He got up and went out his door to the corral where the assistants had their pods. He went to Monica's desk. He held up the FedEx envelope and the torn envelope that had been inside it.

"Monica, who opened this?"

She looked up at him.

"I did. Why?"

"How come you opened it?"

"I open all your mail. You don't like to deal with it. Remember? I open it so I can tell you what is important and what isn't. If you don't want me to do it that way anymore, just tell me. I won't mind, just less work."

Pierce calmed. She was right.

"No, that's all right. Did you read this stuff?"

"Not really. I saw the picture of the girl who had your phone number and decided I did not want to look at that stuff. Remember what we agreed to on Saturday?"

Pierce nodded.

"Yes, that's good. Thanks."

He turned to go back to his office.

"Do you want me to tell Charlie you are here?"

"No, I'm only staying a few minutes."

When he got to the door he looked back at Monica and saw her staring at him with that look of hers. Like she was judging him guilty of something, some crime he knew nothing about.

He closed the door and went behind the desk. He opened the envelope and pulled out the sheaf of printouts from Zeller.

The photo Monica mentioned was not the same photo of Lilly Quinlan from her web page. It was a mug shot taken in Las Vegas three years before, when she had been arrested in a prostitution sting. In the photo she did not look nearly as breathtaking as she did in the website photo. She looked tired and angry and a bit scared all at once.

Zeller's report on Lilly Quinlan was short. He had traced her from Tampa to Dallas to Vegas and then L.A. She was actually twenty-eight years old, not the twenty-three she promised in her web page ad copy. She had a record of two arrests for solicitation in Dallas and the one arrest in Vegas. After each arrest she had spent a few days in jail and was then released for time served. She had come to L.A. three years earlier, according to utilities records. She had avoided arrest and notice of the police until now.

That was it. Pierce looked at the photo again and felt depressed. The mug shot was the reality. The photo he had downloaded from the website and looked at so often over the weekend was the fantasy. Her trail from Tampa to Dallas to Las Vegas to Los Angeles had ended on that bed in the Venice townhouse. There was a killer out there somewhere.

And meantime, the cops were focusing on him.

He put the sheaf of printouts down on the desk and picked up the phone. After digging her card out of his wallet, he called Janis Langwiser to check in. He was on hold a good five minutes before she picked up.

"Sorry, I was on the phone with another client. What is happening with you?"

"Me? Nothing. I'm at work. I just wanted to check in and see if you've heard anything new from anybody."

Meaning, Is Renner still after me?

"No, nothing really new. I think we're playing a waiting game here. Renner knows he is on notice and that he's not going to be able to bully you. We have to just see what turns up and go from there."

Pierce looked at the mug shot on his desk. It could just as well have been a morgue shot for all the harsh lighting and shadows on her face.

"You mean like a body turning up?"

"Not necessarily."

"Well, I got a call from Lucy LaPorte today."

"Really? What did she say?"

"It was a message, actually. She said she'd been hurt and she didn't want me to ever contact her again."

"Well, at least we know she's around. We may need her."

"Why?"

"If this goes further we could possibly use her as a witness. To your motives and actions."

"Yeah, well, Renner thinks everything I did with her was part of my plan. You know, being the Good Samaritan and all."

"That's just his view of it. In a court of law there are always two sides."

"A court of law? This can't go to -"

"Relax, Henry. I'm just saying that Renner knows that for every piece of supposed evidence that he puts forward, we will have the same opportunity to put forward our side and our view of that evidence. The DA will know that, too."

"All right. Did you find out from anybody over there what Lucy told him?"

"I know a supervisor in the squad. He told me they haven't found her. They've talked by phone but she hasn't come in. She won't come in."

Pierce was about to tell her that he had Cody Zeller looking for Lucy when there was a sharp knock on his door and it opened before he could react. Charlie Condon stuck his head in. He was smiling, until he saw Pierce's face.

"Jesus Christ!"

"Who is that?" Langwiser asked.

"My partner. I have to go. Let me know what you hear."

"When I hear it. Good-bye, Henry."

Pierce hung up and looked up at Condon's stricken face. He smiled.

"Actually, Jesus Christ is down the hall and to the left. I'm Henry Pierce."

Condon smiled uneasily and Pierce casually turned over the printouts from the Zeller package. Condon came in and closed the door.

"Man, how do you feel? Are you all right?"

"I'll live."

"You want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Henry, I am really sorry I didn't get over to the hospital. But it's been crazy around here getting ready for Maurice."

"Don't worry about it. So I take it we're still presenting tomorrow."

Condon nodded.

"He's already in town and waiting on us. No delays. We go tomorrow or he goes -and takes his money with him. I talked to Larraby and Grooms and they said we're -"

" -ready to go. I know. I called them from the hospital. It's not Proteus that's the problem. That's not why I wanted to delay. It's my face. I look like I'm Frankenstein's cousin. And I'm not going to look much better tomorrow."

"I told him you had a car accident. It's not going to matter what you look like. What matters is Proteus. He wants to see the project and we promised him a first look. Before we send in the patents. Look, Goddard's the type of guy who can write the check on the spot. We need to do this, Henry. Let's get it over with."

Pierce raised his hands in surrender. Money was always the trump card.

"He's still going to ask a lot of questions when he sees my face."

"Look," Condon said. "It's a dog and pony show. No big deal. You'll be done with him by lunch. If he asks questions, just tell him you went through the windshield and leave it at that. I mean, you haven't even told me what happened. Why should he be any different?"

Pierce saw the momentary look of hurt in his partner's eyes.

"Charlie, I'll tell you when the time is right. I just can't right now."

"Yes, that's what partners are for, to tell things at the right time."

"Look, I know I can't win this argument with you, all right? I admit I'm wrong. So let's just leave it alone for now."

"Sure, Henry, whatever you want. What are you working on now?"

"Nothing. Just some bullshit paperwork."

"Then you're ready for tomorrow?"

"I'm ready."

Condon nodded.

"Either way we win," he said. "Either we take his money or we put in the patents, go to the press with Proteus and come January there will be a line like fucking Star Wars at ETS to talk to us."

Pierce nodded. But he hated going to Las Vegas for the annual emerging-technologies symposium. It was the most crass clash between science and finance in the world. Full of charlatans and DARPA spies. But a necessary evil just the same. It was where they had first courted one of Maurice Goddard's front men ten months before.

"If we last until January," Pierce said. "We need money now."

"Don't worry about that. My job's finding the money. I think I can come up with a few intermediary fish to hold us until we land another whale."

Pierce nodded, feeling reassured by his partner. With the situation he was in, thinking forward even a month seemed ridiculous.