Haldeman studied him. “I think you’re telling me the truth. Tsk, tsk. The agony of uncertainty.” His grin was wide, sudden, playful but malevolent. “I make my living off it.”

The young, male clerk at the Beverly Hills Budget Rent A Car office wasn’t impressed by the badge. Or the request. “We’ve got four silver 1 series.”

“This one would’ve been rented long-term, maybe as long as a year and a half, two years ago, possibly by a man named Markham Suss.”

The clerk typed. “I’ve got a Markham Industries renting a 1 series twenty-two months ago.”

“For who?”

“Just says Markham Industries. And it got returned … five days ago.”

“By who?”

“I’d assume Markham Industries. Says here it was dropped off after hours with none of the required paperwork. There was a month to go on the agreement and no damage, so we let it ride. If there was damage, we’d pursue to recover.”

Milo said, “Markham Industries went out of business before the car was rented.”

“Okay,” said the clerk. “So that’s why you’re here.”

“What do you mean?”

“It was used for something illegal, right? We get that all the time. People coming into Beverly Hills for their rentals thinking it’s going to make them look respectable when they do something illegal.”

“Like what?”

“Drugs, mostly. Last year, these guys come in from Compton, think they’re pulling off some big con ’cause they’re wearing suits. We’re real careful about our screening.”

Not careful enough to check on Markham Industries. Or maybe Mark Suss had kept a corporate account going after dissolving his company.

Milo said, “What kind of background did you do on Markham Industries?”

The clerk typed some more, peered at his computer.

When the revolution comes, machines will talk to machines and people’s vocal cords will atrophy.

“Doesn’t say much, guess they checked out okay. We don’t rent without proper documentation … looks like it was initially a two-week rental, then they renewed for a month … then three … then another three then—whoa, after that was a whole year—that’s super-long for us.” He scanned the fine print. “Looks like they asked for the long-term preferred rate, looks like they got it … whoa, they got it retroactive, big rebate for the first six months.”

“How was payment made?”

“Corporate Amex.”

“Signed by who?”

“Says here M. Suss.”

“Card number, please.”

“I’m not sure I can do that.”

Milo leaned forward. “Trust me, you can.”

The clerk deliberated.

Milo said, “M. Suss is dead, therefore he has no right to confidentiality.”

The clerk’s fingernail pinged his keyboard. “It’s your responsibility.”

Milo copied the number. “Anyone else co-sign the lease?”

“Um … doesn’t appear to be.”

“If Mr. Suss was renting the car for someone else would you need the driver’s signature?”