Indigo Slam

'Sure.'

He took out a hotel card from the Sheraton-Universal. 'We're staying here. The boy isn't, but we are.' The boy was probably with Markov. 'You ask Clark if he wants to see his boy again, then you give me a call and we talk about it.'

'The boy for Clark.'

'That's right.' He said something in Russian to Sautin, and Sautin came around the chair. The swelling was nasty, and I hoped it hurt.

Dobcek winked at me, and then they left.

I stood in the house without moving for maybe five minutes, watching the Too Hot Tamales, and thinking. The Hot Tamales were making something with ancho chiles and tequila, and laughing a lot. They looked like they were having fun, and I wished I was with them and laughing, too, but I wasn't. I was in a devastated house that had just been vacated by a couple of Russian hit men who were holding a little boy, and I was trying not to let panic overwhelm me. Panic kills. I felt like a juggler with too many balls in the air and more being added. Okay, Cole, take a breath. I said, 'Good-bye, ladies,' and turned off the Tamales.

The house had been turned upside down because Dobcek and Sautin were looking for a clue to find Clark. Then Charles had walked in, and Charles was better than a clue. He was a don't-pass-go E-ticket straight to the big money payoff.

I went into the hall and looked at the attic door and saw that it was undisturbed. I pulled down the door, and went up for the duffel. It was where I had left it, and I thought that maybe I could use it. I wasn't sure how yet, but maybe. I dropped it out of the attic, closed the hatch, then locked the house and drove back to Studio City. I drove slowly, and thought about Markov, and what he wanted, and Clark, and what he wanted, and little by little the bits and pieces of a plan emerged.

When I let myself into the safe house, Joe and Clark and Teri were at the dining room table, and the Viets were still clumped together in the living room. Winona and Walter Junior were watching Animaniacs on television. Everyone in the room looked at me, and Teri and Clark spoke at the same time. 'Did you find him?'

'Dobcek and Sautin were at the house. They have Charles.'

Clark drifted one step to the side, then caught himself on the back of a chair. Teri squinted. 'Who are Dobcek and Sautin?'

Pike said, 'They work for the man who wants your father.'

'What's that?' She was staring at the duffel.

I didn't answer. I looked at Clark instead. 'Charles is okay, but we need to talk about this.' Clark was staring at the duffel, too.

Teri said, 'That's what this is all about, isn't it? That's his counterfeit money.' Her voice getting strained.

Clark said, 'Teri, please take Winona upstairs.'

Teri didn't move.

'Teri, please.'

'Don't treat me like a child!' It was a sudden, abrupt shriek that caught Clark by surprise. 'I'm the one who takes care of him. I'm more his mother than you're his father! Why don't you take Winona upstairs?' She was shouting, and Winona was crying, and Clark was looking like he must've looked the day he found out he had cancer, as if a truth that he'd believed in with all his heart had now been proved a lie.

Dak turned away. Embarrassed.

I said, 'Teri.' Soft. 'Teri, it's not your fault.'

Teri came around the table and hugged me, mumbling something that I could not understand. I think she was saying, 'I will not cry. I will not cry.'

I stroked her hair, and held her, and after a time she took Winona and went upstairs.

Clark stared at the floor.

' Clark.'

He looked up at me. 'Yes?'

I told them what Dobcek had said. The father for the boy. While I was saying it, Clark ran one hand over the other in a kind of endless wringing motion, and when I was done, he said, 'Well, I guess we have to call them.'

Pike said, 'They want you dead.'

'They have Charles.' Clark 's face was tinged a kind of ochre green. 'I can't let them hurt Charles.'

Mon said something to Dak in Vietnamese. Probably seeing their revolutionary dream crumble.

I said, 'We don't want them to hurt Charles, but trading you isn't the answer. They won't let Charles go if they have you. They'll kill you both because that's the only way they can protect themselves.'

Clark shook his head. 'What do you mean, protect themselves?'

'Think about it, Clark. They want to kill you. If they do that, and anyone is left alive, what's to keep Charles or me or someone from going to the police?'

Clark pinched his lips together. 'But what do we do?'

Mon mumbled something again, and Nguyen Dak said, 'We make them want to keep you alive.'

I looked at Dak, and Dak seemed dark and enclosed and dangerous. I thought he must have looked this way many years ago. War is war.

Pike said, 'Yes.'

Dak said, 'The Russian wants vengeance, but he will trade his vengeance for greed. All criminals are this way.'

I watched him. 'Are you willing to help?'

'I want the dong. If I have to help you in order to get the dong, then I will help.' There was something hard in his eyes, and maybe a bit of a smile at the edges of his mouth.

Mon said, 'Russians.'

Pike's mouth twitched, and I knew Pike was seeing it, too. Old wars merging with new wars. The Russians had supported the North against Nguyen Dak, and the Russians still supported the North's Communist regime today. It would all be the same to these guys. A war they needed to win to go home.

I touched the duffel with my toe. 'Is this Markov's money?'

Clark nodded. 'Uh-huh.'

'Will Markov know it, and will he know it's counterfeit?'

Clark dug a packet of the bills from the duffel and flipped through them. 'He won't know they're his, but he can tell they're counterfeit. He has people who know how to tell.'

Pike said, 'What are you thinking?'

'Markov knows what Brownell knew. That means he knows that Clark is printing again, but he may not know what. He knows Clark is good, but what if he thinks Clark is even better now?'

Clark shook his head. 'I don't understand.'

'What if we buy Charles back?'

'With what?'

'Funny money.'

Clark said, 'But he'll know it's counterfeit. He can get counterfeit money anywhere.'

'Not just any counterfeit. What if it's counterfeit that's so good that it looks exactly like the real thing, so good that Markov couldn't tell it was funny money, and neither could a bank inspector.'

Pike nodded. 'Like the super notes from Iran.' Iran was rumored to be counterfeiting U.S. hundred-dollar bills that were so good they were undetectable.

'Exactly.' I looked at Clark. 'Markov knows you're good. What if we tell him that you're as good as the Iranians?'

Clark was shaking his head. 'But I can't print anything like that. The Iranians use intaglio presses from Switzerland just like our Treasury. They use a paper just like ours.' He kept shaking his head. 'I couldn't duplicate that paper. I can't get an intaglio press. They cost millions.'

Pike said, 'Real money.'

Clark opened his mouth, then closed it.

I said, 'We flash a few thousand bucks in real hundreds, only we tell them it's counterfeit. We let Markov examine them, whatever he wants, and we offer to buy back the boy. All the funny money he wants for Charles.'

Clark said, 'But when we give him the counterfeit dollars, he'll know. He'll be able to tell that they aren't the same.'

'I know, Clark. That's why we'll need the police.'

Clark simply said, 'Okay.'

Walter Tran, Jr., gasped, and Mon turned a dark, murky color. Dak said, 'Why the police?'

'We need the police to get Markov off the board. Markov takes possession of the funny money, we get Charles, and the feds make the bust, taking down Markov both for the funny money and the kidnapping.' I turned back to Clark. 'If we give Markov to the feds, they might be willing to let you print the dong.'