I still didn’t understand how Nelson had gotten the best of him in a fight, even in an ambush at night in Ray’s apartment. Nelson had had no gun, only a billy club. A strike from behind crippled Ray’s shoulder. Then he fought back, nearly ripping an ear off Nelson’s head, but he lost. Where was Ray’s gun, where was his training at disarming opponents? It was almost as if he had intended to surrender. He couldn’t have known that I would come looking for him, that Layla, an hour after leaving us, would call her father, Steve Goetz, and use the safe word he had once given her as a teenager, and her father would alert the police to stop Nelson’s car. Ray must have expected to die. Yet here he was, alive.

As for me, I was fine. Hollowed but fine. I had already recovered from the drugging, my right hand was badly bruised but not broken, and the other cuts were superficial. A boring, easily resolved case for the ER, but not for the LAPD. Even with Alicia and a lawyer’s intercession, I had answered the same questions dozens of times. What happened at the bar? What happened when you exited the bar? What happened when you exited the vehicle? What were Layla’s words exactly? Who lifted you into the room? Who shut the door? Did Ray Hendricks tell you anything about how he received his injuries? Nelson and Layla had been arrested outside San Diego, and the police needed an airtight case against Nelson. The case was ours: attempted murder of me and Ray. Proving anything about Calvin’s death would be hard. No evidence linking Nelson to his murder had been found.

The warehouse on Genevieve Street in London had been searched, and the police uncovered illegal Iraqi antiquities hidden in the packaging of contemporary artwork, headed for the United States. The pieces were all small and lightweight, and they fit into cleverly concealed hollows in the plastic foam that kept the contemporary art in place. According to a British employee, who offered information in exchange for police protection, the business had been running for seven years, ever since Nelson had bought the property. The same witness had also known James Compton, and knew that Compton had used the back room of the bar where Nelson worked to purchase looted items from college students who traveled to Turkey for spring break. It was “a popular racket for a while,” the witness said. Free vacations, great pay, and the “added ethical bonus of supporting the funding of contemporary artists” while rescuing Iraqi treasures. He was sure that Nelson de Wilde had gotten his start watching Compton. The witness promised he would name international players in exchange for a plea.