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“Even your fucking psycho killer so-called brother,” she snarled.
I shook my head impatiently. “Debs, come on. We’re not going out there to arrest these p
eople.”
“I’m still a cop! I can’t just let you—”
“You can—you have to,” I insisted. “You don’t want blood on your hands, fine, that’s your choice—but we can’t leave Raul alive.”
“For shit’s sake, Dexter—you want to execute him!”
“Oh, grow up!” I snapped. “He’s a drug lord—and as long as he’s alive we’re not safe—the kids are not safe!”
“Goddamn it…”
“Deborah, you know it’s true. We need Brian for this,” I said. “Any of your buddies on the force likely to help us? Want to ask one of the other detectives? Maybe Captain Matthews? Think they’ll want to tag along for a completely illegal raid and firefight, followed by an execution? And we have to execute him, Debs.” And then I pointed my finger right at her, another technique culled from TV, and I said very forcibly, “If Raul lives—the kids die.”
It was a wonderful point, forceful and logical at the same time, and Debs knew it. She bit down on her lips and hissed and growled, but she didn’t say anything else, so I said again, “We need Brian, Debs.”
I glanced significantly at my watch. “And we need to do this now.”
She glared at me, but it was a slightly more human glare. Then she looked away, swallowed visibly, and finally looked back at me. She nodded once, very briskly. “All right,” she said. “For the kids.” She leaned over the table toward me as far as she could go. “But when we get this done—”
“If we get it done, Debs,” I said, suddenly weary of wading through so much of what Harry had always called Bullshit Soup. “It’s still a very long shot. But if we do it…Shit. We’ll worry about it then.”
She looked at me, then nodded. “Where is he?” she said.
“He’s parked out front,” I said.
She bit down hard, took a deep breath, and said, “Get him.”
“Your word, Deborah—”
“For fuck’s sake, get him!” she snarled. “We’re in a hurry, remember?” I looked at her for a second longer, and she glared back, but she nodded one time. “Get him,” she said. “I’ll behave.”
It was as good as I was going to get, and better than I’d really expected. I pushed back from her rickety table and headed out the front door.
Brian was waiting where I’d left him, which was a relief. His engine was still running, of course, but he’d stayed, which was wonderful. I’d half expected to find him gone, racing away in a lather of panic. And when I opened the door, he certainly looked at me with something very close to alarm. I heard the engine rev one time as his foot stomped down reflexively, but he didn’t put it in gear.
“All is well,” I said as soothingly as possible. “The Maginot Line is secured, the truce is agreed, and I have her promise not to invade Poland.”
Brian blinked at me with owl-large eyes. “That’s even worse than de Tocqueville,” he said. “Sometimes, brother, you try too hard.”
I was quite sure that his snappishness was no more than jealousy; he hadn’t managed anything clever for hours. But the important thing was that he took me at my word, turned off the ignition, and climbed out of his car. He walked around and stood uncertainly beside me for a moment. Then he shook himself, squared his shoulders, and said, “?’Twere best done quickly.” He gave me a glance to make sure I’d noticed the Shakespeare, and then he stepped through the gate onto Deborah’s front walk.
I followed along right behind, but even so Brian was quicker. Perhaps he really did want to get it over with. By the time I got back inside, he and Debs were standing face-to-face in the kitchen, only a few feet apart. Deborah wore her working scowl, but at least her clenched fists were empty of weapons. Brian just gazed at her neutrally, arms crossed. Under the circumstances, and considering why we were joining together, it would have been wildly inappropriate to call it a Mexican Standoff. But it did look like they were each waiting for the other to attack with a knife so they could open fire with an Uzi. Still, it was probably the best family get-together I could hope for.
It was also quite clear that it was up to me to keep things moving at a lively pace, and along the way try to prevent these two from killing each other, so I made a modest and optimistic start. “Deborah, Brian. Brian, Deborah. Okay? Now,” I said, dragging out one of the rickety kitchen chairs and sitting. “I think you’ll both agree that we should get there quickly, and try to take them in the dark, by surprise?”
“Surprise,” Debs said bitterly, still staring at Brian. “He’s got our kids, and he knows you two are killing his men. How will this be a surprise?”
“He doesn’t know we’re coming,” I said. “He doesn’t even know that we found out where he is.”
“People don’t usually come after him,” Brian said helpfully, still watching Deborah. “I really don’t think he’ll expect it.”
“And what if he guesses?” she demanded. “Then what the fuck are we supposed to do?”
“We could stay here and have coffee instead,” Brian said.
