"we've come in search of two namericans, a mother and daughter, who we have reason to believe may have fled into La Amistad. We know they arrived in San Jose not long ago. We were told by the authorities that the Ciudad Simiano administers and monitors all entry to the Reserva. It would be a great help to us if you could check your records, to see if anyone matching descriptions we will provide has entered at any time in the past several weeks, and if so, where they might be located now."
"I see." The gorilla nodded. "You used the word 'fled.' That is a very strong word, Mr. Cardenas."
"It may not be strong enough. We believe the mother and daughter have come this way seeking refuge from those who intend them harm. If you could just check your entry records, we may be able to single them out even without available visuals. They may be periodically changing their appearance as well as their names."
Leaning forward slightly, the Director rested his prominent chin on one fist. "These bad individuals you speak of: you really think they might try to follow these females all the way into the CAF?"
Hyaki nodded vigorously. "Sooner or later, they'll track them down. Even to a place as remote as Amistad. The NFP doesn't know all the details yet, but there seems to be something of considerable importance at stake. Whatever is involved is big enough that people are willing to die to control whatever it is. My partner and I, representing and on behalf of the NFP, would dearly like to know its nature. We'd also like to help these women survive. We have a highly evolved witness protection program that could be of great benefit to them."
Sorong sat back and placed an enormous hand on each knee. "If they have tried to enter here, Amistad is a big place. Lots of room to hide, plenty of trails into the mountains. If they have acquired assistance from someone in Progresso or another of the human communities, they could be impossible to track."
"These days, no one is impossible to track," Cardenas responded tersely. "The people who are after them are sophisticated, and they have resources. They're not your average street loco. My partner and I have had the opportunity to become personally acquainted with their capabilities. This woman, Surtsey Mockerkin, and her daughter Katla, will be found. It may take those hunting them some time, but when money is no object, results are invariably forthcoming. I've looked at and smelled too many spizzed bodies to think this state of affairs will turn out any differently-unless we can take them into protective custody first."
"That's assuming," Hyaki put in, "that they haven't been tracked down and taken away from here already."
Heaving a ponderous sigh, the gorilla adjusted his spectacles. "They haven't."
Though he had failed to intuit the Director's reaction, Cardenas was not slow in responding to it. "You've seen them? Then they are in the Reserva." He worked to keep his voice steady. "Do you happen to know where they are now?"
"I do."
"Well then," Hyaki blurted out before Cardenas could restrain him, "tell us!"
"Perhaps." Unperturbed by the sergeant's agitation, the Director turned to contemplate the rolling, untouched jungle beyond the porch. "What if I were to assure you that both females are in no danger of being forcibly removed from the Reserva?"
"There's no way you can do that," Cardenas replied bluntly. "There's no way you can prove that to my satisfaction."
Sorong half closed his eyes, as if pondering weightier matters, before looking back to his guests. "Let's take a walk." Rising, he led them back through the building and down the front steps into the central courtyard. Although plenty of primates were present, garrulous Joe was not among them. Hyaki was in an agony of impatience, but Cardenas saw that there was nothing to be gained by insisting. Attempting to pressure an entity like Sorong could prove counterproductive. Their host would help them in his own time-or not at all.
"We didn't ask for the raise in intelligence we were given," Sorong explained as they crossed the neat, well-kept grounds, "but now that it has been given to us, we have no intention of handing it back. The relevant genes appear to be dominant, and are being passed along to descendants at a rate of four to one. Those who are not so gifted at birth are loved and cared for here as affectionately and appropriately as are any comparably impaired human infants. Those primates who are only capable of lower forms of intelligence, from macaques to vervets, are looked after by the rest of us. There is less intelligence prejudice here than in your typical human community." Rising up from all fours, he gestured at the buildings of the compound and the intact rainforest that swept up to cover the surrounding mountainsides in varying shades of pristine green.
"For those of us who now live here, Amistad is a primate paradise. As per the articles that established the Ciudad Simiano, no humans are allowed in the Reserva without our permission. Not even scientists wishing to do research. We run our own affairs. In return for being allowed to do this, we are better guardians of the park than any human rangers could be. Since the advent of our stewardship, not a single species of plant or animal has gone extinct within the Reserva. No other park in the Americas can make such a claim." Deep-set, heavily browed eyes regarded Cardenas unblinkingly.
