That evil smile widened. If she had been a morey, the display of teeth would make him fear for his life. 'Those schmucks never dealt with moreys before. They're convinced all moreaus know each other and are involved in the drug trade.'
She reached into a pocket and tossed a grainy green-tinted picture on the table. It showed a shaggy gray canine in desert camouflage. It had been taken with a light enhancer.
Even with the rotten resolution, there was no question it was Hassan.
'I am searching for a canine calling himself Hassan Sabah. Contract assassin, specializes in political killings. Started in the Afghan occupation of North India. Works for every extremist cause you can name. Japanese nationalists, Irish republicans, South African
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white supremacists, Shining Path social humanists in Peru—'
Every group she mentioned was punctuated by a picture dropped on the table: the car bomb that took out the Chinese political director in Yokohama; the hotel fire that killed three UK cabinet ministers in Belfast; the half- dozen Zulu party leaders hacked apart by machetes in Pretoria; the barracks of
lepus-derived infantry taken out by a remote truck filled with explosives in Cajamarca . . .
'Hassan smuggled himself into the country last year with the Honduran boatlift. The Fed didn't know he was in the country until a native of Belfast living in Cleveland recognized this canine.' Isham tapped Hassan's picture with one of her slightly-pointed nails. 'He's in the country, and he's involved with the Zip-perheads.'
'Why aren't you talking to your tip?' Nohar had an idea why. A morey from Belfast meant a fox.
Isham flipped out another picture, confirming No-har's suspicion. The picture snowed a morey vulpine, very dead. The fox had a small-caliber gunshot wound, close range, right eye.
'She was our witness. Whelp fox from North Ireland. Had the bad luck to be in a street gang that called itself Vixen— I see you know what happened to Vixen. Never got the chance to contact her.'
She leaned back and glanced, over her sunglasses, at the one-way mirror. Then, satisfied, she went on. 'The Fed only has suspicions of what Hassan is doing. But it scares Washington. Joseph Binder's Senate campaign seems to be his latest target. The Fed thinks a radical morey organization is operating out of Cleveland. The terror attacks by the Zipperhead gang give credibility to the suspicion.'
'You want information on Hassan.'
'We put you and Hassan in the same area on at least three separate occasions. When Hassan killed a local pimp named Tisaki Nugoya. During the attempted as-FORESTS OF THE NIGHT
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sassination of Stephanie Weir, former assistant to the late Daryl Johnson. And the arson attack that killed Desmond Thomson,'
'Hassan was there?'
'One of the security guards lived long enough to give us a tentative ID.'
Maybe he could bargain. 'What do I get for talking to you?''
Isham took oif her glasses and looked at Nohar as if she was examining a corpse to determine the cause of death. 'You'll get my good will.'
The smile was gone. 'Nohar, you are going to walk. Make me happy.'
Nohar scratched his claws across the linoleum and decided he didn't want Isham as an enemy. 'I'll tell you, but it's mostly second-hand . . .' He gave her the story, as he saw it, leaving out the MLI angle in deference to client confidentiality. Saturday the 19th, Young had let Hassan into Johnson's house. Johnson gets whacked by Hassan's Levitt. Thursday the 24th, while Stigmata is being wiped up by the Zipheads, Hassan takes position up on Musician's Towers during a thunderstorm and blows Johnson's picture window. Thursday the 31st, Young empties the Binder finance records, torches them, and himself, on the 1st. Monday the 4th, the Zips attack the coffeehouse. Hassan and Terin are together in the four-wheeler.
She completed the list. 'Today, Desmond Thomson is a victim of a firebomb in his condo and Edwin Har- rison's BMW explodes on the Shoreway—' 'Harrison'sdead?'
'Haven't you followed the news?' Nohar remembered the cabbie mentioning something about a bomb on the Shoreway. 'Him and twelve other commuters during the morning rush hour. So far, because of you, Weir is the only one to survive an attempt by Hassan. Do you know where she is?'
'No.' He didn't want to lie. He didn't know how for he could push Isham, but he didn't want to get
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Manny involved with this. 'She gave me a lift to my old neighborhood. I don't know where she and the rabbit went after that.'
Isham seemed to know it was a lie. * 'I want to know if you find out where she's hiding out. The Fed would like to put her under protection—'
The conversation stopped because a muffled yell was coming from the hall. It
was Mclntyre. 'What?'
The room was supposed to be soundproof, but No-har could hear the conversation if he concentrated. From the pause in Isham's speech, she was eavesdropping as well.
'I said,' Harsk's voice, 'the tiger walks. Your own fault. Screwed your own collar, if there was a collar to begin with. Acted worse than a couple of rookies.'
'You can't talk like—'
'Maybe if I put it like this. Fuck you, fuck your little proprietary DBA investigation, and fuck inter-agency cooperation if you're going to fuck up like this around here!'
'Detective Harsk—' That was Conrad.
'Shut the fuck up! DA sent the word. No prosecution on the coffeehouse, self-defense. None on the gun. Check your files, he's had a license since 2043. As far as recklessness is concerned, you're the glorified dimwits that stormed,into Autocab dispatch and not only disabled the override comm, but the emergency shut-off as well. DA's position is, since you didn't identify yourself, and the emergency shutoff was disabled, Ra-jasthan was justified.' 'You don't understand,' Conrad again, 'this is our first lead—'
'The charges from Autocab—'
Hask almost sounded pleased. 'K>« don't understand. You have shit. Autocab is going to press charges— again,?? you two. It might come as a surprise, but not everybody likes to have the DBA walk in and take over. Not to mention the fact the Transportation Safety Board is upset with you. Cutting the override FORESTS OF THE NIGHT
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on a remote vehicle is a felony. Because you two goobers couldn't identify yourself to the suspect, the cab goes flying blind into traffic. You're lucky you don't face kidnapping charges. You're not too far from assault with intent.'
'You don't really believe he thought it was the Zips—'
'You unbelievable shits! Just because it's a morey, doesn't mean you can forget all that bothersome civil rights crap. The collar still has to fly in court. You blew it. Now get the hell out of my station and back to your stakeout in Moreytown—or better, back to the rock you crawled out from.'
'Your superiors are going to hear about this.'
'What a coincidence, your superiors already have. A district chief named Robinson would really like a word with you two.''
That ended the conversation. Nohar turned back to Isham. He was confused. 'IF DBA started this, why were you the arresting officer?''
'Only one with experience tracking moreaus. Trained by Israeli intelligence.' The evil smile was back.
Harsk burst into the room. 'Agent Isham, where the hell you get off dismissing the observing officers? It's against operating procedure for an officer to be left alone with a suspect—'
'I'm not one of your officers, and Rajasthan is no longer a suspect.'
'Christ, woman, are you pulling this shit just to piss me off? Nohar, you're walking. The DBA guys are fucked worse than a ten-dollar whore, and the DA doesn't want to press charges.'
Nohar stood up. 'Thanks.'
