out as his alibi, then I was set up to take the fall. Clever.â
âYouâre dirty, Lang.â
âIf I could do her, surely to God, Iâd have already done you.â
âI havenât changed my mind. Youâre dirty.â
âA little. Itâs all relative.â
âYou killed the Russian?â Stern asked. âGet me a glass of water, will you?â Lang went back to the kitchen. âYou murdered the Russian, right?â
âHis own people wanted to kill him after that night in the park. He killed his crew, but one of them got away. If I did it, Iâd call it self-defense.â
âJust like youâd call killing me self-defense?â
âPreemption, Stern,â Lang said, bringing in a glass of tap water. He held the glass as Stern swallowed, eventually all of it. âAmericans have adopted it as part of foreign policy. If itâs good enough for them . . .â
âAnd the guy on Columbus Avenue?â
âYouâre my alibi,â Lang said.
Stern laughed. âIâm not as dumb as youâd like to think, numbnuts. You arranged it.â
âDid I?â
âSo what now?â
âWe either agree to a live-and-let-live attitude, or we have the battle of the expiration dates,â Lang said.
âYou could do it?â
âYes, I said I could. Not now, with you tied up. But I could do it, I promise.â
âYou know Iâm not afraid of you.â
âYes.â
âYou know Iâm not afraid to die,â Stern continued.
âI am, and thatâs why Iâd get you first. On the other hand, I donât want to help you commit suicide. Thatâs your business.â
âIt is,â Stern said soberly. âI gotta get ready for work.â
âI can help you on the Vanderveer case,â Lang said.
âIf we donât kill each other first.â He smiled, looked down at his restraints. âI promise to shut my eyes and count to ten before I come after you,â Stern said, again smiling.
âYou only have to count to five,â Lang said as he went to free him. âI donât need much time to get away from you.â
 * * *Â
Brinkman had taken the early shift in the park, having had just eight hours off. Lang drove up to Nob Hill as well to check in with the Vanderveers but checked in with Brinkman first. The old man sat on a bench, a copy of the morning
Chronicle
open. He looked like the perfect occupantâa retired gentleman, up early, getting some fresh air.
âAnything?â
âQuiet as a graveyard up here until a few minutes ago. Then the dogs started appearing and pooping. A natural cycle. Kind of strange, donât you thinkâânodding toward the hotelââhim paying us to watch him?â
âWe donât know whatâs going on. Things arenât always what they appear.â
âThatâs what I used to tell you.â
Lang nodded. There was no need to bother the Vanderveers. He had nothing for them. âIâm going into the office for awhile. Call me if he leaves. Only follow him, but let me know if the wife or kid goes out. You bring your lunch?â
âIs the bear Catholic?â
Lang laughed. âDoes the Pope . . . never mind.â
 * * *Â
Langâs cell rang. It was Brinkman. Vanderveer, he said, was on the move. He and a kid were walking out of the hotel and down the hill, each carrying a heavy plastic bag.
 * * *Â
Lang found the Xeroxed copy of Vanderveerâs retainer on his desk. Thanh had apparently made it before making the deposit. The check was drawn on the Vanderveersâ personal account and had their address on it. Curious, he looked it up on Google.
The satellite photo must have been shot through clouds. The image didnât provide a great level of detail, but it appeared that the Vanderveers lived in an old, but apparently posh,
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