"Yes, I'm basically homeless, but you made me feel at home. I love you for that. And I cannot stop thinking about last night, which was epic." Dan looked over at the clock on the oven. "I figure we have half an hour before dinner. That's enough for a nap."

"But I'm not tired." And I have to go rent another car.

"What a coincidence." Dan kissed her softly. "Can I interest you?"

"You already have," Vicki answered, kissing him back, and she let him take her hand and lead them both out of the kitchen. She would force herself to have great sex with him, so he wouldn't be suspicious, and her orgasms would only lend realism to her ruse.

But she took one last look backward, filled with lust.

For his briefcase.

PART FOUR

Right is right, even if everyone is against it, and wrong is wrong, even if everyone is for it.

– WILLIAM PENN

Everybody, if you in the drug business, your object is to reach the top and do business with the connect. Nobody who's in the business stay at the bottom; not unless you's a fool. If you do something, you do it your fullest. So your object was to be like the Monopoly game. You start at Go and you want to go around and pass the board. So, that's what your object would be. To reach the top.

– JAMAL MORRIS, United States v. Williams, United States District Court, Eastern District of Pennsylvania, Criminal Docket No. 02-172, February 20, 2004, Notes of Testimony at 429

THIRTY-THREE

First thing the next morning, Vicki and Reheema picked out another new-to-you car, a nondescript beige Intrepid, vintage 2000, automatic transmission, 78,000 miles, which rented for a hundred a week. They parked the Sunbird in a garage, at thirty bucks a day, because they couldn't take the risk of turning it in, even though Vicki was worrying about her skyrocketing stakeout costs.

They parked the Intrepid down the street from the diner closest to their new favorite car dealership and settled into a table for breakfast. Only a few tradesmen were in the restaurant, which had wood-paneled walls, harsh fluorescent lights, and red Formica tables that were permanently greasy. They chose the restaurant for the TV, not the decor or the food, and they weren't wrong. The big-screen Panasonic was mounted on a plywood stand high in the corner, and the scrambled eggs arrived in a blue plastic basket.

Vicki sipped her coffee as Reheema read Bill Toner's police record. On TV, Live at 10 was running a special feature on the Toys "R" Us shooting, and the newspaper headlines this morning had been all about the bloodbath. The city had reacted emotionally, and Vicki knew the pain would only intensify as funerals for the children began. Morty's murder paled in newsworthiness and official attention.

Reheema looked up. Her eyes were bright and alert, her hair hidden by a new Eagles hat, and she wore a plain gray sweatshirt under her pea coat. If it bothered her to know the name of the man who had almost shot her to death, it didn't show. "You got these papers from your boyfriend?"

"Yes."

Reheema frowned. "You told him what we're doin'?"

Not exactly. "No, I went in his briefcase while he was asleep. I scanned the documents and printed them."

"Damn, girl!" Reheema's eyes lit up with admiration.

"Hey, I'm not proud of it." Vicki couldn't have taken the papers or Dan would have known. She'd also copied the HIDTA charts and record of Ray James, but she hadn't told Reheema about him yet. She wasn't sure when, how, or even if, she would. How do you tell someone that you may/may not have the name and address of her mother's murderer?

Oblivious, Reheema was still smiling. "You stay outta the kitchen last night, you ho?"

Vicki winced. "Stop. I love the man."

"Slow down, girl. He left his wife two days ago."

"She left him."

"All the more, and he's not divorced yet."

"That's only the legal part."

"You're a lawyer."

"I hear you. Enough." Vicki checked the TV, where the T-Mobile commercial was over and a BREAKING NEWS banner was coming on. She edged forward in her seat. "Heads up. It's the press conference."

"Ooh, wow."

Vicki watched as the TV screen showed Strauss behind a podium, with the American flag on his right, standing next to a phalanx of suits that ended in Dan. Her heart leaped up. "That's Dan, on the end!"

Reheema turned to the TV. "He's white?"

Vicki laughed. "He's strawberry blond. Hot, huh?"

"He's all right." Reheema smiled.

Vicki looked again at the TV. Bale wasn't onscreen. Odd.

Strauss was saying, "No one needs to remind anybody of the appalling scenes that took place yesterday at Toys ‘R' Us. Men, women, and children were murdered, and the cowards who killed them must be stopped so we can live our lives, shop with our children, and enjoy the great opportunity this country offers us all."

"What's that man running for?" Reheema asked, pushing her eggs away, half eaten.

"To accomplish that, my office is pleased to announce an initiative entitled Project Clean Shopping, whereby the highest priority will be given to the prosecution of shootings, assaults, and other crimes that take place in the shopping areas, strip malls, or indoor malls of the city of Philadelphia."

Vicki thought of Morty. Mr. Clean.

"You have already heard at the mayor's press conference, earlier this morning, that the Philadelphia police will double the number of patrol officers to our city's shopping areas and strip malls. Law enforcement will work together to protect the safety of our citizens and the economy of this thriving city. So please, go about your business. Mourn these victims, honor them by enjoying yourselves and by living your lives. Don't permit a few thugs-or your fears-to keep you from shopping for your family and yourselves."

"S'all about the money," Reheema said, sipping her coffee.

"I'll take questions in a minute, but I'd like to introduce you to Dan Malloy, one of the best prosecutors in my office, who will be heading up Project Clean Shopping. The press release we distributed today lists Dan as the contact point, so you now have his phone and e-mail. Please, folks, feel free to ask Dan all the hard questions. Leave the easy ones for me."

Wow! "Wow!" Vicki couldn't hide her surprise. Dan hadn't mentioned it last night. She felt confused and proud, both at once.

"Dan the man," Reheema said, smiling, and Vicki felt the proud part surge to the fore.

"Good for him. He deserves it."

"Wonder if they know he does it in the kitchen."

"Behave." Vicki watched the rest of the press conference, in which Strauss answered softballs with a politician's expertise. When it was over, she scooped up a forkful of eggs. "We'd better get going, we have our work cut out for us, playing catch-up. Dan says ATF assigned a special group to this case, because of the level of violence, and after yesterday, we have to be careful. Let's just see what goes on and try to stay away from the guns, huh?"

"Including mine?"

Vicki set down her fork and eased back into the booth seat. "On you?"

"Yeah."

"Where is it?" Vicki eyed Reheema's pea coat. "I'm not wearing my X-ray specs."

"My coat pocket."

"You got bullets, too?"

"They go inside the gun, Harvard. No fun without."

Their eyes met over the leftovers. Vicki said, "Well, I won't tell you you're wrong, and you wouldn't listen anyway."

"True."

"Where did you get it, by the way?"

"Around."

"What's that mean?"

"In the neighborhood."

"Wait. When you wanted guns before, you bought them in a gun shop."

"Went to jail in between. Learned a lot." Reheema smiled, tight, and picked up her fork. "Finish your breakfast."