Win watched Myron, an amused smile curling the ends of his mouth. Eric Ford, deputy director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, was the man in the suit. His presence meant one thing: This was serious big-time.

Kimberly Green pointed at Esperanza. "What's she doing in here?"

"She's my partner," Myron said. "And it's not polite to point."

"Your partner? You think this is a business transaction?"

"She stays," Myron said.

"No," Kimberly Green said. She was still wearing the ball-and-chain earrings, still the jeans and black turtleneck, but the jacket now was spearmint green. "We're not exactly thrilled talking to you and Cheekbones boy over there"--she gestured toward Win-- "but at least you have some clearance. We don't know her. She goes."

Win's smile spread and his eyebrows did a quick up-and-down. Cheekbones. He liked that.

"She goes," Green said again.

Esperanza shrugged. "No biggie," she said.

Myron was about to say something, but Win shook his head. He was right. Save it for the important battles.

Esperanza left. Win got up and gave Myron the chair. He stood on Myron's right, arms crossed, totally at ease. Green and Peck fidgeted. Myron turned to Eric Ford. "I don't think we've met."

"But you know who I am," Ford said. He had one of those smooth soft-rock-DJ voices.

"Yes."

"And I know who you are," he said. "So what would be the point?"

Oookay. Myron glanced back at Win. Win shrugged.

Ford nodded at Kimberly Green. She cleared her throat. "For the record," she said, "we don't think we should have to go through this."

"Through what?"

"Telling you about our investigation. Debriefing you. As a good citizen, you should be willing to cooperate with our investigation because it's the right thing to do."

Myron looked at Win and said, "Oh boy."

"Some aspects of an investigation need to be contained," she continued. "You and Mr. Lockwood should understand that better than most. You should be anxious to cooperate with any federal investigation. You should respect what we're trying to do here."

"Right, okay, we respect. Can we skip ahead, please? You looked us up. You know we'll keep our mouths shut. Otherwise none of us would be here."

She folded her hands and put them in her lap. Peck kept his head down and scribbled notes, Lord knew on what. Myron's decor maybe. "What we say here cannot leave this room. It is classified to the highest--"

"Skipping," Myron said with an impatient hand roll. "Skipping."

Green slid her eyes toward Ford. He nodded again. She took a deep breath and said, "We have Stan Gibbs under surveillance."

She stopped, settled back. Myron waited a few seconds and then said, "Label me surprised."

"That information is classified," she said.

"Then I'll leave it out of my diary."

"He isn't supposed to know."

"Well, that's usually implied with words like 'classified' and 'surveillance.'"

"But Gibbs does know. He loses us whenever he really wants. Because when he's out in public, we can't get too close."