I parked at the far end of the lot, then crept back to the van and listened. Nothing. Out in the park, two women were jogging with babies in three-wheel strollers and a couple of guys had their shirts off to catch the sun and a half-dozen Latin guys were playing soccer and here in the parking lot Tre Michaels was scoring dope. Life in the big city.

I took out the Dan Wesson, waited for the women with the strollers to pass, then threw open the sliding door, and yelled, 'Police!'

Tre Michaels and the two young guys were sitting cross-legged on the bare metal deck, dividing up money and nickel bags of white powder amid the laser-disc players, all three of them frozen in mid-count, staring at the Dan Wesson with bulging wet eyes. The money was a short stack of worn hundreds, and I wondered if Tre had gotten them from Clark. One of the kids said, 'Oh, shit.'

Tre Michaels said, 'It's you.'

I lowered the gun. 'Good job, Officer Michaels. Couldn't've done it without you.'

The two kids looked at Tre.

Tre Michaels opened his mouth, then closed it and looked at the kids. 'I'm not a cop.'

The bigger kid's eyes narrowed. 'You prick.'

Michaels said, 'Hey. This is bullshit.'

I pulled Michaels out of the van. 'I think we can cut these kids a deal, don't you?' I jerked him harder, then slammed the side door and walked him away. The van's engine roared to life and its tires smoked. Michaels said, 'Are you nuts? Do you know what you did to me?'

'They're kids, Tre. You're not scared of a couple of kids, are you?'

His eyes were wide and bright, and his face was sheened with sweat. 'Jesus, you gotta be nuts.'

I walked him to the car. 'Tell me something. You think Bestco would press charges if they knew you were ripping off goods to turn over for dope?'

Michaels chewed at his lip and didn't say anything, staring after the departing van like it was the last bus to salvation and he had missed it. Across the park, the driver gave us the finger and yelled something I couldn't understand. Charles in five years.

I said, 'Clark Haines.' Tre wouldn't know 'Hewitt.'

Michaels stared at the van.

I jerked his arm. 'Wake up, Tre.'

He looked at me. 'That was my whole score. They got my money. They got the goods. Now what am I going to do?'

I jerked him again. Harder. 'Me or Bestco.'

Tre Michaels wet his lips, still staring after the van. 'Jesus, didn't we go through this before? I dunno where Clark is.'

Another jerk. 'He called you, Tre. Twice.'

He finally looked at me and his eyes were confused. I've never known an addict who wasn't. 'Well, yeah. He came by last night and scored a couple bags.'

Another jerk. 'C'mon, Tre. He's up to something and a crummy two bags wouldn't cut it.'

'He bought eight bags, okay? That was all I had.' He scrunched up his face like he was regretting something. 'I gave him a really good price.'

Eight bags was a lot. Maybe enough to travel on. Maybe he was going back to Seattle. 'Did he say why he needed so much?'

'He said he'd be gone for a few days.'

'He say where he was going?' I was thinking Seattle. I was thinking Wilson Brownell, again.

' Long Beach.'

I looked at him. 'He said he was going to Long Beach?'

Michaels made the scrunched face again. 'Well, he didn't say he was going to Long Beach, but he asked me for a connection down there, so what would you think?' Long Beach.

'Did you give him a name?'

Michaels frowned. 'Hell, I don't know anyone in Long Beach.' He started to shake. 'You really screwed me with those guys.' He waved his hands. 'Now what am I gonna do, you tell me that? Now what?'

He was crying when I walked away.

I drove to my office. I still wanted to call Tracy Mannos, but first I needed to call Brownell and ask him about Long Beach. I would also call Teri and ask her. Maybe saying the words would ring a bell.

At fourteen minutes after eleven, I left my car in the parking garage, walked up the four flights to my office, and found the place filled with cops.

Reed Jasper was sitting at my desk, while three other guys that I'd never seen before were going through my files. Papers were scattered around on the floor and the place had been turned upside down. Jasper smiled when he saw me, and said, 'Well, well, well. Just the guy we wanted to see.'

I looked from Jasper to the other guys, then back to Jasper. They were heavy men in dark rumpled suits with anonymous faces. Feds. I said, 'What the hell are you doing, Jasper?'

'Trying to get a line on Clark Hewitt, my man.' He took a folded sheet of paper from his inside coat pocket and dropped it on my desk. 'Federal order to search and seize, duly signed and hereby presented.' He leaned back in my chair and crossed his arms.

The other three guys were staring at me, and I felt myself run cold. 'Why?'

'Wilson Brownell was found tortured to death yesterday afternoon. I think Clark Hewitt might've been involved.'

CHAPTER 19

I said, 'If I wanted to remodel, I wouldn't have called the government.'

Jasper said, 'These are Agents Warren and Pigozzi of your Los Angeles Marshals' Office, and this is Special Agent Stansfield of the FBI.' Warren was black. Pigozzi sported bright red hair, and Stansfield's chin was littered with serious zit-craters. 'We're here because we believe you have knowledge of Clark Hewitt, either under that name or another.'

I dropped onto the couch and frowned at him. 'Didn't we go through this in Seattle?'

Warren said, 'I would encourage you to contact an attorney at this time.'

'Why?'

'Because anything you say will be used against you.'

I spread my hands. 'I've got nothing to hide.' Mr. Confident. 'Other than being pissed off that you guys are ransacking my office.'

Warren went back to the files like it didn't really matter to him either way.

Jasper shook his head. 'I don't get you, Cole. I know you're holding out, but I don't get why.'

I didn't say anything. How do you explain a promise to a fifteen-year-old?

He said, 'Your buddies the Markovs have come to town. If they haven't been around to see you, they will.'

'I hope they're neater than you guys.'

The red-haired agent looked up from the file cabinet, then let six or seven files dribble through his ringers to the floor. The floor was covered with yellow work sheets and billing statements and slim stapled reports. I said, 'That's really bush.'

Jasper looked over and frowned. 'Jesus Christ, Leo.'

Leo said, 'Maybe he shouldn't try to be funny.'

I said, 'That's a good line, Leo. You practice in front of the mirror?'

Leo made a ragged smile. 'Let's see if you're that good when it comes time to renew your license.'

'Pardon me while I catch my breath.'

Leo let more files dribble to the floor.

Jasper came around the desk like we were in his office, not mine. 'Look, Cole, all I want is a little cooperation.'

'You got a great way of showing it.'

'Clark Hewitt is up to his ass here, and so are his kids. You've met the Markovs. You know what I'm talking about.'

I tried to look like it didn't matter.

'My partner got blown away to keep Clark Hewitt whole. You don't think we're going to let anything happen to him now, do you?'

I tried to look like I didn't have a clue as to what he was talking about, but I knew he was right. I also knew that if Clark was printing again these guys would lock him down without a second thought, and that the Markovs would like that just fine. If he was in prison, the Markovs would know exactly where to find him.

Jasper motioned me out onto the balcony. 'Let's talk out here, Cole. It'll be easier while these guys work.'

I went out with him, but I didn't like it much. The sky had filled with a deep white haze that masked the Channel Islands. You could barely see the ocean. I stared at the haze and breathed the sea air. 'Did you guys do my house?'