By nine thirty they'd worked every Dbase available on the car and the woman. Nothing new had been revealed, except that close textual analysis of the car's paint had produced a strong probability that it had been repainted from an earlier color, possibly white or tan, to the current deep blue.

The vehicle was a Toyota Nurida, popular, but pricey due to the high-energy hybrid power plant. Four wheel drive and retention of the old, conservative, boxy SUV outline made it a favorite with weekenders and Relo moms in upscale pod-burbs.

The price tag and relative costs of operation meant it was not the usual kind of auto to see parked in the Service section of the Parking.

"Conclusion; she took evasive action, from the beginning of the visit."

"So she was in on it?"

"Unknown. But possible. Maybe she let them in?"

Ingrid the Nokia Supa agreed with Lindi on that possibility. Rook was inclined to think otherwise. But it had been a long day and Rook was admittedly tired. The dna work had come back and it gave them almost nothing more. The blood was from two individuals, Sangacha and an unknown who brought up no matches on the Fed dbase. The traces in bathroom and hall were mostly those of Sangacha, plus some others, female, one in particular. Plesur's.

The rain had finally stopped. Huge puddles, jammed gutters, gushing streams remained. Darkness had settled in and the streetlights down Broadway illuminated the little clusters of pushers where they waited to sell Dubl-oxy, Stresseptin and Narcosuma, the favorite modern flavors of up and down. Every so often a vehicle slowed to a stop beside them, a window whirred down and money was exchanged for pills, powder and sticks in the age old game. Less frequently a patrol car swept past, or stopped to pick up the pay off, another aspect of the age old game.

Rook hardly ever thought about it anymore. It was the way things were, and had been and would ever be. It wasn't his job and he was determined never to step into the Narco Buro. It'd been offered, he'd said no. So what if he never got rich, at least he'd keep his soul. It was a section where the legacies flourished. Nothing would ever be done about it.

He looked at the old clock on the wall then decided to fold for the day,.

"Okay, I'm done, can't think anymore. Go home."

Lindi didn't need any encouragement. She started closing down screens and cutting out their link to the federal police net. Due to security concerns this took a few minutes as big AIs spoke to little AIs and everyone shook hands on encrypted super-protocols.

Rook sighed, leaned back, and checked into Schmoozer.

"Daddy! Where you been?" Jenni's voice always brought the life back. It was like rain on his personal interior desert. He clicked up imager and there she was, wearing the new plaid top, short black skirt and chunky shoes. With her hair back and her eyes made up she looked more like twenty five than seventeen.

"Big case, sweety. Tried you earlier, then everything got crazy."

"What's it about?" Jenni and her mother lived in Pasture Park, a part of LA that had never been a pasture, but was a walled community today. That meant it was safer than most of LA, but crime was everpresent and always on people's minds. Jenni loved to hear about her dad's work. She kept saying she wanted to be a cop. That idea gave Rook nightmares.

"It's sensitive. I can't really discuss it. "

"Whoa, somebody important?" Jenni was quick. She knew the difference between the usual bag-em-and-cremate-em routine with uninsured homicide vics and the full deal for righteous, fully insured citizenry.

"You could say that."

"Sounds exciting, wish I could be there with you. I'm so bored with all this."

"It's just school, baby. You gotta enjoy it while you can." It was a good school too and it cost Rook about a third of his income.

"Lev says life will be a lot more fun after school."

"I hope he's right about that. But I still want you to go to college."

"Oh, dad, what am I gonna do there?"

"Get a degree?"

"For what?"

"So you don't have to be a cop, okay?"

"Mom doesn't have a degree."

"And you want to follow her example?"

Silence. Beats skipped by.

"Well, no."

"Look, sweety, you're too smart not to go to college. Why condemn yourself to a life of low wage insecurity?"

"Dad! You're talking like a guidance counsellor."

"Correct. I am. Ask Lev. Bet he's going to school."

"Dad, he's jewish!"

"What does that mean?"

"Of course he's going to college. He's a brain."

"Sweety, not all jews are smart like Lev, okay? Lev is going to college because he knows perfectly well that it's an essential part of prepping for the rest of life. You know something? It doesn't stop with college, either. Everyone has to go back to school every few years. Even cops."

