a dark corner of the lounge at the Brasserie in the Crowne Plaza Hotel on Century Boulevard, a stone’s throw from LAX.

“Have you given any more thought to what we talked about the last time we met?” she says.

“You mean before you turned white and slid under the table?” I ask.

“Yes, before that.”

“As I recall, you wanted to know whether I talked in my sleep?” I say.

“And you said you didn’t know. As I recall, because there were no witnesses.”

“Actually, it all depends.”

“On what?” she says.

“On the other thing we talked about.”

“Which was?”

“You may be clairvoyant but you have a bad memory,” I say. “The question was whether you wanted me for my mind or my body.”

Herman is fondling the beer bottle in front of him nervously, as if he’s wandered into the middle of a conversation on birth control.

“I’ve had some time to think about this,” I tell her.

“Have you?” She looks at me over the glass, feline oval eyes and a sultry grin. “And what did you conclude?”

“That if you wanted me for my mind, I’d probably put us both to sleep. But if it was my body you were after, I doubt if I’d talk.”

“And why is that?”

“I don’t think I’d get much sleep.”

“Yes, but you might talk,” she says. “It would depend on how I tied you to the bed.”

“Interesting hypothesis.”

“Perhaps we need to conduct an experiment,” she says.

“I take it you have a lab upstairs,” I say.

“I do.”

Herman clears his throat. “You guys wanna get a room, don’t let me get in the way,” he says. “I’ll just go out front, stand in the fountain for a while. Maybe light up a cigar so’s I can ask you how it was for both of you when the experiment’s over.”

“Perhaps you should join us,” she says.

“No, thanks,” says Herman. “I draw the line at that.”

“You could take notes,” I tell him.

She laughs. “I think we’ve embarrassed him,” she says. “We were joking.”

“We were?” I give her a crestfallen look.

“Of course. I think so. Anyway, we have business to discuss,” she says.

“You mean that wasn’t it? Glad to hear it.” Herman, for all of his earthiness, is a prude.

“I’m sorry about getting sick the last time,” she says. “You can imagine my shock when I saw Thorn’s face in that photograph.”

“Now we’re down to talking points,” I tell her. “What else do you know about Thorn?”

“What do you mean?”

“Can you tell us anything more about him? Did he ever say anything that might have given away where he was from? Any associates of his you might have met?”

“You want information?” she says.

“If you can help us, yes,” I tell her.

“And do you mind if I ask, what are you offering in return?” she says.

“My body,” I tell her.

“We’re back to that. No. I mean of value,” she says. “Do you have anything of value to offer in return?”

“That’s pretty mercenary,” I tell her. “Besides, you probably don’t have much on Thorn. Not that’s current anyway. It’s been what, ten years since you saw the man. Still, you might have something, some small item that might help us run him down.”

“And why would you want to find Thorn?” she says.

“He’s the key to Liquida,” says Herman.

“I see. Thorn is in the picture with Jimmie Snyder. Jimmie is killed by Liquida. And you know that because his fingerprint is found on your card in Jimmie’s wallet. Is that right?”

“Thumbprint,” I tell her.

“Excuse me. His thumbprint. And of course the authorities know this because they have one of Liquida’s matching prints from an earlier crime scene in Southern California. What was the name of that case again?” She looks at me. “You remember? Your partner was just about to say the name when you stopped him.”

“Tell you what,” I say. “You tell me everything you know about Thorn. And I’ll tell you what I know about Liquida and the earlier case. How’s that?”

“You know what I want?” Joselyn gives me an exasperated look. “I want your testimony concerning what happened at Coronado,” she says. “Both of you. All the information you have about the nuclear device and the Russian who was killed outside the base. Agree to go public with that and I will help you in any way I can with Thorn and Liquida. That’s the price. Don’t forget, I have some very good sources of information.”

“Can’t do it,” I tell her.

“Why not?”

“I just can’t.”

“Why, because you think the FBI, your friend Zeb Thorpe, might keep Liquida off your back?”

“What do you know about Thorpe?” I say.

“I know he headed up the investigation following the attack at Coronado. That he provided protection for you, your daughter, your partner, and Mr. Diggs here for the better part of three months. But it didn’t have anything to do with Liquida. All he wanted was to keep you quiet. To keep you away from the press.”

Joselyn knows more than I thought.

“Then what makes you think that Thorpe’s involved in any way with Liquida?”

“Give me a break,” she says. “Liquida killed Afundi. That’s your earlier case. The one with Liquida’s matching thumbprint.”

“Whoops,” says Herman.

“She’s right,” I tell him. “She does have good sources.”

“So stop lying to me,” says Joselyn. “I know everything already. It’s just that I’m not a percipient witness. Everything I have is secondhand, from reports and documents, and other sources,” she says. “I don’t have copies, but I’ve been allowed to look at them. Problem is it’s all hearsay. But you, you both saw it, the bomb and everything that happened. More than that, you can corroborate each other.”

“We saw a device,” I tell her. “Neither of us is an expert. We can’t verify that it was nuclear.”

“What, does it have to go off before we know this? You talked to the Russian.”

“He didn’t speak English,” I tell her.