"Chimps and gorillas who have undergone training here are working as park rangers in Africa, in South America, and in Asia, guarding preserves difficult for humans to watch, scanning for poachers, taking readings for scientists. It is a relationship that has benefited all who are involved. Meanwhile, as I said, the more intelligent apes look after the lesser ones. As a system, it functions quite well. The only humans allowed in are those who have been preaccredited and accepted by us. No one else."
Hyaki watched a quartet of sifakas lope across the path in front of them. "But you told us that there are many ways for people to slip into the Reserva."
Sorong nodded. "It is difficult but not impossible to make an illegal entry. But to remain within the Reserva boundaries unobserved for any extended length of time is very difficult. Few try. One reason is that because of our presence here the park has acquired… a reputation. Largely undeserved, but we do not make an active effort to discourage it. Anyone found inside the Reserva boundaries without authorization is arrested by Joe's people. The sight of a dozen or more of us, irregardless of size, aggressively wielding knives and other weapons is usually enough to humble the boldest intruder."
"Meaning," Cardenas observed sagely, "that if the Mockerkin women are within the Reserva, as you claim, and you know their current whereabouts, then they most likely are here with your permission."
A large, free-standing statue dominated the far side of the courtyard. Wreaths of flowers had been placed at its base. The eyes of the beautifully sculpted figure appeared to be gazing off into the distance, beyond the compound, beyond the rainforest. Both hands were upraised, the thick fingers spread in a complex gesture. The figure was that of an aged, wizened mountain gorilla. Set in the base was a single bronze plate on which were inscribed multiple dates, and a single name.
KOKO
Hyaki gazed up at the solemn, yearning countenance that had been memorialized in bronze. "Friend of yours?"
Their host was gazing respectfully, if not reverently, at the statue. "No, not a friend. A long-deceased relation, I am afraid. A most remarkable individual in the annals of primate development. A predecessor, you might say. Koko was a project. One who learned a great deal of universal human sign language, and in so doing helped to pave the way for the present intellectual circumstances of the inhabitants of this compound. Among us, Koko is venerated the way your kind revere an Einstein or da Vinci."
Cardenas did not wish to appear impolite, but much as he was personally enjoying the tour, professionally he was no less keen to pursue their lead than was his partner. He said as much to Sorong.
The gorilla sighed and dug at the fur under one arm. "I was afraid it might come to something like this when we signed on to the original arrangement."
His visitors exchanged a glance. "What arrangement?" Cardenas inquired without hesitation.
"Between ourselves and the females you seek. They did not use the name you mentioned earlier, but given their circumstances, one would expect them to employ many different names."
"Just so you should know," Cardenas informed him, "Mockerkin is their real name. Surtsey and Katla Mockerkin. Have they told you who they are running from?"
"Just that they are in danger, and needed a refuge."
The Inspector nodded understandingly. "They're fleeing the woman's husband and the girl's father, who is from all records and accounts a particularly nasty sort of felon. There are others after them as well, some for reasons we can determine, others for purposes we're still not sure of. This matter has already resulted in the deaths of several people, among whom my partner and I were nearly included." Leaning forward, he tried to bring all his considerable powers of persuasion to bear. "Based on what we do know, and have already undergone in the course of pursuing this case, the presence of these women constitutes a danger to anyone and everyone who happens to be in their vicinity."
Sorong looked distinctly unhappy. "If that is so, then those who agreed to the present arrangement, myself included, were not told the true extent of the risk. Understand," he explained calmly as he adjusted his glasses, "we of the Simiano are not afraid of anyone who might be tracking the two females. The jungle is not the city, and those who arrive here planning to make trouble usually find it. We know how to take care of ourselves."
Eyeing the two-hundred-kilo silverback, Cardenas saw no reason to doubt the Director's claim. Jumping someone walking the streets of the Strip was one thing; trying to root them out of a jungle hideaway defended by intelligent, weapons-bearing apes was something else entirely. The Inzini, the Ooze from Oz, and their fellow antisocs would likely as not find themselves as out of their depth in these green canyons as did Cardenas and his partner. On the Strip, they could blend in easily. In La Amistad, they would stick out like tofu in a steakhouse. Surtsey Mockerkin and Wayne Brummel had chosen well their refuge of last resort.
The Inspector prodded their host. "You spoke of a 'present arrangement.' "
"We do not provide sanctuary for nonsimians out of the goodness of our hearts. Our resources here are limited, and perforce must be allocated on behalf of those who need them most. Charitable donations, stipends for maintaining the integrity of the Reserva, and volunteers who aid in medical research cover the majority of our expenses. And there is the substantial annual royalty that accrues to the Ciudad from our assistance in ongoing research to develop a final AIDS vaccine. Still, there are always needs." He eyed Cardenas evenly.
