Now the telephone call at the start of the trip began to make some sense: the two men had been told to — what? Kill an hour? The noises Merrill had just heard were those made by a man taking the garbage out. Why did Chino want an extra hour without Merrill? Merrill didn’t want to face the only answer, which was that Chino had Amy. At this point Merrill wasn’t going to get anywhere if he lost control. He had to stay on top of himself even if he felt he was being eaten away by acid.

So he was parked behind a restaurant, within earshot of the kitchen door. It was a good thing he couldn’t smell the food — just thinking about food made his stomach growl. As much as he could, Merrill got up on his hands and knees so he could feel for the edge of the carpet that lined the floor of the trunk. The spare tire was in a compartment beneath him, and with it, a set of tools.

All he had to do was pull up the carpet that lined the floor of the trunk. The spare tire was in a compartment beneath him, and with it, a set of tools.

All he had to do was pull up the carpet, push it to the front of the trunk, remove the compartment lid, get it out of his way, and then remove the tools.

In utter darkness — and in a Mercedes, where everything was torqued down as tightly as possible.

Six

SIX

Footsteps on the gravel again. Two people. Only twenty minutes or so had passed since the two men had gone into the restaurant. Had they wolfed down their food? Merrill stayed as motionless as possible, trying to hold his breath. The scrape on his brow throbbed sharply; he had a dull ache in his stomach where he had been kicked. The carpet was back and the compartment lid undone, but the lid still lay over the part of the spare tire well where the tools were secured. Merrill could just touch them with his fingertips.

Two people started speaking in high-pitched whispers. Women? Had the men picked up women, hired a couple of hookers? More talk. The voices were too deep for females. They belonged to young men. Teenagers.

Something scraped against the car. No, inside. It sounded like a metal saw, and close. Merrill heard a twang, then a thunk, then more sawing. More whispering, more metallic thunkings — and finally a click.