The high desert sky was turning a nice purple when the state cops loaded us into a black-and-white highway cruiser and blasted off down the Antelope Valley Freeway. Less than an hour later, the sky was dark when we pulled into the parking lot of the Seventy-seventh Division in South Central Los Angeles. I thought they'd take us to Parker Center, but there you go. Criminals always return to the scene of the crime. Even if we have to be taken.

They were expecting us. The Seventy-seventh's halls and squad rooms were jammed with cops and reporters and lawyers and handcuffed young black men who looked like they were Eight-Deuce gangbangers. A couple of them I recognized. I didn't see Akeem D'Muere, but Harold Bellis was talking to the homicide lieutenant, Stilwell. Stilwell looked bored, but Bellis looked confident. He also looked like he had just been called away from dinner. L'Orangerie, no doubt. Des Oeufs de Poule au Beluga, no doubt. The appetizer alone would've cost more than Stilwell's take-home for the day.

Stilwell saw me, went to a closed door that said WATCH COMMANDER, then opened the door and stuck in his head. Lou Poitras came out with two women and four men. The squad room was so crowded that if any more people came out of the office, they'd have to kick out the bad guys to make room for the good guys. One of the women was a prosecutor in the DA's office named Murphy, and one of the men was a uniformed captain who was probably the watch commander. I didn't recognize the others.

A guy in a wrinkled pinstripe with no tie said, "Is this Cole?" He said it like he was in charge.

Lou Poitras pointed at me, then Pike. "Cole. Pike."

The pinstripe said, "Let's go through it. I want to wrap this up."

The pinstripe was a guy named Garvey from the chief's office and the other woman was a muck-a-muck named Greenberg from the city council. Of the two other guys, one was named Fallen, also from the DA's, and the other was from the mayor's office. The guy from the mayor was named Haywood. Fallon and Haywood took Joe Pike into an office down the hall, and Greenberg went with them. Garvey and everybody else took me into the watch commander's office. When we were settled, Murphy said, "You're not under arrest at this time, Mr. Cole, but we reserve the right to prosecute you for anything that you might admit to or say during this interview."

Lou Poitras said, "Jesus Christ, Murphy."

Garvey made a take-it-easy gesture. "At ease, Sergeant."

Murphy said, "Who's your attorney?"

"Charlie Bauman."

She nodded. "I know Charlie. I'd advise you to call him."

I took her advice. An uncharacteristically smart move.

Everyone left for coffee while I called Charlie, told him where I was, and told him that I wouldn't say anything until he arrived. When I was done, I opened the door and saw Lou Poitras standing in the squad room with his boss from North Hollywood, a lieutenant named Baishe. Baishe has always looked shriveled and tight to me, sort of like a daddy longlegs, and he's never liked me much, but when I opened the door, he was jabbing the street cop Micelli in the chest and telling him that he'd acted like a goddamned bush-league asshole. Micelli said he didn't have to take this shit from some North Hollywood dick and jabbed back, and when he did Lou Poitras slapped his hand to the side and told him to step away. Poitras was maybe five inches taller than Micelli and eighty pounds heavier, and he looked like he was itching to use it. Micelli told Poitras to fuck himself, but he stepped away. Stilwell was over by a couple of uniforms, staying out of it. I said, "Christ, Baishe, were you defending me?"

When Baishe saw me grinning, he scowled and said, "Hell, no. I always knew you'd fuck up big time. I'm just surprised it took you this long." A man with friends is the wealthiest man in the world.

Poitras told me to wait in the office, then asked if I wanted a cup of coffee. I told him that I did and waited in the open doorway for him to bring it. While I was waiting two Hispanic cops brought in Akeem D'Muere. His hands were cuffed, but he walked tall and defiantly, as if he were in some way larger than life, as if he were above all this and impervious to it and amused by it. Harold Bellis went to him, immediately complaining to the officers about the handcuffs. No one jumped to take them off. Stilwell went over to the uniforms, and they led D'Muere and Bellis toward the interrogation rooms. When they led D'Muere past, he saw me. I made my hand into a gun, pointed it at him, and dropped the hammer. He smiled. Amused.

Charlie Bauman came in maybe ten minutes later.

Murphy from the DA and Garvey from the chief saw him before I did, and then Charlie came to me. "You say anything yet?"

"I learned my lesson last time."

"Okay. These guys wanna have a powwow, so lemme see what I can work out."

He went back to them, and pretty soon they were joined by Greenberg and Haywood. When Charlie came back, he said, "They want a freebie, and I'm willing to give it to them, but it's up to you. You run through what you know and answer their questions, but it'll be off the record. If they decide to prosecute, they can't use your statements against you. Do you agree?"

"Yes."

We went back into the watch commander's office, and I went through everything from the beginning, just as I had when I'd gone through it with Stilwell and Micelli, only this time there was more of it to tell. Everyone looked interested except the watch commander, who spent a lot of time saying things like, "I've known Eric Dees for ten goddamned years. He's a fine officer," or, 'Talk is cheap, but where's the goddamned evidence?" He said stuff like that until Murphy told him to shut up or leave the room.

I told them how Mark Thurman and I had stolen the tape from Eric Dees's garage, and described what I had seen on the tape and how I had tried to make the deal through Poitras. Poitras confirmed it. Then I told them what had happened at the Space Age Drive-In and what had happened to the tape. Murphy said, "And the tape is destroyed?"

"Yeah. Dees burned it."

The watch commander said, "Ha." As if that proved something.

Murphy ignored him and looked at Garvey. He shrugged. "Might be possible to recover some of it. Won't know until we look." Garvey picked up the phone and punched numbers. "Where is it?"

I told him.

He repeated it into the phone.

We spent a total of three hours and fourteen minutes on it, and then Murphy said, "Why don't you kick back for a while. We've got to talk with Pike, and then we've got to see where we stand."

"Sure." Mr. Kick Back. That's me.

They let me stay in the commander's office. They left the door open and told me to help myself to coffee or the bathroom, but not to leave the building. Charlie Bauman went with them. The squad room had sort of settled down, with most of the reporters and lawyers gone, and most of the Gangster Boys in holding cells or interrogation rooms. It was dosing on midnight, and from somewhere along one of the halls I could hear Jay Leno.

Maybe forty minutes later Charlie Bauman and the others came back. The people from the DA and the mayor and the city council stopped in the hall to talk, and Charlie and Pike came over to me. Charlie looked tired. "There's a lot of little stuff, but they're not going to press on the Washington thing. They believe you didn't do it."

"What about Lancaster?"

Charlie said, "Man, Lancaster is nothing compared to this other stuff. They need to talk to Thurman, and they need him to testify, but as long as he backs up what you said, you guys can walk."

"He will."

"Then you're done. Go home and get some sleep."

Lou Poitras broke away from the group and came over and offered his hand. "Well, you've squeaked through another one, Hound Dog."