I CALLED QUIRK, who wasn’t in. I got transferred to Belson, who was.

“Frank, I need help.”

I told him about Slide’s beating and Jackie’s disappearance, about Alvarez and the machinations surrounding Street Business.

“What I’m not hearing in all this, Spenser,” he said, “is the magic word ‘homicide.’ That’s what we do in this department. Why don’t you just call for a patrol car to roll by and mop up your mess.”

“I’ve got a missing person and possible homicide,” I said. “And I need help from someone I trust. A patrol unit is going to call in Child Protective Services, and this place will get shut down. I need someone to stabilize and sit on the place for a few hours, until I get another piece of it resolved. I need time until I can figure out how to keep Street Business in business.”

“So you need me to babysit a house filled with juvenile delinquents while you figure out how to keep an essentially illegal business in play? We have real work to do, Spenser.”

“I need to protect another client,” I said. I gave him a brief summary of Carmen and Alvarez. I told him about Healy and the Fed and state investigations. “And so help me, Frank, if I need to shoot someone so you’ve got a homicide to get you down here, I’ll do it.”

Belson sighed. “Okay, Spenser.”

I gave him the address.

“Curtis Street?” he said. “Is that by St. Bart’s?”

“Yeah,” I said. “It’s a few blocks away.”

“My kid sister knows the priest down there. Said the Mass at her wedding. I’m blanking on the name, but he seemed like a regular guy.”

“Ahearn?” I said.

“Yeah, that could be it. Ahearn. They do a lot of work with kids at St. Bart’s. I’ll send a squad car down there, too.”

Father Ahearn arrived at Street Business in about ten minutes, along with ten guys who had to be the world’s most intimidating chapter of the Knights of Columbus. A patrol car pulled up, and Belson followed right behind in his unmarked Crown. Martin Quirk was with him.

“I called Marty,” Belson said. “He’s got more juice than I do.”

Quirk was dressed in a navy-blue blazer with a light blue button-down shirt and bright red sweater vest and gray slacks. His red tie had a small Christmas-tree print. He looked clean-shaven and fresh as a spring morning.

“Left my grandkid’s Christmas pageant for this, Spenser,” said Quirk. “Make it worth my time.”

“Sorry, Marty. It’s important.”

Quirk nodded. “Frank filled me in.” He nodded to Hawk and Vinnie. “We’ll hold down the fort here. We never saw you. Now go.”

We headed for Weston, Hawk riding shotgun and Vinnie in the backseat. We had just hit the Mass Pike when my cell phone rang. It was Susan.

“Spenser,” she said. “We have a problem. Slide is missing.”

I WAS IN THE ROOM while the doctor examined him,” Susan said. “They had to take him for X-rays of his ribs to see if any were broken. They brought him back to the room and we waited. You know how it is. Emergency room. Holidays. Slide was pretty antsy, and I tried to distract him, but conversation with eleven-year-olds is not in my résumé.”

“How did he get away?”

“After what seemed hours, but was probably half an hour, the doctor came back with the X-rays and said there were no broken ribs. She gave Slide a couple of Tylenol to take before bedtime if he ached too much.

“She said he could get dressed and we could leave and he was a fortunate young man not to be more seriously hurt. I went into the bathroom for a moment, while Slide went behind the screen to get his pants and shirt on.

“When I came out, he was gone. In thirty seconds. I ran out in the hallway and looked up and down it. Not a sign of him.”

“Any reason to think someone grabbed him?”

“No,” Susan said. “There was no one around in the hallway, and I ran out to the lobby and asked the desk nurse if she had seen Slide and she said yes she had and he had been alone. He had headed for the main exit. One good thing. He’s fine except for some really deep bruises.”

“Okay,” I said. “He probably heard me say Carmen was in danger. I’ll bet he’s trying to work his way to Weston, same as we are. We’ll look out for him. Don’t worry.”

“Easy for you to say,” Susan said. “The road out there is not a place for a kid right now. I’m going to drive toward Weston and see if I can find him.”

“He’s a tough kid, Susan. I don’t want you mixed up in what’s going on out here. He’s found his way by himself out to Carmen a lot of times before. I’ll call you the minute I can.”

WE CAUGHT UP with Healy in the parking lot of a Bruegger’s bagel shop on Center Street in Weston. He was in an unmarked state police cruiser, with the engine running. I pulled in to the space to his left. Hawk rolled down his window. The darkness had started to gather, but I could see someone sitting in the passenger seat next to Healy.

“Nice touch, picking a place with bagels,” said Healy. He stared straight ahead. “Got some good news, Spenser. Boston PD located your friend Joachim Alvarez. Somebody dumped him at the emergency room at Beth Israel about an hour ago.”

“And?”

“He’s beaten up pretty bad. But he’ll live.”

“Well, that’s something,” I said. “Were you able to scare up any help for this operation?”

Healy snorted. “You wouldn’t know by looking around, but there are about twenty pairs of federal and state eyes on us right now.”

Healy looked over at his passenger. “This is Special Agent Goldberg of the FBI. He insisted on joining me, even though it could blow the cover off the entire fucking operation. He wants to make clear that this is a federal matter and he’s in charge.”

He stared straight ahead again. “Goldberg, the driver is Spenser. The other two guys don’t exist and you never saw them. I miss anything?”