"We have a financial arrangement with these females, to see to their safety and security. The thought of breaching that agreement, even on behalf of the law outside the Reserva, troubles me."
"It would be to their benefit. They can't run and hide forever. Not even here." It took Cardenas a moment to realize that Sorong was waiting to hear something else. "The NFP maintains a fund for compensating those who assist in police work. If you're concerned about losing a source of income, I'm sure we can work something out so that all concerned parties are satisfied."
The great ape nodded slowly. "You know, federale, Ciudad Simiano is still a controversial project among many humans. They feel threatened." Like the rest of him, Sorong's smile was something to behold. "As if revenge were a trans-species sentiment! As if those here brooded over justice for all of our relations who have been tormented in primitive medical labs, or cooped up in tiny cages in what feebly passed for zoos, or slaughtered for bush meat, or stolen as infants for the pet trade."
"I'm glad to hear," Cardenas replied softly, "that you're not vindictive."
Huge arms spread wide in a gesture of helplessness. "What would be the point? Both the victims and their perpetrators are long dead. Meanwhile, humans kill other humans far more frequently and with greater gusto than they kill us. Here at Ciudad Simiano, we hope to move beyond that. But there are humans who are terrified of genetically enhanced grasses. I can hardly begin to describe to you how such Luddites react to the existence of my friends and I." He leaned forward slightly. "Have you ever reviewed an ancient vit series with the cluster title Planet of the Apes?"
"No, I don't believe I have," Cardenas told him.
The Director sat back. "Scare tactics. Nothing but scare tactics. However, the ignorant are always with us, and are ready to swallow any sort of codswallop the many extant myopic organizations care to dish out. It therefore behooves those of us who live here to avoid trouble and unfavorable publicity. We just want to be left alone, to be ourselves, so that we can work out the ultimate ramifications of this enhanced intelligence as best we can."
Hyaki had been quiet for some time. Now he chose to rejoin the discussion. "A local war between yourselves and antisocs from all over the northern hemisphere might not be the best way to accomplish that."
"I see that we are of one mind in this." Grunting profoundly, Sorong thumped himself on the chest with one closed fist. The action generated a dull booming sound. "If the financial details can be worked out-and I see no reason why they cannot-then in the interests of preserving the peace and ensuring the safety of the two females, we might agree to release them into your custody. After all, they are human. It is not as if they are bonobos." His expression narrowed. "But we will do this only if they consent to go with you of their own free will. The Ciudad Simiano does have a reputation to maintain."
Cardenas turned away from the imposing icon of Koko. "So does the NFP. I wouldn't want to see either damaged."
"I suppose you would like to meet with the two females and make certain they are indeed the pair that you seek."
Hyaki contained his excitement. It was starting to look as if the long trip south was going to turn out to be productive after all. "That would be a good next step, yeah."
Cardenas nodded agreement. "How long before you can locate them and bring them back here, or take us to them?"
Sorong grinned like an overgrown kid. "About five minutes." Raising a massive gray arm, he pointed to one of the many tracks that led back into the surrounding jungle. "They're staying in guest house number three. It is clearly marked, you cannot miss it. I would go with you, but I have much work to do. After you have introduced yourselves, we can proceed from there. Be sure to announce your arrival before entering the building."
Thanking him, they parted ways, the two federales heading in the direction of the indicated path. Dense verdure quickly closed in around them. The proximity to exotic rainforest vegetation and the plethora of insects and arachnids it accommodated probably did not bother the primates. Used to cityscapes and open spaces, the two urbanized visitors from the north were considerably less at ease in the thick jungle. Cardenas was glad it was only a short walk to their indicated destination, and said so.
"It's not so bad." Bending low, Hyaki ducked beneath an overhanging branch heavy with leaves and small nesting epiphytes. "All you have to do is pretend that you're walking through the botanical gardens in North Tucson. The smell's the same."
Glancing back at his partner, Cardenas's eyes widened slightly. For once, it was left to the sergeant to do the intuiting. "Something wrong?"
"Depends." The Inspector continued to stare. "On whether you can pretend that the spider that's riding on your shoulder is like the ones you're likely to find in the botanical gardens in North Tucson."
