“But you are, aren’t you?”

“I’m attempting to give them an opportunity to change their circumstances in their world for the better.”

“That’s sort of splitting words, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is. And if you question it, they certainly will. They will be very suspicious of my motives. The last thing I want is for them to think this is some sort of freak show. You have to convince them that this is a legitimate endeavor with the goal of making their lives better with the hope that they in turn will make the lives of others in similar circumstances better. There are many success stories out there, but the media almost never want to highlight them.”

“Bad news gets better ratings.”

“Yes, well, we need positive examples to be heard too.”

“Most people I know down there are just looking to survive, Abe. I’m not sure how altruistic they’ll be about helping others.”

“You may be surprised. But you’re right in certain respects, and that’s fine, that’s to be expected. It’s only the initial contact. But it is still critical.”

Mace’s features clouded. “I’m just a little concerned, you know?”

Altman smiled. “That you have no real experience in this field and the hopes of a nation are riding on your ill-prepared shoulders?”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

“The answer to that of course is that I know no one who’s better prepared to do this than you, Mace. No one. If I did, I would’ve asked that person. I owe you much to be sure, but this project represents in many ways my life’s work. I would not risk it all by choosing someone ill fitted for it. It’s simply too important.”

“Then I’ll do my best for you. That’s all I can promise.”

“Now, I can have Herbert whip up some lunch. He does an amazing tuna salad.”

“Thanks, but I’ll take a pass. I’m going to grab a shower at the guesthouse. Then I’ll hit some of these contacts.”

“Excellent. I really appreciate this.”

“Not any more than I do. My options were a little thin.”

He put a hand on her shoulder. “Darkest before the dawn. A terrible cliché, I know. Yet so often true. And you may find you like the social sciences even more than police work.”

“Actually, police work is basically social science only with a Glock and body armor.”

“I think I see your point.”

“It’s all about respect, Abe. At MPD I was a member of the biggest gang out there. But because we were the biggest, we could never, ever afford to lose a battle.”

Altman looked very interested. “How did you manage that?”

“By never going into a situation that I knew I couldn’t win.”

“I can see that.”

“With a toot on my radio I could get help when I needed it faster than any other gang out there. I had to hold my own in a fight for three minutes, that was all. And if I had to thump somebody because they spit on me, I did, because once one blue lets disrespect slide by it endangers all the other blues on the street. Spit now, bullets in the back later. You either love me or hate me, but you will respect the uniform. But the same notion works for the bandits. Most of them are just trying to make a living and the blues are trying to catch them. Rolling Cheerios for a couple thousand a day versus tossing meat at Mickey D’s for minimum.”

“Cheerios?”

“OxyContin. They’re just like you and me but they made different choices.”

“And had limited opportunities.”

“Right. Each side knows the rules. The bandits don’t give a crap about getting their ass kicked or being arrested, or getting shot or being put in prison. Happens to them every day. But don’t disrespect them. That is the one unforgivable.”

“I think I just learned more in two minutes than I have in the last ten years.”

“I’ll see you, Professor. Keep the lights on for me.” She turned back. “Oh, one more thing. My Ducati sticks out a little bit. Do you have a ride I can borrow?”

“Certainly. Do you want the Bentley or the Honda?”

“It’s a close call, but I’ll go with the Japanese.”

CHAPTER 54

MACE SHOWERED at the guesthouse and thoroughly washed her grimy hair. That was one bad thing about motorcycle helmets: your head sweats like hell in one. As she wrapped herself in a thick robe and strolled around the palatial house that was not even a third the size of the really palatial house next door, it occurred to her that it would be quite easy to get used to this sort of life if you were a normal person, which of course she wasn’t. Yet she couldn’t help but admire the quality of the furnishings and the high-level skill and attention to detail that had gone into the design and construction. Marty Altman must have been quite talented. It was easy to see from his comments about the lady that Abe had worshipped her.

What would it be like to have a guy worship me?

She dug through her backpack and pulled out a dog-eared notebook. In it she kept a list of contacts she’d used when she was on the police force. She found the name and made the call. It took several handoffs by other people, but she finally reached the lady.

“Charlotte, it’s Mace.”

“Mace Perry!”

“Come on, do you know any other Mace?”

“Are you still in that awful prison?”

“No, I’m done and out.”

“Thank God for that.”

“You still enjoying DMV?”

“Oh yeah,” Charlotte said sarcastically. “I turned down all those movie offers from Hollywood so I could stay right here and deal with angry people all day long.”

“So how would you like to deal with a happy one?”

“That’s usually a precursor to you wanting a favor.”

“I’ve got a name and address. And I’d love to get a photo of the guy.”

“You’re not back on the police force. I would’ve heard.”

“No, but I’m trying.”

“It’s harder to help out these days, Mace. Electronic eyes everywhere.”

“How about an old-fashioned fax?”

“Now there’s a novel idea.”

“So you’ll help me? Once more? For old times’ sake?”

Mace heard a short sigh. “Give me the name. And your fax number.”

Ten minutes later Mace was standing next to the fax machine in the small office on the second floor that Altman had shown her. Two minutes later the fax did its thing and the inked paper slid into the catch bin. Mace snatched it up. It was a copy of Andre Watkins’s driver’s license.

The real Andre Watkins had short, thick dark hair, wore glasses, and had no beard. His height was listed on the license and she saw that he was also several inches shorter than the guy they’d seen. So she’d been right. She wondered if the real Watkins was indeed an escort. It was such an out-of-the-mainstream occupation that Mace tended to think he probably was. That meant the imposter had dug into the man’s background.

Heading back downstairs, she happened on a four-person Jacuzzi tub tucked in a private glass-enclosed space set off from a small den. Hesitating only for a moment, Mace raced to the kitchen, opened the wine chiller set into the wall there, uncorked a bottle of Cab, and poured out a glass. Then she hurried back to the Jacuzzi, figured out the buttons, heated it up, dropped her robe, and slid naked into the hot foamy water. A minute later she snagged her cell off the edge of the tub and phoned Roy.

“Where are you?” she asked.

“I’m at work. I do have a job, remember?”

“Okay, Mr. Grumpy. Guess what I’m doing.”

“What?”

“Pampering myself.”

“How. Taking target practice? Or zapping homeless people with those knuckle things for laughs?”

“I’m sitting in the buff in a Jacuzzi at Altman’s guesthouse drinking a glass of red wine.”

“I thought you were going to start your new job?”

“I met with Altman and went over stuff. I’m rewarding myself because I also managed to confirm through DMV that that was not the real Andre Watkins at the apartment today.”