Gather the Sentient (16 page)

CHAPTER

28

MIA

Monday, September 26

Baltimore

Jack tumbled into their office, a disheveled mess of paperwork, drive-thru breakfast, and day-old stubble.

“Good Lord, Jack.  What the hell happened?” Mia asked as he deposited his armload haphazardly onto his desk.

“It’s Stella.  And the baby.  We spent the night at the hospital, thinking it was time, but it was sort of a false alarm.  She wasn’t in labor, so after running a few tests to confirm everything was fine, they sent us home.”

“And you’re here now because…”

He rolled his eyes, defeated.  “You know Stella.  The minute the doctor told her there was nothing to worry about, she sent me on my way.  Insisted the citizenry needed me more than she did.  That woman’s gonna be the death of me because frankly, it would have been nicer to have stayed home with her to catch a few zzzz’s.”

“Well you look like crap, and we’ve got a full calendar.  You sure you don’t just wanna call in sick and go home?  I don’t mind grabbing Mike or somebody to head out with.”

He took a bite of his egg and sausage burrito and a swig of coffee.  “You kidding me?  Truth is, there’s no way I can blow days with the baby coming.  I gotta save up.  So I’m yours, all day.  Just lemme hit the locker room and grab a shower.”

Twenty minutes later, Mia met him at their patrol car parked in the secure lot on the back side of the building.  Freshly shaven and still nursing his extra-large black coffee, he slid into the driver’s seat beside her and yawned.

“Heading into MS-13 territory to see if anybody’s heard anything about Alejandro coming into town?”

Mia pulled up coordinates on the GPS.  “That was my plan.  If he’s a Wedgewood Chicano, there are only a couple gangs I can think of he might have connections to here in the city.  MS-13’s the biggest, so I figured we might as well start with them.”

“Makes sense,” he agreed, easing into traffic.  “You think Trece might talk?”

“Or Sisco, if we can find him.”

They were both quiet as they cruised up Route 40 East, out of the city.  Then, breaking the amiable silence, Jack spoke up.

“How am I gonna keep this baby safe, Mia?  She’s not gonna have your ability to look at some guy and tell whether he’s a creep or not.”  He white knuckled the steering wheel as he concentrated on the traffic ahead.  “I might just hire you as her personal assistant full-time once she turns sixteen.”

“Better make it fourteen,” Mia quipped, not missing a beat.  “Kids grow up fast these days.”

His eyes cut to her.  “That’s not funny.”

“Are you kidding me?  Your daughter is
not
gonna get involved with some creep.”

“This poor kid Andrea got involved with some creep, and now he’s trying to kill her.”

“Correction.  He already tried to kill her.  Now he’s hunting her down to finish the job.”

He glanced away from road to scowl at her.  “You’re not helping.”

They were having these sorts of conversations more and more frequently, as his daughter’s birth became eminent.  “We’ve been through this before.  With you for a dad and Stella as a mom, bad guys aren’t gonna stand a chance.  Andrea didn’t have the two of you.  She was on her own.  That’s how the trouble happens.”

It was easy for her to extol wisdom when she wasn’t the one staring down the barrel of impending parenthood.  But she wasn’t worried for Jack’s daughter-to-be.  As long as she was a part of the child’s life, Mia would watch out for her.

Jack parked the cruiser curbside along a side street in one of the known MS-13 neighborhoods.  MS-13 was short for Mara Slavatrucha, a prominent and violent gang with a longstanding foothold in the Washington DC suburbs.  And although she wished it wasn’t the case, over the past few years, the gang's activity had begun to spread throughout the Baltimore region as well.  With ties to other Hispanic gangs around the world, there was a good chance Alejandro would look to them if he needed back-up or just a place to crash.

“This is where Paul said Trece and Sisco have been seen?”

“Yeah.  Just a couple days ago.”

“You think they’ll talk if they know anything?” he asked, holstering his sidearm before getting out of the car.

After some digging, Mia had discovered a recent report of someone with Sisco’s description selling drugs to a minor near Collington Square Elementary School.  It wasn’t confirmed, but she thought it might be enough to snag his attention.  She also knew Sisco was a snitch.  On two separate occasions she’d witnessed him throwing fellow gang members under the bus to save his own skin, and he wasn’t above making deals with the district attorney’s office.  With a little finesse, she hoped the dirt she had on him would translate into information about Alejandro.

“He was the one who squealed on those Bloods last year for holding up the CVS on Wolfe Street, remember?”

“Vaguely.  But telling the cops about a rival gang is a lot different than giving up your own people.”

She tucked her hair into her hat and cracked open the door.  “Please.  We’ve got so much stuff on this guy…”  She winked at him.  “He’s gonna be afraid not to talk.”

