"In return for which I get what?"

"Jack Cullan's file on you."

"You're squeezing an awful lot of mileage out of that file, Mason."

"Just show me the videotape and then I'll get you the file. You've probably got me on tape. You can keep that. I want the judge off the books."

Fiora shrugged. "That will work. Trade a judge for a lawyer. Too bad you can't throw in a player to be named later."

Fiora opened a cabinet behind his desk, revealing a television and DVD player. He took a video disk from the shelf beneath the television and popped it into the DVD player. After he pushed a button, the screen came to life.

"Like I told you before," Fiora reminded Mason, "anyone comes into the casino, they are picked up on video before they've lost their first quarter. They move out of range of one camera, another camera picks them up. The videotapes are transferred to disks that are easier to store and that lets us reuse the videotapes. The great thing about disks is that you can edit them to create a video of any one person from the minute they set foot in the parking lot to the minute they leave."

"So whose video are you going to show me?" Mason asked.

"Watch," Fiora answered. He sat down in his desk chair and aimed a remote control at the DVD player.

Beth Harrell materialized on the screen. The day and date were printed in the bottom right-hand corner of the screen. It was New Year's Eve. Even with the grainy, long-distance perspective of the video cameras, her beauty was obvious. She flowed across the casino floor, drawing stares and envy. The absence of sound added a surreal note to her movements.

"I'll jump ahead to the good part," Fiora said as he punched another button on his remote control.

Mason watched as the camera followed Beth to the rear of the casino, where she had found Mason, then out to the prow of the boat, where they had embraced. Mickey poked Mason in the ribs when the video showed Mason pushing Beth away. Mason winced at the memory of that moment, seeing more clearly the bitterness in Beth's expression that had been captured by the camera as she had walked away.

The video jerked a bit as a different camera picked her up when she returned to the deck. Her face became indistinct as she slipped into shadows that made it impossible to see what she was doing or even to be certain that she was still the person on the video.

Mason recoiled as small flashes erupted from the darkness where the shooter was hidden. Then, Mason saw his own image fill the screen, cowering in the prow and dodging bullets that ricocheted around him, shattering pale blue Christmas lights. He grimaced with sharp memory when he saw a bullet singe his side. Mason touched the healed wound through his clothes and held his breath as his video self vaulted into the river.

Chapter Thirty-three

"I love happy endings," Fiora said when the screen went blank.

"I want a copy of the disk," Mason said.

He was past understanding or explaining Beth. She had fallen out of first place in the Jack Cullan murder sweepstakes, but she was ahead of the pack in the psycho competition. Mason didn't know what he would do about her, only that he would do something.

"This is strictly pay-per-view," Fiora said. "No more party favors. You get me the file; then we'll talk."

Mason asked, "You know a homicide detective named Carl Zimmerman?"

"Sure. He was one of Cullan's guys. Cullan called him and that other cop, Toland, his golden retrievers. Any time some bigwig or his kid stepped in the bucket, those two guys fetched the bad news to Cullan."

"I think they killed Cullan and went into business for themselves. They made Shirley Parker tell them where Chilian kept the files and then they stole the files and killed her."

"They don't call this the land of opportunity for nothing," Fiora said. "Now you're going to go up against two rogue cops and put them out of business while stealing my file back for me. Is that it?"

"I've got help."

"Must be your client that I sprang from the county jail. That might even be a fair fight from what I understand. Are you keeping the good cops out of this?"

"We've got to until we get the files. After that, the good cops can have the bad cops."

"Why tell me all of this?" Fiora asked.

"We don't know where Zimmerman and Toland have hidden the files. I want you to call Zimmerman and offer to buy your file and hire him as a security consultant for the casino. The only catch is that your offer expires at midnight. Tell him if you don't have the file by then, you'll send Tony to get it."

Fiora said, "Your partner figures to follow Zimmerman to the files, pop him, and bring me my file. Then you have a come-to-Jesus meeting with the prosecutor, Blues pleads guilty to some bullshit misdemeanor, and the whole thing goes away."

"Like you said, I love happy endings."

Fiora thought a minute, drumming his fingers on his desk, calculating the odds for the house. "You got a phone number for this bum, Zimmerman?"

Mason handed Fiora a slip of paper, and Fiora dialed Zimmerman's number. Mason and Mickey listened to Fiora's side of the conversation. As nearly as they could tell, Zimmerman was going through the stages of grief; denying that he had Cullan's files, angrily accusing Fiora of blackmail, and unsuccessfully negotiating better terms before accepting Fiora's offer.

Fiora hung up the phone and spread his arms wide. "Detective Zimmerman is seriously pissed off and seriously suspicious. He even asked me if you were in on this. The meeting is at nine o'clock tonight."

Mason asked, "Where?"

" Swope Park, at the shelter next to the lagoon."

"Thanks," Mason said. "We're out of here."

"I don't think so," Fiora said. "You and junior will wait right here. We'll all go together."

"Ed, that's not a good idea. This could get ugly. I don't think you want to be anywhere near the park," Mason told him.

"I don't like the odds if I'm sitting here fat and unhappy hoping you keep up your end of the deal. I figure Tony gives us an edge, and I always take the edge. So sit down and sit tight."

"Zimmerman has killed two people already. You don't kill people, remember?"

"I don't kill people. Tony kills people."

Mason looked at Tony, who had planted himself in front of the door to Fiora's office. "I need to make a phone call," Mason said.

"I thought you might," Fiora replied.

Mason used his cell phone to reach Blues. The conversation was brief.

"Nine o'clock at the shelter next to the lagoon in Swope Park," Mason said.

"Good. Meet me at the office. We'll get ready."

"Can't do it."

"Fiora got you on a leash?"

"You got it"

"He and Tony figuring on coming along?"

"All the way."

"Make for a helluva party," Blues said, and hung up.

Mason closed his cell phone. "You got an unmarked deck of cards?" he asked Fiora. "I'm into Mickey for two hundred and fifty bucks. I might as well try and get my money back."

Tony remained at the door, moving only to allow Fiora to go in or out. Mason and Blues had not discussed the possibility that Fiora would hold him and Mickey hostage and insist on coming along. Though unexpected, Fiora's intervention would bring all the bad guys together. The combination would be volatile, unstable, and uncontrollable.

Fiora came back at six o'clock. "Let's get going," he said. "The roads are still a mess and I want to get there ahead of Zimmerman and Toland. What are you driving?"

Mason answered, "I've got my Jeep. It has four-wheel drive."

"Perfect. You drive."

The snow was still falling when they left the casino. Though city crews had been working for seven hours to clear the streets, they were fighting a losing battle. Fresh snow blanketed every plowed surface, erasing tire tracks and hiding the ice beneath like a land mine.