Sometimes, to be effective, you simply had to shake things up.

And this was his real love – operations, wet work. It had lots of names. Thorne got his own personal jollies by pursuing an extra-legal agenda all his own. And it was far more extensive and dangerous than anything any of his clients would ever order or even, if they became aware of it, tolerate.

For example, two years before, SKO had been getting a lot of bad press. The company’s CEO, Ellis Jackson, was fighting off charges of illegal campaign funding, gift-giving, and influence peddling. Because of this, the Senator from Kansas got cold feet and – reluctant to be identified with SKO – threatened to renege on his support of ethanol subsidies. This support was finally guaranteed by a donation of a million dollars to the Senator’s campaign fund, but without Thorne it is doubtful that the Senator would have found a way to accept the gift.

On his own, Thorne had discovered the man’s weakness for other young men. Then, Thorne had seen to it that one of these men had been on the corporate jet on the junket to Hilton Head. Finally, Thorne had decided precisely where to position the cameras.

But while Thorne loved his own covert operations more than anything else on earth, he didn’t shrink from his nuts and bolts work – information management and spin control. In fact, the Fuels Management Consortium produced reams of paper every month for dissemination to radio shows, newspapers, think tanks, consultant firms and lobbyists.

In addition, Thorne’s company produced campaign leaflets for political candidates who supported ethanol, or opposed MTBE, which amounted to the same thing. The most prominent of these was Damon Kerry, running for governor of California. Unfortunately, in Thorne’s view, Damon Kerry was a man who did not appreciate the big picture. Like the Senator from Kansas, he didn’t want to be publicly associated with SKO, with its questionable lobbying history. Damon Kerry was pure – he wasn’t proposing the use of ethanol. He wasn’t being bought by any special interests, no sir. He was merely opposed to the cancer-causing alternative, MTBE.

So Damon Kerry’s campaign was in the thick of the gasoline additive wars. Except one of the generals was ignorant of where he got his army.

Baxter Thorne came to California to bolster Kerry’s campaign, but Kerry had rejected his advances. Fortuitously, Kerry’s campaign manager was a young man named Al Valens. Greedy, unscrupulous, devious, and skilled, Valens was more than happy to accept Thorne’s help as well as a little personal financial support. In the role of Kerry’s best friend, consigliére, and strategist, Valens in fact was a double agent. His role was to keep his candidate focused on the evils of Big Oil.

All things considered, and up until last night, when the cop called, Thorne had believed that things were going pretty well. Kerry had come from nowhere to get within spitting distance of his opponent, and with a couple of good spins and perhaps a trick or two, Thorne was confident he could eliminate that gap and bring his boy home.

But suddenly, there was a problem. The damned Beaumont woman, and some homicide cop with an alleged connection to the Fuels Management Consortium that he wanted to talk about.

Thorne looked at his watch for the fiftieth time. He was on time. Where was Griffin? What the hell did he think he knew?

From long experience in the political arena, Thorne had learned to distrust first impressions. There were a host of fat, slovenly, boorish elected officials in this country who were powerful, decisive, and dangerous. He wasn’t sure where he was going to place Griffin just yet. From all appearances, the inspector was unimpressive, but the fact that he was sitting here at FMC meant that he’d made some unsettling connections. Something might be going on between the man’s ears.

So Thorne was playing it close, as was his inclination in any event. He smiled in his benign fashion, and spoke in kindly and professorial tones. ‘I’m afraid I don’t see anything sinister in Bree Beaumont having some of our literature at her apartment. She was in the combustion business, wasn’t she?’

Griffin had stuffed himself into one of the secretary s rolling chairs and now was hunched forward, one leg awkwardly crossed over the other, rocking as though maybe he thought the chair was a rocker. But Thorne didn’t think this was nerves. Under the working-class nonchalance, Griffin was intense as a surgeon. He didn’t bother with returning any smiles. ‘Yeah, we got your letterhead at the scene,’ he said. ‘I got that. But then I got Valens!

‘Al Valens?’

This did bring a smile. ‘Don’t bullshit a bullshitter, Mr Thorne. Al Valens. Your guy with Damon Kerry.’

This was truly alarming, and Thorne had to struggle to retain his equanimity. There was no way anybody official – much less this oafish flatfoot – should know about Thorne’s relationship with Al Valens. If that became public, if Damon Kerry discovered that he was being deceived by his campaign manager, it would be the end of months of work, of a program that was on the verge of success.

So, his brain now on full alert, Thorne smiled again and leaned back in his chair, bringing his fingertips together over the tweedy vest that buttoned over his stomach. ‘How do you conclude that this Mr Valens is my guy, as you put it?’

‘I got a better one,’ Griffin replied. ‘How about if I ask the questions since that’s what I’m here for? In exchange I don’t bring you downtown.’

Thorne tried a little humor, to soften things here. ‘I’ve always considered that these offices were downtown.’

Griffin ‘s face was a slab of meat. ’What do you know about Valens’ relationship with Bree Beaumont?‘

There was nothing to do but stonewall until Thorne discovered a little more about what Griffin knew as well as the source of it. ‘I don’t know anything about his relationship with Bree Beaumont.’

‘But you admit that you do know him? Valens?’

‘I didn’t say that.’ He certainly wasn’t ready to admit it, and Griffin had just cued him that he was fishing. Thorne reminded himself – the flip side of first impressions – that sometimes people looked and acted stupid because they were. ‘But you’ve obviously heard that I do.’ He ventured an educated guess. ‘Jim Pierce?’

Pierce was an executive vice president of Caloco and, Thome had heard, ex-lover of Bree Beaumont. When she’d left the oil company to join Kerry, there’d been hard feelings all around. Pierce had the money and the motivation to discredit Kerry, and to make Bree see the error of her new ways and come back to him and Caloco.

Griffin looked at his notepad, and this verified Thorne’s suspicion. Poker wouldn’t be this inspectors game. ‘Because if it was Pierce, you’ve got to seriously consider the source.’ He held up a hand. ‘Now I’m not telling you what to think, but Jim Pierce? Jesus!’

‘What about him?’

‘He’s Big Oil, is what.’ Thorne sighed. ‘Look, sergeant, I’m a consultant in this business. I know the players. And Pierce is a very big player. So here’s what happens. If Kerry gets elected, which isn’t looking too bad right now, Pierce s people, the petroleum folks, they’re going to take the big hit on… you know about MTBE?’

Griffin nodded. ‘Lately, yeah, I’ve heard of it.’

‘Well, take my word on it, that’s what this is about. Three billion a year goes down the drain if Kerry wins, so Pierce is trying to disrupt the campaign!’

Griffin seemed to remember what his original position had been. ‘So you’re saying you’re not involved with Valens? That’s your story?’