Mia shielded her eyes from the morning sun.  The rays barely crested the tops of the row houses as she left the air conditioned comfort of the car and was embraced by the warmth of the day.  Mindful of the traffic, she crossed the street to the other side where a group of surly-looking men were loitering at the corner.  Her confidence was bolstered knowing Jack trailed close behind.

“Good morning, Gentlemen.  Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

All six of the men pretended not to have heard her, shuffling their feet and staring at the ground.

“The lady asked you if you’re enjoying the day,” Jack added, hands on his hips.  “I would suggest you answer her.”

A layer of sooty engine grease covered the man closest to Mia.  His hands.  His clothes.  His face.  He was squat, only a few inches taller than she was, and she saw the remains of a deep laceration which tore across his cheek, from just below his eye to his upper lip.  This was clearly a man who knew about trouble.

He spat at her feet.

Mia turned to Jack, her eyes bulging from their sockets, feigning shock and horror.  “Did that just happen?”

“I think it just did.”

“It’d be a real shame to have to haul him into the station for harassment, don’t you think Officer Anderson?”

“I agree.  That would be awful, Officer Rosetti.”  He pulled his cuffs off his clip.  They clanged noisily as he dangled them by his side.

Eyeing the cuffs, the greaser finally spoke.  “You got nothin’ on me.”

Mia shrugged.  “I might.”

He cursed under his breath in Spanish.

“You know, I might be willing to just walk away if you can tell me where to find Sisco.”

The men’s eyes darted to one another, each of them attempting to communicate without speaking, none of them knowing how much Spanish Mia spoke.  There was more shuffling.  More absentminded smoking.

“Okey dokey then, I guess we can take you down to the station, and you can spend some time in lock up thinking about why you shouldn’t harass an officer by spitting on her shoes.”

“I didn’t spit on your shoes!”

“Your word against mine.  And, uh, Officer Anderson, did you see some of his saliva make it onto my footwear?”

“That I did.”

“Then it’s settled,” Mia said, snatching the cuffs from her partner’s hand.

“Ay!  Last time I saw him he was at La Roca.  Earlier this morning.”

Mia couldn’t keep from grinning.  The seedy underbelly of society was nothing if not predictable.  “The liquor store off Pulaski Highway?”

“Si.  That’s the one.”

“Muchas gracias, gentlemen,” Mia called over her shoulder, tossing the cuffs back to Jack.

It was only about a two-minute drive to La Roca, where another unsavory group of men were milling about the entrance of the store.  A few were engrossed in a raucous conversation Mia could only partially understand, and three others, barely out of their teens, were leaning against the side alley wall smoking Faros.  She identified Sisco immediately.

“He’s here,” she murmured to Jack as they jogged across the busy intersection.  “The tall one with the belt buckle the size of Texas.”

She wanted to add that his aura was so dark it was if a magnetic field caused the smoke from his entire pack of cigarettes to collect around him.

Sisco, aka Victor Suarez, recognized Mia before she made it to the curb, and began to back away down the alley.  She called after him.  “We only wanna talk, Sisco.  I swear.  Unless you’re gonna run, and then we can detain you for reasonable suspicion.”

He froze and turned around slowly to face her.  “I ain’t got nothin’ to say to you.”

The first time Mia met Sisco she’d been only seventeen years old, observing a lineup with her father from behind the one-way glass.  He’d been identified as the culprit on that occasion, as well as the two subsequent lineups she’d seen, also leading to his arrest.  That he was still out on the streets was a testament to his ‘negotiating abilities.’

That he was still alive was a testament to the power of ‘street cred.’

“I think you might, my friend.  Cuz we’ve got an eyewitness who saw you selling weed to a bunch of kids at Collington.”  His eyes flickered, and she knew she had him.  “Now we don’t wanna have to drag you down to the station for that because I hate paperwork as much as the next girl.  So we can make sure your little indiscretion gets buried, but my partner and I are gonna need a little info from you.”  She took a few steps closer to where he’d stopped in the middle of the alley and lowered her voice to just above a whisper.  “Consider it a simple negotiation between friends.”

Without a word, Sisco motioned at the two other men, still holed up against the wall of the liquor store, to go away.  They slinked around the corner and out of sight before he said quietly, “What the hell do you want, Rosetti?”

“I wanna know what you know about a guy named Alejandro.  He’s a Wedgewood Chicano outta Phoenix.  He’s just come into town.”

Sisco held out his hands.  “I don’t know nothing about some new guy.”

Mia got the sense he was lying but she wasn’t ready to push him just yet.  She reached into her breast pocket for a copy of the photograph Andrea provided to the department for identification purposes and handed it to Sisco.