Looking to his left, Hyaki found himself eye to eye with a typically enormous representative of the group of arachnids known as the orb weavers. With legs longer than the federale's fingers and a black-and-yellow abdomen the size of his fist, the giant orb spider made for an imposing presence on the sergeant's shoulder. Spurning his visitor's sartorial elegance, Hyaki began yelling and thrashing wildly with both hands, until the huge arachnid had been knocked off into the brush. That it was not particularly poisonous mattered not an iota to the unhappy sergeant. Even had he been aware of the fact, it was doubtful he would have reacted any more calmly.
Cardenas could not blame him. In his experience, few folk liked spiders, and he was not ashamed to admit that he could count himself among them. Righting itself among the leaves and other forest detritus where it had landed, the orb weaver scuttled rapidly out of sight.
Hyaki continued to twitch nervously and brush repeatedly at himself for several minutes following the encounter. "Brrrr! I'd rather face a squat of ninlocos." He held up thumb and forefinger. "The damn thing was this close to my face!"
"I'm told it's not what you can see that gets to you in places like this." Cardenas warily pushed aside a sapling that was sprouting from the center of the trail. "It's the things you can't. Leeches, for example. Ticks and fleas. Flies carrying leishmaniasis. Bugs that-"
His partner cut him off. "I get the point. Me, I was ready for the streets of Nogales as soon as our shuttle landed in San Jose. Give me thick walls and high pavement anyday."
"And the coffee and beignets at Rosa's Cafe." Cardenas's voice dripped with longing. "Crepes with prickly pear jam and whipped cream. Lingonberry sopapillas."
"I told you," Hyaki groused at his friend. "I get the point."
"That must be it." As they emerged from the narrow trail into a small clearing, Cardenas increased his stride, grateful to be out from beneath the undergrowth.
In front of them, backing up against the imposing foliage, was a building unlike any they had encountered in the Ciudad compound. Constructed largely of local materials, it appeared to be an architectural throwback to an earlier time. Set on pilings driven into the ground, the single-story structure was spacious enough to contain three or four good-sized rooms beneath the thatched palm roof. Twenty steps fashioned of split logs comprised the wide stairway that led up to the covered front deck, from which any inhabitants would have a fine view of the surrounding jungle. There was no sign of the usual wiring that defined modern construction.
Cardenas led the way up the stairs. No glass was in evidence; windows and doors alike featuring only mesh screening. The periodic hiss-sst of an unseen electronic insect repeller indicated that the edifice was equipped with at least one piece of modern technology. Evidently, an inclination on the part of the building's residents to return to the wild did not necessarily include an urge to feed it.
Cardenas was a little surprised to find the screen door unlocked. Exchanging a look with his partner, he entered. It was surprisingly cool and dry within, clearly due to the silent exertions of artfully concealed air-conditioning and dehumidifying appliances. Moving slowly down the hallway and looking to his right, he found himself gazing into a comfortable sitting room. Couches and chairs fashioned of rattan and other local materials cradling cushions imported from the outside world clustered around the ubiquitous vit. Floor mats of woven coconut fiber alternated with decorative pads fashioned from palm fronds. As for the inventive paintings and bas-reliefs and color-crawls that decorated the walls and rested on small wooden tables, he found himself wondering if they had been fashioned by human hands-or by those belonging to close cousins.
"Who is it?" a strong feminine voice inquired from the far side of the hallway. "I hope you were able to find some-"
Turning, Cardenas found himself confronting a slightly stocky and undeniably attractive woman in her early thirties. Shoulder-length blonde hair was drawn back in a single ponytail, an eminently sensible do for the high tropics. Her face was devoid of makeup and cosmetics of any kind. The single wraparound pale yellow garment she wore was dominated by a bold bougainvillea print, more South Pacific than Central America. Her feet were small and bare, the nails unembellished. A sole concession to contemporary convention was the small audio-only muse player that fit neatly into her right ear.
"Surtsey Mockerkin?" Cardenas started to reach into the inside pocket of his short-sleeved shirt to show her his ident bracelet. "I'm-"
The blood seemed to drain from her face. Her expression grew stricken. "Roger!" she screamed.
Before either man could explain himself further, a bulbous streak of muscular red-orange came tearing into the room, brushing past the frightened woman as it flew at the pair of visitors. A heavy, tree sap-stained machete gripped tightly in one hand struck first at Hyaki, descending with enough force to cleave an arm from a shoulder. Remarkably agile for such a big man, and used to dealing with assailants, the sergeant lunged to one side and struck at his attacker as he rushed past. Powerful enough to bring most men to their knees, the blow didn't even slow the figure wielding the big bush knife.
