The Target

"You're supposed to uphold justice and the precious laws that protect scum like that."

"Yes," Ramsey said. "I'm supposed to uphold the rights of all sorts of scum."

Mason Lord looked at him sharply, but Ramsey's expression didn't change. "As much as I don't want to even consider it, you're probably right that there's got to be either a connection to me or to Louey. I will think about that. Actually, I'd already spoken to Buzz Carmen about my enemies being behind this. We'll see."

"I want to leave Molly and Emma here with you. At least here I know they'll be safe."

"Just what will you do that I can't?"

"Your people didn't do much of anything in Colorado. No, my resources are more far-reaching."

"Just who are your resources other than a whole bunch of cops and lawyers in San Francisco?"

Ramsey shook his head. "You wouldn't approve, so I'll just keep that information under my collar."

Mason Lord felt red creeping up his neck. He rose slowly, his palms flat on the beautiful mahogany desktop, but he didn't have time to say anything. The door opened and his daughter walked in. She was smiling. She said to her father, "Have I missed much? I'm sorry for being late, but Emma wasn't ready to go to sleep. You know, it's true- a mother's work is never done. Now, tell me what you're thinking and I'll tell you what I think."

Ramsey winked at Mason Lord. "Might as well, sir. She's got a really good brain. It'd be stupid not to use it. You should have seen her drive the getaway car."

Mason Lord heard the mindless music from the game show. He shouldn't have, not in his soundproofed study. Had she turned the volume up? He looked at his daughter's face. "Go back to see to your daughter."

"Your granddaughter is peachy. She's with Miles. Let's talk."

"Go watch the game show with Eve."

"I don't know Eve. I don't like game shows. Actually, on my list of priorities at this moment, neither of those is very high."

He wanted to tell her to butt out, that this was his home and he was the boss here. Then he looked at her eyes, filled with pain and defiance and determination.

"Well, hell," he said.

Ramsey Hunt smiled and nodded at him. He still had to tell Molly that he was leaving her and Emma here. He'd been avoiding it. He wondered if she'd take him apart. But he had to do something.

Molly smiled at him, patting his arm. "Don't even think it," she said. "I overheard you speaking to Dad. No, Ramsey, no way am I letting you go out there on your own."

Ramsey looked at Mason Lord. "Well, hell," he said.

* * *

DlLLON Savich said to Agent Sherlock, who happened to be his wife of six months, two weeks, and three days, "This whole thing just doesn't make any sense. I've tried lots of different approaches with MAX but he can't seem to get a reasonable handle on it."

MAX was Dillon's laptop and partner, so he called him. Dillon's reputation in the Bureau was that he could make the laptop dance, and he did, that was true enough. Sherlock patted MAX's case. "You've got lots of supposition, but just a few facts. Unfortunately MAX likes solid facts, not wussy guesses from the ether."

"That true, MAX?" Savich punched a key on his laptop. A deep mellow voice said, "Right, boss."

Sherlock laughed. "I still can't get used to that voice. You're a sicko, Dillon. You're going to have to change the voice when MAX has a sex change again to MAXINE."

"You want to audition?"

"Do I strike you as a Maxine type?"

He stared up at her face and just shook his head. "No, but don't worry, I'll think of something when the inevitable sex change happens. You should see Jimmy Maitland's face when I ask MAX a prearranged question. The first time he nearly fainted. Now he sits forward, just like a kid waiting for a Spiderman cartoon to come on." As a matter of fact, she had seen his boss's face when MAX had come out with "Actually, Savich, I don't think I wish to deal with this confusion anymore." Maitland had run out of his office, shouting for everyone in the vicinity to come in and hear this.

She poked him lightly on the shoulder and said, "We've got to get more information. Ramsey called you this morning from San Francisco to check in. Has he called since then?"

"No. But at least we know where he is."

"Just imagine Ramsey Hunt-a federal judge-at Mason Lord's house in Oak Park. It boggles the mind."