“This is the guy we’re looking for.  You see him, you send someone to let us know.  Otherwise, we’ll be in touch about your proximity to the elementary school.”  She stared him down until he became so uncomfortable, he was forced to avert his gaze.  “Do we understand each other?”

“I heard what you just said,” he growled.

“You’ve got ‘til tomorrow afternoon.  Five o’clock.  Then we’ll be back.”

CHAPTER

29

THOMAS

Monday, September 26

Baltimore

Thomas enjoyed being a student again.  There was something peaceful and reassuring about returning to the classroom, a place which had always served as a refuge for him, and it brought him joy to take his seat among the other college freshmen in his Intro to Music in the US class.

They were discussing colonial folk music with its African and native influences.  It was fascinating to Thomas, listening with his eyes shut as the professor played a piece written by one of the country’s earliest composers, Supply Belcher.  He had never taken a proper musical history or theory class, and he was parched for knowledge, drinking every drop of information his professors had to offer.

As a commuting day student, he kept mostly to himself.  Older than much of the student body living on campus full-time, he was something of an outsider, but it didn’t bother him in the slightest.  He didn’t mind sitting alone at lunch, eating under a sprawling oak he’d discovered in the quad just outside one of the larger student apartment buildings.  In fact, he actually relished the time with just his thoughts and his peanut butter sandwich packed from home.

On Mondays however, he had a large break between his early morning and late afternoon classes, so while the weather was still nice, he walked the five blocks to Belinda’s Café to have lunch with Belinda and put in a couple hours of work.  He hadn’t yet made it off campus when his phone began chirping in his pocket.  He could tell by the ringtone it was Mia.

“What’s up?”

“So much.  It’s been a crazy morning.  What’s up with you?”

“Heading to Belinda’s for lunch and work.  She promised to make banana muffins to bring home to you, so you’re welcome.”

“I can taste them already,” she said.  “Tell her thanks.  That woman’s a goddess when it comes to baked goods.”  She paused and Thomas could hear her shuffling about, excusing herself to someone as she moved.  “Sorry.  I had to walk outside so I could talk.  It’s like a full moon around here today.  Lunatics everywhere, and I’d like to keep our conversation private.”

“Oh!  So it’s gonna be
that
type of phone call,” he teased.  “I’m wearing jeans and a t-shirt, if you must know.  Pink Floyd.  The Wall.  Seriously sexy.”

She laughed into the receiver, infectiously, and he couldn’t keep from laughing back.  He loved being able to make her smile, especially knowing there was often little to smile about during her workdays.

“Well, I’m wearing a blue police uniform.  Holster, sidearm, cuffs, baton.”

“Mini skirt?”

“Polyester pants.”

“Hmmm.  Still sexier than my outfit, even without the skirt.”

She laughed again.  “Believe it or not, I wasn’t calling to describe my outfit to you,” she said.  “I actually wanted to let you know I got an email back from that psychic guru I was telling you about.  He gave me a list of names.”

“Sweet.  That’s great news.  But isn’t giving us the names of other psychics breaking some sort of confidentiality agreement.”

“He’s a psychic, Thomas.  Not a physician or a priest.  There’s no laws against sharing information if you’re clairvoyant.”

“That makes sense, I guess.  So how many are on the list?”

“A couple thousand, I’d say.”

They were both quiet for a beat.

“That’s a lot of names,” Thomas said finally.

“At least it gives us someplace to start.”

“Any chance he keeps records of everyone’s birthdates?”

“If he does, he didn’t share them with me.  And he knows we’re looking because of the prophecy, so I think he would have given us more than just names and addresses if he had them.”

He stopped at the street corner, pressed the button to make the light turn red, and waited for the walk sign to indicate it was safe to cross.  “So how do you think we should go through the list?  Alphabetically?  By state?  Intuition?”

Mia sighed deeply into the phone.  “I don’t know.  There are people on there from all over the world, not just the US, and part of me feels like we should start with the foreigners.  I mean, it would be pretty insular to think the only people capable of saving the world are living here in the states.”

The walk sign illuminated, and he hurried across the street toward Belinda’s.  It occurred to him that Mia was still focused on looking for the light psychics – a dead end as far as he was concerned.  “I agree that we should definitely look to other countries, especially since we know two of the fourteen are from here in the US.  But Mia, you do realize we’re not looking for the good guys?  It won’t do us any good.  We gotta set our sights on the people who are going to usher in the apocalypse.  You get that, right?”

“Yeah, I know.  I get it.  We’re looking for the bad guys.  I just wonder…”  She paused and he could feel her tension pulling through the line.  “What the hell are we gonna do if we find them?”