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“The chief of police is with us, Stark. There’s nowhere you can hide in L.A.”
I look at him for a minute.
“What size uniform do you wear? After your bang-up job protecting Blackburn, I’m picturing your next gig as a rent-a-cop guarding a Denny’s in Fresno.”
“That’s it,” says Wells. “Stark, you shut up. Mr. Ishii, thank you for the sad news about the Augur’s passing and your concerns about his death. The Vigil will do whatever it can to aid in the investigation.”
I know Ishii wants to say something more, but Wells looks like he’s one deep breath from pepper-spraying the guy. Ishii turns and leaves.
Wells goes back to his desk. Takes out a handkerchief and wipes off Ishii’s prints.
I say, “You finally convinced I’m not Saint Nick?”
“Not by that scene,” Wells says.
He takes a print out from a manila envelope on his desk. It’s a drawing. A crude map.
“Washington convinced me you’re innocent. Their psychics are sure they’ve tracked down Saint Nick and he’s not where you’re standing.”
“Where is he?”
Wells turns the drawing around. I was right. It’s a map, probably drawn by one of the psychics. A long street dotted with what look like office towers.
“He’s in the Pickman Building on Wilshire. They don’t know if he’s a guest or a prisoner, but they’re sure he’s there on the top floor.”
He points to a building marked with a crude star, like something someone would draw while in a trance.
“You’re going to go and get him,” says Wells.
I look at the map. The mark looks like it’s around the corner of Wilshire and South Robertson.
“Why me?”
“Because you’re good at getting in and ou
t of places. You’re going to use that power for something useful and end this maniac’s run once and for all.”
“Do you have anything more than this map? It’s pretty, but office buildings tend to have a lot of rooms in them.”
Wells shows me another drawing with a room marked on the top floor of a ten-story building.
“We know right where he is. And you won’t be going in alone. An agent from our special operations team will be going with you.”
“I’m not Saint Nick, but you still don’t trust me.”
“You’re right, I don’t,” he says. “But this isn’t a matter of trust. It’s a matter of skills, which the agent has. Also, it’s a matter of judgment. Like what happened in the Shonin’s room today.”
I push the drawing back across the table.
“Do I get to meet Derek Flint before the job?”
“You already know her,” says Wells. “Julie Sola. Why do you think I wanted her back on the team? She was just a rookie in the service, but she was experienced in special operations for an agency you don’t need to know about.”
So that’s why she was with Vidocq. Probably picking up a few last minutes of B&E tips.
“When do we leave?”
“Tonight. Marshal Sola has sketched out a good plan. She’ll get you up to speed later.”
