will ever find them.'
Mason and Mickey followed Blues upstairs to his office. Blues opened the floor safe and removed a. 45-caliber Baer Stinger pistol and holster. He loaded the pistol, slid it into the holster he'd attached to his belt, and dumped two extra ammunition clips into his jacket pocket.
'Are you going to talk to Zimmerman or just shoot him?' Mason asked.
'Depends on my mood. If Toland and Zimmerman stole Cullan's files, they had to have a new hiding place. It's got to be someplace secure that won't attract attention. Zimmerman wouldn't leave it up to Toland, so it's got to be someplace Zimmerman picked. I'm a lot better at watching without being seen than you are.'
'Where do you start watching? You don't even know where Zimmerman is. What makes you think he's going to go look at those files in the middle of a blizzard?'
'You are going to find out where Zimmerman is when you call Harry to tell him about my fingerprint. I'd ask where Zimmerman is first, since Harry will probably stop talking after you tell him about the fingerprint. Then I'll go sit on Zimmerman while you go visit Ed Fiora.'
Mason asked, 'What for?'
'Fiora said he's got videotape to show you. Odds are he has the person who shot at you on that tape. Tell him you think you know who killed Cullan, but you need to see the videotape to be certain.'
'You think Zimmerman was the shooter?'
'Probably not. My money is on Beth Harrell, but it doesn't matter. The videotape is just a pretext for your meeting. Remind Fiora that you promised to give him his file if you found it. Tell him that Zimmerman has his file. Tell him to call Zimmerman and offer to buy the file and make Zimmerman a highly paid security consultant.'
'Why can't I just do that over the phone?'
'Because you've got to make certain that Fiora actually calls Zimmerman. You can't take his word for it.'
'Why do you think Fiora will be able to flush Zimmerman out on a day like this?'
'Because Fiora will also tell Zimmerman that his offer expires at midnight. After that, Fiora will put Zimmerman out of business himself.'
Mickey said, 'It's a cross-ruff. You figure Fiora won't wait for us to bring him the file. He'll go after Zimmerman. This way, you can take down both of them and get Fiora off of Lou's back.'
'Not me,' Blues said. 'Harry will take them all down. He'll be the hero. I'll go back to being the bartender. Can you set it up with Harry and Fiora?' Blues asked Mason.
'Small potatoes. Where will you be while I'm running the snowstorm shuttle?'
Blues smiled. 'Right here, nice and warm. Waiting for your call so I can go out and save our asses. You better take that gun I gave you. I didn't see it in the safe. Where is it?'
'My office, and you're right.'
CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE
Mason's phone rang as he stuck his pistol in his jacket pocket.
'Lou Mason.'
Rachel Firestone barked at him. 'How did you do it?'
'How did I do what?'
'Don't give me that crap, Lou! How did you get Judge Carter to order bail for Blues?'
Mason wasn't surprised that Rachel had learned of Blues's release. He couldn't guess at the number of sources she'd cultivated over the years. Her sharp tone carried the unspoken complaint that he hadn't tipped her off.
'Off the record?'
'Not a chance.'
'Fine. Judge Carter ordered Patrick Ortiz and me to appear for a status conference at eight o'clock this morning. I mentioned the prosecutor's opposition to bail. She said that she'd routinely granted bail in similar cases and saw no reason to treat Blues any differently.'
'Didn't it strike you as odd that there was no formal hearing on bail, no opportunity for Ortiz to object on the record or present evidence?'
It was obvious that Rachel had already talked with Ortiz and gotten a taste of the prosecutor's fury.
'Judges have a lot of discretion. You'll have to ask Judge Carter why she handled it that way.'
'No can do. Right after your conference, she turned in her resignation to the presiding judge and left the courthouse. No one answers the phone at her home and no one has seen her. She's disappeared. What's happening?'
Mason dropped into his desk chair and stared out the window at the blizzard. He'd been trying to navigate his way through a storm that had turned into an avalanche, an out-of-control cascading disaster.
'Lou!' Rachel demanded again. 'What's going on?'
'I'll call you later,' he said, and hung up.
Mason called Harry's cell. 'Harry?' The urgency in Mason's voice was unmistakable.
'What's the matter?' Harry asked.
'Nothing,' Mason lied, gathering himself. 'I need to talk to you.'
'I thought that's what we were doing.'
'No. Not on the phone. Where are you?'
'Same place as the rest of the world. Stuck in traffic behind some moron with rear-wheel drive.'
'Where?'
'On Main Street, between Thirty-Fifth and Thirty-Sixth.'
'You alone?'
'Yeah. Lou, what's the matter?'
'Pull over and park. I'll be there in ten minutes.'
Main was the next major thoroughfare east of Broadway. Though only four side streets separated them, Mason knew that he would make better time on foot than in his Jeep. Traffic was light on the side streets since most drivers had gotten stuck on the main roads before they could try alternate routes.
As he walked, Mason got a new perspective on the power of the storm. Tree limbs sagged under the heavy weight of ice and snow, some of the heavier ones fracturing and tumbling to the ground. He passed one house where a huge limb had broken and crashed through the roof. Mason gauged the strain on overhead power lines as they too bent in the wind. It wouldn't take much more for them to start snapping, adding another deadly special effect to the storm.
Mason found Harry's car in the middle of Main Street, surrounded by a flotilla of stranded drivers.
'Nice day for a drive,' Mason said as he slid into the passenger seat.
'Thanks for dropping by. We're always open.'
'How'd you get stuck on duty? Where's your partner?'
'He got lucky and had some personal stuff to take care of at home. He never made it in today,' Harry said as he turned down the radio.
'Any updates on the storm?'
'It's gone past blizzard. It's now officially a whiteout, whatever that is. The expected accumulation is a guess. The real problems are the ice and the wind. A lot of people won't get home tonight. So what's so important?'
'I need a favor.'
'So ask.'
'I want you to compare Blues's fingerprint that was found on Cullan's desk to the print for the same finger in his personnel file.'
Harry didn't respond. The wipers squeaked as they brushed back and forth, moving snow from one side of the windshield to the other.
'What would I be looking for if I was to do that?' Harry asked, not looking at Mason.
'To see if the two prints were identical.'
