“Legally,” Grace said in her calm, cutting bench voice, “the computer doesn’t belong to Ted. He gave it as a birthday present to our son. So even if you find the computer, you have no right to it. If that’s all, gentlemen, I’m going to bed. It’s been a long day.”

Franklin shouldered his way around Tallman and towered over Grace. “Where’s the fucking computer? So help me God, I’ll break your neck if you don’t-”

“Mr. Sturgis,” Grace interrupted coldly, “would you define simple assault for your client? Or shall I?”

The marshal took Franklin firmly by the arm and turned him around. “Where is this computer supposed to be? I’ll go look myself. If I find it, we’ll let the lawyers sort out who it belongs to.”

“In the bedroom at the end of the hallway on the right,” Franklin said. “It’s got to be there.”

Tallman looked at Grace uncomfortably.

Faroe understood how Tallman felt. In the marshal’s world, federal judges were gods. He really didn’t want to piss one off.

“We have a warrant to seize the computer, Your Honor,” Tallman said, producing a paper. “It’s evidence in an ongoing investigation.”

Grace read the paper with speed and care. She’d seen a lot like it. She gave the warrant back to Tallman. “Take any computer you find upstairs. But be quick about it. If I wanted to spend time near Ted, we’d still be married.”

Tallman went up the steps two at a time. His footfalls sounded down the hallway.

Sturgis tossed his briefcase on a damask couch and sat down. He looked like he’d had a long day, too.

Grace went to a large cherry sideboard and opened a pair of glass doors. She pulled down a crystal decanter and began removing matching glasses from the shelf.

Faroe watched her. He seemed to be the only one in the room who could sense the rage and contempt beneath her outward calm.

“Drink, anyone?” she said.

“Please,” Sturgis said. “Scotch.”

Grace poured two fingers of golden liquid into a crystal glass and handed it to him.

Franklin’s eyes followed the glass hungrily.

Grace lifted an eyebrow at him.

He looked away.

She poured another glass and stood in front of him. Franklin looked at her with hatred in his eyes. Then he snatched the glass from her hand and knocked it back in an eye-watering swallow.

Grace’s smile lifted the hair on Faroe’s neck. He reminded himself never to get between this woman and the welfare of her son.

“Poor teddy bear,” she said with no sympathy at all. “What did you do that requires the services of the most expensive criminal litigator in California?”

LOMAS SANTA FE

SUNDAY, 12:25 A.M.

“I’D RATHER BE CALLED the best, Your Honor,” Sturgis said with a well-practiced courtroom smile.

“Your point is noted, Counselor, but I don’t withdraw the characterization,” Grace said without looking away from her ex-husband. “What are you charged with?”

Faroe watched, fascinated. This Grace was a far cry from the determined-to-be-bad public defender he’d met sixteen years ago.

Franklin started to speak.

Sturgis didn’t let him. “We agreed that I would handle this, remember?”

Ted sucked down the last few drops of the scotch. Ignoring Grace’s disdainful look, he walked stiffly to the sideboard and poured another double.

“Technically, Your Honor, there aren’t any charges yet,” Sturgis said. “It is our position that there won’t be any charges. That’s part of what we’re discussing with the authorities. Ted is a brilliant man, a genius. He may be in a position to offer certain unnamed federal authorities a great deal of help in understanding some of the, ah, complexities of international finance.”

“So you’re trying to negotiate a plea,” Grace said. “Interesting. I thought you made it a point to fight to the bitter end of your client’s resources. ‘All or nothing,’ isn’t that your motto?”

“Sometimes the ‘all’ is pretty daunting.” Sturgis notched up his courtroom smile. “That’s what we’re in the process of discussing, right, Marshal Harkin?”

Harkin made a gesture that could have meant anything. “Talk to the task force. Talk to the U.S. Attorney’s office. Me, I’m just the babysitter.”

Dressed in black, Grace prowled the hand-knotted carpet like a panther in an exotic cage. She stopped near the sideboard.

Near Ted.

If Ted had been in better shape, Faroe would have moved closer. As it was, he just enjoyed the show. When Grace wanted Faroe’s input, she’d be the first to tell him.

“Task forces,” she said. “U.S. Attorney’s office. That sounds bad. How did a financial genius like you ever get roped into something so serious? Oh, wait, let me guess. Does it have something to do with your Mexican deals?”

Franklin turned his back on her.

“Tsk, tsk,” she said. “I told you to be careful. It’s a different system down there.”

Plata o plomo.

“Was that it?” Grace said, turning to Sturgis. “Did Ted finally step out of all the gray areas into the black of dirty money? So much of it begging to be cleaned. So very profitable.”

Franklin turned. “Listen, you-”

“Ted,” Sturgis cut in. “Anything you say will jeopardize our negotiations with the government. These marshals aren’t your lawyers. They could easily become your jailers. Shut up.”

Franklin looked from his lawyer to his ex-wife and then back again. “Get rid of them,” he said, gesturing toward the marshals. “I need to talk to her.”

Harkin came down the stairs empty-handed. “There’s no computer anywhere upstairs that I can see under the constraints of the existing warrant. We could get a different warrant and search more thoroughly.”

“This farce has gone on long enough,” Grace said to Harkin. “I’d fight another warrant.”

“Yes, ma’am, I figured you would.”

Franklin slammed his glass down on the sideboard. Pieces of glass flew.

“Where is it?” he asked Grace shrilly, stalking toward her. “Where is the damned computer!”

“How would I know? You’re the one who lost it, not me.”

Faroe eased between Franklin and all the lovely sharp pieces of crystal.

Franklin jerked his hand toward the marshals. “Get rid of them, Stu. Right now!”

Sturgis drew Harkin into a corner and talked quietly with him for a moment. The marshal shook his head several times. Sturgis reframed his argument. Finally the marshal agreed.

“Give them some space,” he said to his men. “But everybody stays in the center of the room where we can see them. Agreed?”

Sturgis nodded.

As soon as the marshals couldn’t hear them, the lawyer took a position on the rug, like a referee in a boxing ring. “Your Honor,” he said, “Ted.”

Faroe moved in beside Grace.

Sturgis frowned, then shrugged.

“Where’s the goddamn computer?” Franklin demanded.

“If you want my help,” she said, “tell me what’s going on.”

Sturgis acted like he was in a courtroom. “Judge Silva, the computer contains information that has great evidentiary value. You surely don’t want to appear to be interfering with an important investigation, do you?”

“Shove it, Counselor,” Grace said without looking away from her ex-husband. “I don’t need lectures on how to manipulate the legal process. Talk to me, Ted. Does this have to do with Carlos Calderon and his colleagues in Tijuana?”

Franklin stared past her without answering.

“Actually,” Sturgis said, “our position is that Calderon and his friends approached Ted, that he immediately sensed the impropriety of their intentions and began gathering evidence that would be used against them.”

Faroe made a scornful sound.

Grace gave him a sideways look.

He put his poker face back on.

“So you were really kind of an undercover good citizen, is that it?” she asked her ex. “Was that before or after the task force investigators started hanging around Edge City Investments?”