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me go to work dismantling your case and setting up a very profitable suit for police harassment, or get him out of that interrogation room right now and let him go home. These are your options, Captain Davidson, Agent Vann.”
    “How does he get to have you as a lawyer?” I asked.
    “Excuse me?” Schwartz asked, turning back to me.
    “You’re general counsel at Accelerant Investments, Mr. Schwartz,” I said, reading from the data I had pulled up. “That’s a Fortune 100 company. It has to keep you busy. I don’t suspect you have a private practice on the side, or that Mr. Bell could afford you if you did. So I’m wondering what Mr. Bell has done to deserve having someone of your caliber show up here to spring him.”
    Another second of silence from Schwartz, and Davidson’s tablet pinged again. He opened the ping, looked at it, and then turned it around to show Vann and me. The tablet was open to a colorful site full of baby goats and merry-go-rounds.
    “It’s called ‘A Day in the Park,’” Schwartz said. “Not everyone who’s locked in is a lawyer or a professional, as I am sure you are amply aware. Some of those who are locked in are developmentally challenged. For them, operating a PT is difficult or next to impossible. They spend their days under very controlled stimulus. So I run a program that lets them out for a day in the park. They go to the petting zoo, ride rides, eat cotton candy, and otherwise get to enjoy their lives for a couple of hours. You should know about it, Agent Shane. Your father has been one of its co-sponsors for the last seven years.”
    “My father doesn’t outline all his charitable work with me, Mr. Schwartz,” I said.
    “Indeed,” Schwartz said. “In any event. Mr. Bell donates his time for this program. He does more for it than any other local Integrator here in D.C. In return I told him if he ever needed a lawyer, he should call me. And here we are.”
    “That’s a sweet story,” Davidson said, putting down the tablet.
    “I suppose it is,” Schwartz said. “Especially because now I’m going to give my client a happy ending to this particular problem. Which will either be his freedom, or a retirement-level settlement from both the Metro Police Department and the FBI. Your call, Captain, Agent Vann. Tell me what it will be.”
    *   *   *
    “Your thoughts,” Vann said, at lunch.
    “About this case?” I asked. We were sitting in a hole-in-the-wall Mexican place not too far from the Second Precinct. Vann was plowing through a plate of carnitas. I was not, but a quick status check at home told me that my body had gotten its noontime supply of nutritional liquid. So I had that going for me.
    “Obviously, about the case,” Vann said. “It’s your first case. I want to see what you’re picking up and what you’re missing. Or what I’m missing.”
    “The first thing is that the case should now be all ours,” I said. “Schwartz admitted Bell was working as an Integrator. Standard procedure with Hadens means that the case needs to be transferred to us.”
    “Yes,” Vann said.
    “Do you think there’s going to be a problem with this?” I asked.
    “Not with Davidson,” Vann said. “I’ve done him some favors and he and I don’t have any problems with each other. Trinh will be pissy about it, but I don’t really care about that and neither should you.”
    “If you say so.”
    “I do say so,” Vann said. “What else.”
    “Since the case is ours now, we should have the body sent to the Bureau for our people to look at,” I said.
    “Transfer order already processed,” Vann said. “He’s on the way now.”
    “We should also get all the data from Metro. High resolution this time,” I said, remembering Trinh’s last bit of feed.
    “Right,” Vann said. “What else.”
    “Have Bell followed?”
    “I put in a request. I wouldn’t count on it.”
    “We won’t put a tail on a potential murder suspect?”
    “You might have noticed we