Part 90 (1/2)

”d.a.m.n it, Sha.s.sad,” retorted Daniels, ”the answers aren't going to change no matter how many times you ask. I've told you everything I know.”

Sha.s.sad turned quickly and angrily, leaning forward on the table, pus.h.i.+ng his contorted face to within inches of Daniels's.

”d.a.m.n it!”

he roared. ”What's her name?”

Daniels was silent, Sha.s.sad's eyes fiery and inches away from his own.

”Where's she live?”

Silence again.

”Where is she?”

More silence.

”G.o.d d.a.m.n you!” he roared. He turned over two chairs beside the table and sent them cras.h.i.+ng against a wall and a filing cabinet.

”Son of a b.i.t.c.h! Trying to be the hotshot like the old man, huh? f.u.c.k the cops, huh? All right! You wanted it!”

Sha.s.sad burst from the room and was gone for less than ten seconds. He returned with the steak knife taken from Daniels earlier.

The knife, tagged as evidence and now s.h.i.+elded in a plastic bag, was flung down on the table in front of Daniels.

”See that?” roared Sha.s.sad.

”See it? That's something your old man was never dumb enough to do!

Concealed weapon. You won't cooperate with me, I don't cooperate with you. How'd you like to go out to the desk sergeant and be booked for that? Huh? That can mean jail, you know. You want that?” Sha.s.sad was leaning forward on the table again, above the knife, shouting.

”Lawyer-client relations are confidential,” said Daniels placidly.

”I.

don't expect you to understand a tricky philosophical concept like that” He glanced at his watch.

”That's why you're a cop” Sha.s.sad moved back slightly, changing his tone of voice.

”What's the matter. You catching a train or something?”

”What?”

”Nothing” said Sha.s.sad.

”If you want to book me on a weapons charge, go ahead” said Daniels.

'I'll have bail posted before you can get back to your car.”

Sha.s.sad grabbed the knife angrily.