“The way to deal with this guy is to beat the crap out of him,” Argent advises Nelson, “and tell him you’ll do the same to his mother if he don’t fix the car.”
But Nelson doesn’t take his sound advice. “We’ll fly,” he says, and he pays the mechanic to drive them to Fort Smith Regional Airport only to find out that the last flight out—a twenty-seat puddle jumper to Dallas—leaves at six, and although there’s four open seats, the airport’s security gate closes at five. TSA officers are still in their office eating corn dogs, but will they open security for two passengers? Not on your life.
Argent suspects Nelson might kill them if they didn’t have weapons of their own.
In the end Nelson uses one of his false IDs to rent a car that they have no intention of returning anytime soon
• • •
Day four: Bourbon Street after dark. Argent has never been to New Orleans, but had always wanted to go. Not a place he could take Grace, but Grace isn’t his problem anymore, is she? He strolls down Bourbon Street with a hurricane in his hand and beads around his neck. Raucous catcalls and laughter fill the street. Argent could do this every night. He could live this. Half the hurricane is already swimming in his head. Imagine! Drinking in the street is not only legal, but encouraged. Only in New Orleans!
He and his buds talked about coming here for Mardi Gras, but it was always just talk ’cause none of them had the guts to get out of Heartsdale. But now Argent has a new bud. One who was more than happy to take a road trip to New Orleans, thinking it was his own idea. Argent’s apprenticeship won’t last for long, though, if he doesn’t earn his keep. Prove himself useful. Indispensable.
Argent isn’t sure where Nelson is now. Probably harassing whoever runs Mary LaVeau’s House of Voodoo. He will find no answers there. No leads as to the whereabouts of Connor Lassiter, no matter what methods of information extraction a parts pirate is apt to use. It’s a wild-goose chase if ever there was one. He will be furious and will blame Argent.
“Hey, you’re the one who said go to New Orleans, not me,” will be Argent’s response, but Nelson will still hold him responsible. So Argent needs a peace offering. One that will open Nelson’s eyes to Argent’s true value.
Instead of going back to their Ramada, which smells like disinfectant and burnt hair, Argent looks for trouble. And finds it. And befriends it. And betrays it.
• • •
Day five: Nelson sleeps off a binge of the alcohol and painkillers he doused himself in when his search for Connor Lassiter came up short. Argent, out all night, returns to the Ramada at dawn, to wake him.
“I got something for you. Something you’re gonna like. You gotta come now.”
“Get the hell out of here.” Nelson is not cooperative. Argent didn’t expect he would be.
“It won’t keep for long, Jasper,” Argent says. “Trust me on this one.”
Nelson burns him a killer gaze. “Call me that again, and I’ll slit your throat.” He sits up, only slightly successful in his battle with gravity.
“Sorry. What should I call you?”
“Don’t call me anything.”
After pumping a pot of hotel room coffee into the man, Argent brings Nelson to an old burned-out bar in a crumbling neighborhood that looks postapocalyptic. Probably hasn’t been inhabited by legitimate folk since the levies last failed.
Inside are two AWOLs, bound and gagged. A boy and a girl.
“Made friends with them while you were dead to the world,” Argent proudly tells Nelson. “Convinced them I was one of them. Then I used my choke hold on them. Same hold I used on you-know-who.”
The two AWOLs have since regained consciousness. They can’t speak through their gags, but their eyes are a study in terror. “They’re prime,” Argent tells Nelson. “Gotta be worth good money, you think?”
Nelson regards them with hangover-subdued interest. “You captured them yourself?”
“Yep. Coulda got more if I’d found more. Whatever you get for them, keep the money. They’re my gift to you.”
And Nelson says, “Let them go.”
“What?”
“We’re too far from my black-market contact, and I’m not going to haul them all around creation.”
Argent can’t believe it. “I put them right into your lap and you’re just gonna throw good money away?”
Nelson looks at Argent and sighs. “You get an A for effort. It’s good work, but we’re after a bigger catch.” Then Nelson just walks out.
Furious, Argent spews vitriol at the gagged kids, who can’t answer back. “I oughta just leave you here to rot, is what I oughta do.” But he doesn’t. He doesn’t free them either. Instead he makes an anonymous call to the Juvies to come pick them up, giving away his first payday as parts pirate for free. His only consolation is that Nelson was maybe a little bit impressed by the catch.