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t behind the Caddy's blue…tinted windows。 He imagined himself an invisible； lethal presence。 This was fun。 He liked the dirty work。 〃Thirty…one Z…right；〃 he called it。 That had been his jersey on the Dolphins： number thirty…one。 And 〃thirty…one Z…right was head…down…over…right…guard； the big ball…buster。 Five； six； seven nasty yards every time。 Viceroy Wilson had absolutely loved it。
〃Pick a pale one。〃 Those were his orders today。 〃Pale and ely。〃 Now what the fuck did that mean？ Pale was pale。
Wilson studied the tourists as they strolled by； scouting the parking lot for their precious rental cars。 The boss was right： it was a bountiful crop。 In no time Wilson selected a redhead； tall and creamy…skinned； with lots of cinnamon…colored freckles。 Her hair was thick and permed up to bounce； and she wore a crimson halter over silky blue jogging shorts。 Minneapolis； Wilson guessed； maybe Quebec。 A real alien。 Best of all； her husband…boyfriend…whatever was only about five…two； a hundred…ten pounds； tops。 He stood there shielding his eyes from the afternoon sun； squinting pathetically as he searched for the maroon Granada or whatever it was they'd be driving。
Viceroy Wilson polished off the joint and slid out of the Cadillac。 That old familiar growl was building in his throat。
Thirty…one Z…right！
Brian Keyes felt unfortable whenever he ventured back to the newsroom。 In a way； he missed the chaos and the adrenalized camaraderie； then again； what did he expect？ Him and his one…man office with a tank full of algae…sucking catfish。
Whenever Keyes revisited the Sun； old friends flagged him down； briefed him on the latest atrocities against truth and justice； and offered to get together at the club for a drink。 Keyes was grateful for their friendliness； but it made him feel odd。 He was something of a stranger now； no longer entrusted with Serious Information； the currency of big…city journalism。 Nonetheless； he was glad when they waved and said hello。
This time Ricky Bloodworth was the first to corner him。
〃Tell me about Ernesto Cabal；〃 he said breathlessly。 〃I'm doing a big weekender on the Harper case。〃
〃Can't help you； Rick。 I'm sorry； but he's a client。〃
Bloodworth's voice climbed to a whine。 〃You're talking like a lawyer now； not like the Brian I used to know。〃
Keyes shrugged。 Bloodworth was irrepressibly annoying。
〃At least tell me if you think he's guilty。 Surely you can do that； cantcha？〃
〃I think he's innocent；〃 Keyes said。
〃Right；〃 Bloodworth said with an exaggerated wink。 〃Sure； Brian。〃 He scooted back to his desk。
Keyes figured the cops hadn't told Bloodworth about the El Fuego letters； which was just fine。 Bloodworth would have gone nuts with that stuff； and then so would the city。 Nothing like a little panic to muck up an investigation。
Cab Mulcahy was waiting in his office。 Slate…colored suit； crisp white shirt； navy tie。 Same civilized handshake； same crinkly smile。 And there was the coffeepot steaming on the corner of the desk。 Same place it had been the night Brian Keyes had walked in with his resignation。
〃It was good of you to e on short notice。 Mind if I close the door？〃
〃Not at all； Cab。〃 Keyes had been surprised to get the message on his beeper； he'd been wondering about it all afternoon。 A new job offer…that was his best guess。 But why would the Sun want him back？ The place was crawling with raw talent； kids who were plenty tough enough。
〃Cab； are you going to ask me to e back to work？〃
Mulcahy smiled kindly and shifted in his chair。 〃To be honest； Brian； I hadn't thought about it。 But if you're interested； I'm sure we can…〃
〃No。 No； I'm not。〃 Keyes wondered why he didn't feel more relieved。 〃I was just curious。〃
〃I called you；〃 Mulcahy said； 〃because I want to hire you as a private investigator。 We have a very sensitive case。 You're the only one who can handle it。〃
Keyes was well…versed in the rudimentary techniques of bullshitting that the Sun taught all its top editors。 The phrase 〃You're the only one who can do it〃 generally translated to 〃No one else will touch it。〃 But this time Mulcahy did not appear to be shoveling anything。 He appeared to be genuinely upset。
〃Brian； Skip Wiley has disappeared。〃
Keyes did not move a muscle。 He just looked at Mulcahy； a look of disappointment； if not betrayal。 Cab Mulcahy had been afraid this might happen。 He had dreaded it； but there was no other way。
〃I'm sorry； Brian。 I'd never ask unless we were desperate。〃
〃Disappeared？〃
〃Vanished。 They found his car yesterday in the middle of 1…95。 He didn't show up at home last night。〃
Home。 Keyes chuckled： e on； Cab； just say it； I'm not going to break down in tears。 Wiley didn't show up at Jenna's last night。 God； the old man was funny sometimes； Keyes thought。 Trying to spare me a little pain。 It was two years ago that Jenna had dumped him for Wiley…Wiley； of all people！ Why couldn't it have been an artist； or a concert musician； or some anorexic…looking poet from the Grove？ Anyone but Skip Wiley…and right in the bitter worst of the Callie Davenport business。 What a couple： Jenna； who adored Godunov and Bergman； and Wiley； who once launched a write…in campaign to get Marilyn Chambers an Oscar。
〃Did you call the cops？〃 Keyes asked。
Mulcahy shook his head and reached for the coffee。 〃We decided not to。 I've pretty much ruled out foul play。〃 He told Keyes about Wiley's eccentric behavior； and about his visit to the psychiatrist the day before。
〃So you think he's hiding out？〃
〃I do。 So does Dr。 Courtney。〃
Remond Courtney's opinions didn't carry much weight with Brian Keyes； who knew something of the doctor's meager talent。 In the aftermath of the terrible 727 crash； when Keyes was being fingered by imaginary severed limbs； Dr。 Courtney had advised him； by way of therapy； to get a job as an air…traffic controller。
〃Forget that idiot shrink；〃 Keyes said。 〃What about Jenna？ What does she think？〃
Mulcahy said； 〃She's pretty worried。 She thinks Skip might do something crazy。〃
〃Would that surprise you； Cab？ Wiley may be talented； prolific； tough as hell…all the things you people put a premium on…but he's also a card…carrying flake。 He could be anywhere。 Vegas； Nassau； Juarez； who knows？ Why don't you just wait a few days？ He'll get so miserable not seeing his byline in the paper that he'll rush right back with a stack of fresh columns。〃
〃I don't think so；〃 Mulcahy said。 〃I hope you're right but I just don't think so。 I need him back now； here…where we can keep an eye on him。〃
So that's it； Keyes thought。 Mulcahy was worried less about Wiley's well…being than about all the trouble a man like that could create。 Wiley presented an explosive public…relations problem for the Miami Sun； no newspaper can afford to have its star columnist turn up as the proverbial sniper in the schoolyard。
And in Skip Wiley's case； another factor loomed large： he had an enormous public following。 If his column didn't appear for a few days running； lots of readers would stop buying the Sun。 If the days turned into weeks； the attrition would show up in the next ABC audits。 And if that happened； Cab Mulcahy would have to answer to the highest possible a