Rachel backed out and drove out of the lot onto Koval. She drove around the block and parked in a spot that gave her a good view of both of the parking lot exits of Bosch's sorry motel. She was sure Bosch was up to something and she was going to find out what it was.

Backus had caught only a glimpse of the man who answered the motel room door when Rachel Walling knocked. But he thought he recognized him from a time many years before. He felt his pulse quicken. If he was right about the man she was meeting in room 22, then the stakes had grown considerably higher.

He studied the motel and his situation. He had located the three bureau surveillance cars. The agents were hanging back. One agent had deployed and was sitting across Koval on a bus bench. He looked out of place, wearing a gray suit and supposedly waiting for a bus, but that was the FBI's style.

That left the motel clear for Backus to move about. It was L-shaped with parking on all sides. He realized that if he was on the other side of the building, he might catch another glimpse of the man Rachel was with through a rear window or balcony.

He decided not to risk moving the car from the front parking lot to the rear. It might draw the attention of the bench warmer across the street. Instead he cracked the door and slipped out of his car. He had the interior light switched off so there was no threat of exposure. He crab-walked between two other cars and straightened up, pulling a baseball cap over his head and yanking the brim down as he emerged. The hat said unlv on it.

Backus walked through the breezeway on the bottom floor of the two-story motel. He passed the soda and candy machines and came out on the other side and started walking through the rear parking lot as if looking for his car. He glanced up at the lighted balcony that he believed corresponded with the door to room 22, where he had seen Rachel enter. He could see the sliding door was open.

Glancing around as if looking for his lost car, Backus saw that the agent on the bench did not have a visual angle on the rear lot. No one was watching him here. He casually moved to a position directly below the balcony of room 22. He tried to listen for any verbal morsel that would spill through the open slider. He heard Rachel's voice but could not make out the words until he very clearly heard her say, "Must feel naked."

This confused and intrigued him. He was thinking about the possibility of climbing up to the second level so that he could hear the conversation in room 22. The sound of a door shutting ended that idea. He guessed Rachel had just left. Backus returned to the breezeway and hid behind a Coke machine when he heard a car's ignition fire. He waited and listened. He detected the sound of another car entering the lot. He moved from the Coke machine to the corner and glanced out. A man was getting out of a taxi and Backus recognized him, too. It was Terry McCaleb's charter partner. There was no doubt. Backus felt like he had just tripped across a treasure of intrigue and mystery. What was Rachel up to? How had she connected with the charter partner so quickly? And what was the LAPD doing here?

He looked past the taxi and saw Rachel's Crown Victoria pull out onto the street and drive away. He waited a moment and saw one of the Grand Ams stop and pick up the man on the bus bench and then take off. Backus yanked the brim of his hat down again and stepped out of the breezeway. He walked toward his car.

I was looking through the peephole, thinking about Agent Walling, and wondering how the brutal terrain of the FBI and the Dakotas had not robbed her of her fire and sense of humor. I liked her for that and sensed a connection. I was thinking that I might be able to trust her at the same time I was thinking I had just been played by a pro. I was sure she hadn't told me everything she was up to, nobody ever does, but she had told me enough. We wanted the same thing, maybe for different reasons. But I wasn't second-guessing my decision to take on the extra rider in the morning.

The view through the peephole was suddenly filled with the concave image of Buddy Lockridge. I opened the door before he could knock and quickly pulled him inside. I wondered if Walling had seen him on her way out

"Perfect timing, Buddy. Did anybody talk to you or stop you out there?"

"Where, here?"

"Yeah, here." "No, I just got out of the cab."

"Okay, then where have you been?"

He explained his lateness by saying there were no cabs at the Bellagio, a story I didn't believe. I saw one of the pockets of his jeans bulging when I took from him the two files he carried.

"That's bullshit, Buddy. Cabs can be hard to find in this town but not at the Bellagio. There are always cabs there."

I reached over and slapped my hand against his full pocket.

"You stopped to play, didn't you? You've got a pocket full of chips there."

"Look, I stopped to play a couple quick shots of blackjack before coming. But I got lucky, man. I couldn't lose. Look at this."

He reached into the pocket and pulled out a handful of five-dollar chips.

"I was kicking ass! And you can't walk away from good luck."

"Yeah, great. That will help you pay for that room you've got."

Buddy looked around my place, taking it in. Through the open balcony there was traffic and jetliner noise.

"Gladly," he said. "I ain't going to stay here."

I almost laughed, considering what I had seen of his boat.

"Well, you're welcome to stay wherever you want because I don't need you out here anymore. Thanks for bringing the files."

His eyes widened.

"What?" "I've got a new partner. The FBI. So you can go back to L.A. as soon as you want or you can play blackjack until you own the Bellagio. I'll pay the airfare, like I said, and for the chopper ride to the island and forty bucks toward the room. That's the daily rate at this place."

I held up the files.

"I'll throw in a couple hundred for your time getting these and getting here."

"No way, man. I came all the way out here, man. I can still help. I've worked with the agents before, when me and Terry worked a thing."

"That was then, Buddy, this is now. Come on. I'll give you a ride back to your hotel. I hear cabs are scarce and I'm going that way anyway."

After closing the balcony door I walked him out of the apartment and locked up. I brought the files with me for reading later. As we were walking down the steps to the parking lot I looked around for the security man but didn't see him. I looked around for Rachel Walling and didn't see her either. I did see my neighbor Jane putting a shoebox into the trunk of a car, a white Monte Carlo. From my angle on the steps I could see the trunk was crowded with other, larger boxes.

"You're better off with me," Buddy said, protest still clinging to his voice. "You can't trust the bureau, man. Terry was in it and he didn't even trust them."

"I know, Buddy. I've been dealing with the bureau for thirty years."

He just shook his head. I watched Jane get in her car and back out. I wondered if it was the last time I would see her. I wondered if my telling her I had been a cop had spooked her and made her split. Maybe she had heard some of my conversation with Agent Walling through the thin walls.

Buddy's comments about the bureau reminded me of something.

"You know, when you get back there they're going to want to talk to you."

"About what?"

"About your GPS. They found it."

"Wow, great! You mean it wasn't Finder? It was Shandy?"

"Think so. But the news isn't all that great, Buddy."

"How come?"

I unlocked the Mercedes and we got in. I looked at Buddy as I was starting the engine.