The police had to be contacted immediately. But something deep within Monks resisted, warning him to stay silent-

Because now he was slammed by the fear that Glenn might be involved in the murders.

The hypocrisy was terrible. If it had been someone else’s son, Monks would have blown the whistle without hesitation.

But it was not someone else’s son.

Whom did he owe more to-CEOs who reaped huge profits by gutting domestic industries, exploiting subsistence labor in Third World countries, even ripping off their own employees and investors, selling out the very real lives of working people-or his own flesh and blood?

He knuckled his eyes, trying to shake off this insane calculation. Maybe Freeboot was getting into his head.

A sudden chirping sounded nearby. He tensed, glancing around in bewilderment, thinking a tree frog or locust must have gotten into the vehicle. Then he recognized the coy summons of his cell phone. He kept it in the Bronco when he was traveling, in case of vehicle trouble or other emergencies, but he almost never got called except during investigations.

Certainly not at a time and place like this.

He reached into the glove box and got the phone.

“This is Monks,” he said.

“Marguerite told you we’d get in touch, man. What part of that don’t you understand?”

Monks closed his eyes at the sound of Freeboot’s sardonic voice.

“I wanted to find out what she knows,” Monks said. “For Christ’s sake, we’re talking about my son.”

“You want your son? You got him. Hey, Coil, it’s your old man.” The last words were a sharp summons, spoken away from the mouthpiece. There came a few seconds’ pause, and a fumbling sound as the phone changed hands.

“How’s it going, Rasp?” The voice was young, insolent-unquestionably Glenn’s.

Monks swallowed drily. “Glenn, are you all right?”

“Number nine,” Glenn crooned mockingly. “Number nine, Number nine-”

“Okay, get out of here,” Freeboot told Glenn, cutting back in. “Me and your dad got to talk in private.”

“Freeboot, I don’t hold any grudge,” Monks said. “I don’t have any desire to send you to jail.” Those were lies, but he was making the swift and frightening realization that he was willing to stay quiet about the pendant. “I’ll never tell anybody I heard from you. I just want my son safe.”

Freeboot answered conversationally, like one old friend catching up with another.

“You look like you recovered pretty good from your hike. Grew that patch of hair back. Put on a little weight.”

“All right, you’ve been watching me,” Monks said. “I figured that.”

“You’ve seen me, too. Within the last two weeks, fifty feet away. Looked right at me.”

Freeboot waited, letting the point sink in-he had altered his appearance to the point where Monks wouldn’t recognize him. It might not be true, but Monks’s gut told him that it was.

Freeboot was on the loose and invisible.

“Now let’s talk about my son,” Freeboot said. “He’s in Sacramento, at that Coulter Hospital, right?”

Warily, Monks said, “What makes you think that?”

“Marguerite told me that’s where he got took. Then we helped ourselves to their records. They didn’t exactly give their permission.” Freeboot sounded smug, throwing out another boast-hospital records security and computer firewalls tended to be top-notch.

Monks winced, wondering if Glenn was involved in this hacking, too. It was no big secret that Mandrake had been taken to Coulter. But then he had been officially discharged and placed in the long-term care ward under a changed name, precisely for fear that Freeboot might come looking for him. Probably the hospital had kept the same ID number or other telltale data, not dreaming that his father would be able to penetrate that far.

“I want to see him,” Freeboot said. “And they ain’t exactly going to give me visiting privileges, are they? So, being as how you’re the one that took him away, you’re going to give him back. We trade-your kid for mine.”

“What?”

“Let’s quit fucking around and get down to business.” Freeboot’s voice was steely now. “Coil’s doing fine. At least, that’s what he thinks. But the truth is, I’m sick of the little shit. He’s whiny and cocky, both-thinks we can’t get along without him because he’s so fucking smart. He’s wrong, dude.”

The threat was flat and matter-of-fact.

“He’ll stay fine,” Freeboot said. “Long as I get my own son back. Tonight.”

“That’s”-Monks started to say insane, but the memory of Freeboot’s explosive ego stopped him. “Impossible.”

“I don’t want you to have time to get yourself in trouble. Sacramento ’s not that far. You leave right now, you can be there by eight, nine P.M.”

“Whoa, hold on. I can’t just walk in and ask for him.”

“How you do it is your problem,” Freeboot said coldly. “You know your way around those hospitals. Figure something out. Then you and I are done. You’ll never hear from me again. Your kid stays safe, he never knows anything about this.”

“What about Mandrake?” Monks said. “He’s going to die if you treat him like you did before.”

“No, no, man, I’m going to take him someplace where he’ll have a great hospital and doctors.” Freeboot was earnest now, in his persuasive mode. “I got it all set up. See, I learned some things from you. I’m admitting you were right. But I want him with me, you know?”

“Freeboot, don’t do this,” Monks said, the words rushing out in a plea. “The police aren’t looking hard for you now. But if one of those kids dies, that changes everything.”

“Nobody’s going to get hurt unless you fuck up.”

Monks clamped his jaw tight, recognizing the psychopath’s logic at work again. If anything bad happened, it would be his fault.

“If I can get Mandrake, what am I supposed to do with him?”

“I’ll be calling you,” Freeboot said. “You better understand something real clear-you get this one chance. You try to pull anything, it’s all over.”

The connection ended.

Monks set down the phone with a shaking hand. His concerns that had seemed so earth-shaking a minute ago were ancient history now. All that mattered was being in the vise of sacrificing either Glenn or Mandrake.

Monk was sure that Freeboot was lying about continuing Mandrake’s medical care, and that crystallized his suspicions about Motherlode. Freeboot had murdered her, to wipe away the stain that she had brought to his imagined genetic superiority.

And he intended to do the same thing to his son.

“I should have killed you when I had the chance, you son of a bitch,” Monks whispered, and jammed the Bronco into gear.

30

He drove east toward the town of Philo, in the direction of Sacramento, moving as fast as he dared. It was night now, and the road through the coastal mountains narrowed down to one lane in places, with a lot of steep slopes and tight curves.

The impossible choices hammered his brain. On top of everything else, there was no reason to think that Freeboot would keep his word about Glenn. Monks thought again about trying to use the jade pendant as a bargaining chip-promising to stay quiet about it in return for having Glenn delivered safely to him. But threatening Freeboot was likely to get Glenn killed.

The only faint hope that Monks could see was to throw out a net and hope that Freeboot slipped up.

Monks picked up his cell phone, but hesitated. Freeboot knew that he had the phone and might call for help; he had to have planned for that possibility. The maquis would be watching him from moving vehicles or stationary ones posted along the way. They would vaporize at any sign of police. They might even have bugged the Bronco while he had been at the far end of the beach. He looked around helplessly. It was the size of a shortbed pickup truck, its rear compartment packed with the traveling gear he carried, its massive undercarriage thick with years of grease and mud. There were thousands of places to hide microphones that could be as small as pinheads. But stopping to use another phone would be a red flag to anyone who was watching.