“Because you stole it,” said Salzman. “Now it’s your responsibility to get it back before Babylon sells it to some rogue state and ends the world.”

Coop looked at Salzman. He looked at Bayliss and Nelson. “You don’t want me. You just want a fall guy in case we all end up wearing top hats and bustles. Which you’d look dashing in, by the way.”

“Shut up,” Nelson said.

“Not you,” said Coop, turning to Nelson. “You’re more the bearskins and raw meat type.”

“An apt description,” said Salzman. “We want the box and you don’t want to go back to jail. And you will go to jail if you say no to us.”

Coop looked at Salzman’s fried-egg eyes and knew he’d do it. “Even if I get the box back, how do I know you won’t turn around and send me to jail anyway?”

“You don’t, but if you refuse to work for the DOPS, I’ll see that you do life. Maybe longer.”

Coop didn’t like the sound of that last part. He thought about it for a minute and said, “Even if I say yes, I’m not a skip tracer. How am I supposed to find Babylon?”

“Let us worry about that. We have someone who can help you.”

“Who?”

“We’ll come to that later. Do you agree to our terms?” said Salzman.

“Not yet,” said Coop. “If I get the box back, what do I get?”

“You’re free to go and return to your rich and rewarding world of stealing hubcaps and ripping off candy stores. The DOPS is in the business of protecting the world, not chasing pickpockets.”

“I haven’t picked a pocket since I was sixteen.”

“Nice to hear that you’re a reformed man.”

Coop looked at Bayliss and Nelson. Bayliss was staring at her laptop screen, looking uncomfortable. She didn’t like rough stuff like this. Good to know. Nelson, on the other hand, looked at Coop like he wanted to grill him over mesquite coals and serve him with a baked potato.

“Okay,” Coop said. “But I get to pick my own crew. People I know I can trust.”

Salzman shook his head. “We have plenty of competent people in the DOPS who can help you. Just let us know what you need.”

“No deal.”

Salzman tapped his finger on the green file folder. Coop was sick of seeing green file folders. They were nothing but trouble.

“Let’s compromise,” said Salzman. “You get to pick one of your criminal associates. He or she will get the same deal as you. Jail or freedom.”

“Fine. I want Morty for my Flasher. But I want to meet your people before I agree to work with them.”

“That’s not a problem. In fact, I think you know some of our agents.”

“Who?”

“Phil Spectre seems to think highly of you.”