He threw money on the table and left the coffee shop. The old woman’s stare followed his path to the door.

The Shining Light Mission was five stories of brick-faced stucco painted corn yellow and sided by rusting gray fire escapes. No friezework, no moldings, not the slightest nod to design. It reminded Milo of one of those drawings little kids do when asked to render a building. One big rectangle specked with little window squares. The place even tilted. As a hotel, the Grande Royale had been anything but.

Old men with collapsed jaws and runny eyes years past self-torment loitered in front and every one of them greeted Milo with the excessive amiability of the habitual miscreant.

Knowing exactly what he was—no way could he be taken for anything else. As he entered the mission, he wondered if the cop aura would stick after he left the department. Which might be sooner rather than later; going up against the chief wasn’t a formula for career longevity.

Even an unpopular chief who might be leaving soon himself. Milo had been scouring the papers for Broussard stories, and this morning he’d found yet another one in the Times. Pontification on the chief’s rejected raise by two members of the police commission. Defying the mayor who’d appointed them, which meant they were serious.

“Chief Broussard represents a long-entrenched police culture that contributes to intracommunity tension.”

Politico-blab for “Update your résumé, J.G.”

Broussard had come into office in the aftermath of the Rampart scandal, and the commission had offered no hint at new corruption. The chief’s problem was his personality. Arrogance as he bucked the commission at every turn. In that sense, the chief still thought like a cop: Civilian meddling was the enemy. But Broussard’s imperious nature had alienated the wrong people, well past the point where even pals like the mayor and Walt Obey could help him.

Then again, maybe Broussard didn’t care about losing his job, because he had something waiting in the wings.

Converting his unpaid position as security consultant to Obey’s Esperanza project into a nice, fat corporate gig that would guarantee him long-term status and bucks, keep the wife in Cadillacs and whatever else floated her canoe.

If so, what was Obey getting out of the deal?

The Cossacks’ participation as refinancers fit perfectly. They owed Broussard big-time for the Ingalls cover-up, would go with the flow. Could Alex be right about Obey getting himself into a financial bind, needing the brothers as white knights?

Any way you turned it, Milo knew he was a flea. What the hell, safety and security were for wimps.