When he walked in, Detective-Two Louise Barshop was already seated at the table, and inwardly McConnell frowned. The lead investigator on this case was that putz Harvey Krantz, whom McConnell hated, but he'd forgotten that the third IAG was a woman. He liked Louise fine, and she was a top officer, but he was having the Lord's Own rotten gas with the clam. He didn't feel comfortable farting in front of a woman. "Hi, Louise. How's the family?"

"Fine, Mike. Yours?"

"Oh, just fine. Fine." He tried to decide whether or not to warn her of his flatulence or just take things a step at a time and see what passed, so to speak. If he had a problem, maybe he could act like Krantz was responsible.

McConnell took his seat and had decided on the latter strategy when Krantz entered, carrying a thick stack of case files. Krantz was tall and bony, with close-set eyes and a long nose that made him look like a parrot. He had joined IAG less than a year ago after a pretty good run in West Valley burglary, and would be the junior detective present. Because it was his case, he would also handle the bulk of the questioning. Krantz made no secret that he was here to use IAG as a stepping-stone to LAPD's upper command. He had left the uniform as fast as he could (McConnell suspected the street scared him), and had sniveled his way into every stepping-stone job he could, invariably seeking out the right ass to kiss so that he could get ahead. The sniveling little prick never passed up an opportunity to let you know that he d graduated from USC with honors, and was working on his master's. McConnell, whose personal experience with college was pulling riot duty during the late sixties, had joined the Marines right out of high school, and took great pride in how far he had risen without the benefit of a college diploma. McConnell hated Harvey Krantz, not only for his supercilious and superior manner but also because he'd found out that the little cocksucker had gone over his head two months ago and told McConnell's boss, the IAG captain-supervisor, that McConnell was mishandling three cases on which Krantz was working. The prick. McConnell had vowed on the spot that he would shaft the skinny bastard and fuck his career if it was the last thing he did. This, even though Mike McConnell only had to sweat out two more years before retiring to his beachside trailer in Mexico. Jesus, even looking at the little skeeze made McConnell s skin crawl. A human parrot.

Krantz nodded briskly. "Hello, Louise. Mr. McConnell." Always with the "Mr.," like he was trying to underline the difference in their ages.

Louise Barshop said, "Hi, Harvey. You ready to go?"

Krantz inspected the empty witness chair with his parrot eyes. "Where's the subject?"

McConnell said, "You talking about the officer we're going to question?" You see how he did? The subject, like they were in some kind of snooty laboratory!

Louise Barshop fought back a smile. "He's in the waiting area, Harvey. Are we ready to begin?"

"I'd like to go over a few things before we start."

McConnell leaned forward to cut him off. Something loose was shifting in his lower abdomen and he was getting a cramp. "I'm telling you right now that I don't want to waste a lot of time with this." He riffled through his case file. "This kid is Wozniak's partner, right?"

Krantz looked down his parrot nose and McConnell could tell he was pissed. Good. Let him run back and bellyache to the boss. Get a rep as a whiner. "That's right, Wozniak. I've developed this investigation myself, Mr. McConnell, and I believe there s something to this." He was investigating a uniformed patrol officer named Abel Wozniak for possible involvement in the theft and fencing of stolen goods. "As Wozniak's partner, this guy must certainly know what Wozniak's up to, even if he himself isn't involved, and I'd like your permission to press him. Hard, if necessary"

"Fine, fine, whatever. Just don't take too long. It's Friday afternoon, and I want to get out of here. If something presents itself, follow it, but if this guy's in the dark, I don't wanna waste time with it."

Harvey made a little oomping sound to let them know he wasn't happy, then hurried out to the waiting room.

Louise said, " Harvey s quite a go-getter, isn't he?" "He s a prick. People like him is why they call us the Rat Squad."

Louise Barshop looked away without responding. Probably exactly what she'd been thinking, but she didn't have the cushion of twenty-eight years on the job to say it. In IAG, the walls grew ears, and you had to be careful whose ass you kicked today because they'd be waiting their turn on you tomorrow.

The interviewee was a young officer named Joseph Pike. McConnell had read the officer's file that morning, and was impressed. The kid had been on the job for three years, and had graduated number four in his Academy class. Every fitness report he had received since then had rated Pike as outstanding. McConnell was experienced enough to know that this, in and of itself, was no guarantee against corruption; many a smart and courageous young man would rob you blind if you let him. But, even after twenty-eight years on the job, Mike McConnell still believed that the men and women who formed the police of his city were, almost to a person, the finest young men and women that the city had to offer. Over the years he had grown to feel that it was his duty – his obligation – to protect their reputation from those few who would besmirch the others. After reading Officer Pike's file, he was looking forward to meeting him. Like McConnell, Pike had gone through Camp Pendleton, but unlike McConnell, who had been a straight infantry Marine, Pike had graduated from the Marine s elite Force Recon training, then served in Vietnam, where he had been awarded two Bronze Stars and two Purple Hearts. McConnell smiled as he looked at the file, and thought that a smug turd like Krantz (who had managed to avoid military service) didn't deserve to be in the same room with a kid like this.

The door opened, and Krantz pointed to the chair where he wanted Pike to sit. The three IAG detectives were seated together behind a long table; the interviewee would sit opposite them in a chair well back from the table so as to increase his feelings of isolation and vulnerability. Standard IAG procedure.

First thing McConnell noticed was that this young officer was starch. His uniform spotless, the creases in his pants and shirt sharp, the black leather gear and shoes shined to a mirror finish. Pike was a tall man, as tall as Krantz, but where Krantz was thin and bony, Pike was filled out and hard, his shirt across his back and shoulders and upper arms pulled taut. McConnell said, "Officer Pike."

"Yes, sir."

"I'm Detective McConnell, and this is Detective Barshop. Those glasses gotta go."

Pike doffed his sunglasses, revealing brilliant blue eyes. Louise Barshop shifted in her seat.

Pike said, "Do I need an attorney present?"

McConnell turned on the big Nagra tape recorder before answering. "You can request consultation with an attorney, but if you do not answer our questions at this time, which we are hereby ordering you to do – and we ain't waitin' for some FOP mouthpiece to mosey over – you will be relieved of your duties and brought up on charges of refusing the administrative orders of a superior officer. Do you understand that?"

"Yes, sir." Pike held McConnell s gaze, and McConnell thought that the boy looked empty. If he was scared, or nervous, he hid it well.

"Do you wish an attorney?"

"No, sir."

Louise Barshop said, "Has Detective Krantz explained why you're here?"

"No, ma'am."