Mirho strapped the boy and the Latino nanny into the Escalade. Their hands were bound. The kid kept babbling in these nonsensical sounds. Weird. Like he was touched in the head. The nanny kept praying in Spanish and trying to comfort the kid. “Relax, soon it’ll all be over,” Mirho said. “One way or another, you’ll be out of my hair.”
That didn’t stop her.
“Just shut the fuck up,” he tried, glaring at them.
Finally he just taped their mouths shut.
“Now that’s an improvement.”
He drove, an hour before the meet time. He had other plans to finish. I’m sorry, he thought, but it just ain’t gonna end good for anyone. He rubbed his nose; he figured it was broken from the boatyard. It had swelled up to twice its size. And his ribs ached. It hurt to breathe, much less talk. The bitch was going to regret she had ever stumbled into this mess. He owed her.
He covered the HK 9 millimeter that was on the seat next to him.
“I know it’s past your bedtime,” he said as he came down the Bronx River Parkway. “Don’t let it worry you,” he said to the nanny, meeting her wide eyes in the rearview mirror. “You’ll all be catching up on your sleep real soon.”
He pulled off the parkway and onto the Bruckner. It was dead this time of night. A totally abandoned part of the city. You could give money away and you’d have trouble finding anyone to come around.
His cell rang. Clearly it could be only one person. “Mirho,” he answered.
“Where are you?” the senator asked.
“Getting you back a good night’s sleep, what you hired me to do. I’ve got the gal coming with the cash and the journal. Give me an hour. You’ll have what you want.”
“That woman’s only a part of it,” the senator said. “Those pages came from somewhere. There are still two others out there who know. You think there’s still a way to keep this quiet?”
No, there was no way to keep this quiet anymore, Mirho knew.
“Just what are you up to?” Mirho asked.
“Let’s just say I’m doing what comes naturally. However this goes, it’s all going to end tonight.”