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〃I just had a couple of questions about the Nakamoto tapes。〃
〃The Nakamoto tapes？〃
〃The ones in your laboratory last night。〃
〃My laboratory？ Mr。； ah… 〃
〃Smith； Lieutenant Smith。〃 I gave him my card。
〃Lieutenant； I'm sorry； but I don't know what you're talking about。 Tapes in my lab last night？〃
〃Kristen； your secretary； said everybody in the lab was working late on some tapes。〃
〃Yes。 That's true。 Most of my staff。〃
〃And the tapes came from Nakamoto。〃
〃From Nakamoto？〃 He shook his head。 〃Who told you that？〃
〃She did。〃
〃I assure you； Lieutenant； the tapes were not from Nakamoto。〃
〃I heard there were twenty tapes。〃
〃Yes； at least twenty。 I'm not sure of the exact number。 But they were from McCann…Erickson。 An ad campaign for Asahi beer。 We had to do a logo transformation on every ad in the campaign。 Now that Asahi beer is the number one beer in America。〃
〃But the question of Nakamoto… 〃
〃Lieutenant；〃 he said impatiently； glancing at the podium； 〃let me explain something。 I work for Hamaguchi Research Labs。 Hamaguchi is owned by Kawakami Industries。 A petitor of Nakamoto。 petition among the Japanese corporations is very intense。 Very intense。 Take my word for it： my lab didn't do any work on any Nakamoto tapes last night。 Such a thing would never happen； under any circumstances。 If my secretary said it did； she's mistaken。 It's absolutely out of the realm of possibility。 Now； I have to give a speech。 Is there anything else？〃
〃No；〃 I said。 〃Thanks。〃
There was scattered applause as the speaker on the podium finished。 I turned and left the room。
I was driving away from the Bonaventure when Connor called in from the golf course。 He sounded annoyed。 〃I got your page。 I had to interrupt my game。 This better be good。〃
I told him about the one o'clock appointment with Senator Morton。
〃All right；〃 he said。 〃Pick me up here at ten…thirty。 Anything else？〃
I told him about my trips to JPL and Hamaguchi； then my conversation with Donaldson。
Connor sighed。 〃That was a waste of time。〃
〃Why？〃
〃Because Hamaguchi is funded by Kawakami； and they're in petition with Nakamoto。 There is no way they would do anything to help Nakamoto。〃
〃That's what Donaldson told me；〃 I said。
〃Where are you going now？〃
〃To the U。S。C。 video labs。 I'm still trying to get the tapes copied。〃
Connor paused。 〃Anything else I should know？〃
〃No。〃
〃Fine。 See you at ten…thirty。〃
〃Why so early？〃
〃Ten…thirty；〃 he said； and hung up。
* * *
As soon as I hung up； the phone rang。 〃You were supposed to call me。〃 It was Ken Shubik at the Times。 He sounded sulky。
〃Sorry。 I got tied up。 Can we talk now？〃
〃Sure。〃
〃You got information for me？〃
〃Listen。〃 He paused。 〃Are you anywhere around here？〃
〃About five blocks from you。〃
〃Then e by for a cup of coffee。〃
〃You don't want to talk on the phone？〃
〃Well 。 。 。〃
〃e on； Ken。 You always want to talk on the phone。〃 Shubik was like all the Times reporters； he sat at his desk in front of his puter and wore a headset and talked on the phone all day long。 It was his preferred way of doing things。 He had all his stuff in front of him； he could type his notes into the puter as he talked。 When I was a press officer； my office had been at police headquarters in Parker Center； two blocks from the Times building。 And still a reporter like Ken would rather talk to me on the phone than see me in person。
〃e on by； Pete。〃
That was clear enough。
Ken didn't want to talk on the phone。
〃Okay； fine；〃 I said。 〃See you in ten minutes。〃
？
The Los Angeles Times is the most profitable newspaper in America。 The newsroom takes up one entire floor of the Times building； and thus is the area of a city block。 The space has been skillfully subdivided； so you are never confronted by how large it actually is； and how many hundreds of people work there。 But still it seems you walk for days past reporters sitting at clusters of modular workstations； with their glowing puter screens； their blinking telephones； and their tacked…up pictures of the kids。
Ken's workstation was in Metro； on the east side of the building。 I found him standing by his desk； pacing。 Waiting for me。 He took me by the elbow。
〃Coffee；〃 he said。 〃Let's get coffee。〃
〃What is it？〃 I said。 〃You don't want to be seen with me？〃
〃No。 Shit。 I want to avoid the Weasel。 He's down hustling that new girl on Foreign。 She doesn't know any better yet。〃 Ken nodded toward the far end of the newsroom。 There； by the windows； I saw the familiar figure of Willy Wilhelm； known to everyone as Weasel Wilhelm。 Willy's narrow； ferretlike face was at this moment posed into a mask of smiling attentiveness as he joked with a blond girl sitting before a terminal。
〃Very cute。〃
〃Yeah。 A little big in the rear。 She's Dutch；〃 Ken said。 〃She's only been here a week。 She hasn't heard about him。〃
Most organizations had a person like the Weasel： somebody who is more ambitious than scrupulous； somebody who finds a way to make himself useful to the powers that be； while being roundly hated by everyone else。 That was the case with Weasel Wilhelm。
Like most dishonest people； the Weasel believed the worst about everybody。 He could always be counted on to portray events in their most unflattering light； insisting that anything less was a cover…up。 He had a nose for human weakness and a taste for melodrama。 He cared nothing for the truth of any situation； and he considered a balanced appraisal weak。 As far as the Weasel was concerned； the underlying truth was always strong stuff。 And that was what he dealt in。
The other reporters at the Times despised him。
Ken and I went into the central hallway。 I followed him toward the coffee machines； but he led me into the library。 In the middle of the floor； the Times had a library that was larger and better equipped than many college facilities。
〃So； what is it about Wilhelm？〃 I said。
〃He was in here last night；〃 Ken said。 〃I came by after the theater to pick up some notes I needed for a morning interview I was doing from home。 And I saw the Weasel in the library。 Maybe eleven o'clock at night。 You know how ambitious the little turd is。 I could see it in his face。 He had the scent of blood。 So naturally； you want to know about what。〃
〃Naturally；〃 I said。 The Weasel was an acplished backstabber。 A year earlier； he had managed to get the editor of the Sunday Calendar fired。 Only at the last minute did he fail to land the job himself。
Ken said； 〃So I whisper to Lilly； the night librarian。 'What is it？ What's the Weasel up to？' She says； 'He's checking police reports on some cop。' So that's a relief； I think。 But then I begin to wonder。 I mean； I'm still the senior Metro reporter。 I still do a story out of Parker Center a couple of times a month。 What does he know that I don't？ For all I know； this should be my story。 So I say to Lilly； what's the name of this cop？〃
〃Let me guess；〃 I said。
〃That's right；〃 Ken said。 〃Peter J。 Smith。〃
〃What time was this？〃
〃About eleven。〃
〃Great；〃 I said。
〃I thought you'd want to know；〃 Ken said。
〃I do。〃
〃So I said to Lilly … this is last night … I said； 'Lilly； wha