Stone’s eyes are burning now, all patience gone from his face. “Lady, the total tonnage of what you don’t know about federal law enforcement would sink a damned oil tanker.”

Livy is already smiling in triumph when Judge Franklin reprimands Stone for his language.

“Did you feel,” she goes on, prodding a different nerve, “that John Portman had anything to do with your dismissal from the FBI?”

“I know he did.”

“How do you know?”

“Portman had known since the Payton case that I didn’t go along with what Hoover had done.”

“Allegedly done.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“I’m warning you, Mr. Stone,” Franklin cuts in.

“How did Mr. Portman influence your dismissal?” Livy asks.

“He reported all my conversations and movements to Hoover after the director took over the Payton case.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Because he sensed that I wasn’t going to toe the line. He sensed my sympathy for Del Payton and Ike Ransom. Hoover’s standard procedure would have been to tell Portman to keep a close eye on me and report back. This was Portman’s first major case. He would have kissed Hoover’s— He’d have done whatever Hoover told him to without question.”

“What else did Portman do?”

“Two days before I was fired, evidence pertaining to the Payton case was stolen from my apartment. Portman took that.”

“I thought you told us that Director Hoover requested that all the Payton evidence be forwarded to Washington.”

“I kept copies of certain things.”

“Against direct orders?”

“Yes.”

“Why do you think it was Portman who allegedly stole this material?”

“He left me a calling card.”

“A business card?”

“No. A map.”

Livy looks less certain here. “What kind of map?”

“My evidence was hidden behind a wall panel. After the theft the panel was purposefully left out of place. When I looked inside the wall, I found a map of Natchez, Mississippi. There’d been no map there before. That was Portman’s calling card. That was the only place we’d ever served together. I suppose he thought it displayed a certain wit.”

“How do you feel about Mr. Portman personally?”

“Since he sent four men to kill me last night, I don’t feel too well disposed toward him.”

“The jury will disregard that statement,” Judge Franklin cuts in. “Confine yourself to the question, Mr. Stone.”

“All right. I think John Portman is a rich, spineless bureaucrat who didn’t get spanked enough when he was a kid.”

Franklin turns red, but Livy is ecstatic. Stone is giving her exactly what she wants. Before Franklin can reprimand him, she turns to face the jury box.

“Mr. Stone, did you enter into a conspiracy with the author Penn Cage to ruin the careers of John Portman and Leo Marston?”

He blinks in surprise. “What? Absolutely not.”

“But you see the symmetry of the suggestion?”

“I do not.”