Well, she got it now. It was their little dialogue in the elevator all over again.
'I think I’m going to be busy tonight. There’s kind of a crisis, in case you hadn’t noticed.'
'This is LA. There’s always a crisis. Anyhow, we’ve done our part. We’re entitled to some downtime.'
'Sorry. I’m pretty sure I’ll be otherwise engaged.'
The smile on his face flicked off, as simply as if he had flipped a switch. 'Okay, then,' he said in a tone that would have been more appropriate to Fuck you. 'I’ve gotta get going. Write this up. Paperwork, you know.'
She disliked him, but she didn’t want to be rude. 'Thanks for your help,' she said feebly.
'Protect and serve, that’s my motto.' He was already getting back into his car.
'Detective?'
He stopped, possibly wondering if she’d changed her mind.
'Keep quiet about this, all right? It can’t get out to the media.'
Dodge smiled again-a smile that was subtly different from before, in a way she couldn’t quite define.
'I hear you, Agent McCallum.' He zipped his lips with a forefinger. 'Mum’s the word.'
29
'I don’t mean to be rude, but today’s not a good day for you to be jerking my chain,' Myron Levine said as he slid into a banquette at Lucy J’s.
Dodge gave him a cool smile. 'That’s uncalled for, Myron. My feelings are hurt. I’m getting all weepy.' He let the smile go away. 'Since when have I ever fucked with you?'
'You’re fucking with me right now. Right this very minute. And I’m on a tight schedule. I’m on the air live at six o’clock. I don’t have time for any crap.'
'Then I’ll get right to the point. I got something major. And it’s gonna cost you.'
'I’m all tapped out-'
'You want to sling bullshit, or you want to talk straight? It’s your call. You’re the one in such a goddamn hurry.'
Levine looked away. Dodge knew the guy was a coward. He talked big, but it was an act, as phony as his bad toupee or the lifts he wore to look taller. He was a scared little man, and one of the things he was scared of was Dodge himself.
'What kind of money are you looking for?' Levine asked after a short pause.
'Ten thousand.'
Levine’s eyebrows shot up like two moths singed by a flame. 'That’s ridiculous. That’s totally out of the question.'
'It’s a bargain. It’s the sale of the motherfucking century.'
Something about Dodge’s coolness seemed to communicate a sense of sobriety to Levine. He calmed visibly. He became almost thoughtful. 'What is it, more about Grandy?'
Dodge waved this away. 'Fuck Grandy. When this gets out, nobody’s gonna give two shits about police brutality. Even the fucking spooks won’t care. They’ll be too busy getting the hell out of town like everybody else.'
Levine tried not to look interested, but as a poker player, he frankly sucked, and Dodge knew he had the reporter’s complete attention.
'Why will anybody be leaving town?' Levine tried for humor. 'Stage-three smog alert?'
'More like DEFCON One in a fucking war.'
Levine blinked. 'War? What is it, the goddamn Arabs again?'
'It’s better than that. Imagine if I were to tell you that we have a weapon of mass destruction floating around in this city, only it’s not in the hands of your run-of-the-mill little-dicked camel jockey. This time it’s in the possession of a bona fide serial killer. What would you say about that?'
The question was rhetorical. Dodge knew exactly what Levine would say-namely, nothing at all. The man just stared.
'That’s right, my friend,' Dodge went on. 'This city is in some serious shit. And I know the details.'
'You shitting me?'
Dodge gave him a bored look.
'Okay, okay, you’re not bullshitting, sorry, I just mean that this is, I mean, this is…'
Awful. Terrifying. Unthinkable. There were lots of words he could have used.
'This is fantastic! I mean, this is fucking incredible. If it pans out,' he added cautiously.
'It’ll pan out.' Dodge waited, saying nothing more.
'So give,' Levine said finally.
'What’s it worth to you?' Another rhetorical question.
' If it pans out, like you claim…you’ll get the ten grand.'
Dodge smiled. 'That’s what I like about you, Myron. In the end, you’re always willing to be reasonable.'
When he was done with Levine, Dodge sat alone and had himself a slice of Lucy J’s pie. He was going to grow a goddamned potbelly if he kept celebrating like this, but what the fuck. He had reason to celebrate. He’d obtained three grand in cash, with an IOU for the rest. He knew Levine was good for it. Gutless little troll didn’t have the balls to double-cross him, and besides, he couldn’t afford to shut off such a valuable pipeline of information-especially after today.
Anyway, Levine had gotten a bargain. Fucking story was worth twenty grand easy, maybe twenty-five. But Dodge had known that Levine would never go that high without tedious negotiations. That process would take time, and Dodge couldn’t wait. Some other media outlet might get hold of the story.
There were a dozen-hell, a hundred-places that might spring a leak. Even in Tess McCallum’s rushed synopsis of events, it had been obvious that just about every local government operation was involved in this case. Not everybody knew the whole story, but enough people knew bits and pieces. It would all come out before long, whether it was Levine who got the tip or some other jackass at a rival station or a newspaper.
And, honest to God, the story really ought to come out. The public, bless their precious constitutional rights, was entitled to know. And he, Jim Dodge, was just a public-spirited citizen. Sure he was. And pigs could fly to the fucking moon.
He swallowed his last forkful of pie and left his payment, adding a smaller tip than usual because the waitress with the Jennifer Lopez ass wasn’t on duty today. Which was too bad, because with money in his pocket and a song in his heart, he was looking to get laid tonight.
When Special Agent McCallum had walked back into his life, he’d thought he might have been offered a second chance to find out if she was a natural redhead. But he’d decided McCallum was butch, or de-sexed or a nun or something. She hadn’t responded to his manly charms or his pheromones or whatever women responded to.
Well, fuck her and the horse she rode in on. The way he had it figured, the news leak would prompt an FBI internal investigation. And who was likely to get nailed for talking out of school? Little Miss McCallum, who had a prior connection with Myron Levine in Denver. She would take the rap, and Dodge would walk away clean.
Tough break, Tess. Serves you right for giving me the cold shoulder.
30
Tess sat alone in a squad room of the Westwood field office, staring at a computer monitor as she studied the results of another database search.
She had waited at the Life Sciences Center for nearly two hours. First Larkin had arrived to ferry the tape player, sealed in its plastic bag, to the AD. A long time later the forensics team had finally showed up. Tess had left them at their work and driven the short distance to the field office.
In the hallway she’d run into the Nose, the last person she wanted to see.
