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where?”
    â€œBaker Beach at noon.”
    â€œIn what kind of container, did he say?”
    â€œA beach bag.”
    â€œAnd then what?”
    â€œWait for him. That’s all.”
    â€œWait where exactly?”
    â€œBy the rocks at the north end,” she said. Then she said, “The secluded part of the beach beyond is clothing optional … you can sunbathe there in the nude. Did you know that?”
    Runyon ignored the question. “Is that where he wants you to wait, on that side?”
    â€œNo. By the HAZARDOUS SURF sign on the main section.”
    Extortionists were usually wary of meeting their victims in daylight hours in a public place. Their normal MO was a night drop somewhere private, nobody else around to witness the exchange. Baker Beach was liable to be moderately crowded at noon, given the good late September weather, which meant more risk on his part. Why, when he’d been careful to remain anonymous so far? Either he was none too bright, or he had what he considered a good reason for making such an arrangement.
    â€œJake … I should keep the rendezvous, shouldn’t I?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWith the money?”
    â€œThat’s up to you. But if you bring at least a small amount and he takes possession, it constitutes proof of extortion.”
    â€œAnd you’ll be there to arrest him?”
    â€œDepends on the circumstances.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    Runyon said, “He may send somebody to get the money for him, to avoid showing himself to you. We’ll talk more about that when we meet.”
    â€œMeet? You mean before noon tomorrow?”
    â€œYes. For a couple of reasons. There’s a café on the Embarcadero near your place, the Bayside Java House, Pier Fourteen. I’ll be there at nine o’clock.”
    â€œDoes it have to be in the morning? Couldn’t you come over tonight?”
    â€œNot at this hour.”
    â€œIt isn’t that late.” Pause. “I’m scared, Jake. Really scared.”
    Trying to make it personal again. He said, “The Bayside, nine o’clock. Good night, Ms. Daniels.”
    No response, just a sharp click in his ear.
    *   *   *
    She was no longer annoyed with him on Thursday morning, and she didn’t seem particularly scared or anxious, either, when she came into the Bayside Java House. Smiling. Heavily made up. And not dressed for the beach yet, unless she was planning on keeping the date with her tormentor in an expensive summer dress and high heels. The outfit was for his benefit, he thought. She couldn’t even keep a simple business meeting impersonal.
    The café was crowded, not a good place for the kind of conversation they were about to have. He steered her to the counter, ordered containers of coffee to go, and when they were ready, led her outside and down the Embarcadero to a bench near one of a bunch of massive public art sculptures that the city fathers seemed to think had aesthetic merit. Her smile by then had given way to a puzzled frown.
    It was in his mind to say something to her about the lies she’d told, ask her to explain herself, but he didn’t do it. This wasn’t the time or place. And unless it had something to do with the shakedown, her moral integrity was of no real importance anyhow.
    He gave her the Q-Phone. The frown deepened as she turned it over in her hand. “I already have a cell phone.”
    â€œNot like this one. It operates like a regular cell, but it has a special program that lets me call the number and open the line without any ring or message on the display screen.”
    â€œâ€¦ I don’t understand.”
    â€œIt also has sensitive built-in microphones that’ll pick up any sound within a reasonable distance. Designed for listening in on cell-phone conversations, short- or long-distance. But it works just as well for picking up face-to-face conversations when the