I grab my now empty suitcase as a disguise for my mission and start for the garage.

The security man beams at my passing (I'm a good tipper). "Merry Christmas, Mr. Del Mundo, headed home?"

I return the greeting, "Merry Christmas, George! Yes, home for the holiday. It's always good to return home at Christmas." (I always try to be pleasant to the little people, it costs nothing and it may be useful someday.)

The fuel-injected engine in my Corvette roars to life and then settles down to a sort of purring rumble.

Corvette and I move quietly down to a dark corner of a convenient mall. I leave Corvette in a remote, safe corner of the parking garage. Where I am going, Corvette wouldn't work well. To pursue my search efficiently, I'll be walking home.

I go down the stairs, past a few last minute shoppers and out to the bus stop. I sit down to wait and let the pictures of the little church, that's my destination this night, run through my mind. It had been a small, neighborhood church; Mexican neighborhood that is. It was, as best I knew, my starting place. Now it seems that I must once again return to my starting place.

The bus arrives, I board and the big vehicle rumbles out through the center city and then out to the East side, through meaner and meaner streets. The bus schedule says that I had better be prepared to spend an hour and 20 minutes in my little quest, or whatever it is that I'm doing. Since I have no idea what I'm going to do, 80 minutes doesn't seem like an unreasonable time to spend in the pursuit of it.

I get off the bus at the stop nearest where I need to go. It'll be a walk of perhaps a half a mile to get to the site of the little church. The streets along which I'll walk aren't the safest in the city, but the little boy nicknamed Viper had learned how to walk these streets some years ago. Although I have grown up from the Viper stage, I haven't forgotten the hard learned lessons that Viper acquired along the way.

Even in this desperately poor area I see a few glimpses of Christmas time through the windows of the little rental houses that line the streets.

At last I turn down Garrity Street and stand before the fire ravaged ruins of what had been a church. There's little left of the church. A few crumbling remnants of walls, foundations, that sort of thing. Most of the corners of the ruins are littered with beer bottles, used condoms and other remains of the lives of the locals.

I walk to the steps where Pedro Garrity had started my journey. Little Pedro, or Viper, had quickly learned that there was nothing for him, except that which he could get on his own. It was a hard life and I have left my own litter behind along my path. A few girls who had, maybe, believed my whispered lies. A few boys who had found out that Viper had gained his nickname because of the sharp fang he carried. And, yes, even a few beer bottles. A man takes what comfort he can get, along a hard road.

Pedro Garrity couldn't live in the world I wanted. Thus, Pedro Garrity died a quick, painless death and Peter del Mundo walked on, in his place. While Pedro died painlessly, Peter had to fight hard to gain the learning that would buy the nice apartment, the expensive clothes, the proud Corvette and some other nice things. A long, hard fight, but well worth it.

As I stand in the dark on the stairs from where I had started not all that many years ago, I hear familiar enough sounds. There are running feet and curses in gutter Mexican. Across the littered ground races a girl carrying a bundle of some sort.

I stand in the shadow of a pole and she doesn't see me. She also doesn't see the pistol bullet that takes her life. As she falls, she tries, as a final act to cradle the bundle she carries. Two boys race to catch up to her fallen form.

I move out from the shadow and tell the boys to stop. They shoot instead. They miss. My Sig Sauer doesn't miss.

The girl carried a baby and a $20 bill clutched in her dead hand. She has sold her life to try to pay for a few hamburgers to keep herself and her baby alive for a few days. A high price and, considering my own beginning, one that fortunately will return more than the girl ever dreamed.

I scoop up the baby and the $20 bill. I move back down the street sliding from shadow to shadow. I'm not seen, or at least I'm not noticed. Few were better at the shadow to shadow game than Viper and the hard lessons I had learned as a boy once again pay off.

The neighborhood has changed a little since I last returned home, but there's another, newer church not too far away. It's Christmas time and there will be late services.

Luck that must have come from the holy night comes and sits on my shoulder. A nun walks swiftly toward the church. Viper finds us a place to stand in deep shadow. Peter del Mundo then takes over.

I say softly, "Sister, I have a most urgent duty for you this holy night."

The nun staggers a bit at the voice from the shadows. Then, her training takes over and she asks, in Spanish, "How may I help?"

I replied, in Inglez as my Spanish is not what it once was, "I have a pretty little baby. Its mother died trying to save its life. I can't stay. You must take the baby. It's your duty." I thrust the little bundle into the arms of the Sister.

Before the Sister can speak, I continue, "The mother died trying to obtain this." I hand the nun the crumpled $20 that the girl carried. I add, "That won't go far. This will help." I peel $100 in $20s out of my wallet. I say, "There will be more in the days to come. Save my little child, Sister."

Then, Viper is gone into the shadows that are his only family.

Viper gets us down several blocks in invisible fashion and, with no pursuit, Viper and I walk a curious, turning route that brings us to a bus stop just as the great shape glides up.

I get on and throw my fare into the box. I then slump into a seat and ride, just another hard faced man with dark hair in a neighborhood of hard faced men with dark hair. If the police somehow find the bus driver, they'll get only that useless description.

The bus gets me back into the center city. I get off several stops from the mall and walk as invisibly as I can back into the area of the shops. I obtain a bottle of wine on my credit card to document my reason for the trip to the mall.

I then drive home and slide the Corvette back into the garage. The security man, not George, waves to me from the far end of the parking garage and I wave back.

I take the elevator up and I'm home again. Once In my apartment, I shower and then sleep until the damned telephone wakes me at 8:41 Christmas morning. I mumble hello into the speaker and the sweetest voice in the world demands to see me.

I come awake and ask, "Veronica! Are you all right?"

Veronica's voice says, "I ... I'm all right. I have to see you now. It's important!"

Now fully awake, I sit up. I ask, "Where are you? I'll be there right away!"

Veronica's voice says, "I'm not far away. I have a ride. I need to talk to you!"

Veronica hangs up and I get up and get myself ready for her visit.