A week ago, he had heard a noisy commotion in the night. His damning photos and tapes had not yet been copied or mailed. He was awake from his snooze on the sofa in a silent instant, fully alert. At first he thought the disturbance was a simple domestic--Garrett and his wife or girlfriend having some temporary and loud disagreement in the middle of the night, as lovers sometimes do.
Alvarado's mind decoded the noises he heard. This was no argument.
He remembered grabbing his camera and moving to the balcony. After a second of hesitation, he had stepped around to Garrett's adjoining balcony, and recognized immediately that very bad shit was going on inside.
He witnessed most of it through his viewfinder, focusing on the slit of light permitted by the curtains on Garrett's sliding door. He saw Garrett naked, trussed and manhandled by an efficiently fast goon squad in the very best JC Penney's secret service wash-and-wear. Garrett's wife or girlfriend, also naked, was being abused and threatened on the far side of the bedroom. The men moved like they had a purpose.
Twenty-one rapidfire exposures later, Garrett was out, abducted, gone ... and Alvarado was off to the mailbox with older, no less scary business. He had his own future to protect.
Now, tonight, Alvarado sat staring at the cable bill addressed to Garrett. He had received it. And Garrett had received a late-night visit intended for his neighbor.
Intended for me, Alvarado knew.
)
