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THEY BEGAN TRACKING Sandy McDermott as he left New Orleans at 8 A。M。 and worked his way through the traffic on Interstate 10。 He was followed until the congestion thinned near Lake Pont…chartrain。 They called ahead and reported he was on his way to Biloxi。 Following him was easy。 Listening would be another matter。 Guy had bugs for Sandy's office and home phones； even one for his car； but the decision to install them had not yet been made。 The risks were significant。 Aricia especially was wary。 He argued with Stephano and with Guy that Sandy might well expect his phones to get tapped； and might feed them all sorts of useless or even damaging gossip。 His client had so far proved quite proficient at seeing around corners。 And so they argued。
Sandy wasn't looking over his shoulder。 Nor was he seeing much in front of him。 He was simply driving； moving forward while avoiding contact； his mind； as usual； many miles away。
From a strategic point of view； the various Lanigan battles were in good shape。 The civil suits filed by Monarch…Sierra； the law firm； and Aricia had been placed on dockets already densely crowded。 Formal responses by Sandy were a month away。 Discovery wouldn't start for three months and would last for a year。 Trials were two years away at the earliest。 Likewise for Patrick's suit against the FBI； it would one day be amended to bring in Stephano and his consortium。 It would be a delightful case to try； but Sandy doubted he would ever get the chance。
The divorce was under control。
The capital murder charge； clearly the center of attention； was another matter。 Obviously the most serious of Patrick's problems； it was also the speediest。 By law； the state had to try Patrick within two hundred and seventy days of the indictment； so the clock was ticking。
In Sandy's opinion； a conviction based on the evidence would be a longshot。 For the moment； crucial elements of proof were missing…significant facts such as the identity of John Doe； and the manner in which he died； and the certainty that Patrick killed him。 It was a tenuous circumstantial case at best。 Large assumptions would be called for。
However； a conviction based on public sentiment was foreseeable。 By now everyone within a hundred miles of Biloxi knew most of the details； and you couldn't find a literate breathing soul who didn't think Patrick killed someone to fake his death so he could lie in ambush and steal ninety million dollars。 Patrick had a few admirers； those who also dreamed of a new life with a new name and plenty of dough。 But they would not be on his jury。 Most folks； it seemed through the informal polling of coffee shop talk and courthouse gossip； felt he was guilty and should spend time in prison。 Very few favored the death penalty。 Leave that for rapists and cop killers。
Most pressing； though； at the moment； was keeping Patrick alive。 The file on Lance； hand…delivered last night by the lovely Leah in yet another hotel room； portrayed a quiet man with a hair…trigger temper and a penchant for violence。 He liked guns； and had once been indicted by a federal grand jury for fencing them through a pawnshop。 The charges were later dismissed。 In addition to his three…year stint for smuggling pot； he had been sentenced to sixty days for his part in a barroom brawl in Gulfport； though the time was suspended due to an overcrowded jail。 There were two other arrests…one for another fight and one for a DUI。
Lance could be cleaned up and made presentable。 He was lanky and handsome； and well admired by the ladies。 He knew how to dress and carry on amusing chitchat over cocktails。 But his forays into society were temporary。 His heart was always in the street； just above the gutter； where he hung out with loan sharks and bookies and fences and reputable drug dealers； the smart white…collar boys of local crime。 These were his friends； the guys from his neighborhood。 Patrick had found them too； and the file contained no fewer than a dozen little biographies of Lance's pals； all with criminal records。
Sandy at first had been skeptical of Patrick's paranoia。 Now he believed it。 Though he knew little of the underworld； the nature of his profession occasionally brought him into contact with criminals。 He had heard many times that for five thousand bucks you could get anyone killed。 Maybe even less along the Coast。
Lance certainly had more than five thousand bucks。 And he had a wonderful motive to eliminate Patrick。 The life insurance policies that made Trudy rich didn't exclude any particular causes of death； other than suicide。 A bullet to the head was treated just like a car wreck； or a heart attack； or anything else。 Dead was dead。
THE COAST was not Sandy's turf。 He didn't know the sheriffs and their deputies； the judges and their quirks； the other members of the bar。 He suspected this was precisely why Patrick picked him。
Sweeney had been less than hospitable on the phone。 He was very busy； he said； and besides； meetings with lawyers were usually a waste of time。 He could spare a few minutes； starting at nine…thirty and barring an emergency。 Sandy arrived early； and poured his own coffee from a pot he found next to the watercooler。 Deputies milled about。 The sprawling jail was in the rear。 Sweeney found him and led him through to his office； a spartan room with government hand…me…down furniture and fading photos of smiling politicians on the wall。
〃Have a seat；〃 Sweeney said； pointing to a ratty chair as he sat behind his desk。 Sandy did as he was told。
〃Mind if I record？〃 Sweeney asked； already punching the button on a large tape recorder in the center of his desk。 〃I tape everything；〃 he said。
〃Sure；〃 Sandy said； as if he had a choice。 〃Thanks for working me in。〃
〃No problem；〃 Sweeney said。 He had yet to smile or offer anything other than the impression of being bothered by this。 He lit a cigarette and sipped steaming coffee from a Styrofoam cup。
〃I'll get right to the point；〃 Sandy said； as if idle conversation were an option。 〃My office has received a tip that Patrick's life may be in danger。〃 Sandy hated the lying； but he had little choice under the circumstances。 This was what his client wanted。
〃Why would someone tip your office that your client was in danger？〃 Sweeney asked。
〃I have investigators working on the case。 They know lots of people。 Some gossip got passed along； and one of my investigators tracked it down。 That's the way these things happen。〃
… Sweeney showed neither belief nor disbelief。 He smoked his cigarette and thought about it。 In the past week； he had heard every conceivable species of rumor about the adventures of Patrick Lanigan。 People were talking about nothing else。 The hit man stories were of several varieties。 Sweeney figured his network was better than the lawyer's； especially one from New Orleans； so he would let him talk。 〃Got any suspects？〃
〃Yes。 His name is Lance Maxa； I'm sure you know him。〃
〃We do。〃
〃He took Patrick's place with Trudy not long after the funeral。〃
〃Some would say Patrick took his place；〃 Sweeney said； with his first smile。 Sandy was indeed on foreign turf。 The Sheriff knew more than he。
〃Then I guess you know all about Lance and Trudy；〃 Sandy