THE LOBBY OF THE UNIVERSITY MEDICAL Center was oddly quiet when Cristina and Robinson stopped there to wait for Agent McPeek. An elderly woman in a wheelchair sat near the front doors, attended by a much younger lady who could have been her granddaughter. The only sound was the occasional click of footsteps, the soft ringing of a phone from time to time and the whoosh of electric doors opening and closing as people entered or left.
A row of chairs fixed together between a pair of broad-leafed, green plants provided a good view of the entrance and Cristina and Robinson sat there. It was fairly early in the morning. Bright sunlight shafted through the glass entryway and glared off the polished floors.
McPeek arrived fifteen minutes later, carrying a briefcase and dressed in another dark suit. Cristina waved her over.
“Have you been in to see him?” McPeek asked.
“Not yet. We’re not even sure the doctor will give us the okay. She turned us away last night.”
“Let’s not wait to find out.”
Alfredo Rodriguez was on an upper floor and all three of them had to show their IDs before the nurse would even summon the doctor. Cristina saw it was the same doctor who’d forbidden them access to Rodriguez the evening before. “Hello, Dr. Capra,” Cristina said. “We’re back.”
Dr. Capra was a small woman with tense features and she looked at each of them with the same sharp expression. “Mr. Rodriguez is better this morning. I can allow you a few minutes.”
“Thank you.”
The doctor led them down a side hallway to a room with an open door. Inside was a single bed, no doubles here, partly shielded from the bright window by a drawn curtain. Alfredo Rodriguez was there.
Cristina knew from her last visit the extent of the damage: the broken arm and ribs, the head trauma, the smashed fingers. Looking at Rodriguez now she thought he looked terribly diminished, as though his insides had been drained away. His skin was sallow.
One eye was uncovered. Cristina saw it dart toward them as they entered.
“Mr. Rodriguez,” Cristina said. “Do you remember me? I’m Detective Salas. This is my partner, Detective Robinson. And this is Special Agent Jamie McPeek of the FBI. How are you?”
Only part of Rodriguez’s mouth was free to move. The jaw, Dr. Capra said, had been dislocated. Rodriguez was clear enough: “Go away.”
Robinson stepped forward. “Mr. Rodriguez, we’re here to help. We already know who did this to you. We just have to hear it from your lips.”
“I have nothing to say.”
Now it was McPeek’s turn: “Mr. Rodriguez, like the detectives say, I’m from the FBI. I want you to know that we’re involved in an aggressive operation against the same gang that attacked you. We can move forward without your testimony or your assistance, but it adds to the weight of the prosecution if you give us both.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Everything in our power.”
Rodriguez’s eye flashed and Cristina thought she saw some new attentiveness in his sour mien. “There was no one to help me before.”
“We’re here now,” Cristina put in. “Just give us a chance to help you help yourself.”
The man was quiet for a while, and if his eye hadn’t stayed open, Cristina would have thought he’d gone to sleep. Then he said, “It was that bastard Flip. Felipe Morales. Him and his gang buddies.”
“You’re saying Morales was involved in the beating?” Cristina asked. “He called it in?”
“He was there. He was in on it.”
Cristina spared a glance toward Robinson. Robinson quirked an eyebrow.
“Who’s Felipe Morales?” McPeek asked.
“Mr. Rodriguez’s employee,” Robinson said quickly. “He’s involved with the Aztecas.”
“How involved are we talking about?”
“Let’s hold off on that for now,” Cristina said. She turned to Rodriguez. “Mr. Rodriguez, we think this beating was retaliation from José Martinez because you turned him down. I personally think he’s still going to try and get your help with what he has planned.”
“I wouldn’t help that hijo de puta for any amount of money!” Rodriguez exclaimed, and then he stiffened and fell back into himself. He was still in pain, despite what the doctor was giving him.
“If you help him, you’re helping us,” McPeek said. “It’s evidence we can use against him. We’ll put him away for a long time.”
“And Flip, too?”
McPeek looked confused. “Felipe Morales,” Cristina explained.
“If he’s a part of it, then yes,” McPeek said.
Now Rodriguez did close his eye and Cristina feared he was drifting, but he opened it again and said, “If it will get them all…”
“It will.”
“Wait until you’re better,” Cristina said. “They’ll come to you and we’ll be ready.”
Dr. Capra appeared at the door. “That’s enough for now,” she said. “If you’ll step out, Mr. Rodriguez can get some rest.”
“Thank you, Mr. Rodriguez,” Cristina said, and then she followed Robinson and McPeek out of the room. Dr. Capra closed the door.
“When will he be released?” Robinson asked the doctor.
“We’ll hold him another day, but then he can go home.”
“How long will it take him to heal?” Cristina asked.
“Six weeks. Eight at the most. He avoided serious internal damage and he managed to escape with just a concussion. He was very lucky.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” McPeek said. “We’ll go now.”
“Yes, thank you,” Cristina said.
“Good-bye.”
They left the floor and went down to the lobby. Cristina could sense questions bubbling up inside of McPeek. Before they reached the door, McPeek boiled over. “Who is this Felipe Morales?”
“He’s our informant,” Cristina said. “Very close to José. Rodriguez is dating Flip’s mother. When José originally brought his offer to Rodriguez, he did it through Flip.”
“When were you planning on sharing this information with me?” McPeek asked.
“When we knew we had something,” Robinson said.
“Flip’s the one who gave us Emilio Esperanza,” Cristina said.
“Emilio Esperanza. One of José’s carnales?”
“Right.”
“Emilio was found shot to death in Juárez a few days ago.”
Cristina hesitated. Then she said, “We know.”
“How did you know that?”
“Our informant was… aware of the killing.”
McPeek’s face crossed up and she put a hand on her hip. “You’re not giving up very much to the group,” she said. “This operation is supposed to be about sharing information among all the involved agencies so we can work together. I want to meet this informant of yours.”
“We promised him we’d keep him from being exposed,” Cristina said. “That includes to other members of the operation.”
“I know his name and where he works now. It wouldn’t be that difficult to get the rest. Arrange for a meeting.”
“I’ll do what I can.”
“No, you’ll do what you’re told,” McPeek said sharply.
Cristina was silent. There was something simmering inside of her now and she did not want to give it voice.
Robinson spoke instead: “We’ll work it out.”
“Good.”
Without saying good-bye, McPeek turned on her heel and went out through the automatic doors into the sun. Cristina remained where she was, flexing and unflexing her fingers slowly, chewing the inside of her cheek.
Robinson turned to her. “We can’t fight the power,” he said.
“I don’t want Flip out of our control.”
“We may not have that choice.”