Another silence. Rook had spent three months the year before in New York attending a course covering technological change in the "Crime Environment." He'd learned a lot and Jenni had spoken with him everyday while he struggled with the new computer security materials part of the course. That had been the hardest bit. Comp security in the post-Repression era had become unfathomably complex since crims had taken to using small AIs of their own to infiltrate computer systems. Still, where there was offense, there was always defense and that meant a ton of stuff for cops to get to grips with.

"Okay, dad, you're right. And I don't want to be a hairdresser, that's for sure."

Not like Allis, her mother, his ex, whose life was something of a mess. Without Rook's generous inputs Allis and Jenni wouldn't be living in Pasture Park's relative security and Jenni wouldn't be going to Pasture Park High School with its 20 pupils to one teacher ratio, its art and music classes, its envied rep for prepping kids for top colleges.

"Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you think about God, like I asked you?"

"Tried to. Never been much good at it."

"Don't you believe in God?"

"Well, I don't know. Maybe."

"Lev doesn't. He says it's all just part of our evolutionary background."

Someday, Rook hoped to meet young Lev Grossman. The kid was certainly having an effect on Jenni.

"He's right. But the question is-- did God make sure that our evolutionary background would make us aware of God."

"Dad, that's a tautology."

"No kidding? Well, so is God. Either there is a God or there isn't and as far as I can tell there's no good way to be sure about it."

"So? We pray just in case?"

"A lot of people think like that. Better safe than sorry."

"But Lev says that's ridiculous. Like praying to Santa Claus."

And, Rook had to admit, Lev was right about that, but a lot of human beings felt all alone in the big cruel universe. Life was tough, really tough, especialy on the uninsured side of the highway. God was there to help, right? Or at least to offer the semblance of help.

Still, Rook knew, when the knives came out and bad things happened, God usually didn't have much to offer the vics.

"Lev's smart, sweety, but Lev is also young. That's something you're just gonna have to take on faith. Give it twenty years and you'll understand some of this stuff. Or, then again, you won't. "

"I'm gonna read St. Augustine, dad."

"You are?" Rook had heard of St. Augustine. He'd never read him though.

He heard her giggle. "Yeah, and then the Upanishads."

Who would've imagined? He remembered Jenni when she was three years old and already precocious. That darned stuffed doggy with the piratical black eyepatch, she carried it everywhere.

"Well, good for you. When do you start?"

"Tonight. I got the download today at school."

"Great. You can tell me all about it."

"You gonna look it up too?"

"Nope. No time for that, so I'm depending on you, girl."

She giggled.

"Now," he turned serious. "How's your mom?"

"Ohhhh, dad, what can I say? It just gets worse and worse."

And so they segued into a quick run down of the last 48 hours worth of Allis Chalmers' crazy life. Most of the worst craziness involved Allis's involvement with a certain Alec Mirante, who was both incredibly good looking, and a worthless piece of shit. That Allis had let Mirante, known to his friends as Sticky, into her life and into Jenni's life, infuriated Rook. Unfortunately, California law shielded Allis from legal actions begun outside the state and since Rook did not live in California he had lesser standing in a California court. It was crazy, it was un-American, but it was also part of the compromise that had kept California in the Union without a war. Rook knew that if he made too much of a stink about it, Allis could get a California court to completely cut him off from Jenni. Unenforceable, perhaps, but it would still make life a lot more difficult. Allis was headstrong and, when it came to Rook, just about paranoid. She had made it as hard as possible for him to stay in touch with his daughter and only when things became so bad that she was a few days from being homeless did she relent and accept his financial help. Since then, almost ten years now, she'd taken his money, she'd lived in Pasture Park, but she had refused to talk to him and done her utmost to keep him from talking to Jenni or seeing her on his rare visits to LA.

Of late, Sticky, who'd earned that nick from the way his fingers just stuck to little things like cash and jewelry, drugs and carkeys, had been sleeping regularly in Pasture Park. Now it turned out one reason for that was that he was being hunted by some bad dudes, who sought repayment on certain loans taken out for certain unspecified business opportunities.

According to Jenni there had been a lot of screaming and yelling in the last 24 hours. She was feeling kind of boxed about it all, she wanted to move out and live with Lev. As she'd grown older, Jenni had realized that her mom had problems above and beyond the usual. Allis was a beauty, but she was also a Princess. Unfortunately her wilfullness had left her without a Princess's level of income.

"I just don't want him coming in my room, that's all," said Jenni at last.

Rook was struggling to keep calm. "Yeah. If he comes in your room again, tell him that I'm going to come out there and have a little face time with him. Okay?"

