Death Echo

51

DAY FOUR

ROSARIO

9:15 P.M.

Stan Amanar hung up the phone and concentrated on breathing past the rage and fear in his throat. When he no longer felt like he was at the dark end of a long downward spiral, he punched in his favorite cousin’s phone number.

“What’s cooking?” Bob Lovich asked when he picked up the phone.

“Our asses.”

Lovich yawned into the phone. “Look, we’ve been pulling too many back-to-back shifts for games.”

“This isn’t a game. Is Janet home?” Amanar asked. “And the kids?”

“Yeah. What’s up with you?”

Amanar let out a long breath. “Good. Good. Throw some clothes in an overnight bag and meet me at the public dock. A seaplane will pick us up in half an hour.”

“Are you drunk?”

“No, and you better not be.”

“Stan? What’s wrong? Is Susie okay? The kids?”

“They’re fine. And they’ll stay that way as long as we meet that plane in thirty minutes.”

“You’re not making sense,” Lovich said.

“Shurik Temuri, you remember him?”

“Hell, yes. I was never so glad to see the back of a dude as when he left for-”

“Shut up and listen,” Amanar shouted. “Listen good. The lives of our families depend on it!”

“What the-”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Lovich took a harsh breath.

And shut up.

“I got a call,” Amanar said. “Don’t know who. He had an accent like Temuri’s. Told me the names of my wife, kids, your wife, your kids, our addresses, our individual schedules, where the kids get on the school bus, our license plates, every damn thing but what kind of toilet paper we use.”

Lovich made a rough sound.

“Then,” Amanar said, “he said that you and me had to be on that seaplane or he’d kill the kids in front of us, after he raped everyone.”

“Did…” Lovich’s voice dried up. He swallowed several times and tried again. “You believe him?”

“What choice is there? You think either of us can stand against weight like Temuri?”

“Shit,” Lovich said. Then he repeated it like a litany.

“I’ll pick you up in five.”

“Shit,” Lovich said.

Amanar punched out and started packing.