Dark Rivers of the Heart

her?"
        "I don't know. But I'm sure u're aware of the swat-team raid on your house last night, the bungalow she was renting from you."
        Lee was silent for a moment. Then: "Yes, the authorities came to my own home last evening, after the raid, to ask about her."
        "Mr. Lee, these authorities… who were they?"
        "Three men. They claimed to be with the FBI."
        "Claimed?"
        "They showed me credentials, but they were lying."
        Frowning, Spencer said, "How can you be sure of that?"
        "In my life, I've had considerable experience of deceit and treachery,"
        Lee said. He didn't seem either angry or bitter. "I've developed a good nose for it."
        Spencer wondered if that was as much a warning as it was an explanation.
        Whichever the case, he knew that he was not in the presence of an ordinary businessman. "If they weren't actually government agents-"
        "Oh, I'm sure they were government agents.
        However, I believe the FBI credentials were simply a convenience."
        "Yes, but if they were with another bureau, why not flash their real ID?
        " Lee shrugged. "Rogue agents, operating without the authority of their bureau, hoping to confiscate a cache of drug profits for their own benefit, would have reason to mislead with false ID."
        Spencer knew that such things had happened. "But I don't… I can't believe that Valerie is involved with drug peddling."
        "I'm sure she isn't. If I'd thought so, I wouldn't have rented to her.
        Those people are scum-corrupting children, ruining lives.
        Besides, although His. Keene paid her rent in cash, she wasn't rolling in money. And she worked at a full-time job."
        "So if these weren't, let's say, rogue Drug Enforcement Agency operatives looking to line their own pockets with cocaine profits, and if they weren't actually with the FBI-who were they?"
        Louis Lee shifted slightly in his chair, still sitting erect but lilting his head in such a way that reflections of the stained-glass Tiffany lamp painted both lenses of his spectacles and obscured his eyes.
        "Sometimes a government-or a bureau within a government-becomes frustrated when it has to play by the rules. With oceans of tax money washing around, with bookkeeping systems that would be laughable in any private enterprise, it's easy for some government officials to fund covert organizations to achieve results that can't be achieved through legal means."
        "Mr. Lee, do you read a lot of espionage novels?" la Louis Lee smiled thinly. "They're not of interest to me.
        "Excuse me, sir, but this sounds a little paranoid."
        "It's only experience speaking."
        "Then your life's been even more interesting than I'd guess from appearances."
        "Yes," Lee said, but didn't elaborate. After a pause, with his eyes still hidden by the patterns of reflected color that glimmered in his eyeglasses, he continued: "The larger a government, the more likely it is to be riddled with such covert organizations-some small but some not.
        We have a very big government, Mr. Grant."
        "Yes, but-"
        "Direct and indirect taxes require the average citizen to work from January until the middle of July to pay for that government. Then working men and women begin to labor for themselves."
        "I've heard that figure too."
        "When government grows so large, it also grows arrogant."
        Louis Lee did not seem to be a fanatic. No anger or bitterness strained his voice. In fact, although he chose to surround himself with highly ornamented French furniture, he had a calm air of Zen simplicity and a distinctly Asian resignation to the ways of the world.
        He seemed more of a pragmatist than a crusader.
        "His. Keene's enemies, Mr. Grant, are my enemies too."
        "And mine."
        "However, I don't intend to make a target of myself-as you are doing.
        Last night, I didn't express my doubt about their credentials when they presented themselves as FBI agents. That would not have been prudent. I was unhelpful, yes, but cooperatively unhelpful-if you know what I mean."
        Spencer sighed and slumped in his chair.
        Leaning forward with his hands on his knees, his intense black eyes becoming visible again as the reflections of the lamp moved off his glasses, hee said, "You were the man in her house last