"Oh, dad, that won't work. He thinks he's immune. Nothing can touch him."

"Yeah, right, that's why he's hiding in your house."

"He's always gotten away with it before."

"Doesn't your mother care?"

"You know her. She says one thing, but does something else. She's obsessed with him. It's all she talks about. I might as well not exist."

"I just want you to be careful. That guy is creepy. I don't like the thought of him being in your house."

It wasn't a good situation, but there was little Rook could do from three thousand miles away. In the end he could only beg her to be careful and start planning for a quick trip out to LA. If he had to he would intervene and to hell with California courts.

Rook went down to the washroom to splash some water on his face and get ready for the twenty minute drive out to his little house in the hills. He was about done when Hesh Winnover and Fatso Soporides came in. Winnover was another legacy cop, notoriously corrupt, and now a Senior IO on the Counter Immigration Squad. They made money over there shaking businesses down for baksheesh in order to ignore their violations. Fatso was still a patrol Sarge, and likely to stay that way.

"Hey, Venner, you had any of the Pammy yet?" said Winnover with a leer.

"It's a witness," said Rook as grimly as he could.

"Yeah, right and it's gonna get a workout tonight. Hell, you just take one look at it and you can see why they cost so much." Rook imagined Fatso having his way with Plesur for a moment. It wasn't a pleasant thought.

"I think about half the Vice Squad are coming in to get some of that," Winnover sounded positively gleeful.

Rook dried his hands and kept his immediate response to himself. Instead he went back to his office and called Chief Artoli.

"Rook, whatcha got?'

"No matches on the woman or her car. But, it has been painted in recent times, so we're looking at matches for a Nurida in white, tan, grey, whatever."

"How many of those are sold every year?"

"Millions."

"Great."

"Look, the witness, the uh, Pleasure Model?"

"Yeah?"

"I can't leave it here overnight."

"Why not? It's safe there in a cell."

"No it's not safe. It's going to be raped."

"What? How can it be raped?"

"How do you think, for god's sake? A lot of men who should know better are gonna line up down at the cell and take turns abusing her. Cops, y'know?"

"Her?"

"You talk to this critter for a couple of hours and then you tell me she isn't a human being."

Chief Artoli had gone silent. "Christ," she muttered. "Men are such animals."

"Tell me about it, but she's gonna be raped all night long."

"What are you suggesting I do about it?"

"I don't know, you're the Area Chief. Is there anywhere safe? How about your place?"

"What? Are you out of your mind?"

"Lisa, you got plenty of spare rooms."

"I have Republican neighbors and they have tongues to wag too. You think I can do anything I like?"

"No, but...."

"Out of the question."

"Then what do I do?"

"I don't know, you'll figure something out. You always do."

Chief Artoli cut the connection.

He cursed silently for a few moments. That was just great. So, the Chief was just abdicating responsibility. Again. And if the Pleasure Model got badly damaged by having a police train hauled over her, then it would be Rook's fault. That was the way Artoli ran things. It stank, but it was politically correct and it worked. She avoided trouble with legacies, that was her cardinal rule, and guess what? She'd been Area Chief for nearly ten years now.

If he couldn't get help up the chain then he'd look down.

"Hey," he found Lindi still putting the last bits and pieces in her pack.

"What's up, boss?"

"We can't leave Plesur here."

"What?"

"Winnover and his charming circle of friends are planning to pull a train."

"What?" Lindi's face registered disgust, outrage and anger in quick succession. "Fucking fools."

"Yeah, sure, but Winnover's legacy, so he's got protection. I don't know, it just sounds really ominous."

"Unbelievable."

"I wish, but we can't let that happen. Would you take her home with you? Just for the night. Tomorrow we'll work out some way of protecting her."

"What?"

"You've got a spare room, right/"

"Oh, god, boss, I can't do that. Jimmy's coming over. I can't have that, well, that," Lindi blushed. "Sorry, her, I can't have her in my apartment."

Rook had met Jimmy, a nice young man who worked for a cyber security firm. For tall, athletic Lindi, who was nice, but not super pretty, having the Pammy in the house would be something of a challenge for a night dedicated to romance. Rook sighed.

"What do I do?"

"You take it home. Have some fun."

Rook caught the grin on his Second's lips. "Yeah, right, that would look great on a witness stand, eh?"

"News for you, boss, it can't testify. Not human."

