The Missing Person Page #3

What? What are you, crazy?

Come on. The trunk!

You're putting me in a very

idiosyncratic spot here.

I hope you can breathe in there.

I've had apartments smaller than

this in New York.

I heard that.

Here's the other half.

Which way did they go?

I can't see anything.

The glasses.

Oh, right.

Doggy. Okay. Good. Good boy.

How are you doing, my friend?

How's your stomach?

It hurts.

Can I offer you some coffee?

Delicious.

Sure.

How's the coffee coming?

It's coming, sir.

In the meantime, if I may

inquire.

what are you doing sneaking around

in the dark on private property?

You upset my dog.

Are you with the FBI?

The FBI? No, I'm with myself.

I'm not after you or your dog.

So it's Harold?

Harold? Yeah, right, Harold.

I'm just trying to figure out

what Harold's doing.

He works for us.

For the orphanage.

He goes out and he finds children who

are in trouble and he brings them here.

He has saved the lives of

countless children.

Harold could be the only saint

I've ever met.

Saint?

That's correct, my friend.

So that's all?

That's why you're here?

That's it.

Would you like some sugar or

some cream?

No. No, thanks.

This is good, right?

Having coffee together?

I'm in a good mood. What can I

say? I went surfing tonight.

Oh?

It was great. Over at a place

called Punta Abreojos.

Punta. I know what that means.

What's Abreojos?

It means "open eyes".

Means I can see you, man.

Oh, man. I like you, brother.

Well, that's great, I like you,

too.

I don't have any reason to, but

I just like you.

Sometimes that's just the way it

goes.

Sometimes you meet somebody, you don't

like them. That ever happen to you?

Sometimes.

That's why I don't go out a lot,

you know?

People, they can hurt you.

My wife... I'm having some

trouble with her, you know?

So I stay by myself a lot of

times. It's okay.

Oh, man. You're a nice guy.

I'm going to have to take your phone

and delete the photos in the gallery.

Fine.

You know, if I didn't like you, I'd take this

phone and I'd just smash it into the wall.

I appreciate that you don't.

Hey, that's a good shot of me!

Too bad.

Everything all right, don Edgar?

I think so. Our friend here was

just leaving.

Take care, my friend. And please

tell whoever is wondering about Harold

that he is doing fantastic.

He is a very virtuous man.

Do you know where that diner is

out of town? The truck stop?

Let me talk to Coach Hewitt.

Please.

Hold on.

Drexler Hewitt.

His name is Harold. He's not a

pederast.

Why am I finding out things that

other people already know?

You have to give me more

information before I go any further.

Of course I will. And some more

money, too.

Where is Harold Fullmer now?

Harold Fullmer? That's his name?

Yes.

Well, why don't you tell me why

I'm following Harold Fullmer,

and I'll tell you where I'm

following him.

Okay, okay. I have a counter

offer, Mr. Rosow.

Why don't you retrieve him, and

deliver him to New York.

New York?

No. No, thanks.

There is more money in it than

you've ever earned.

I don't do that sort of thing.

How does $500,000 sound?

I can wire the money into your checking

account when the Subject is delivered.

Delivered to whom?

His wife. She's my client. She

loves him. She misses him.

She just wants to talk to him.

She must want to talk to him

real bad. That's a lot of money.

He might turn tail and run again

after a couple of words.

Well, Mr. Rosow, that's not

your problem.

Maybe it is, and maybe it isn't.

We thought that with your history,

you would comprehend the situation.

You could sympathize.

You would understand.

I don't understand anything.

Okay, he's coming back now, I get

it. What do you want me to say to him?

Just say hello.

Hi, Rosow, I just decided to stay in

your motel room for twenty-four hours

waiting for you to come back to

my loving arms.

There you go.

I convinced him that I was

lonely and desperate.

I don't think even he believed

that I was that lonely but...

Just pour him a drink.

Are these the kind of games you

like to play?

No, it's not what you think.

Hey, I promise, I have no idea

at all.

I don't know what you're doing

or who you're working for.

I work for myself.

Who was on the phone?

Ex-boyfriend.

How long have you been here?

You work for Harold? Hewitt? Don

Edgar? The Feds?

No, no, no and no.

You're hurting me!

Yeah, come on, Miss Lonely hearts.

Tell me something I don't know.

Papitos.

Gus?

Let go.

You work for Gus?

Let me go.

Pappy. Oh, sh*t.

Care for a cocktail? I sure do.

It's been a long night.

Gus.

Oh, damn! That hurt!

All right, all right.

Hello?

It's Hero Furillo. I just dropped off

your guy at Union Station. You need a ride?

You saved my bacon.

You better be doing the right

thing, you know.

Yeah.

I mean it. You know, I'll

probably never see you again,

so it's not like I'll ever

really know.

But you better be doing the

right thing, homes. You know?

I like to think that you're on

the right side. The Serpico side.

Because that's the side I want

to get on.

I wish it was that simple.

Oh, don't give me that, man.

Come on, don't give me that.

I won't let you down, Hero.

Aren't you a little tired of

trains?

Do I know you?

You recognize me all right.

I've been following you.

Why?

I'm getting paid.

Oh. For the money.

Why is the FBI tailing you?

I don't know.

I'll try another question. You

ready to come back with me, Harold?

Back to your wife?

Absolutely no.

If you don't come with me,

I'll cause a ruckus.

I'll scream that you robbed me, or

propositioned me, I'll probably punch you,

the miso soup will go flying everywhere,

the little waitress will call the police,

and we'll both get arrested.

Which is fine for me, but not

for you.

If I were you, I'd rather talk to

my wife than to the authorities.

And you could start by talking

to me.

I find children that are in distress,

and I take them to a safe haven.

Doesn't anybody miss these kids?

The world is filled with

children no one wants.

This last kid, from Chicago, he

seemed okay enough.

Javier? He was in twenty porno

films before I found him.

He tried to kill himself twice.

His mother had eight children,

husband gone.

Someone offered her a thousand

dollars to take Javier to America,

to feed him, clothe him, enroll

him in a good Catholic...

All right, all right, that's

enough. We got a plane to catch.

I can't fly.

What?

You heard me.

No, we're not taking a train

back to New York.

Those sleeping cars are like

coffins.

New York?

Yeah. You're going back to her.

She's worried about you.

I don't like flying myself. I'm

not a big fan of New York either.

Why? What happened in New York?

Sometimes when you try to make things

better, you end up just making them worse.

That's bullshit. Harold, what about

your wife, huh? You don't just drop out.

The life I lead now is the very

contrary of dropping out.

Most people can't wait to get home

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