”Now what are you smiling about?”he asked.“The sound the old black guy heard, the one that pissed him off...” I began. It was good to know tha... my memories were with me even in death. Some things could apparently never be taken from me.“What about the sound,” he asked impatiently.“Only one thing sounds like that,” I smiled. “Somebody in that neighborhood was driving a Mustang. And it’s been modified. The motor sounds like it’s cammed and that is definitely not the factory exhaust system.”“Shut. I dragged him back by his collar to the truck and secured him with all too many people watching.That was too easy. I wonder what I did wrong.He woke during traffic on the way back to the Federal building. His curses left little to the imagination at what he thought of my parentage. At a long red light. I put on the emergency flashers. Walked in back, removed my Miranda card and read it aloud. Twice.He refused to acknowledge anything. Even if he was swearing at me in English earlier.I gave. More

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