b.u.mper crunch, this sign.' "Self-Determination Is Yours With the Prophet Muhammed."

Resting now--a nice soft dashboard. Fading out: "That's Klein. Grab him."

"I think he's got a concussion."

"He looks drugged to me."

"I don't think this is legal."

"It's dicey, but it's legal. We found him blacked out near an arson homicide scene, and he's a major suspect in our overall investigation. Mr. Noonan has a source in the Coroner's Office. He told him that Klein's partner died of a heroin overdose, and just look at this man's condition."

"Jim, for the written record in case this reaches litigation."

"Shoot."

"All right. It's 3:40 A.M., November 19, 1958, and I am Special Agent Willis Shipstad. With me are Special Agents James Henstell and William Milner. We are at the downtown Federal Building with Lieutenant David Klein of the Los Angeles Police Department. Lieutenant Klein was picked up in a stuporous condition one hour ago at 67th Street and Central Avenue in South Los Angeles. He was unconscious and in a disheveled state. We brought him here to a.s.sure that he receives proper medical attention."

"That's a riot."

"Jim, strike Bill's comment. Resuming, Lieutenant Klein, whom our Intelligence records indicate to be forty-two years old, has sustained possible head injuries. His hands and neck have been burned, the scarring forensically consistent with burns caused by dry ice. There are bloodstains on his shirt and there is friction tape stuck to his jacket. He is unarmed. We properly parked his 1957 Plymouth police vehicle at the intersection where we found him. Prior to interrogation, Lieutenant Klein will be offered medical attention."

Propped up in a straight-backed chair.

Feds.

"Jim, have this typed and see that Mr. Noonan gets a carbon."

A sweat hole. Will Shipstad, two G-men. A table, chairs, a steno rig.

Shipstad: "He's coming to. Jim, get Mr. Noonan."

One Fed walked. I stretched--kinks and aches head to toe.

Shipstad: "You know me, Lieutenant. We met at the Emba.s.sy Hotel."

"I remember."

"This is my partner, Special Agent Milner. Do you know where you are?"

My j.a.p sword--wide screen/color.

"Do you want to see a doctor?"

"No."

Milner--fat, cheap cologne. "Are you sure? You're looking a little raggedy-a.s.s."

"No."

Shipstad: "Witness that Mr. Klein refused medical attention. What about an attorney? Being one yourself, you know that we have the right to hold you for questioning."

"I waive."

"You're sure?"

Johnny--Jesus G.o.d.

"I'm sure."

"Bill, witness that Mr. Klein was offered and refused legal counsel."

"Why am I here?"

Milner: "Look at yourself. The question should be where have you been?"

Shipstad: "We picked you up at 67th and Central. A short time prior to that, the Bido Lito's club was arsoned. We had agents in the vicinity on general surveillance, and one of them heard a witness talking to LAPD detectives. The witness said he was walking by Bido Lito's shortly after the club closed for the night and saw a broken front window. Seconds later the place caught fire. That certainly sounds like a firebombing to me."

Milner: "Three people died in that fire. So far, we're a.s.suming it was the club's two owners and the cleanup man. Lieutenant, do you know how to concoct a Molotov c.o.c.ktail?"

Shipstad: "We're not suggesting that _you_ torched Bido Lito's. Frankly, the condition we picked you up in suggests that you were incapable of lighting a cigarette. Lieutenant, look how this appears. Two nights ago, five people were killed at an after-hours club in Watts, and a somewhat reliable source told us that Ed Exley and Bob Gallaudet exerted a great deal of pressure to keep the details under wraps. _Now_, the following morning your colleague Sergeant George Stemmons, Jr., is found dead at Bido Lito's. Chief Exley feeds the press a song and dance about a heart attack, when we've heard that it was most likely a self-inflicted heroin overdose. _Now_, forty-odd hours after _that_, Bido Lito's is torched, and _you_ drive by not long after in a state that indicates narcotic-induced intoxication. Lieutenant, do you see how all this appears?"

Kafesjian setup. Johnny D. gouting blood-- Milner: "Klein, are you with us?"

"Yes."

"Do you routinely use narcotics?"

"No."

"Oh, just occasionally?"

"Never."

"How about submitting to a blood test?"

"How about releasing me on a prima facie evidence writ?"

Milner: "Hey, he went to law school."

Shipstad: "Where were you coming from when we picked you up?"

"I refuse to answer."

Milner: "Sure, on the grounds that it might incriminate you."

"No, on the grounds of nonincriminating information disclosure as detailed in _Indiana v. Harkness, Bodine, et al._, 1943."

"Hey, he went to law school. You got anything to add to that, hotshot?"

"Yeah, you're a fat piece of s.h.i.t and your wife f.u.c.ks Rin-Tin-Tin."

Cardiac red--fat s.h.i.tbird. Shipstad: "_Enough_. Lieutenant, where were you?"

"Refuse to answer."

"What happened to your service revolver?"

"Refuse to answer."

"Can you explain the unkempt condition we found you in?"

"Refuse to answer."

"Can you explain the blood on your shirt?"

Johnny begging-- "Refuse to answer."

Milner: "Something getting to you, hotshot?"

Shipstad: "Where were you?"

"Refuse to answer."

"Did _you_ torch Bido Lito's?"

"No."

"Do you know who did?"

"No."

"Did the LAPD do it as revenge for Stemmons' death?"

"No, you're crazy."

"Did Inspector George Stemmons, Sr., order the torch?"

"I don't--no, you're crazy."

"Did _you_ torch Bido Lito's to avenge your partner's death?"

"No"--getting light-headed.

Milner:"We don't smell liquor on your breath."

Shipstad: "Were you under the influence of narcotics when we found you?"

"No."

"Do you use narcotics?"

"No"--speaker lights on the wall--listeners somewhere.

"Were you forcibly administered narcotics?"

"No"--a good guess--JOHNNY CO-STAR. The door opened--Welles Noonan stepped in.

Milner walked out. Noonan: "Good morning, Mr. Klein."

Jack Kennedy hair--reeking of hairspray. "I said, 'Good morning.'"

JOHNNY BEGGING.

"Klein, are you listening to me?"

"I heard you."

"Good. I had a few questions before we release you."

"Ask them."

"I will. And I look forward to sparring with you. I remember that precedent you upbraided Special Agent Milner with, so I think we'd be evenly matched."

"How do you get your hair to do that?"

"I'm not here to share my hairdressing secrets with you. Now, I'm going--"

"c.o.c.ksucker, you spit in my face."

"Yes. And you were at the very least criminally negligent in the matter of Sanderline Johnson's death. So far, these are-"

"Ten minutes or I call Jerry Geisler for habeas."

"He'll never find a judge."

"Ten minutes or I engage Kanarek, Brown and Mattingly to file nuisance claims that entail immediate court appearances."

"Mr. Klein, did you--"

"Call me 'Lieutenant.'"

"Lieutenant, how well do you know the history of the Los Angeles Police Department?"

"Get to it, don't lead me."

"Very well. Who initiated what I'll euphemistically describe as the 'arrangement' between the LAPD and Mr. J.C. Kafesjian?"