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scratches and dirt on the copier s glass and optical system.
 And this can be traced?
 You bet your sweet bippy, Swift said enthusiastically.  The odds against
two copiers having exactly the same pattern are astronomical.
 Our victim didn t have a copy machine in his apartment, Mike explained,  so
I sent plainclothes officers to all the copy shops in town, checking for the
same pattern. And it paid off. He glanced at the message.  Kinko s. Memorial
and 51st. Shall we?
Mike was not surprised to learn that Sergeant Tomlinson was the man who had
tracked down America s Most Wanted Photocopier, or that he had pored through
three months of credit card receipts before Mike arrived. Tomlinson had always
been the king of go-the-extra-mile. That was how he had ended up as Mike s
partner, until Kate Baxter came along.
 Actually, Tomlinson said,  I ve been through them twice. Working from the
approximate date and cost. But nothing even comes close.
 If he just made a single copy, he wouldn t use a credit card, Mike
reasoned.  Probably just small change. Which was too damn bad. Because a
credit card receipt would ve given him a name. And, more than likely, an
address.
He addressed the clerk, a pimply teenager named Sid.  Any record of cash
purchases?
The kid shook his head, stiff-necked. Mike couldn t decide if he was
intimidated because this was his first encounter with law enforcement or
because it wasn t.  People come in all the time to make one or two copies.
There s no way to trace them.
And you re not likely to recognize any of them, either, Mike thought, but he
was going to give it a try, just in case. He pulled out a digitally
reconstructed photo of the victim.  Ever seen this guy before?
It didn t matter what the kid said, because Mike could tell the moment his
eyes lit on the photo that he had.
If nothing else, the boy had the sense not to lie.  Yeah. I recognize him.
 He s been in the store before?
He hesitated only a moment before answering, but it was a moment that told
Mike everything.  A few times.
 But that s not how you know him.
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Sid glanced over his shoulder, as if hoping some photocopy emergency might
extract him from the interrogation.  I ve just . . . seen him around.
 You ve bought drugs from him, haven t you? Agent Swift asked, out of the
blue.
 What? God, no. I don t do drugs.
 What about Ecstacy? You probably don t consider that doing drugs. Right?
 Well . . .
 Come clean, kid. It s the smart thing to do.
The kid looked at her, but didn t answer, which spoke volumes. Mike was
impressed. Chalk up one for the FBI.
 It s all right, son, Mike said.  We re not looking to make a drug bust. We
need information about this man.
The boy remained silent.
 Of course, if you don t help us, I ll have to consider what I might do to
persuade you. Like maybe a search of your work locker. Your car. Your
apartment.
 His name s Manny, Sid said.  Manny Nowosky. And I ve only seen him a few
times.
 You know anything about him?
 Not much. He was holed up in a rental house not far from where I live. Used
to run into him at the pool parlor. I haven t seen him lately.
And there s a reason for that.  There must ve been something else, Mike
said.
 I wouldn t know what it was.
 Did you hear any rumors? Even hints? Maybe about something big going down. A
big score. A big bust. Manny coming into a big wad of dough. Anything.
Sid shook his head adamantly.  No, nothing. I never had that much contact. We
just . . . did business a few times.
 And that was all?
 He was a carpenter, I remember. Took his stuff up to the flea market
sometimes to sell.
 And?
 Sometimes we . . . talked about cars.
 Cars? Just cars?
 Race cars. Kind of a hobby for us. We were both into drag racing.
Swift blinked.  Drag racing? Like zoom-zoom?American Graffiti ?
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 Right. We could rattle on for hours, talking about mag wheels and stick
shifts and stuff. He seemed a little old for that sort of thing. But as I
learned, he raced pretty regularly.
 On the street? When the cops weren t looking?
 No, man. On designated drag strips. It s safe. Legal. When he talked about
his favorite strip, he called it what was it?  the happiest place on earth. 
 And you re sure he wasn t talking about Disneyland?
 Positive. Drag racing.
 I didn t know there were any strips around Tulsa.
 Tulsa? The kid was incredulous.  He wasn t from Tulsa. He was just passing
through. Taking care of some business. His strip was near Evanston.
 Evanston? Swift s eyes widened.  As in the suburb of Chicago?
 That s the one.
Swift gave Mike a long look.  Well, guess what, boys and girls? I think
you re going to be paying a visit to my neck of the woods.
Mike nodded.  Sounds that way. We can t get a flight till tomorrow morning,
though. He gave Sid his card.  If you think of anything else you know about
this guy anything at all give me a call.
 Okay. Sure.
They prepared to leave.  And kid?
 Yes, sir?
 The federal penitentiary in McAlester is a really ugly place. Take my word
for it. You don t want to go.
 No, sir.
 So keep your nose clean. Tomlinson?
 Yes, Major?
 Nice work. He slapped his old friend and protégé on the shoulder.  Wanna
grab a sandwich? You can fill me in on what you and Karen and that girl of
yours have been up to. And what s going down with the uniforms. Especially the
gossip. I love the gossip . . .
16
 Christina! Loving bellowed.  You re needed in the conference room. There s
like thirty of  em in there!
 I ll be just a minute. She met him in the hallway.  I ve been reading your
reports. You ve covered a heck of a lot of ground.
The burly man tipped an imaginary hat.  I aim to please, ma am.
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 I really appreciate your tracking down all of Johnny Christensen s friends
and frat brothers.
 Yeah. Too bad none of  em knows nothin.  He shook his head.  I gotta tell
you, Christina. No one saw Tony in the vacant lot, and no one saw him moved to
the frat house.
 I know. But it was late, and there was no reason for anyone to be there.
Keep on it, okay?
 Natch.
 You might get with Jones and see what he s got on this ANGER group. Maybe a
little infiltration would turn up something useful.
 I ll check into it.
 Good. Get a copy of Paula s report on Tony and the man who shot Brett
Mathers. It s very thorough. Good starting place.
 Will do.
Christina started for the conference room.  Wanna help me in here?
He grinned sheepishly.  You don t want my help, Chris. I d just hire the
cutest one.
 Right. She pushed the door open and entered the conference room which was
packed solid with young law students. And Jones.
 Have you talked to Ben about this yet? he asked.
 No. He doesn t want to be involved.
 He might want to be involved in acquiring new staff! We don t have the money
to hire an intern.
 Find it.
 Where? It s not as if you re getting paid big bucks.
 I don t know. There must be someplace.
 I could take it out of your salary.
She paused.  Someplace else. She laid her clipboard on the table and
addressed the sea of eager young faces.  Good morning, and thank you for
coming. As I m sure you all know, we ve been handed a major case with an
extremely tight deadline and we need help. If you re looking to make a fortune
overnight or to get another line on your résumé, leave now. But if you want to
knuckle down and do some seriously hard work and maybe get a crash course in
how criminal cases are tried line up over here. Be prepared to tell me what
your goals are why you wanted to be a lawyer in the first place. We ll start [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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