Part 11 (1/2)
”But I think we can get you unstuck.”
He looked up, a glimmer of hope s.h.i.+ning in his black eyes. ”How?”
How, indeed? Against honest cops, I'd have been in a much dicier spot, but all the deception and extravagant ill-truth floating around made for ample wiggle room here. So I told Vic about Scovil's and Hines's crossed purposes and hoped he'd see the benefit of defecting to Team Hoverlander. ”We can't protect ourselves,” I said, ”but we might could protect each other.”
Vic's brow furrowed as his brain worked at max amps. ”We're in the whaddyacallit,” he said at last, ”that prisoner's thingie.” I knew what he was groping for: the Prisoner's Dilemma, the cla.s.sic game-theory problem where two crooks will prosper if they cooperate, but each can rationally (though mistakenly) conclude that they'll do better by betraying the other. ”If we screw each other, we're both screwed, right?”
I'd heard many more sophisticated a.n.a.lyses of the dilemma, but never one more trenchant. I said, ”Vic, how did you get mixed up with these dillweeds in the first place?”
He took a beat before answering. I could see he was weighing his commitment to the prisoner's whaddyacallit. At last he let go, and his story came spilling out. ”So last March,” he said, ”this wedge comes to see me. Says he's got some off-license credit cards going moldy in Louisiana. Tried to move 'em during Mardi Gras, didn't work out. But if I go mule 'em back, he'll deal me in for a nice chunk of change. So I make the New Orleans turnaround, and when I land back at LAX, they've got, like, the whole Seventh Cavalry waiting to drop my noggin.” I did a quick reductive adjustment to the Mirplovian math: If he said it was the Seventh Cavalry, it was probably one overweight Jake and a crippled crime dog. ”Next thing I know, I'm in some FBI lockup at the airport, and Hines is there, telling me what a world of hurt I'm in.”
”You crossed state lines with counterfeit credit cards. That's a federal beef.”
”Oh, intuitive grasp of the obvious, Brain Boy. But Hines offered to kick me if I agreed to stool out for him.”
”You know you were stung, right?”
”Stung?”
”You think they picked you at random? They entrapped your a.s.s.”
”The motherf.u.c.kers,” he said indignantly.
”Yeah, the motherf.u.c.kers.”
”d.a.m.n, that'd never've held up in court!”
”Hines never intended it to get that far. What happened next?”
”I was drowning, Radar. He threw me a rope. What could I do but grab it?”
”So what'd they have you do?”
”At first nothing. Just check in every now and then and, you know, shout if something sketchy was going down.”
”And who all did you rat out?”
”n.o.body!” protested Vic. I barely rolled my eyes. ”Okay, one or two guys. Clumsy mooks they'd have caught anyway.”
”Plus me.”
”You they knew about. But they were psyched to know more. How you operate, what snukes you liked to play. They said they were gonna offer you a job. Honest to G.o.d, Radar, I thought I was hooking you up.”
”Yeah, Merry Christmas.”
”I'm really sorry I put you on their map.”
”You still don't get it, do you, Vic?” He gave me this blank look like Get what? Get what? ”I was on their map all along. You were just their GPS.” ”I was on their map all along. You were just their GPS.”
Vic mulled this. ”Oh,” he said at last.
”Though it would've been better if you'd given me the high sign when you saw Hines in the Java Man that day.”
”Oh, yeah, that. My bad.”
”Yeah, your bad. How did Allie fit in?”
”f.u.c.kin' Allie,” muttered Vic.
”What do you mean?”
”She had in mind that the more I warned you against her, the more tied up in her you'd get. Ridiculous, right?”
Right. Ridiculous.
”She was like my acting coach and s.h.i.+t. Very heavy. Very serious pain in the a.s.s.” Vic's face brightened. ”But I did a good job, though, didn't I? Really had you convinced she was stinky cheese.”
”Yeah, thanks for that.” This raised a question I didn't think Vic could answer, but I asked it just the same, for sometimes he had an idiot savant's knack for clarity. ”Is she in on it?”
”Duh, of course she is.”
”No, I mean as a cherry top. Or is she just pimped in like us?”
”Wow, that's a good question.” Vic mused for a moment. ”You know, the truth is, I've never smelled cop on her.”
”Yeah, me neither. Doesn't mean it's not there. Maybe she just cleans up nice.”
”There is one thing ...”
”What's that?”
”Early in October, before you two met, she was pumping me for all your 411 and this was, like, the middle of the afternoon, but she could barely stay awake. I asked her what's the matter. She said jet lag.”
”Jet lag? Really?”
”Uh-huh. And right now I'm thinking Australia.”
”You know what, Vic? So am I.”
”You think she went there hunting Yuan?”
”Hunting? I don't know.” Back in Allie's apartment-or safe house-when I'd guessed that she and Yuan had dated, Hines as much as admitted I was right and Allie didn't say no. Granted, she might have gone to Australia ”in hot pursuit” and whatnot, but Mirplo was right: she didn't smell cop. Which maybe put her on Yuan's side of the street. Maybe her business was more partners.h.i.+p than pleasure.
Maybe, maybe, maybe. A whole big stack of maybe just waiting for syrup and jam. Another question crossed my mind. ”What was Allie doing at the car show last year? Was that coincidence, or was she already scouting me out?”
Vic just shrugged. ”I don't know,” he said. ”You could ask her friend.”
”Friend?”