But then, it wasn't a man.
Whirling, the furious orangutan took a second swipe at the sergeant, who darted behind the rattan couch and picked up a chair to defend himself. With one hand the orang, kilo for kilo far stronger than any human, lifted the couch and flung it out of the way. While the reddish-orange ape stalked Hyaki, Cardenas was able to rush to the woman's side. Since her whole posture was reflective of profound inner fear, he hastened to reassure her. Reaching into his shirt, he pulled out his ident.
"Surtsey Mockerkin? Inspector Angel Cardenas and Sergeant Fredoso Hyaki, Namerican Federal Police. I spoke to you in Nogales. We're here to help you." He gestured in the direction of the two grim-visaged combatants. "Call off your dog."
Some of the tension eased out of her, but her expression remained wary. Keeping her eyes on Cardenas, she spoke without turning. "Roger! It's all right-they're police, not mataros."
Holding the machete over his head with both hands, the orang slowly lowered his long, powerful arms. Only when the blade neared the floor did Hyaki begin to put down the chair he was holding defensively in front of him. The ape blinked large, deceptively childlike eyes.
"Surtsey sure?"
"For now," she told him. "Wait outside, on the porch." The tone in her voice carried an implied threat as she continued to address her words to the man standing next to her. "I'll call you if I need you. And before you go, fix the couch."
Obediently, again using only one hand, the orang flipped the casually cast-aside piece of furniture back onto its feet, repositioned it on the floor, and tossed the loose cushions back where they belonged. Favoring both Hyaki and Cardenas with a warning glare, it ambled out of the room, still clutching the ominous long blade.
"Your friend?" Cardenas gestured in the direction of the departed simian.
"My bodyguard. He was assigned to me by the Simiano association. I pay them to protect and shelter me here." Her expression softened slightly. "They rotate bodyguards. None of them is especially fond of human company. But they know how to do their job."
Having set the wicker-and-rattan chair back on the floor, Hyaki promptly slumped into it. In the high humidity, the brief burst of physical exertion had started cascades of perspiration from his face and upper body.
"I wouldn't dispute that."
She hesitated a moment longer before finally gesturing toward the furniture. "Well, you're here. I can't do anything about that. So you might as well sit down."
Taking the chair next to the couch, Cardenas folded his hands and leaned forward earnestly. "You said that you pay the, um, people here to shelter you. Where's Katla?"
Surtsey Mockerkin seemed to sink in on herself. Another time, another place, this would be an exceptionally attractive and probably vivacious woman, Cardenas thought. The tropics reduced everyone to the same low, sweaty, common denominator of appearance.
"Since you found me, you obviously know about her." She looked out a screened window. "When she's not sitting in front of a box teasing mollyspheres, she likes to take walks in the forest. Says she's inspired by what she sees." Mockerkin shook her head. "I'm glad for her. This was the safest place I could think of to run to, and I had contacts here."
"You did," Hyaki pressed her, "or Wayne Brummel did?"
She looked over at the big man, but not in surprise. "So you know about Wayne, too?"
Cardenas nodded sympathetically. "That's what started us on this case. You didn't keep your appointment to meet me at the Nogales morgue."
Turning to her left, she passed a hand over a large mockwood sculpture of a tapir. It's back slid aside to expose the interior. Reaching within, she removed a bottle of local beer and flipped the cap, activating the integral refrigerator. As she waited for it to chill she did not offer one to her visitors.
"Poor Wayne. He truly loved me, you know. As much as he hated Cleats, he loved me." Reduced to watching her take a slug of the ice-cold brew, actual pain shot through Hyaki. "Wayne's problem was a common one among men: they always think they're smarter than they actually are. I miss him, but not as much as I thought I would." She indicated their surroundings. "He was the one who did the scut work looking for a safe haven, in case we might need one. Too bad he'll never get to enjoy it." Taking a more decorous sip of the golden liquid, she eyed Cardenas appraisingly. "I'm telling you the truth."
"I know." The Inspector responded comfortingly, without bothering to explain how he really did.
She crossed very alluring legs, most of which were visible below the hem of her tropical shorts. "My first thought when I saw you two standing here was that it was all over, that you were mataros sent by my husband." Her face screwed up in an expression of visible distaste. "'Nobody mocks The Mock,' he always used to say. Pinche cabron, that bastard!" Her tone turned pleading. "He fascinated me, at first. I was very young. Eventually, things got to the point where I couldn't take it anymore. I ran away half a dozen times. Each time, his people found me and brought me back." She looked away from her visitors. "Each time I was brought back things got-worse.
