"Akeem's a killer, but Dees isn't. He got into this mess trying to cover up for his people because of what happened to Charles Lewis Washington, and he's been looking for a way to get out. He's trying to control Akeem. He doesn't want to make it worse. He just wants to survive it."

Poitras's face split with a feral grimace. "What a great guy."

"Yep."

"So what's the deal?"

"All charges against Joe and myself are dropped, and the city has to do right by the Washington family."

Poitras shook his head, and the grimace came back. "You and Pike we can handle, but when you start talking a wrongful-death suit, you're talking the mayor's office and the city council. You know what that's like. They're gonna ask how much. They're going to try to weasel."

"Weaseling isn't in the deal. They have to negotiate in good faith. No weaseling, no disrespect."

Lou said, "Jesus Christ, they're lawyers. Weaseling is all they know how to do."

"If the Washingtons sue, they'll win big. The city can fight them and drag it out, but they'll still win and the city will look bad because of the fight. So will the department. Do it my way, and no one has to know about the deal. The department can claim they uncovered the tape as a result of an internal investigation, and use going public as proof that the police can be trusted to wash their own dirty laundry. The city makes a big deal out of apologizing to the Washingtons, and everybody ends up looking like a hero. Jesus Christ, Lou, those people have lost two sons."

Poitras gave a shrug. "I don't think they'll go for it, but I'll try. What else?"

I said, "Thurman skates and stays on the job."

Poitras's face went as flat as a stone wall. "Every one of these officers is taking the hard fall. Every one of them will do time."

"Not Thurman. You can fine him, you can demote him, whatever you want, but he stays on the job."

Poitras's eyes sort of flickered and his sport coat pulled across his shoulders as his muscles swelled. A fine ribbon-work of veins appeared on his forehead. I have known Lou Poitras for almost ten years, and I couldn't recall having seen him so angry. "These guys shit on the badge, Hound Dog. I don't want guys like this in my department."

"Thurman's young, Lou. He didn't have a hand in it. You saw."

"He's sworn to protect. That means you protect even from other officers. He just stood there."

"He froze. His team is like his family. Dees is like a father. He wants a second chance."

"Fuck him."

"You get four out of five, Lou. That's the way it works."

Lou Poitras's jaw danced and rippled and he looked at the tape in the VCR, maybe thinking he should just take the tape, but maybe not, maybe thinking he should just arrest my ass. But maybe not. He let out a deep, hissing breath and his jacket smoothed as the heavy muscles in his shoulders and chest relaxed. Making peace with it. He said, "Okay. Maybe we can make it fly. I'll have to run it up the line. It'd help if I had the tape."

"Sorry, Lou. It's all I've got."

He nodded and put his hands in his pockets. Wouldn't have to shake hands with me, his hands in his pockets. "You going to be around?"

"No place in particular. We escaped fugitives lead nomadic lives."

"Yeah. I guess you do." He thought about it, then said, "Call me at one o'clock. If I'm not in the office, Griggs will be there. I should know by then."

"Okay, Lou. Thanks." I took the tape from the VCR and we went out to the showroom toward the door. You could look out the glass there. You could see the cars, and who was in the cars. Poitras said, "Is that Thurman?"

"Yeah."

He stared at Thurman with empty eyes. He wet his lips and he stared.

I went to the door, but Lou Poitras didn't go with me. I guess there weren't many escaped felons he'd let walk away.

I stopped in the door and looked back at him. "Tell me the truth, Lou. When you heard about the charges, did you doubt me?"

Lou Poitras shook his head. "Nope. Neither did Griggs."

"Thanks, Lou."

When I turned away, he said, "Try not to get stopped for a traffic violation. Our orders are shoot to kill."

Ha ha. That Lou. Some kidder, huh?

CHAPTER 31

Thurman said, "How'd it go?" He didn't look at me when he asked.

"We'll know by one o'clock."

"I want to call Jennifer."

"Okay. You hungry?"

"Not especially."

"I am. We've got to kill time and not get caught until one. We'll grab something to eat. You can call Jennifer. We'll move around."

"Fine."

We drove over the hill into Hollywood. I drove, and Thurman sat in the passenger seat. Neither of us said very much or looked at the other, but there wasn't any tension in the car. There was more an awkwardness.

We followed Laurel Canyon down out of the hills, then turned east on Hollywood Boulevard. As we drove, Thurman's eyes raked the sidewalks and the side streets and the alleys, just like they had done when he was riding a black-and-white here, just like they had done when he saved the nine-year-old girl from the nut on the bus. He said, " Hollywood was my first duty assignment when I left the academy."

"Yeah."

"My first partner was a guy named Diaz. He had twelve years on the job and he used to laugh a lot. He used to say, Jesus Christ, why you wanna do this for a living? A good-looking white guy like you, why don't you get a real job?"

I looked over at him.

Thurman laughed at the memory. "I said I wasn't born on Krypton like Clark Kent and I wasn't good enough to be Batman like Bruce Wayne, so this was the next best thing. You get to wear a uniform and drive around in a fast car and put the bad guys behind bars. Diaz got a kick out of that. He started calling me Clark Kent." Thurman fell silent and crossed his arms and stared ahead into Hollywood. Maybe remembering Diaz. Maybe remembering other things. "You think they'll let me stay on the department?"

"We'll see."

"Yeah." We rode like that for a while, and then he said, "I know you're not doing it for me, but I appreciate what you're doing in this."

"They haven't gone for it yet, Thurman. A lot could go wrong."

We went to Musso amp; Frank Grill for breakfast and used the pay phone there to call Lancaster. Mark Thurman spoke to Jennifer Sheridan and I spoke to Joe Pike. I said, "It's happening fast. We should know by one o'clock."

"You want us to come down?"

"No. If it goes right, we'll call you, and then we'll come up. Once we turn over the tape, they'll move on Akeem and the Eight-Deuce. I don't want Jennifer down until those guys are off the street."

"Sounds good."

We took our time with breakfast and didn't leave Musso's until the waiters and the busboys were giving us the glare treatment. When we left, we walked down Hollywood Boulevard to Vine, and then back again, looking at the people and the second-rate shops and trying to kill time. We passed the place where Thurman had gone onto the bus to save the nine-year-old girl. He didn't bring it up.

We picked up the car and drove east to Griffith Park where you can rent horses and ride along trails or in carefully controlled riding pens. The park was crowded, and most of the trail riders were families and kids, but most of the pen riders were serious young women with tight riding pants and heavy leather riding boots and their hair up in buns. We bought diet Cokes and watched them ride.

At eleven minutes before one that afternoon, we pulled into the parking lot at Griffith Observatory at the top of the Hollywood Hills and went into the observatory's great hall to use their pay phone. I figured it was a pretty safe place from which to make the call. You don't find a lot of cops browsing through the meteorite display or admiring the Chesley Bonestell paintings.