"Sangamon Taylor?"

"You got a warrant somewhere. Hey! You aren't a real cop at all, are you?"

"We got some witnesses. A bunch of us security guards been over there on the main building, watching you here. Now, we know this van."

"I know, we're old pals."

"Right. So we recognized it when it stopped here last night. And we watched you stripping it. And maybe fucking with the VIN?"

"Look. If you want to hassle me, just go to your boss and say, 'pH'. Just tell him that."

"P-H? Isn't that something they put in shampoo?"

"Close enough. Tell him 'pH thirteen'. And for your sake, get a different job. Don't go out there, into those flats, patrolling around. You understand? It's dangerous."

"Oh, yeah," he said, highly amused. "Big criminal element down there."

"Exactly. The board of directors of Basco. The Fleshy family. Don't let them kill again."

Back at the Omni, Gomez said, "What'd you tell him?"

"pH. Went here last week and tested their pH and it was thirteen."

"So?"

"So they're licensed for eight. That means they're putting shit into the river that's more than two times the legal limit."

"Shit, man," Gomez said, scandalized. That was another good thing about Gomez. He never got jaded.

And I hadn't even told him the truth. Actually, the shit coming out of fiasco's pipe was a hundred thousand times more concentrated than was legally allowed. The difference between pH 13 and pH 8 was five, which meant that pH 13 was ten to the fifth power-a hundred thousand times-more alkaline than pH 8. That kind of thing goes on all the time. But no matter how many diplomas are tacked to your wall, give people a figure like that and they'll pass you off as a flake. You can't get most people to believe how wildly the eco-laws get broken. But if I say "More than twice the legal limit," they get comfortably outraged.