"Then Katla happened. I stopped running away. To raise her, and also to get him to ease off. When I felt she was old enough, strong enough, I started looking for a way out. Having failed so many times on my own, I'd finally figured out that I'd need help. I was just flailing around, going nowhere, until I met Wayne." She drained more of the beer. "It wasn't so much that Wayne was a good guy. After all, he worked for Cleats. He was just less bad than most of the other men I'd met. And he loved me, and tolerated Katla.
"That was enough for me. I told him what I wanted to do, and he did it. Together, we made the break, tried to lose ourselves in the Strip." She shook her head. "Four new identities in two years, and it still wasn't enough. All the time, Wayne kept searching for a safe place, in case we had to leave Namerica. I don't know how he stumbled on the idea of coming here, but he did. He reasoned that it was one place even The Mock's mins couldn't get in." She offered up a wan smile. "We didn't talk about the federales."
"Your house almost got us," Hyaki felt compelled to tell her.
She glanced sideways at him. "That was Wayne's work, too. It wasn't intended for you. It was designed as a greeting for The Mock's hombers in case they ever showed up. How'd you get away, anyhow?"
Hyaki indicated the quietly attentive Cardenas. "My partner is real good at sensing anomalies in a situation." He added accusingly, "Your house nearly blew off my ass."
She shrugged. "I'd apologize, if I thought it would make a difference. Nothing matters now. Nothing matters anymore." There was a genuine yearning for closure in her eyes as she gazed up at Cardenas. "If you could find me here, then it means that Cleats can do so also."
"Not necessarily," the Inspector corrected her. "Not every official channel of information is compromised, you know. The facts of your case are known only to a very few." He indicated Hyaki. "Technically, Fredoso and I are here on leave, and not here on official business."
She looked as if it made no difference. "Doesn't matter. I can't leave here. The Ciudad Simiano is my last, and best, hope. Katla's, too."
"The NFP has a highly successful witness protection program."
Her laughter was sharp and brittle, though not entirely unexpected. She gaped at him in disbelief. "You must be kidding! Leave this place, where nobody gets in without permission, to go back to the Strip and give testimony against The Mock? I may not be as smart as Katla, but we do share some of the same genes. I'm staying here- even if Cleats's mins can find me." She threw a hand in the direction of the hallway. "Let 'em come. Let's see how they like dealing with Roger and his kind! But go back? Not a chance, fedoco. Not if you could convince me you could sell shaved ice in Spitzbergen."
"All right," Cardenas responded. "If that's the way you feel about it. But if you'll tell us what this is all about, maybe the NFP can extend you some additional help. You wouldn't be against that, would you? If you know something that we can use against Cleator Mockerkin that doesn't involve an actual courthouse appearance on your part, there's always a chance we can move against him while you remain out of sight here. That would remove the threat to you and your daughter without you having to return to the Strip. Wouldn't you like to see that happen?"
For the second time, she hesitated. "You're not going to force us to go back with you?"
The Inspector shook his head. "Can't. This is the Central American Federation, not Namerica. You're not accused of any crime, so extradition law doesn't apply. You can speak freely." He met her gaze without blinking. "I wouldn't try to take you and your daughter against your will, anyway."
She mulled his offer. Suddenly she looked younger than her years, more like a frightened teenager than a hardened survivor of the Strip. "It's the money. The Mock's money. Cleats's cash. Wayne and I, we appropriated quite a bit of mutable credit. Nobody does that to The Mock and gets away with it. The fact that I was involved made it that much worse. Makes him look the goat as well as the goof. He wants his money back. He wants me back."
The Inspector nodded comprehendingly, leaned toward her with- out smiling, and replied softly but firmly, "If you're going to lie to me, Ms. Mockerkin, I'm not going to be able to do anything to help you. The money you and Wayne Brummel-George Anderson stole is only a very small part of this."
Her face flushed with outrage and she half rose from the couch. "I'm not lying, you damn fedoco! Why else do you think someone like The Mock would want me back?"
Not in the least perturbed by her outburst, Cardenas tried to remain as sensitive and sympathetic as possible. "I'm not so sure that he does want you back, Ms. Mockerkin. But we do know that he wants your daughter."