"Well, yeah. If you got some extra."

"Just a taste," Barakat said.

They had two or three tastes, and Cappy banged around the kitchen, going with the flow, talking like he didn't usually talk; told Barakat about living in Bakersfield, and riding his bike to Vegas and LA. Barakat told him about growing up in Lebanon and the war with the Party of God. "Goddamn, this is good shit," Cappy said, after a while. "You don't operate on people when you're high, do you?"

"I don't operate on people. When somebody needs to be operated on, we call a surgeon."

"So what do you do?"

"Whatever," Barakat said. He said, "I can't believe that idiot kidnapped that woman. Then killed her. I mean, if you want to get hunted down like a dog…"

"He didn't kill her," Cappy said.

"He didn't? Who did?"

Cappy raised his hand. "I did."

Barakat fixed on him, then stepped sideways to the kitchen table and sat down. "How'd you do that?" CAPPY WAS TAKEN ABACK. Nobody wanted to talk about that. But Barakat seemed straight enough. Intent.

"Well, Lyle called me up and says Joe has this big problem…" He told Barakat about driving over to the airport parking structure, about getting lost, about finding the van, about crawling in and strangling MacBride. Barakat took another hit of the cocaine and passed another one of his twists to Cappy, who unwrapped it and snorted it as the punctuation at the end of his story.

"Okay, so you're saying that she was already on her back when you went in there?"

"Sort of on her side, looking at me, and when I got in there she started to roll over and I thought she was going to scream or something, so I slap my hand over her mouth and pull her around and jump up on top of her and get her by the throat… my thumbs in her throat."

"Did she fight?"

"A little bit, but it's more like she was trying to get a grip on the floor of the van, or something."

"Were her eyes open?"

"Oh, yeah, right until she died," Cappy said. "They were like, huge. Like bubbles."

Barakat scratched his throat and then said, "Makes me hard."

"Yeah, me too, sometimes," Cappy said.

"I don't mean really…" Barakat said hastily.

"Well, either did I, but I'm saying, I know what you mean," Cappy said.

They were both lying and they both knew it. A spark of camaraderie, something not often felt by either of them. BARAKAT SHOWED HIM a drawing of the hospital and gave him a key. "This only works for one door, which is this closet." Barakat tapped the map. "I've got to let you in. I tried to get the outside door key, but they watch them. Getting out is just a push-bar."

Cappy looked at the key. "So the key is just about useless."

"No, not at all. If you've got to hide, you can get in there and pull the door shut. There are about a million doors and they're all locked, most of the time. Could give you a break. The thing is, nobody uses the closet. It's empty. You can leave your clothes there and put on the scrubs… Scrubs are hospital clothes."

"Okay," Cappy said. Barakat seemed really smart to him.

"I got an ID for you. I'll show you where to clip it on," Barakat said. "The picture doesn't look too much like you, but you can say you cut your hair off. Nobody looks at the pictures anyway, if you keep walking."

They talked about it for another fifteen minutes, then Barakat looked at his watch. "You know, you're catching on pretty good. You are pretty smart. But we gotta get going. Get over there, on the fourth floor-you'll go past some signs that say patient parking, and then physicians parking, and then you're in general parking, probably on the fourth floor but maybe the fifth. Just wait. When I can get loose, probably a half hour after I get in, I'll come open the door for you."

"Okay."

"If you really want to go," Barakat said.

There was something in the tone of his voice that made Cappy look up. "I thought that was the deal. Get the chick."

"That's the deal, except for one thing," Barakat said. "That is, it's crazy dangerous. She's got this cowboy-looking guy with guns who goes around with her. Her bodyguard. He's always out in the hall. I got his name and checked on him, and he's known to be a killer. So's her husband."

"Don't mean much to me," Cappy said.

"It should. It means they're in the same business you're in, and they've had more practice," Barakat said.

Cappy thought about it for a minute, then raised his eyebrows. "Okay. Something to think about. So? You were leading up to something."

"Look. It wouldn't do you any good to kill me. Nobody knows I'm involved, or even suspects I'm involved, except you and the Mack brothers. I can't tell anybody, or I go to prison forever." He shuddered at the thought, and let Cappy see it. He didn't mention Shaheen. "But. Instead of going after this woman, who's going to be hard to get at, if something were to happen to Joe Mack? If Joe Mack died, there'd be no link."

And he thought, If Joe Mack were dead, even if the woman remembered seeing him in the elevator, they wouldn't be able to prove anything.

"Lyle would figure it out," Cappy said. "He'd be pissed. Those brothers are tight."

Barakat took the point: if Joe Mack were killed by Cappy or Barakat, maybe he could find a way to turn them in, without paying the penalty himself. He said, "What if something were to happen to Joe Mack and Lyle Mack?"

Cappy grinned at him. "You really are an asshole." "LISTEN TO ME, CAPRICE," Barakat said, shaking a finger at him. "The Macks are dealers. I know these kind of people. Joe Mack will try to deal if he gets caught. What does he have? He has you and me-me for the hospital, you for the lady in the van. If he deals… maybe he gets off with fifteen years. Maybe less."

"I think they're too scared of me."

Barakat shook his head. "Scared now. Scared if they're locked in a jail, with more bikeists in there?"

"Bikers…"

"Bikers. They'll have friends in prison," Barakat said. "We won't. They will deal us. That's all I worry about now. I pray that Joe Mack is killed by the police, but I'm thinking, for both of us… maybe we could make it happen."

"What's in it for me?"

"I have no money," Barakat said. "I'm slave labor at the hospital, until I finish. Then there are possibilities. But one thing we know. We know that the Macks have a million dollars of medical-quality drugs. If you would help, if we could find Joe Mack… I could get him to tell us where they are. I know they are not yet moved."

Cappy thought again. Then, "How'd you do that? Get him to talk?"

Barakat spread his hands: "I'm a doctor. I have scalpels." "I GOTTA THINK about it some more," Cappy said.

"But you're not saying 'no."'

"Well, you got some good points," Cappy said. "I hadn't thought about… you know, they could sell me out for doing the woman. I mean, hell, except for the guy they kicked at the hospital, I'm the only one who's killed anyone."

They both pondered it for a minute, then Barakat said, "This is a very interesting name that you have. 'Caprice.' In English it means an unpredictable action, does it not?"

"I don't know," Cappy said. "I don't know if it's a real word in English."

"Yes, it is. I remember it, because it's also a word in French-a kind of musical composition."

"You can speak French?"

"Yes. And Arabic."

"Huh." Cappy was impressed. 'All I know is, my old man told me I was named after an "eighty-two Chevy."

Barakat smiled at the idea-naming your son for a car-then glanced at his watch. "If we're going to go, we have to go now."

"Better go," Cappy said. "Tell the truth, I'd like to catch that bitch somewhere. She almost ran my ass over. Just couldn't believe it; cut me off, then almost ran me over."

Barakat laughed: "LA car talk," he said.

He was quite taken with Caprice, and slapped the boy on the back as they went out. INSIDE THE HOSPITAL, Barakat led him to the closet, showed him how to wear the orderly's uniform, clipped the ID on his chest. "If anybody asks, you work in sanitation, and your boss, whose name is Rob Jansen, gave you a map and told you to spend the morning learning the hospital. Stay out of the basement. Jansen's office is there."