Boggs said, "The thing is, she's got a kid. A little girl."
Nestor's face darkened. "A baby?"
"This little kid."
"In there?" Nestor looked at the storeroom. "I didn't see her."
"You can't do the kid, Jack. I won't let you do that."
Meaning it's okay if he shoots me? Rune began to cry more seriously. Nestor was saying, "I wouldn't do a kid anyway. You know me better than that, Randy. After all we've been through, I hope you do."
"And what's the kid going to do without a mother? She'd starve to death, or something."
"She's pretty young to be a mother."
From somewhere Rune found the voice to say, "Please, don't hurt her. If you ... do anything to me, please call the police or somebody and tell her that she's here. Please."
Nestor was debating.
Boggs said, "I really gotta ask this one, Jack. I really gotta ask you to let her be."
Nestor sighed. He nodded and put the gun into his belt. "Shit, that's the way it is, that's the way it is. Okay. I'll do it for you, Randy. I don't think it's a good idea, I just want to go on the record and say that but I'll do it. But ..." He walked to the chair and took Rune's face in his onion-scented fingers. "You listen up good. I know who you are and where you live. If you say anything to anybody about us I'll come back. I get to New York all the time. I'll come back and I'll kill you."
Rune nodded. She was crying--in pure fear, in pure relief.
And from the worst pain of all--betrayal.
You believe him? Piper Sutton had asked Rune such a long time ago, as if she were talking to a child. You believe him when he says he's innocent?
Nestor said brutally, "You hear me?"
She couldn't speak. She nodded her head.
They used lamp cord and tied her into the chair and gagged her with an old wool scarf.
Boggs knelt down and tested the wires. He smiled shyly. "I suspect you're right upset and I don't blame you. You helped me out and I repay you this way. But sometimes in life you've gotta do things just for yourself. You know, for your own survival. I'm sorry it worked out this way but you saved my life. I'll always be thankful for that."
She wanted to say Fuck you! or Go to hell! or Judas! A thousand other things. But the gag was tight and, besides, no words could convey the undiluted anger she was feeling for this man. So she stared into his eyes, not blinking, not wavering a millimeter, forcing him to see how much hate welled up and overflowed between them. How she wished Prometheus was still chained to rock, being eaten by birds.
Boggs squinted for an instant. He swallowed and finally looked away.
"Lessgo, boy" Nestor called. "We got a date with the road."
Then they were gone.
MAN, MAN, MAN, THERE'S NOTHING LIKE DRIVING, RANDYBoggs was thinking.
There's not a goddamn thing in the world like it. The way the tires make that hissing sound on asphalt. The way the car dances over beat-up pavement. The way you know the road'll always be there and that you can drive forever and never once cover the same spot twice, you don't want to.
The Ford Tempo, Jack Nestor driving, had left Jersey and Pennsylvania way behind and was cruising down the highway through Maryland. Heading south.
Motion is like smooth whisky. Motion, like a drug. Randy Boggs kept up his meditation.
And the best part of all--when you're driving, you're a moving target. You're the safest you can ever be. Nothing can hurt you. Not bad love, not a job, not your kin, not the devil himself ...
"Crabs," Nestor said. "Keep an eye out for a crab place."
They couldn't find any and instead got cheeseburgers at McDonald's, which Boggs preferred to crabs anyway and Nestor said was better for him because he was on a diet.