Robert Crais - Indigo Slam

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?'

'Before we came here.'

'You find anything?'

Jasper smiled. 'You know we didn't, and you know we're not going to find anything here either, but we gotta cover the bases.'

'Great, Jasper. That makes me feel better.'

Jasper crossed his arms and leaned with his back to the balcony rail. He was wearing little round government sunglasses and a dull gray suit, fine for Seattle but hot down here. It would be hot, and it just screamed 'fed.' He said, 'I don't like doing this, but I think you're holding out.'

'Moi?'

'I asked people about you, and those people said if you were looking for a guy, then you probably found him. I just can't figure why you won't come clean.'

'Maybe they're wrong.'

He nodded. 'Could be.'

'But maybe I just don't like being muscled, so I'm being petulant.'

He laughed. 'They said that, too.' He let the laugh fade. 'I know that Clark Hewitt was in Seattle. I know from eyewitnesses that a man matching Hewitt's description was seen in contact with Wilson Brownell, a former close associate and master counterfeiter. I'll bet you know that, too.'

'I saw Brownell when I was in Seattle. He didn't know anything.'

'I hope for Clark 's sake he didn't.' Jasper watched the men inside work for a while. The black agent discovered the Pinocchio clock and nudged the red-haired agent, then they both stared at it. Jasper said, 'Brownell was tortured to death with a steam iron. I brought down the pictures. You wanna see?'

I shook my head.

'Here's a safe bet, Cole. Whatever Brownell knew, the Markovs now know. If Brownell knew whatever name they're living under, or an address or a phone number, they've got it now. You understand what I'm saying?'

'I get it, Jasper.' I took a breath, and stared south toward Catalina. I tried to see through the haze, but I could only make out the island's outline without seeing what was really there. 'I don't know where Clark is.'

The pocked agent came to the French doors and said, 'Jasper.'

Jasper went in and the four of them gathered by my desk and mumbled in low whispers, the red-haired agent standing with his hand on the pocked agent's back. It wasn't enough that I was ducking Russians and had the weight of the U.S. government on my case, but now I was thinking that maybe Brownell had known exactly where Clark was, and what he was doing, and maybe Dobcek and Sautin were on their way now. Maybe they already had Clark, but if they did there was nothing that I or Jasper could do about it, and I told myself that thinking about it did no good. The kids were the important thing, and the kids were safe. Maybe Clark was still okay, and if I could find him I could save him. If I could find him, maybe I could even bring him to Jasper without having to worry about them nailing him for a counterfeit beef. If he was still alive.

The black agent shook Jasper's hand and walked out of my office. The red-haired agent pointed out the Pinocchio clock to the pocked agent, and the pocked agent shook his head. Jasper came back to the balcony. I said, 'Is the party over?'

Jasper said, 'You're not in the clear. You just get a pass for today.' He gave me a card. 'I'm staying at the Marriott downtown. I wrote my room number here. You decide to do the right thing, gimme a call.'

'Sure.' The right thing.

He looked at the haze and shook his head. 'How do you people breathe this shit?'

'Makes us tough, Jasper. Angelinos have the toughest lungs in America.'

He nodded, probably more to himself than to me. 'Yeah, sure.' Then he took a deep breath of it and went back to the door. 'I've known Clark Hewitt since he came to us, begging us to save his ass from the Markovs, and I can tell you he isn't what he seems.'

I stared at him.

'He comes across like this doof, but he's more than that.' He smiled at me, but there was no joy in it. 'Whatever you think you know about him, I can promise you this: It ain't what it seems, and neither is he.'

Reed Jasper showed me his palms like he had given me the Rosetta stone and it was up to me what I did with it. Then he walked back through my office and out the door. The red-haired agent and the pocked agent walked with him, and they didn't bother to close the door.

I stayed on the balcony until they left the building and climbed into two dark blue G-rides and melted into the traffic on Santa Monica Boulevard. Then I went in, closed the outer door, and picked up my papers. It took most of an hour, but no more than that because there hadn't been a lot in my files. Nothing seemed to be missing, though a small ceramic statue of Jiminy Cricket had fallen and broken. I threw it away.

When the papers were in their folders and the folders back in their files and the files once more in the cabinet, I opened a longneck Budweiser, sat at my desk, and put my feet up. I said, ' Clark, you'd better be worth it.'

The phone rang then, and I scooped it up. Mr. Happy-go-lucky. Mr. Shirttail-out-and-nothing-on-my-mind, hanging around his office with a liplock on a longneck, the very image of the depressed detective contemplating the loss of his license and livelihood to the weight of the United States government. 'Elvis Cole Detective Agency, professional detection at going-out-of-business rates.'

Tracy Mannos said, 'Are you drunk?'

'Not yet.'

'Well, bag it. Can you come see me?'

I frowned at the Pinocchio. 'Now?' Thinking about Pike and those kids at the safe house. Thinking about following the Long Beach lead. 'You find out something about Lucy's negotiation?'