Damage

"I hope," Farrell said, "that goes without saying."

"Sorry." Lapeer's smile was tight and unyielding. "In Philadelphia, sometimes that wasn't always so clear." Now she turned to Glitsky. "I'd try to get your investigations on these two new cases assigned to an event number"-this meant that the investigations would have an unlimited budget from the city's General Fund-"but I'd have to get His Honor to sign off on that, and we can't go there. So given that that's not going to happen, do you have enough personnel, Abe?"

"I could move people around, maybe assign out overtime," he said, "but who's going to pay for it?"

"How about if you go over budget, you don't get dinged? On my guarantee."

"Thank you," Glitsky said. "I'll find some troops and put them on it." He turned to Farrell. "So what's our time frame on this?"

Farrell shrugged, looked over to Jenkins. "Amanda?"

"If I drop everything else, I can present most of it next week, that is a week from tomorrow. Or you could, Wes, if I brought you up to speed."

"It's your case," Farrell said.

"All right." Jenkins, clearly pleased, let out a breath of relief. "I'll need every witness I can get, both from Ro's trial and from the ongoing investigations. If all goes perfectly, maybe we can hope for an indictment two weeks from tomorrow."

"Jesus Christ," Arnie Becker said. "That long? He could wipe out half the city in that time."

Jenkins threw him a look. "Maybe, but that long would basically be a world record for speed, Inspector," she said.

"In the meantime," Lapeer said, "I can keep it out of the homicide budget and authorize putting someone on him twenty-four/ seven."

"I've already done that," Jenkins said.

This was news to Farrell. "You did?"

"Well, he volunteered, actually. Matt Lewis. One of our inspectors," she explained to Lapeer. "Matt thought I might be a next possible target and wanted to keep an eye out. And it wasn't twenty-four /seven. Just his shift and then maybe a few hours at night."

"He'll want some backup, then," Lapeer said.

"That would help," Jenkins said.

Farrell surveyed the room briefly. "All right," he said, "it looks like we've got a workable plan with a reasonable timeline. Longer than I'd like in a perfect world, but probably the best we can do. Amanda, since you're going to be presenting to the grand jury, why don't you take point coordinating all these efforts with what you're going to need. Couple of weeks, with any luck, we'll get this animal back where he belongs before he can do any more damage. I want to thank you all again for…"

A knock on the door interrupted him, followed immediately by Treya from the outer office. "I'm sorry to interrupt," she said, "but Abe, somebody hunted you down and there's an urgent call for you out at my desk."

20

In the decade or so that it had been since he'd last shot anybody, Eztli had almost forgotten the pure adrenaline rush and pleasure of violent action, of simple pure killing. He didn't realize how much he'd missed it, having to make do over the years with the vicarious thrills of gamecock or dog fighting. Now, the taste of blood still fresh in his mouth, it was as though he'd been sensation deprived, weaned slowly, methodically, and successfully off his drug and then reintroduced to its power and its beauty.

In ways he didn't try to understand, he knew that Ro was somehow the source of this drug. Before Ro had gotten out of jail, Eztli had been marking time, comfortable and secure, with the Curtlees. And then, suddenly Ro appeared at the home with his energy and fearlessness, and Eztli, riding around with him, catching the high-tension vibe of the younger man, had in the past days woken up from what felt like a long sleep. Ending in the climax of the gunshot to the man's head this afternoon. Ro, perhaps even unwittingly, had been the catalyst, the gateway to the drug.

And Eztli was going to protect that source.

Now at around nine o'clock, he was sitting in his car alone, parked across the street from Buena Vista Park in the Upper Haight. Wes Farrell lived in a medium-size Victorian home just down the block that Eztli and Ro had checked out-the address compliments of one of Denardi's private investigators-as one of Ro's first excursions after he'd gotten home. Farrell, Eztli knew, was going to be the key to whatever happened with Ro-and Farrell was weak and indecisive.

He could be controlled, and much more effectively than with Cliff and Theresa's carrot-and-stick, relatively subtle approach.

The trick, Eztli felt, was to see the man in his natural environment and determine where, when, and what kind of pressure to bring to bear on him to control his decision-making. What Eztli had said to Ro was true-Farrell was his best friend. It really wasn't in Ro's, or Eztli's, best interests to eliminate Farrell, to take him entirely out of the picture. No, Farrell needed to be part of any equation that could keep Ro permanently out of prison. He would be crucial to that.

Eztli simply had to make him understand the seriousness of the situation. So far, Farrell had mostly stood aside and let things happen, and the Curtlees' influence had carried the day. But eventually he was going to have to make a decision-to prosecute Ro or to let the matter drop. Eztli did not want him confused as to the proper choice.

So he had to get to know him a little more. See where the pressure points were. When Farrell dragged himself back into his home at nine thirty that Monday night, he could not ever remember being so tired. Somewhat to his surprise, the house was completely dark. Well, he wouldn't blame Sam if she had decided to go out to have dinner somewhere by herself or even with one of her friends. He'd been terrible company lately.

Tonight he hadn't called her to tell her he'd be late, hadn't even thought about it in the hurricane of emotion and upheaval that had swept through his office at the news that Matt Lewis had been found shot to death in his car out in the Fillmore district. Amanda Jenkins breaking down, inconsolably wedged between grief and guilt, John Strout, Treya, and Farrell himself administering to her while Glitsky and Becker headed out to the crime scene. Lapeer herself, the chief of police, had gone down to the magistrate on duty to try to get whoever it was to sign off on a search warrant for the Curtlee home, since no one had the tiniest doubt as to who was responsible for Lewis's death.

Farrell flicked on the light by the front door and in a second he heard the familiar click, click, click of Gert's nails on the hardwood floor as she came padding out of the kitchen to meet him. She'd probably been sleeping in her bed in there, and now he reached down and petted her. "Where's your mom?" he asked, putting down his briefcase, turning on more lights, heading for the refrigerator.

The answer came in the form of a note she left him on the kitchen counter:

"Wes-Sorry if this seems abrupt, but we both know I've been thinking about taking a little time off from us for a while now. You not calling or making it home tonight, after all of our discussions about just keeping on communicating with one another…

"Anyway, it was a wake-up call telling me that I should actually do something, rather than just taking things as they come and building up resentment against you. If I was choosing to stay around here and just keep taking it, whose fault is that? So I'm going to be staying over at Marianne's house for at least the next few days and I'd appreciate it if you'd leave me my space so I can think about what comes next for us. I don't know, maybe you won't want me back once you get used to me being gone, either. You've got to admit we haven't been having much fun lately. I'm not really much of a politician's wife, or even girlfriend, I'm afraid. I just don't seem to have much of a stomach for it. The compromises, the deals, Ro Curtlee, all of it.

"I do still love you-I do-and I'm fine. But I don't know if I can live anymore, or want to, the way we've been lately. Sam

"P.S. Gert has had dinner, but probably needs a walk before bed. If you want, you can leave her at the Center during the days, and I'll drop her back here at night, if you're going to be around. Just let me know."