‘I just held the bag, so I didn’t really steal anything, did I, Smoke?’ Weed asked. ‘I mean, I’m not keeping any of it, either. It’s all yours, right?’
Smoke laughed harder.
‘Where we going?’ Weed dared to ask.
Smoke started digging through CDs.
‘Can I go home now?’ Weed asked.
‘Sure,’ Smoke said.
He started rapping to Master P.
‘It don’t look like we’re going the right way.’ Weed raised his voice.
Smoke told him to shut up. Somehow they ended up on West Cary Street, which was nowhere near Weed’s neighborhood. Smoke stopped the car in the middle of the road.
‘Get out,’ he said.
‘What for?’ Weed protested. ‘I can’t get out here!’
‘You’re walking for a while. To make sure you’re wide awake when we pick you up later.’
Weed didn’t know a thing about later. He didn’t dare ask. Smoke’s meanness was coiling and about to strike.
‘Get out, retard,’ Smoke warned.
‘I don’t know where I am.’
‘Keep walking that way and you’ll get to your street in a couple miles.’
Weed didn’t move as he stared wide-eyed into the night, his head pounding. Smoke was checking his mirrors.
‘Meet you two blocks from your house at three A.M. At Schaaf and Broadmoor,’ Smoke said.
Weed didn’t understand. His stomach was pushing everything the wrong way again.
‘Bring your paints, retard. Whatever will work on a life-size metal statue in a graveyard.’
Weed opened his door and spat up bile on the pavement. He got out and almost fell again.
‘Remember what happened last time when you were late,’ Smoke reminded him. ‘And anybody finds out what you’re doing, I’m going to hurt you real bad.’
Weed stumbled to the side of the road and grabbed a speed-limit sign to steady himself. He watched Smoke’s taillights vanish down the dark road. Weed sat down hard and begged God to help him. He got up and couldn’t remember which way to go or where he was. He ducked behind walls and trees whenever headlights appeared, sometimes lying flat on his face and playing dead.
Niles was playing dead, too. He had given up trying. To hint that he had been sitting right on top of his owner’s desk the instant the fish appeared on the computer screen, which had been at exactly 12:47 this afternoon.
Niles had done nothing to cause this unusual event, and frankly had assumed his owner had loaded a new screen saver for Niles’s benefit, since he was very fond of fish and his owner was always looking for ways to please him and occupy his attention so he’d stay out of trouble.
Hammer moved her feet again under the table. Niles held on, paws snugly around her ankles, claws tucked in so he didn’t run her hose.
‘What about using fish to body-pack cocaine,’ West said.
‘Virginia, that’s brilliant,’ Hammer said, shaking her feet again.
‘Drugs could get in undetected from Maine, Miami, from almost anywhere,’ West went on.
‘I want narcotics on it right away,’ Hammer said. ‘And Andy, call NIJ’s Crime Mapping Center first thing in the morning and see what they can tell us. We’ll hope the fish problem’s not pervasive, not an indication of a virus.’
‘With an address like that,’ Brazil was frank, Tm worried about how many sites on the network might have been affected.’
‘Tell NIJ our situation is urgent, that we’re locked out of COMSTAT until we can resolve this,’ Hammer said. ‘I’ve really got to head on and let Popeye out. Virginia, please get your cat so I can move.’
‘Niles, enough!’
Niles draped over Brazil’s shoe. Brazil leaned over and played Niles’s ribs like piano keys. Niles purred. Niles was very fond of Brazil and had nicknamed him Piano Man when all of them lived in Charlotte and Piano Man and Niles’s owner used to get along and play tennis and go shooting and watch movies and talk about Piano Man’s eventually leaving the Charlotte Observer and becoming a cop so he could write stories about crime that would change the way people thought.
Niles wanted his owner and Piano Man to get along again, even if it meant being thrown off the bed every night. Niles was irritated with his owner. She wasn’t being the least bit friendly to Piano Man and was annoyed that Niles was purring for him. Niles jumped in Piano Man’s lap.