No Immunity

off. If he spotted it again, he’d worry.
    He checked again when he pulled into the 7-Eleven lot, and once more as his call went through. “Adcock,” he shouted over the recorded message, “I’m calling you from a pay phone. It’s three blocks away from where the action is. I can’t hang around here waiting for you. Pick up, man.”

    Louisa Larson was not cut out for this cloak-and-dagger stuff. Bad enough she’d had to run two red lights following the thug across town, all to end up at Grady’s place, but then the thug ups and leaves. And leaves her to guess what it is that he knows so well that he can dismiss the whole business and go make a phone call. She had to guess and guess fast. She’d learned that when she’d worked the ER. There you don’t get a second chance. She’d learned to make her move and not look back. And if it was the wrong move, she figured she’d do it differently the next time. That’s how it had been when she saw the boys last week. The symptoms they’d presented were consistent with hepatitis. She had given them the standard treatment, and mostly to calm the neighbors she’d brought them into the office.
    When had she realized she’d guessed wrong?
    It was a serious mistake, one that could be devastating. But not if she took charge. She had good judgment; she had to trust it. Stay at Grady’s with the new gold Cherokee like the one at Las Palmas? Follow the thug? Which way would get her to the boys? She went with the thug. Now she was sitting down the street eyeing him at a pay phone. Should she stay in the car? Try to get closer to him and not get beaten to a pulp for the effort?
    Who was it who said you should never avoid taking the chance because you’re afraid? Eleanor Roosevelt? Well, Eleanor’d be proud of her now. Was Eleanor the one who talked about turning lemons into lemonade?
    The thug’s back was to her as she made her way around the corner. He was leaning his grungy little body into the phone cubby, his head almost enclosed, like a terrier barking down a hole. She reached the apartment next door and kept watch on him—he could put down the phone anytime, turn around, and be staring her in the face. She was out of cover. There was nothing to do but head for the shrubs. Forcing herself to take long, silent steps, she moved across the dry, prickly grass till she was five feet from the guy.
    “Pick up, man,” he was yelling.

    “McGuire, what the hell are you calling about? I don’t have time—”
    “Then don’t waste it complaining, Adcock. Do you want me to sit and watch your bab—Tchernak—relax in Grady’s flat all night?”
    “What’s Tchernak doing there?”
    “You don’t know?”
    “Hell, no. Listen, McGuire, forget Tchernak and whatever he’s screwing around doing. He found Grady’s contact up Ninety-three, and that’s where the action’s going to be. I’m flying up there now. Meet me.”
    “Where?”
    “There’s only one place open up there this time of night. Called the Doll’s House. Then we’ll go on to Gattozzi.”
    “Gattozzi?”
    “Little town beyond the Doll’s House.”
    McGuire nodded. He knew the Doll’s House. “Two and a half hours up Ninety-three.”
    “Make it two hours. Grady’s already had time to move on.”
    “Word I got is those boys of his are sick, Adcock. Maybe they slowed him down.”
    “Or maybe he dumped them.”
    “Is that what he’s like?”
    It was a moment before Adcock admitted, “No. The guy’s got a soft spot. Me he’d screw, no question. But those kids...“

    Reston Adcock had turned off the phone before he said, “Jerk.” He could have had the Weasel take care of Tchernak before he left. Tchernak was a disaster. And now what was the guy doing at Hummacher’s? Was Tchernak onto something there he needed to know about? Maybe it was just as well he hadn’t sicced the Weasel on him. He’d need to cover that base and make sure Tchernak had left no thread hanging before he made a final decision.

    Louisa Larson pressed herself so hard against the apartment building, she was sure the stucco pattern was imprinted on her back. She watched as the thug strolled to his jalopy and rolled off like a guy who’d picked up a six-pack and was heading home for the night. She watched till he was out of sight, then pulled herself off the wall and hurried into the 7-Eleven. She hit the bathroom, grabbed food, considered coffee, and realized caffeine was something she was definitely not going