Dawn Patrol

125

Johnny Banzai and Steve Harrington sit in their car and wait.

Below them, an old van makes its way down the narrow dirt road to a clearing at the edge of Batiquitos Lagoon.

“You think that's them?” Harrington asks.

Johnny shrugs.

Since Dave's call, Johnny doesn't know what is what. He doesn't know anything about anything anymore. The call was surreal. “It's Dave. I'm coming into Batiquitos Lagoon with a load of wetbacks. Johnny, they're kids. ”

But he bets it's them. It's four o'clock in the morning; there's not a lot of reason to be driving a van down to the lagoon. Unless you're picking up something you're not supposed to be picking up.

He lifts the night scope and scans the lagoon.

A few minutes later, he sees the boat.

“Jesus God,” he murmurs, handing the scope to Harrington.

“They're kids,” Harrington says. “Little girls.”

Johnny takes the glasses back and counts seven little girls, a young male Hispanic, and Dave.

“You want to take them here?” Harrington asks.

“Fuck no.”

“What if we lose them?”

“Then I'll commit ritual seppuku,” Johnny says.

“What's that?” Harrington asks. “Some sort of Jap thing?”

“You should read a book every once in a while,” Johnny replies. He turns the glasses onto the van and can make out the license plate. He calls it and a description of the van into the Sex Crimes Unit waiting on the 5.

Then he turns back to the boat, which is making a gentle, perfect landing onshore.