No Witnesses

and again she deferred to Dr. Clements. Leaving her, Boldt made himself a copy of the face and left the original with one of the civilian office workers, asking that it be photocopied and made available to all patrol personnel. A Be On Lookout was issued-Caulfield would be detained and brought downtown if spotted.

Boldt spent the afternoon distributing copies to the ATM surveillance team, moving between the various locations where his people were in position. They had a face now, and Boldt considered it their first decent break.

Kenny Fowler lived in a deluxe apartment managed by Inn At The Market, with maid and room service. He seemed both proud and embarrassed by it as he showed Boldt inside. Located directly above Campagne Restaurant, the corner view looked out over the red neon sign-PUBLIC MARKET CENTER-and across Elliott Bay and the slowly moving lights of Seattle’s commercial shipping traffic. The first room encountered housed a wet bar, two couches, a pair of overstuffed chairs, a coffee table, and a small dining table. Off of this was a studio kitchen, a single bedroom with a water view, and a luxurious bath that Boldt knew Liz would kill for.

Boldt needed a favor, and he did not enjoy coming to Kenny Fowler with his hand out. He did not feel he could trust Fowler fully, for although they both wanted to see an end to the tampering, Fowler wanted credit, no doubt motivated by a corporate hierarchy that encouraged competition. He was also likely to want something in return for Boldt’s request, and Boldt could not be sure he could, or would, grant any such request.

Facing the picture window, Fowler said, “Must be something important to bring the mountain to Mohammed.” Then he continued his nervous orbit of the room, pouring himself a gin and tonic and joining Boldt in the sitting area.

“I need your help,” Boldt announced, once Fowler’s back was to him. It caught the security man by surprise, and he left his glass at the bar and returned to his seat without it.

“I’m listening.”

“One of my people is exhibiting some peculiar behavior. I need a background check, maybe some surveillance, and I don’t want to involve Internal Affairs.”

Fowler nodded. “Puts you in a bad position.”

“He’s on my squad, Kenny. It’s Chris Danielson.”

“Danielson? Are you saying you think he’s involved in this somehow? Have you spoken to him?”

“Not yet. I want this background check first.”

“What exactly has he done?”

“I need your help, Kenny. Maybe we should leave it at that.”

“Everything?”

“Everything you can get without it getting back to him that you’re interested.” The discussion made Boldt feel ugly and dirty at the same time. He knew this was not the way it was supposed to be done, and yet it seemed to him the most efficient use of manpower and time.

“You think Chris Danielson is maybe drilling these soup cans?” Fowler became crimson, beside himself with confusion.

“No, I don’t. But I’m a little short of explanations of how the extortionist is never near the ATMs we’re watching.”

“Fucking A! Danielson’s giving out your surveillance information?”

“I don’t know what he’s doing, but I want his dirty laundry if he’s got any. It’s that simple.”

Fowler took some notes, saying aloud, “Finances. Travel. Big-ticket purchases.” He glanced up at Boldt, then returned his attention to the notepad. “Family background, maybe.”

“Full background check. College record, all of it, as much as you can give me.”

Fowler had that deer-in-the-headlights look about him.

“What?” Boldt asked.

Fowler nodded. “Am I to assume this conversation never took place? That I found out about Danielson poking around and decided to sit on him? ’Cause I can do that for you if you like. I got a shitty memory, Lou. That’s the truth.”

“It won’t come to that. Let’s hope it’s all a big dead end.”

“But if it does?”

“If it does … I don’t want any lies.”

“You sure?” Fowler tested. “It could mean your badge if it comes to that. You realize that, don’t you? I’m telling you, I got a bad memory.”

“Save it for when you need it. I’ll make note of this meeting so that at least you’re covered. My idea. My responsibility.”

“Whatever.”

This felt like criminal behavior to Boldt, and he blamed the sensation in part on Fowler and his dramatics, because the man had a wormy quality to him. Technically, within certain parameters surveillance was not an illegal act, but the background check was, and both men knew it. The truth was that people in Fowler’s position were paid under the table for such background checks all the time. Boldt knew there was no new ground being broken.

“I’m not comfortable asking you, Kenny. I’ve got to be up-front about that.”

“I’m here, Lou. I’m part of this. I know how the department feels about the Kenny Fowlers of this world.”

“It’s not that.”

“Of course it is. I steal a lot of your best people away from you. I offered you once, Lou, and you know that offer’s always open. Starting pay would be twice where you are with your three stripes-”

“I know-” Boldt cut him off. He had no use for another Fowler recruitment pitch. “Thanks.”

“Listen,” the man said honestly, “I shade a lot of the laws. There’s a reason police drive black-and-whites, you know. ’Kay? So, I live in the gray. So what? And I live better than any of you guys. And maybe there’s just a touch of resentment there. No triplicate forms. No bullshit. We do our job and we collect big paychecks for our services. And maybe our job takes us a little outside the code. So what? Civil libertarians screwed the code up years ago, anyway. Am I right? ’Kay? Fucking sandbaggers have more rights than a badge does any day. So the system is set up to favor guys like Kenny Fowler. And now you need me. And I’m not going to bullshit you: It feels good, Lou. This is a day I’ll remember. But maybe not for the reasons you think. This just settles some of my own shit.”

Boldt had feared this exact lecture, having to sit there and eat crow while Fowler gloated. And if he knew the man, the quid pro quo was right around the next corner.

His piano, time with Miles, the lecturing, and now stepping outside the system he held dear despite his frustrations with it. Little pieces of Boldt’s life were slipping away. And the little pieces added up to the whole, and it terrified him where this might be headed. He worked on a pair of Maalox.

“It’s expensive, what you’re asking,” Fowler said, reading Boldt’s mind, “although it’s Adler’s money, and he wants this thing wrapped up-obviously-so what the fuck? We can do it.”

“I can’t help you there, Kenny. You know the way it is.”

“I’m not talking about money, Lou. You know what I’m saying.”

“I was hoping maybe Adler wasn’t the only one who wanted to see this thing wrapped,” Boldt tested. Fowler offered a wooden smile, and Boldt felt his bowels stir.

“Sure. Sure,” he said. He carefully measured his words. “We would like to be part of the extortion surveillance, Lou. Adler, Taplin, me-we don’t like you guys being the only ones looking out for Mr. Adler’s money. You know how it is. We have access to some super technologies. Stuff that there’s no way you guys have. We can tie all your operatives together, restrict access, use GPS location devices-Adler’s pretty much given me a blank check these last couple years. We’ve got the latest shit, Lou.”

“My hands are tied, Kenny, you know that. We don’t include privates in our surveillance work. It just doesn’t happen.”

“That’s bullshit, Lou. Come on! Who you talking to? It’s me, Kenny. Shoswitz eats out of your hand-you’ve been all but running that department for years. You get what you ask for.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is true. All I’m asking is to protect my client’s interests. ’Kay? To be kept up to speed. To help out. You include us in the surveillance, I can throw maybe ten guys your way. I can loan you guys