Hammond sighed. "Phil, I remember the Justin Gray case. He's a mutt. You ever see his jacket? He already did a two-year slide in Chino for auto theft, and he's got a bunch of small-time crap on his sheet."

"Even so"

"Even so, nothing. He's a nobody, a sewer rat. Tattoos all over his body, pierced earshell, probably pierced nipples, for Christ's sake. Talks like a goddamn gangbanger. Hasn't got any better than a tenth-grade education amp;"

"I don't see what"

"He's strictly small-time, is my point. Sure, he terrorized the city for a while, and sure, the media made him into the devil incarnate. That's what they always do with these idiots, make them bigger than life. But he's a loser, and the only reason it look so long to collar him is that he was working alone so there was nobody to drop a dime on him."

"Granted, but"

"But nothing. We know who he is now. We know his name, his face, what he eats for breakfast. He can't run far. He can't hide. He is federally fucked. We'll nab him in a few hourshopefully in time for the eleven-o'clock news. And when we do, guess who'll be running the press briefing?"

"It's dangerous, Chief."

"Faint heart never won fair lady. I'm coming in, and so are you, Lieutenant. Carl, you still there?"

"Yes, sir."

"You're actually in the office, I assume? Not phoning this in from Zuma Beach?"

"I'm at my post, sir," Lewinsky said with a mincing tone. Hammond could almost see the man's self-important smirk. He was a toady, but a reliable one.

"See if you can get in touch with my wife. If she's home, maybe we can messenger my dress blues to the office." The spare uniform he kept at work wasn't formal.

"Uh, yes, sir."

"On second thought, scratch that. Might be better if I'm not all decked out. I want to look like a working cop. Anyway, the public won't care what I'm wearing. All they'll care about is that a ruthless psychopath has been speedily recaptured, thanks to the outstanding work of those whose motto and duty is to protect and serve. Phil, you get that?"

"Got it, Chief."

"Use that in my remarks announcing Gray's arrest. I want a rough draft in an hour. Dictate into your microrecorder while you drive. Better do an alternate version announcing that he was killed resisting arrest, just in case."

"Yes, sir." Banner still sounded dubious.

"Hey, don't worry, be happy. You'll catch Candice's next recital."

"Caroline, sir."

"Right. In the meantime, we'll hook and book this asshole and look like heroes. Hell, if we play this right, I could be bumped up to the A-chief slot." Assistant chief was a higher rank than deputy chief. It was, in fact, only one step below the coveted COP position itself.

"I still say" Banner began.

Hammond cut him off. "Don't sweat it. You're about to see the master in action, Phil. Just sit back, take notes, and enjoy the show."

Wolper was out of breath and sweating hard when he emerged from his Mercury Sable and slammed the door.

"What the hell happened here?"

He addressed the question to two patrolmen standing at the rear entrance of the office building where Robin Cameron worked. They were only two of the patrol officers deployed here. A total of three squad cars were slant-parked nearby, along with the two rescue ambulances Wolper had followed into the lot. Four paramedics were exiting the RAs, carrying their gear into the building. There was also a prisoner transport van with Sheriff's Department markings. The driver wasn't in sight.

Wolper didn't expect to be recognized, since he was outside his territory, driving his personal car, and wearing civilian clothesbutton-down shirt and a sport jacket. But one of the cops by the door knew him anyway. "Lieutenant?"

"In the flesh." He nodded to the cop's partner. "Lieutenant Wolper, Newton Area."

"You're a ways off your beat, sir," the first man said.

"I'm off duty, too. I'm about fifteen minutes late for a four-o'clock with Dr. Cameron." It occurred to him that an appointment with a shrink didn't sound too good. "Business meeting," he added.

"All right, sir." The cop sounded skeptical.

Wolper let it drop. "I drive in behind two RAs and see three LAPD squads and a sheriff's van. This have anything to do with Dr. Cameron?"

"Yes, sir."

"Figured as much." He pointed at the van. "One of her patients from County?"

"Not just any patient. It was Justin Gray."

Wolper blew out a long breath. "Is Dr. Cameron amp;?"

"She's okay. Just shook up. Gray attacked her, knifed one of the transport deputies."

"How bad?"

"We called the RA, but truthfully, I think it's too late."

"And Gray? Please tell me he's not at large."

"I'm afraid so, Lieutenant."

Wolper spent a moment staring at the van. "The minute this gets out, we'll have a media circus. Who called it in?"

"The other deputythe driver."

"He didn't put it on the radio, did he?" LAPD radios were digital and encrypted, immune from eavesdroppers, but the Sheriff's Department had not yet converted to digital communications. Anyone could listen in on their frequencies.

"He used the radio"the other cop spoke for the first time"but he never mentioned Gray. Just called in a four-fifteen and officer-down."

Wolper nodded. "Okay. Look, be careful what you say even on the police bands. I know these high-tech transmissions are supposed to be secure, but watch yourself anyway. Who's running the scene?"

"First officer is Bridges. Inside with his partner."

"He won't be running it for long. Robbery-Homicide's gonna be all over this one."

"Yeah, the WC said it was routed straight to RHD. Also said the brass were plenty interested."

"The brass won't go near this hornet's nest."

"Probably not," the first cop agreed. "Did you want to talk to Dr. Cameron?"

"If she's up to it. You call the other RA for her?"

"We called it, even though she said she didn't want one."

"She's an assault victim. She needs medical attention."

"Well, the medics are in with her now, but I think she's probably okay. She's tougher than she looks."

Wolper nodded, heading through the door. "I noticed." He went down the hall and stepped inside the waiting room of Robin Cameron's office. One pair of paramedics worked on the deputy sheriff, starting an IV, checking for vitals. Wolper could tell, just by looking, that there would be no signs of life.

Spatter patterns of blood had doused the walls. Wolper had seen enough crime scenes to know that the forensic technicians could use the angle and trajectory of the blood spray to determine the victim's position when he was attacked. In this case, they would conclude that the deputy had been standing with his back to the interior office door. He had been seized from behind, his throat cut, the blood from the severed carotid artery spewing forward, leaving the killer largely untouched. When the blood flow eased, the deputy, expiring, had been lowered to the floor.

The medics slipped the deputy onto a gurney. Wolper took another look at the body. The man had lost his cap and pants, and his shoes had been removed and tossed aside. There was something tragicomic about the corpse lying on the stretcher, wearing only underwear and socks from the waist down. A large urine stain had spread over the man's Jockey shorts; his bladder had released when he died.

Respectfully, Wolper stood aside as the gurney was wheeled out into the hall. The EMTs couldn't call a death in the field, and no lawman present was going to declare a brother officer deceased.

Wolper shifted his attention to the doorway of the main office. Inside, the other two paramedics were arguing with Robin Cameron, seated on the couch. The doctor looked defiant, and the medics looked exhausted. Wolper knew that these guys worked twenty-four-hour shifts, frequently for several days at a stretch, catnapping in the fire station, never seeing their families. They had an average burnout of only eight years. Today was probably a slow day by the standards of this neighborhood. The first and fifteenth of the month were the busiest times, when paychecks and welfare money came in, allowing purchases of booze and drugs, which led to violence. Some medics wore handguns in Rampart and other bad parts of towna strictly unofficial policy, but one that was overlooked by the higher-ups.