Hurley ignored her question and pointedly asked, “Who’s in the car?”

“New recruit. Thomas told me he filled you in.” Kennedy was referring to their boss.

Hurley’s eyes were shielded by the polarized lenses of his aviators. His head slowly swiveled away from the car toward Kennedy. “Yes, he told me what you were up to,” he said with obvious disapproval.

Kennedy defensively folded her arms across her chest and said, “You don’t endorse my decision.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Why?”

“I don’t run a damn Boy Scout camp.”

“Never said you did, Stan,” Kennedy said in a biting tone.

“Then why the hell are you wasting my time sending me some titty-boy college puke who doesn’t know the difference between a gun and a rifle?”

The normally stoic Kennedy allowed a bit of irritation to show. She was well aware of the special hold she had over Hurley, and a look of disapproval on her part was far more potent than a direct attack.

Hurley looked down at her and could see she was unhappy with him. He didn’t like that one bit. It was the same with his own daughters. If one of his boys had so much as looked at him sideways he would have knocked him on his ass, but the girls had the ability to get past all his defenses. Get inside him and create doubt. Still, on this issue, he knew he was right, so he held his ground. “Don’t make this personal, Irene. I’ve been at this a long time, and I know what I’m doing. I don’t need you going over my head and then coming down here and dumpin’ some untested rookie in my lap.”

Kennedy stood sphinxlike, refusing to yield her position.

Hurley took a drag from his cigarette and said, “I think you should save us all the headache and get back in your car and take him back to wherever you found him.”