Button said, “Let’s take a ride. Better if we’re not seen.”

The Malibu was a brand-new rental, but smelled of cigarettes. Pike sat in back, with Straw behind the wheel and Button in the shotgun seat. Button twisted to see Pike as they pulled from the curb. He looked as if he had hoped never to see Pike again, but here they were, and now he was irritated.

“That business between you and me, we have to forget that now, okay? Special Agent Straw is out of the Houston Field Office. Turns out he has an investigation running, and we’ve stepped into the middle of it, thanks to you.”

Pike looked into the mirror and found Straw watching him.

“The man in the orange shirt.”

“I’m going to tell you some things I’d rather not, but I can’t divulge where I have people placed. You understand why?”

“We’ll see.”

“Okay. Hang on, and let me get pulled over. Easier to talk.”

Straw drove three short blocks inland and parked behind a row of upscale beachwear shops. The moment they stopped, he rolled down his window and lit a Marlboro. Pike and Button rolled down their windows, too.

Straw turned to face Pike, and showed his credentials. Special Agent R. Jack Straw. Federal Bureau of Investigation.

“Okay?”

Pike nodded, wondering what this was about.

Straw tucked away his badge case and considered Pike through the smoke.

“What did you think of Mikie Azzara?”

Pike was surprised, though he showed no expression.

Straw read his silence anyway, and smiled.

“Not your traditional Mexican Mafioso, is he, all sleeved-out and nasty? He’s the new generation, and we’re all over him—”

Straw checked his watch.

“—which is how I know you met with him two hours ago at the Starbucks on Abbot Kinney. After which you hooked up with Ms. Rayne and went to the Sidewalk Cafe. They make a good pizza. My favorite meal since I’ve been here.”

Straw craned his head to geyser more smoke out the window, then glanced at Button.

“My new best friend here, Detective Button, he thinks this conversation is a mistake.”

Button stared out the window.

“It is. You’re going to regret it.”

“I don’t think so, but either way I need your help, Mr. Pike, so here we are. Ms. Rayne tell you what’s going on?”

“What would she have told me?”

“The two carnales you bounced, Mendoza and Gomer? This wasn’t the first time they’ve been to see her uncle, and they didn’t kick the shit out of him over a sandwich—they were sending a message.”

Button nodded along.

“It’s what you and I talked about, Pike. Smith lied. Those pricks were shaking him down.”

Straw had more of the cigarette. He looked fit enough, but Pike thought the man probably couldn’t run twenty feet.

“Mikie’s spooling up a protection racket—pay the man or get your ass kicked, we’ll break your window, steal your truck, whatever. It’s a street-level thing, small-time, but it’s only one of a number of new scams he’s running. Underline new. These guys are making it up as they go.”

Button shifted in his seat, glancing at Pike but talking to Straw.

“The girl may not know. Smith probably doesn’t want her worried about it. He’d be up shit creek if she walked out on him.”

Pike said, “What does this have to do with me?”

Straw had more of the cigarette.

“You just scared Mikie off, and that’s bad. We’re clocking his business.”

Pike cocked his head.

“The FBI rolled out for a neighborhood protection scam?”

Straw smiled again.

“I wouldn’t give two shits and a cup of coffee about this, but the new jefes like Azzara, they aren’t content to deal tar like their daddies. La Eme is entering the modern age, Mr. Pike. They’re trying new business models, and this shakedown thing is just one piece. They’re also developing international ties with several cartels, and that interests me very much. Hence, my operation and this conversation.”

Pike glanced at Button.

“You didn’t know?”

“Not until this morning.”

Straw finished his cigarette, and flicked it over his shoulder.

“With apologies to Detective Button, we didn’t have boots on the ground two weeks ago. When we learned about Mikie’s new venture, we decided this was our way into La Eme’s new food chain. It’s happening fast.”

Pike said, “Through a neighborhood shakedown.”

Straw shrugged.

“It’s down at the street level, we can reach it, and it’s easy. Easy means fast. New boys like Azzara are popping up in Eme sets from Brownsville to Phoenix to San Diego, and we don’t even know who they are. If we can get inside Mikie’s set, we can find out, which is what we were doing until you got in the way.”

Straw shifted again, and looked apologetic.

“Brother, listen, you did the right thing. If I saw those two clowns stomping some poor guy, I’d weigh in, too. I respect that. But now it’s over, and I need things to go back to the way they were.”

Pike said, “Meaning what?”

Button shifted angrily.

“He wants you to mind your own fucking business. What don’t you get about that?”

Straw raised a hand, telling Button to take it easy.

“I’m asking you to cool it. Stay away from Smith and let him go back to being Smith. Don’t be his personal sentry. Let Azzara be Azzara.”

Pike saw what Straw wanted, and didn’t like it.

“Azzara being Azzara means he puts the pressure on Smith. Mendoza and Gomer will be free to lean on him.”

“I need the little men, so I can trade for the big men. This means I need the little men out doing crime so I can jam them. If I jam them up bad, I can use them as informants.”

Button nodded along, still scowling at Pike.

“Smith isn’t the only guy these turds are trying to milk, Pike. It’s not like he’s in this alone. Straw and his people are watching five or six shops—”

Pike leaned toward Straw.

“You were watching his place and let him get a concussion. You watched a brick go through his window.”

Straw hit Button with a glance so hard it could have knocked him out of the car.

“We didn’t allow those things. They just happened, and now we’ll cover him better.”

“I won’t leave these people hanging.”

“You’re not. I have it covered.”

“You had it covered when he got a concussion.”

“We’ll cover him better.”

Straw suddenly opened his door.

“Pike, step out for a moment. Excuse us, Detective.”

Pike pushed out, leaving Button alone. Straw came around the car to meet Pike on the sidewalk. Straw’s lips were pursed tight, but he lit another cigarette, and lighting it seemed to relax him. He fanned at the smoke.

“We fucked up, okay? We’re still learning how these guys do things, but we’re learning. Just back away. That’s what I’m asking.”

Pike studied the man. Straw had serious eyes, but he also looked nervous. Like he had a lot riding on this, and might lose it all.

Pike said, “If I tell Wilson and Dru, you’re done.”

“You won’t tell.”

“You have no idea what I’ll do.”

“Maybe not. But I did some checking. You worked for top-flight PMCs. Even did some work for the government, time to time, though no one’s supposed to know. They don’t give those clearances to people who can’t keep it wrapped.”

Straw looked at Pike, out from under his eyebrows, and now the smile was back.

“Surprising what a guy like me can find out, isn’t it?”

Pike didn’t respond, so Straw shrugged again.

“Listen, you want these people safe? Brother, so do I, and I guarantee you my way is best. Wilson Smith could’ve sunk these guys right in the ER, but he didn’t. He’s scared. He’s just some poor bastard who wants to fry oysters. You let me get what I need from Azzara, I can help him for real.”

Pike didn’t like any of it, and he didn’t like Straw or the Malibu stinking of smoke.

“How long?”

“Two or three weeks. Maybe less.”

Pike scanned both sides of the street, wondering if the man in the orange shirt was watching.

Straw said, “You think about it. In the meantime, don’t say anything to Smith or his niece. They need to act natural. If you tell them we’re watching, you know what will happen. I might as well head back to Texas.”

Pike said, “Man in the orange shirt, he’s good.”

Straw squinted at Pike through more smoke.

“What man in the orange shirt?”

Straw turned back to his car.

“C’mon. I’ll give you a lift back.”

“I’m good.”

Pike walked.