“What do you want?”

“I done told you,” Moses said, his drawl stretching out endlessly. “I wanted to check in with you—ah, ask you a favor. I want you to call Ms. Lilly at the Bonhomie Club, tell her what a lovely memorial party she threw for Pinky last night.”

Moses Grace and Claudia hadn’t been in the nightclub the night before. Six undercover agents were there, hidden cameras everywhere. But they were outside, watching who went in.

“Your boss, D.A.D. Maitland, looked really nice in his dark suit and that yellow tie with the black squiggles on it.”

“Yeah, tell me what James Quinlan was wearing.”

“Dark suit, red tie with blue triangles on it, looked pretty somber for someone carrying a saxophone. I enjoyed listening to him play. Surprised me—there were lots of folks weeping. It was affectin’, real affectin’.”

Savich drew a deep breath. They’d been talking a good long time now. Maybe long enough, but he wasn’t sure. Best to keep him talking as long as possible, to make certain. “Tell me, Moses, why are you so interested in me? Me in particular? What did I ever do to you?”

Moses was silent for a moment. “So you think this is personal, do you, boy? Well, fact is, you’re right. I got more hate for you stored up inside me than Lucifer.”

“Why?”

“You hurt her, boy, hurt her so bad she was screaming with it.” He broke off. Savich heard the old man’s breathing quicken.

“Who was that, Moses?”

“I might tell you before you die, boy. You know my Claudia still wants you, don’t you?”

All right. Moses was not going to tell him. He decided to shake the old man. It might be the best way to keep him on the line. Savich said in an amused voice, filled with contempt, “You think I’d actually have down and dirty sex with that bug-eyed crazy teenage slut? I bet Claudia drools, she’s so far gone, particularly since she’s with you.” Savich laughed, vicious and nail-hard. “Hey, I’d kick that crazy bitch in the head before I’d let her get near me. What is she, old man, your granddaughter? Or is she some pathetic drugged-out teenager you picked up?”

Blank surprise, Savich heard it in the cold, dead silence. He waited, finally heard a wheeze, as if Moses Grace was going to start hacking. He’d been as crude as he could manage—was this teenage girl old Moses’s lover?

Then Moses Grace wheezed out a laugh that made gooseflesh rise on Savich’s arms. He said in that wet drawl, “Must have been real tough for you, boy, talking all dirty like that. Let me tell you, you’ll change your mind if Claudia has a shot at you. I’ve seen my little sweet cakes diddle a woman before I told her enough was enough and to dig out the old girl’s eyes then kick her out of the van.”

Yes, tell me more, you insane old man, yes. “Yeah, right, you old liar. That’s about as believable as Hollywood throwing a ticker-tape parade for Schwarzenegger.”

He looked up to see Sherlock standing ten feet away, watching him. He said very deliberately, “It must be tough for you, Moses, knowing you’re too decrepit, too diseased, to screw your own wife.”

Savich felt cold dead rage blasting at him. Then Moses Grace chortled, a disgusting, juicy sound. “I don’t like a dirty mouth on you, boy, it don’t seem right somehow. You know, Claudia’s got her fantasies about you and I’ve got mine. We’ll see what you say when I watch your life drain away. I’ll win and you’ll know it. See you then, Savich.”

There was the silence of dead space. Moses Grace had disconnected.

Sherlock walked to him, nosed against his shoulder. “I’ve never heard you speak like that before.”

“It surprised old Moses, too,” he said as he saw Dix walking toward them.

Savich nodded to him, then speed-dialed the communications center in the Hoover Building. “This is Savich. Did you locate Moses Grace’s cell phone?”

He heard a man shouting, “I need the location now!” Then a voice came back on the line, panting, “He’s within a two-mile radius of a semi-rural area west of Dulles, heading toward Leesburg. We just dispatched local police and agents to the area. He was moving, and unfortunately knew enough to turn the phone off, so we’ve lost his signal. You kept him going a long time, Savich, but he didn’t make it easy on us. He was using a different carrier than yours, so we had to track him down through Sprint’s Automatic Number Identification system, using your number as the target phone. That took a while. We’ll keep you posted.”