"But I can, and I will, if this ever comes to trial. Besides, there'll be a full medical report on her. If she's badly damaged it will all come out."

"Yeah, right. So you sleep on the couch and think about basketball or something."

"You're a great help, you know that?"

"I do. Thanks."

Lindi hurried out before he could think of any better arguments.

Damn. This was gonna be tricky. If Allis ever heard that he'd had a Pammy in his house for the night she would take it to a California judge to have Rook cut off from Jenni forever. So, this had to be a secret, but he would have to log the witness out. No getting around the contradictions of that. More than that the legacies would find out and there'd be trouble down the road. Winnover had all sorts of shadowy connections. It would be a huge risk for Rook Venner.

But if he didn't do something and fast, Plesur was gonna see a whole new side of "man" kind. Rook drummed his fingers angrily on the desktop.

Then he called Captain Tom Naughton. He and the Captain had a history, but on a matter that could make everyone look bad in court, Rook knew he could get a hearing.

"Venner, what's up?"

"Got a problem here, the Pleasure Model."

Captain Tom chuckled. Rook could hear laughter in the background and a little tinkle of piano music. Captain Tom was at the Highland Lounge, his favorite evening watering hole. Captain Tom's problem, widely acknowledged, was a certain fondness for the sauce.

"Sort of problem most guys dream of, eh?"

"Oh, probably, but more specifically?"

"Yeah."

"We can't leave her in the station overnight. Not unless you're okay with her being raped by about a dozen cops."

The piano tinkled in the Highland Lounge, a woman laughed in the mid-distance, Rook could hear Naughton's breath wheezing in and out softly.

"Don't tell me, Winnover, right?"

"Of course, and Fatso, and the boys from the Vice Squad and...."

"Jesus, sometimes you have to wonder."

"Yeah, you do."

"It's late, I don't know."

"I tried Artoli, she blew me off."

"Fucking bitch."

"I tried MacEar, but she's got her boyfriend coming over."

"So?"

"So I'm out of options and it's late."

Naughton thought about it. "Look, Venner, I can't do that. My wife could ruin me. A divorce right now..."

"Yeah, I know, Captain. So I'll take her. Just for the one night. Tomorrow we have to work something out for protective custody."

"Right." The Captain sounded very relieved. "Maybe we can find a church home or something. I could try Saint Ursula's."

"Anything. She, it, won't run away. But we can't go into court with a gang rape in the station to cover up."

"Those idiots, if I could get rid of Winnover..."

"I hear you, Captain."

"Okay, so what do you need?"

"Call Kuehl at the front desk Tell him to sign her out to on your name, but let me take her. And tell him to keep quiet about it."

A long silence ensued as the Captain weighed things carefully. Naughton had his own legacy protection and he was pretty much immune to any tantrums that Winnover might throw. As long as the pleasure model wasn't in his house then his wife couldn't complain, could she?

"Done. And thanks, Venner, good thinking there." Naughton sounded relieved and ready for another whisky.

Kuehl was okay. A legacy cop, but a straight one with a dad in the Republican Guardians. He was defiitely not one of Winnover's boys and if Naughton told him to keep his mouth shut, he would.

That left the task of actually getting Plesur out of the cell, out of the block, out the door and into his car without being detected.

Could be tricky, unless.

It was time to call in a favor. He picked up the Nokia Supa again and called an old antagonist.

"You got the change we got yo'numba," said a cheerful, deep voice.

"Chaga? Venner."

"Shit a brick, it be meesta Poleecemaaan."

"Yeah, and I need a favor."

"You? You need a favor from little ol' Chaga man?"

"Yeah, so listen up good."

Ten minutes later there came the sound of a large, old fashioned automatic pistol letting loose out on Broadway. Nothing silenced about it, the heavy reports booming in the night air. The police station responded like a nest of fire ants with someone sitting on top ot it. It boiled over.

"Someone is out of his everlovin' mind," roared Fatso Soporides. "You don't go shooting off some Nine on our turf!"

More ka-thunnnks came booming up from a few blocks away, amplified by crumbling brick and a narrow alleyway.

"Jeezus kee-riste!" Winnover had on his tech-hat as he went galumphing by shoving shells into a shotgun.

Rook went the other way.

Kuehl met him in the cells. There was the usual population in for the night. A few drunks and fools in the holding tank, a surly fellow in Number 4, yanked for talking back after getting pulled over on Chandler Drive, and a couple of teenage idiots who'd tried buying Dubl-Oxy from Officer Wilhelm at the old Mall.

