“After I bivouacked here, I called my landlady, ol’ Nhu Nguyen. Madam Nhu. Vietnamese. Told her I’m not coming back. She said an old friend came’round to see me. Didn’t give a name. That was two days after, you know. I don’t need any more people looking for me. Don’t want any other people. Don’t want them. No, thank you.”

His breathing was becoming heavier. He’s zoning out, Dunne thought.

“What’s your name?” Dunne asked.

“Jimmy,” he said.

“Jimmy who?”

“Jimmy … Jimmy Shit-for-brains.”

He closed his eyes.

Dunne reached out to stir him.

“Let him be,” Lopez said.

“I think we should get him out of here,” Dunne said.

“No way,” Lopez said. “I’m not letting him go anywhere. I’ll keep watch over him.” He picked up the gun. “No one knows he’s here. Only you and me. Besides, your record isn’t too hot.”

“Thanks,” Dunne said.

Lopez pulled a sheet off the bed and draped it over Jimmy.

“He and I don’t put much trust in ah-fish-als,” Lopez said, mimicking Jimmy’s drawl. “I don’t think you’ll get him before the commission. Besides, I wouldn’t be too sure they’d want him there.”

“Then maybe we’ll get him a lawyer. He can do a video affadavit. We’ll keep him protected.”

“Or he can sell his story, right? Why give it away? This is a million dollars for him.”

And for you, too? Dunne thought.

“You knew of this special unit?” Dunne asked.

“Only from what he told me.”

“Ever see proof it existed?”

“Proof? Fuck it. Just look at him.”

“When was it operational?”

“Five years back or so.”

Shit, Dunne thought, when Mumfries ran the Senate intelligence committee.

“Okay, so let me bring a lawyer to see him. Get the story on tape. You and he can decide what to do with it—as long as it gets out somehow. And you’ll stay with him here until the morning. Deal?”

Lopez picked up the phone and dialed a number.

“Get me Sandy,” he said into the receiver.

Jimmy was slumped over in the chair, in a deep sleep, wheezing through his mouth.

“Sandy,” Lopez barked. “I’m not coming back tonight. Got some business. So you’re in fucking charge of the fairies—and the cash at the end of the night. Put it all in the safe. I’ll call in a few hours to check on everything. If any of the assholes from the precinct come by, tell them I’m fucking my brains out with a beauty queen and I’ll be there tomorrow. Got it? Good.”

He hung up and looked at Dunne.

“Deal.”

Dunne took the phone number for the apartment and left. Outside the building, three prostitutes passed him.

“Hey sugar,” one said to him. “Want a date?”

“You can pop the cherry tonight,” another said.

“No thanks,” Dunne replied.