“This isn’t one of your games.”

“Everything is a game. This one is the Prisoner’s Dilemma. If you’re only playing once, your best bet is to screw the other guy. Because you know he will screw you.” He leaned forward. “Look at us. The four of us are all nice people, employed, call our mothers, do the things we’re supposed to, right? But guys like Johnny don’t play that way. He just takes what he wants, and since we’re playing nice, he wins. Same with Ken Lay and James Cayne and all the others, the criminals in the expensive suits. You were the one who said they should be lined up and shot, right?”

“I didn’t mean I’d be pulling the trigger.”

“But why not? This guy is blackmailing you. He’s breaking the rules and he’s winning, and the question is, are you just going to take it? Or are you going to beat him at his own game?”

The mood around the table had changed. There was a strange tension, the joke running further than anyone had intended. Something Mitch had read that morning came into his mind. “You know what Raymond Chandler said?”

“No, Mitch,” Alex humoring him, “what did Raymond Chandler say?”

“He said there’s no clean way to make a hundred million bucks.”

“There you go,” Ian said. “There you go.”

Alex looked around the table, his expression incredulous. “You serious?”

Not really, Mitch thought. It did sound doable, and the money, well, that would change his life. But was he actually serious? Not when it came down to it.

Which is maybe why you stand holding a door for people who don’t know you exist, the voice in his head whispered.

“We’re not robbing my boss.”

Ian shrugged, leaned back. “Your loss.” He put on that smile, his caustic armor.

There didn’t seem to be much to say to follow that, and they picked at their breakfasts. Mitch could almost hear the thoughts, read them like they were printed on everyone’s cheeks. He was a good watcher. People mistook not wanting to be the center of attention for not paying attention. Ian was easy, the narrow hunger on his face, the way he held himself straight. Alex had the tense stillness and wide eyes of a courtroom defendant, and Mitch could see him thinking of his daughter and whatever white-picket house she lived in. Jenn had a furtive glow to her. She looked, frankly, turned on.

The scrape of silverware was loud. Finally, Alex looked at Ian, said, “You are making me wonder, though.”

“Yeah?”

“How’d you get that black eye again?”

CHAPTER 5

IT WAS AMAZING, Bennett thought, how much of the world looked really boring. The office park where K &S Laboratories was located, for example. A series of two-story shoeboxes centered around what had to be the lamest fountain he’d ever seen, water rolling in a piss trickle down an angled slab. How people got up every day and commuted an hour in traffic just to work in a place like this, he’d never understand.

Of course, on the inside, the lab probably looked more exciting. According to the research he’d done, about twenty percent of pharmaceuticals used some form of fluorine, which acted as a stabilizer, improving efficiency by delaying absorption. It was pretty nasty stuff; as a subcontractor developing compounds for drug companies, K &S probably had clean rooms, positive airflow suits, three kinds of safety precautions. Maybe on the inside it looked like something out of a Bruckheimer flick.

Bennett still liked his office better. With one hand on the wheel of the Benz, he dialed his cell. “Doc. You know who this is?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Good. You do what I asked?”

“I… I…”

“Easy. Take a breath.” He waited for a beat, then said, “Better?”

The man’s voice came through hollow and miserable. “I made what you wanted.”

“Good. I knew you were a smart guy. Now, you haven’t told anyone about our chat, have you?”

“No.”

“Your wife, the police?”

“No.”

“You’re not lying to me? Because those pictures”-he sucked air through his teeth-“I mean, that kind of thing, you wouldn’t want anyone to see that.”

“I haven’t. I swear.” The voice was quick and panicky.

“Then relax, brother. This will all be over soon. Here’s how it’s going to go.” Bennett gave him an address. “Let’s see you there in twenty minutes.” He hung up before the guy could respond, then slouched in his seat and watched the front door.

Two minutes later, the doctor hurried out, one hand pulling keys from his pocket. The other held a duffel bag in fingers clenched bloodless. Bennett let the doc get in his Town Car and spin out of the lot. Didn’t follow, just waited and watched. No squad cars followed, no unmarkeds roared to life.

When the clock on his dashboard said that ten minutes had passed, he dialed the phone again. “Where you at, Doc?”

“I’m on the way. You said-”

“Changed my mind. Why don’t we meet at your office in”-he pretended he was looking at a watch-“five.”

“But I’m ten minutes-”

“Drive fast.” Bennett hung up.

It took more like seven, but when the Town Car hit the lot, the tires were squealing and the engine was roaring. Again, no sign of anybody following.

Bennett let the doctor park, then slid out of his car and started over. He had that hyperalertness that always came with a deal, the feeling he could see in seven directions at once, breathe jet fuel instead of air. He knocked on the passenger-side window and enjoyed seeing the man jump.

After the guy collected himself enough to unlock the door, Bennett slid in. “Hey, Doc. How was your day?”

The man just looked at him. His nose had gauze packed in the nostrils and tape across the bridge. His fingers gripped and released the steering wheel.

“Rough one, huh?” Bennett smiled. “We’re almost done.”

The man nodded, started to reach for the bag.

“Not so fast. Let’s get out of here.”

“Where?”

“Take a ride. First, though, do me a quick favor.” Bennett jerked his head. “Hike up that shirt, would you?”

“My shirt?”

“Yeah. I hear swimming is good exercise. Want to check out your muscle definition.”

“Listen, I did what you wanted, but this is getting ridiculous.” The man trying to take control back.

Bennett smiled, shrugged. “OK. Well, nice seeing you.” He reached for the door handle.

“No! Wait.” The man grimaced, then untucked his shirt and pulled it up to show his bare skin. “I told you, I didn’t go to the police.”

“Can’t be too careful.” Bennett gestured at the road. “Let’s go.”

It was after seven o’clock, and traffic was just beginning to thin. Bennett directed the doctor one street at a time, having him get on and off the highway, make sudden turns. He watched the mirrors. No one.

God, he loved predictable people.

“OK. You know how to get to O’Hare from here?” Bennett leaned forward, turned on the radio. Scanned the dial-crap, crap, car commercial, crap, the Beatles. He put a foot on the dash, lowered his window, and reclined the seat a notch.

As they neared the airport, the doctor said, “About those pictures. I never did anything like that before. It was… I don’t even know why I did. I was just… curious. Wasn’t thinking. I swear to God, though, I’ve never done anything like that before. I’m begging you.”

“You do what I wanted?”

“Yes.”

“And didn’t fool around? Try to make something a little different, figure I won’t be able to tell?”

“No, I swear.”

“Long-term parking.”

“Huh?”

“Head for long-term parking.”

The man nodded. “I love my wife. My daughter. More than anything.”

Bennett cocked an eyebrow.

“I know. I know. It was stupid. I just. It’s a weakness. A compulsion. It’s not my fault, something I would choose.”

“Go up to the top level.”

“If I have to pay for what I did, that’s fine. I just don’t want anyone to know.”