Then in Number 7 there was Plesur, bedded down in her blanket, fast asleep.

Kuehl opened the cell, Rook woke her and helped her to her feet.

"Got to go, Plesur."

"Go?"

"Yeah, we have to hurry, too."

They went up the stairs, then ducked into a closet as more cops went thundering down the main hallway, still buckling on riot gear.

Rook waited another half minute. The sound of boots on worn flooring faded. He estimated at least half the station had run out to quell the gunfire in the street.

"Come on," he pulled Plesur out behind him and hurried her up the rest of the stairs to the ground floor then down the hallway to the back entrance to the carpark.

"Why we go?" she said at one point.

How to explain? He could only think of one good answer. "Important, to be safe."

"Safe?"

She was still bewildered when Rook tugged her out into the car park and put her into the front seat of his ancient Ford hybrid 4X4. He'd been putting off that necessary purchase of new wheels, and now as he struggled to get the old gasoline engine to start he found himself really regretting the delay. Especially as he noticed cops filtering back up the street to the station. Chaga's little diversion had lead to nothing more exciting than sweeping up some spent shell casings, the boys were disappointed. He saw Winnover in the middle of one group, all grinning.

"Fuck," he muttered as the engine coughed out again. It was often hard to start after heavy rain. Cops were crossing the parking lot.

"Keep your head down," he murmured and pushed Plesur down so she was scrunched up in the seat, with her gold blonde hair out of view.

"C'mon, dammit," he tried the engine again. It coughed, it sputtered, it would not start. Winnover had noticed the car, was pointing to it, laughing. A standing joke with the legacies, of course. Honest cops being dumb enough not to take the ready money and buy themselves decent cars.

Christ! Winnover was gonna come over to gloat in a moment and then they'd see the Pammy and the shit would hit the fan.

The engine still wasn't warm enough. With a despairing curse, Rook got out of the car and moved over to intercept Winnover and his friends.

"Hey, so what was that all about?"

"Who knows?" chuckled Winnover. "Fuckin' zads, they're all morons."

"Whoever was shooting they missed," Al Moranis, a legacy in Traffic had a new looking helmet on, vizor up.

"When you gonna get a car that works, Venner." Winnover could scarcely contain his contempt.

"Soon. I guess I've put it off a bit too long."

"Could send out Morales, he's good with old cars."

"Yeah, maybe. Think I'll give it another go first."

Winnover's interest had flagged. He turned towards the station door. He and the others had something else on their minds.

"C'mon, Hesh," said Moranis.

"Yeah, good luck, Venner," Winnover chuckled.

Rook turned back to his antique car. He got in, noticed his hands were shaking a little. That had been close. He couldn't afford trouble with the legacies. They had too many powerful friends. Worse than that, they knew a little about his personal life, and it wouldn't take much to make the call to Allis and send her running to a judge.

Plesur looked up from the seat.

"Safe?" she whispered.

Winnover and company were heading through the door. It wouldn't be long before they found out that the Pammy was gone. Kuehl would shield him, the log book would have it under the Captain's name and Winnover's reach did not extend that far. Winnover would suspect Rook, but he wouldn't be certain. And by tomorrow he and the Captain wouild have worked something out to keep little Plesur safe.

He tried the engine again, it coughed, it spluttered and finally it caught. Rook breathed a big sigh of relief, let it rumble for a few seconds and then told the car to head for home. With a whirr the old Ford rolled out of the parking.

Plesur was holding her hands up in front of her face.

"We go? It fast!" There was a note of panic in her voice.

"It's okay, Plesur, the car knows where it's going."

She looked at him, blue eyes strained with anxiety, "Where go?"

"My house. You safe there."

And naturally you started talking in pidgin when you talked to Plesur. And you tried not to stare at her breasts, or her lips, or any other part of her gorgeous body. And that took an effort of will. Needing a diversion, Rook decided to override the car's computer and took the controls himself.

"Unnecessary action!" flashed in green on the panel.

"Yeah, right," Rook muttered as he turned at the light and swung onto Chandler Drive and headed for the ancient rotary and the road up into the hills around Woodstock.

"Dark, there," muttered Plesur looking at those hills.

"Yes, not many houses where I live."

She was looking at him, but he was concentrating on the Route 28 exit.

"So fast," she said.