Stolen Prey

the same neck of the woods as Turicek.”
    “Call the TSA,” Lucas said. “We want her held the next time she goes through airport security, if we don’t get her first.”
    “I talked to Rudy, and we’ve already started the process.”
    “Excellent. Be nice if we could find an address.”
    “I’m looking for all that,” Sandy said. “Nothing so far, anywhere in the metro area. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s usinganother name, or staying with somebody. I’m trying for her credit cards, to see if we can pick up hotels or whatever.”
    Lucas told her to keep pushing it and rang off, told Del about it.
    “Almost done,” Del said.
    T HE SHOOTING SCENE was shut down, and the media showed up, and after a while Lucas went back to the office to start writing his piece of the after-shooting report. Shaffer’s team had gotten a warrant and had gone into Martínez’s hotel room, and found it empty. Security tapes from BCA cameras covering the parking lot got them a description of her car, and the number on its plate. The TV stations were running photos of her every fifteen minutes or so, along with photos of two other Mexican suspects.
    Lucas suggested that Shaffer, in the inevitable press conference after the killing of Uno, tell the reporters a strategic lie. Shaffer thought about it for a while, then demurred, saying that it felt unethical.
    “But I won’t give you up, if you tell it,” he said.
    So Lucas, speaking last, told the assembled reporters that the fleeing Mexicans were believed to have escaped with millions of dollars in gold coins, taken from the thieves who had stolen from the drug gang’s account. The gold, he said, had been taken from Turicek’s apartment at the time the gang had kidnapped him.
    Lucas watched tapes of his performance, with Shaffer standing next to him, and Shaffer said, “You lie really well.”
    “If I have to,” Lucas said. “I figured it was too important to pussy out on.”
    “Hey…”
    “Ana’s got a problem, now,” Lucas said. “Can’t stay here—and if she goes back to Mexico, the gang’s gonna want the gold, and the Federales are gonna want her ass.”
    “I didn’t pussy out.”
    “Yeah, you did, Bob. Pretty amazing—you’ve got no problem shooting it out with a Mexican hit man, but you puss out when it comes to lying to reporters. Listen: everything you see on TV news is bullshit,” Lucas said. “You would have added a teaspoon of bullshit to an ocean of it. Nobody would have noticed, and it’ll help catch a couple more killers. So fuck your qualms, and your ethics.”
    Del got between them and said, mildly, “Let’s agree to disagree. At least while there are cameras around.”
    V IRGIL F LOWERS called a while later and said he didn’t have much to report. “We’re trying to figure out how to get some surveillance on the farm. I might have actually seen the truck that your two robbers drive around, but we didn’t want to stop them. We’re afraid we might give something away.”
    “Like what?”
    “Dunno,” Flowers said. “Something.”
    M ARTÍNEZ KNEW the police would be looking for her car, so they dumped it for the Toyota and headed back to the Newport house, and put the car in the garage.
    Tres hadn’t asked about Uno: he knew what had happened.When they got inside, they turned on the television and saw the breaking news story. Tres said, “I thought I would be the one to go. The saints said so.” Martínez patted him on the shoulder, went out in the backyard, sat on the ground between a couple of bridal wreath bushes, and called the Big Voice.
    “They know about me, my photo is on the television. We have lost the car, but still have the truck. We are safe for now, I think, but I’m afraid to move.”
    “Stay there. One day, two days, we can get you out. If they have your face, and the Federales have it, then the only safe place for you is farther south. If we can pick you up, arrangements can be made—Venezuela, perhaps. Ecuador. So. Hide. Call me every four hours.”
    Two hours later, eating tomato soup and microwave tacos, and clicking compulsively through the cable channels, they caught Davenport: “… believe she has twenty-two million dollars in American gold eagles. That’s a lot of money and it’s also a lot of weight, so we think they’re moving it by car or truck. We’ve alerted every gas station and truck stop between here and the border….”
    “Oh, no,” she said.
    Tres didn’t understand. He