Niceville

Hummer and halfway to Danziger’s ranch north of the city when his OnStar phone rang.
    It was Andy Chu.
    “Chu, what is it? I’m busy here.”
    “This won’t take a minute, boss.”
    “If it’s about that fucking e-mail snitch, Andy, then you’re a day late and a dollar short.”
    “It’s not that, sir.”
    “Then what the fuck is it?”
    “Perhaps you’d like to pull over first?”
    “What the fuck for?”
    “Mario La Motta. Desi Muñoz. Julie Spahn. Arthur Desoto.”
    Shit
.
    Shit shit shit
.
    “Look, Andy … those names? Can I ask where—”
    “Pull over now.”
    “But …”
    “Mr. Deitz, with respect, if you wish to complete your business with Mr. Dak and not go to a federal prison for the remainder of your life, you would be well advised to comply with my request.”
    Deitz shut up and pulled over.
    He was still listening to Andy Chu explain exactly how a new day had just dawned and how Byron Deitz now had a new silent partner when he got a call on his cell.
    He looked at the call display: PHIL HOLLIMAN .
    “Look, ah, Andy, can I put you on hold for a minute? Okay? Would that be okay?”
    “Certainly. Please do. I will wait.”
    Deitz flicked his cell open.
    “Yeah, Phil, what’s the—”
    “They’re gone, Deitz.”
    “Gone? Who’s gone?”
    “Zachary Dak and his whole crew. They checked out thirty minutes ago. They’re in the wind.”
    “Jesus. What about the item?”
    “I’m standing in their room. There’s nothing here. Nothing. They’re taking the item with them. They were
always
going to take it with them.”
    “Jesus H. Christ on a Fucking Crutch.”
    “Yeah, well, I’ll give Him a call then, if you think He’ll help.”
    “No, wait—the Lear. It’s at Mauldar Field. That’s a half hour from the Marriott. Call the field boss, tell him not to give that Lear clearance to take off until I get there—”
    “I’m a just security guard, Deitz—”
    “Tell him whatever. Make sure that fucking plane never gets spooled up. Go. Now.”
    Deitz flipped the cell phone shut.
    His head was so full of that walnut-cracking sound that he thoughtit was coming from the entire fucking universe, that the whole universe was made up of this walnut-cracking sound, like from the Big Bang. He got back to Andy Chu.
    “Andy, I got to go—”
    “We have much to discuss.”
    “I know, look, and I hear you, I really do, it’s just that I’ve got this emergency, it affects the company—”
    “I think of it as
our
company now, yes?”
    “Yeah, of course, Andy, you and me, a whole new thing, I’m totally okay with all that, you know, business is business, right? We can talk about the details later, but right now I really—”
    “I understand fully. Please have a very nice day. And remember to drive carefully.”
    “Good. Yeah. Okay. I promise. Gotta go.”
    He hit the OFF button and was already wheeling the Hummer around, almost putting it on two wheels. He punched the pedal flat, gritting his teeth all the while, thinking about the best route to take to get to Mauldar Field—
straight down 366 and then hang a left on Pewter and cut across on Shiloh
—he had the engine howling and was now doing a flat one-forty going southbound on Arrow Creek Road and he could see traffic flying by at the intersection of Arrow Creek and 366—he looked at his watch—he could not believe the day he was having—
fucking wily Asiatics
.
    He was fumbling for his cell phone to make a call to Mauldar Field himself—
make sure that God-damned Lear never gets wheels up
—he took the curve onto 366 at eighty and almost rolled it, recovered, punched it again as he got zeroed onto the straightaway, pushed it to one forty-five, had the cell, punched in the numbers, and got Mauldar Field Tower—
    “Yeah, Mauldar, let me have your controller.”
    “Who’s calling?”
    “Byron Deitz, I’m the head of Securicom. Have you got a Chinese Lear spooling up?”
    “It’s fourth in line to go. Why?”
    “You gotta stop it, okay? Gotta stop it.”
    “Who are you again, sir?”
    Deitz tried not to lose it.
    “I’m the head of Securicom for Quantum Park—”
    “Are you a law enforcement official?”
    “No, listen, wait, yes, I’m FBI. You—”
    A siren.
    He could hear sirens.
    He looked in his rearview mirror.
    There was a State Police car right on his ass, his lights flashing, his rack strobing like a fucking clown car.
    Oh fuck
.
    “May I have your ID number, sir?”
    “My ID num— Look,