Dak said, 'The Russian wants vengeance, but he will trade his vengeance for greed. All criminals are this way.'

I watched him. 'Are you willing to help?'

'I want the dong. If I have to help you in order to get the dong, then I will help.' There was something hard in his eyes, and maybe a bit of a smile at the edges of his mouth.

Mon said, 'Russians.'

Pike's mouth twitched, and I knew Pike was seeing it, too. Old wars merging with new wars. The Russians had supported the North against Nguyen Dak, and the Russians still supported the North's Communist regime today. It would all be the same to these guys. A war they needed to win to go home.

I touched the duffel with my toe. 'Is this Markov's money?'

Clark nodded. 'Uh-huh.'

'Will Markov know it, and will he know it's counterfeit?'

Clark dug a packet of the bills from the duffel and flipped through them. 'He won't know they're his, but he can tell they're counterfeit. He has people who know how to tell.'

Pike said, 'What are you thinking?'

'Markov knows what Brownell knew. That means he knows that Clark is printing again, but he may not know what. He knows Clark is good, but what if he thinks Clark is even better now?'

Clark shook his head. 'I don't understand.'

'What if we buy Charles back?'

'With what?'

'Funny money.'

Clark said, 'But he'll know it's counterfeit. He can get counterfeit money anywhere.'

'Not just any counterfeit. What if it's counterfeit that's so good that it looks exactly like the real thing, so good that Markov couldn't tell it was funny money, and neither could a bank inspector.'

Pike nodded. 'Like the super notes from Iran.' Iran was rumored to be counterfeiting U.S. hundred-dollar bills that were so good they were undetectable.

'Exactly.' I looked at Clark. 'Markov knows you're good. What if we tell him that you're as good as the Iranians?'

Clark was shaking his head. 'But I can't print anything like that. The Iranians use intaglio presses from Switzerland just like our Treasury. They use a paper just like ours.' He kept shaking his head. 'I couldn't duplicate that paper. I can't get an intaglio press. They cost millions.'

Pike said, 'Real money.'

Clark opened his mouth, then closed it.

I said, 'We flash a few thousand bucks in real hundreds, only we tell them it's counterfeit. We let Markov examine them, whatever he wants, and we offer to buy back the boy. All the funny money he wants for Charles.'

Clark said, 'But when we give him the counterfeit dollars, he'll know. He'll be able to tell that they aren't the same.'

'I know, Clark. That's why we'll need the police.'

Clark simply said, 'Okay.'

Walter Tran, Jr., gasped, and Mon turned a dark, murky color. Dak said, 'Why the police?'

'We need the police to get Markov off the board. Markov takes possession of the funny money, we get Charles, and the feds make the bust, taking down Markov both for the funny money and the kidnapping.' I turned back to Clark. 'If we give Markov to the feds, they might be willing to let you print the dong.'

He stared at me.

'That way you still get your money from Dak.'

He nodded.

'For your kids.'

Clark looked past me at something far away. You could almost see an exit light come on a door at the far end of a hall in his mind.

Nguyen Dak crossed his arms, still looking dangerous, but now looking thoughtful, too. Maybe thinking about his own children. Or maybe just wondering how he could get out of this without losing everything he'd worked for.

I said, 'I can call Dobcek and set a meet, but we still need the flash money. A few thousand in hundreds that we may not get back. Markov might want it. We might even have to destroy it to convince him that it's fake.'

Clark rolled his eyes and made a deep sigh. 'Oh, that's great. Where can we get that?'

Nguyen Dak said, 'Me.'

I was staring at him when he said it, and he was staring back. 'All right,' I said. 'All right.'

Mon looked happy, liking the idea of getting back at the Huskies.

CHAPTER 29

Dak made two phone calls to arrange for the money. After that, I called Dobcek and told him I thought we could work out a trade, but that we would have to talk about it. I didn't mention the money, but I made it sound like Clark was willing to exchange himself for the boy. It was a classic bait and switch, promise them one thing, give them something else. Whether they like it or not. Dobcek said, 'You will bring the father.'

'Right. And you'll bring the kid.' Classic.

Somebody said something behind Dobcek. Background noise. Then he said, 'We will not discuss the details now. Give me your phone number.'

'Why?'

'I will have to discuss this with our friend. I will call you tomorrow with the details.' Our friend. He meant Markov.

'Forget it, Dobcek. I'll call you.'

Dobcek snickered. 'You don't trust us. You think we find you with the phone number?'

'I'll call you.'

Someone spoke behind him again, then Dobcek's voice hardened. 'Call us exactly at nine tomorrow morning. Be ready to act immediately. Do you understand?'

'Dobcek, I am the master of understanding. Remember that.'

'Da.'

'I am also the master of vengeance. That boy better not be harmed.'

Dobcek gave a single raspy laugh, then hung up.

Clark, Joe, and the Viets were looking at me. 'We'll set the time and place tomorrow at nine. Will the money be here?'

Dak said, 'Twenty thousand dollars in one-hundred-dollar bills will be here in a few hours.'

Pike nodded. 'You're okay, Dak.'

I was climbing the stairs to see Teri when the phone rang. Pike answered, then held it out. 'Lucy.'

'What happened?' My heart began hammering. Worse than with the Russians. Worse than when Mon was holding the AK on me.

Pike held the phone.

I ran down, took it, and said, 'Luce?'

'We won.' Two words that cut through the adrenaline like a sharp edge. 'Elvis, it's over. We won.'

'You got the job.'

'Yes.'

Pike was staring at me. I nodded at him, and he gripped my shoulder and squeezed. 'We've got time. Go see her.'

I looked at Clark. I frowned toward the stairs.

Pike said, 'Jesus Christ. Go.'

Tracy Mannos lived in a small contemporary home on a lovely street off Roscomare Drive at the top of Bel Air. It was almost ten when I got there, but Lucy and Tracy were bright and excited and celebrating their victory with a bottle of Mumm's Cordon Rouge Brut. Tracy opened the door, but Lucy almost knocked her down getting to me. We hugged hard, the two of us beaming, and Tracy laughed. 'If you two start taking off your clothes, I'm calling the police.'

Lucy and I started laughing, too, as if someone or something had pulled a plug and an ocean of tension was draining away. Lucy said, 'How long can you stay?'

I stepped back, and the laughter faded a bit. 'Not long.' I told her about the money. I told her what we were going to try to do. 'I don't know how long this is going to take. I might be busy the next couple of days.'

She had one of my hands in both of hers again, squeezing hard. 'I know. I'll have to get back to Ben tomorrow.' Two ships passing. The price of adulthood.

'Yes, but you'll be back.'

Her smile widened again. 'You bet your buns I will, Studly.'

'Tell me about it, Luce. Tell me everything that happened today.'

They did, some of which they now knew as fact, and some of which was supposition. It was neither complicated nor elaborate, because such things never are. It was merely ugly. Stuart Greenberg wasn't the evil, old-boy-crony that we'd suspected. When Richard had learned it was KROK that offered Lucy the job, he used his position at BM &D as an entree to KROK's parent firm, then suggested to them that Lucy was erratic in the workplace. When the parent firm, concerned that KROK was in the process of hiring an uncertain (not to mention, untested) on-air personality, passed along their concerns to Stuart Greenberg, Greenberg questioned this information, and was told to contact the source, namely one Richard Chenier, a highly respected partner at the Baton Rouge office of Benton, Meyers &. Dane. Greenberg had only been reacting to what Richard reported. Tracy said, 'When Stuart realized what had happened, he spent the rest of the meeting apologizing.'