“Innocent until proven guilty,” Colby said, calmly. He was losing patience with this lot, but he wouldn’t let them see him break.

Dorn’s cohorts made a poor attempt to suppress chuckling. “Mr. Dretch, you’re not just a thief-you’re an accessory after the fact in your clients’ illicit affairs. You’d be lucky to get out in thirty years.”

“I think you ought to leave,” the detective said in a steady voice.

Dorn reclined in his chair and smiled as warmly as his features would allow. “Colby, you misunderstand. I’m interested in doing business with you because you’re guilty. Putting the screws to anyone naive enough to trust you with their deepest secrets is an admirable trait. That’s a sign of intelligence where I come from.”

Colby had never before been complimented for being a complete bastard. His crimes were many-far more than the indictments that had been handed down already. Friendless and penniless, his passport revoked by the courts, the future looked bleak, and now he was taking crap from some rich boy with an agenda.

Colby tossed the list of names on the desk in front of Dorn. “Many agencies can find these people for you,” he said. “You don’t need me.”

“That’s not why I’m here, detective. The real job is for a name not on this list-a young man. His name could be anything by now; even one of these,” Dorn added, picking up the list.

“Not interested,” Colby said.

“You cannot find him?”

“I can find anyone. But as you just pointed out, I have many problems.”

“Name your price.”

“It’s not that easy.”