Monahan stormed into the precinct, anger permeating every fiber of his being. Uniforms and plainclothesmen alike cleared out of his path, in fear that they might become targets if they inadvertently got in his way. The lieutenant stormed up the stairs, heading right toward the Captain's office: if he noticed the fact that all the cops on duty were staring at him, he showed no outward sign of it. As he reached for the door to the Captain's office, it swung open, startling him.

"It took you longer than I anticipated, Frank," the captain said, "come on in."

Monahan stared at the dark suits in the room and glared at his superior. "Is this party you're hostin' the reason you belayed my call for a unit to come to Quincy's boat?"

Donovan pulled Monahan into his office and closed the door behind him. "Just take a seat and listen."

"I'll do nothing of the kind. Perhaps you missed it, captain, but both the director and the chief deputy medical examiner of the Los Angeles County Coroner's office are missing, and Quincy's boat was torn apart. Whatever happened to them, it didn't happen without a fight."

The older man in the dark suit stepped forward, smiling. It made Monahan's stomach churn.

He extended his hand. "Lt. Monahan, I presume..."

Monahan stared at the man's hand, but didn't move to take it. "Yeah, and just who the hell are you?"

"Frank," Donovan admonished, "settle down."

The man in the dark suit smiled again, and it made Monahan feel sick. "It's all right, captain, I'm sure the lieutenant's had a pretty rough night. I'm Special Agent Rick Sequana, Lt. Monahan, of the F.B.I. We've been monitoring the movements of your murder victim, Michael Quincy, for a year and half now. He was about to turn state's witness with evidence that would have linked Anthony Vandano to at least a half dozen murders, money laundering, extortion and illegal gambling charges for entry into the witness protection program and probation on 18 counts of embezzlement. Vandano got the drop on us and that is incredibly unfortunate, but luckily for us, we have the opportunity to attempt a salvage operation."

Monahan glared at the man. "Salvage operation? What in the hell does that have to do with me and my murder investigation?"

"There isn't going to be any murder investigation lieutenant, because there wasn't any murder."

"What are you talkin' about? There's a body down at the morgue, and--"

"--Frank," Donovan said softly, "sit down, and listen."

"But--"

"--Frank," the captain pat his shoulder, "please just do it."

Monahan took a seat, crossed his arms and glared at the suit before him.

"The only shot we have at not losing a year and half's work on this case is by making Vandano think that Michael Quincy isn't dead."

"Well that's gonna be tough since there's a body..."

"No, there's not. The F.B.I. has seized custody on the body--"

"--how in the hell can you seize custody on a dead body?"

Monahan felt Donovan's hands land on his shoulders. "Frank, calm down and give the man a chance."

Sequana continued, "The body and all records of the body have been removed from the LACC."

"Fine, but Vandano's hitman's gonna tell him different." He glared at Donovan. "Stan, I'm sorry, but Asten and Quincy are missing, and we're just sittin' here listening to this--"

"--Your friends, Dr. Asten and Dr. Quincy are in our custody, Lt. Monahan. They're quite safe, and are being detained at the Federal Building on Wilshire."

"Detained? What are you talkin' about?"

"I'm afraid that Dr. Asten is being charged with tampering of evidence in a federal murder case."

"What? That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. Stan, tell him how stupid that is... if you knew Asten at all, Sequana, you'd know that you're about as far off base as you can get and still be on the same planet."

Donovan's hands squeezed Monahan's shoulders, bringing the tirade to a halt. "He's telling the truth, Frank. Asten removed a key attached to a claim stub from the personal effects bag of Michael Quincy."

"That can't be. Asten's way too hard-nosed and uptight for something like that, Stan, and we both know it."

"While your loyalty is touching, Lt. Monahan, I'm afraid we're wasting time," Sequana said.

"What about Quincy? Why are you holding him?"

"We need him as bait to lure out Vandano for us."

"You want Quincy to be a sitting duck for the mob? Given the circumstances, that's suicidal. You'll never get him to agree to it, Sequana."

But the suit smiled again, causing nausea to rise in Monahan's stomach. "That's where you're quite wrong, lieutenant. We're going to make him an offer he can't refuse..."


Quincy felt the sweat trickling down his back. "I already told you, my brother and I don't... didn't speak, I have no idea what he was doing."

The man in the gray suit leaned down on the table that barely fit into the small, hot room. "And I told you I don't believe you." He straightened up. "You're in a lot of hot water, doctor. Help yourself by helping us."

"I can't tell you anything about my brother; we were estranged, I don't even know where he was living. Look, if you're going to keep me here, I want a lawyer."

"You're not being very cooperative, Dr. Quincy."

Quincy's voice began to rise in timbre and volume. "Are you deaf or stupid? I don't know anything that can help you!"

"That's unfortunate, doctor, because you see, that friend of yours we picked up outside your boat, Asten? He's dug himself a hole so deep he'll never get out; unless of course, you help him."

Quincy felt his heart jump into his throat. "What do you mean?"

"We've got him on tampering with evidence in a federal case. That's an eight to ten year sentence in the federal pen." Quincy swallowed hard, and the man smiled. "See, if you know something, or if you would agree to maybe, help us nail Anthony Vandano...well, we might be able to make that charge against your friend go away." The man straightened his tie and licked his lips. "Maybe you could see yourself clear to help your friend, because without you, doc, he's headin' for a long and uncomfortable stay with us. You'd better think about that for awhile."

The suit headed for the door, and Quincy quickly said, "Wait." He swallowed hard, his stomach burning in pain from his ulcer. "I'll do whatever you want if you let Asten go," he said quietly.

The man smiled. "I thought you might start seeing it from our point of view."


The sun was just breaking over the eastern horizon when Asten walked out of the Federal Building.

"This is completely outrageous!"

Donovan took a hold of Asten's arm gently. "Calm down, Dr. Asten. We're working on our own plan to handle this situation, but right now we're at the mercy of the feds. Let's not make a scene right here in the front of their headquarters, or we could end up back inside under lock and key."

"Well where in the hell is Quincy? They wouldn't even tell me if he was all right."

"He's okay."

"Did you see him?"

"No, they wouldn't let me see him, but Special Agent Sequana assured me that he's fine."

Asten stopped walking and the anger in his dark brown eyes set the police captain on edge. "I'm not leaving here until one of us sees him."

"Dr. Asten, all due respect, but this is the F.B.I. you're talking about. They're not going to hurt Quincy, any more than they're going to let us make demands. We're local authority: the feds could care less about what we want."

"I'm not leaving," the director said stubbornly.

"Dr. Asten, let me explain something to you: the only reason you're out here, walking around free, is because Quincy agreed to go along with their suicidal scheme to bring down the New York mafioso boss Anthony Vandano."

"What are you talking about?"

Donovan started Asten moving again. "They had you locked up on an eight to ten for tampering with federal evidence." He watched as all the color drained from the director's face. "Quincy made the only play he could to get you out of there in one piece."

"What are they going to do to him?"

"They're not going to do anything to him, except put him in harm's way by having him pose as his brother Michael."

"What?"

"They're going to allow the mob to believe that Quincy is Michael and hope he can lure Vandano into another attempt to kill him. I guess the feds figure an attempted murder charge is almost as good as tax evasion..."

"That's the most assinine thing I've ever heard. Quincy's not some kind of F.B.I. operative. Captain, he'll get himself killed."

Donovan's voice turned quiet, "I know that doctor. That's why Monahan's back at the precinct locked in a room with our best guys trying to come up with a plan that will at least keep him alive."