"Oh, yeah," I said. Just passing through. I was on my way back with the tablets before it occurred to me. I excused my way through the interview room again, and hit the kitchen with a plan.

"I think," I said, "we'd be better off doing this interview in your office, Lamar." Way back on the other side of the building.

As he started to protest, I motioned him over by the sink. "I just came through the interview room," I said, in a low voice. "Cletus and his attorney are in there, and they don't know who the shooter was."

I could almost see the cartoon lightbulb come on over Lamar's head. To arrive at his office, we would have to transit the interview room occupied by Cletus and company.

"Let's take him back to my office," said Lamar, in a loud, clear voice.

We paraded past Cletus and Gunston. Lamar, Volont, Blitek, and me. Slowly, of course, so that Blitek wouldn't trip on his shoelaces. Blitek's head was down, and in his state, I don't think he even noticed who we were passing by. None of us said a word. Except for Lamar, who simply said, "Excuse us, please," as he led the way through.

I glanced at Cletus, who had the now familiar pre-heave glaze in his eyes.

It was much more crowded in Lamar's office, but it had been worth the trip.

Blitek, in a mumbling sort of way, told us some interesting things. Gabriel had, in fact, told him to "take out" Cletus. Blitek had been assigned what he called a "co-sniper," a fellow named Rollings. He never showed. Blitek was just sufficiently frightened of Gabriel that he undertook the "mission" alone. He thought that might have been a mistake. In retrospect, sort of.

"Well," said Lamar, kindly, "you gotta do what you gotta do."

Blitek had told Gabriel, as it turned out, everything that had been said by Cletus at the interviews. Including the fact that we knew about the phone call from the Cletus Borglan residence to the Cletus Borglan residence, so to speak.

Shit.

He also told us that Gabriel was still planning some sort of major operation for Sunday. Something to do with cash, and banks, but probably not what Cletus had described.

"You mean, 'had been planning,' don't you?" I was fairly certain by then that we had just lost Gabriel again.

It was the only time that a spark of life showed in Blitek's eyes that day. He had almost a religious fervor about him. "Gabriel says that there's no way you Zionist puppets can interfere. You can't stop him. It's a military operation, and you don't have a chance." He kind of giggled, like a kid. "There's going to be no betrayal this time!"

We decided the best way to find out was to talk to Cletus. By now, both Davies and Attorney Gunston were at the jail. Gunston said we could talk to Cletus, but that he was making arrangements for a doctor to attend his client and perhaps give him a sedative.

"No sedative," said Davies. "We wouldn't want you to say that we'd talked to him under the influence of drugs, would we."

I stood on the front porch of the jail with Volont, Davies, Art, and George. It was the best place for a fast private meeting. Nobody else seemed to want to hang around in view of the grain elevator.

"So, how do we proceed?" George kept glancing at the elevator in the distance. "Well, he's seen Blitek. He's got to be aware that everything he's said has already been given to Gabriel." Volont looked around. "I'd say he's just about ripe, if we can protect him."

"We can't," said Art. He'd been a deputy in Nation County long enough to know what our resources were. Now that he was a state officer, he knew what they had available. He was right.

"We can," said Volont.

He was right. They probably could. For me, it was just a question of whether or not we could convince Cletus of that. I had absolutely no problem with giving him up, in exchange for getting Gabriel. We'd intended that all along.

"I'm not authorized to make deals," said Art.

"I am," said Davies.

"Not without the permission of the local prosecutor," said Art. Knowing full well that, as yet, there really wasn't one.

"We'll talk about that one again, after you've passed the Bar." Davies kept his voice light, but there was no mistaking the fact that Art was being shut down. He turned, and looked at me. "I think you and I should do the interview, since you've established something of a rapport with Mr. Borglan."

"Yeah," I chuckled. "I make him puke."

"And that a representative of the FBI should also be present, to make the 'protection' offer." He smiled, brightly. "A gesture of good faith…"

Volont, Davies, and I were in the "interrogation kitchen," as Davies referred to it, and Lamar was bringing Cletus out of his cell. Attorney Gunston was waiting to talk to Cletus before we did, in the secure room.

"Now, let me see," said Davies. "Paper… pencil… briefcase… vomit bag…"

"Give me a break," I said. "It was probably something he ate."

Volont said, "We don't ask directly about Sunday?"

Davies and I agreed. "How about the banks? How direct for details?" I wanted to have the interview parameters really clear on this one.

"Whatever you need on that," Volont said. "Don't forget that Attorney Gunston was at the Borglan farm before he knew Cletus was being charged. I don't like the possible connection here to the rest of that group."

"Right," said Davies. "We should have Cletus pretty nervous right now. Let's try to keep the edge on him as long as we can."

I leaned back in my chair. "What about Florida, and the call? More detail?"

"I do that one," said Davies. "Remember," he cautioned, "we have him on a solid aiding and abetting of a double murder. We don't want to forget that."

"By the way," said Volont, "you do know his real name is Jacob Henry Nieuhauser?"

"Nieuhauser?" asked Davies.

"Gabriel… his full name is Jacob Henry Nieuhauser."

Davies wrote it down.

Cletus and Gunston entered the kitchen, guided by Lamar, who backed out, locking the door behind him. Our defendant and his attorney sat down at the long, old table. As far from the three of us as they could get.

We got off to a really good start, what with Blitek having been Exhibit A and all. Until Gunston said, "You have no direct evidence that Mr. Blitek was shooting at my client, here. He could well have been attempting to facilitate my client's escape, instead."

Weak. Stupid, really. Last try.

"He just told us his assignment was to kill Cletus, here." Davies grinned across the kitchen table. "That would be your client. Make no mistake." He looked at his yellow tablet. "If your client can tell us some things about Jacob Henry Nieuhauser," he said, slowly, "we may have an offer we can put on the table."

"We'll entertain an offer," said Gunston. "Even though my client has done nothing wrong. But, if as you say, he was the target this morning, then you must guarantee him protection."

"We may make an offer, depending on what your client is willing to share with us," said Volont. "As for protection, we think he's safe in this building for now. If we move him at some date, you must understand that you will only be informed after the fact."

Gunston, still aggressively defending, looked at Volont. "And just who might you be?"

I love it when this happens. Especially with somebody like Volont, who can place a 600 lb. badge on the table.

"Special Agent in Charge Volont, Federal Bureau of Investigation, Counterintelligence Unit." I don't know, it just sounded so good. Gunston looked startled. Cletus looked like somebody had reached into his chest and grabbed his heart.

Gunston, who deserved much credit, managed to say, "I didn't know the FBI had jurisdiction in this kind of case."

"It's not the murder that particularly concerns him," said Davies, also obviously pleased to have Volont at the table. "It's what you might call collateral matters. Very large collateral matters."