He found Joe sharing the couch with a thick stack of papers. He'd been there a good while. He'd gone through five large cups of McDonald's take-out coffee and two cans of Coke. He looked beat-bags under bloodshot eyes, face sagging, a downward slope to his shoulders-and there were large sweat stains under the armpits of his powder-blue shirt and damp patches on the front too. 'You sleep here?' 'As good as.' Joe yawned. 'What you got there?' Max asked. 'Revelations,' Joe said. 'I saw Jack Quiones over the weekend.' 'Yeah? How is he?' Max smiled fondly. Jack was a whole bunch of very rare things-a Fed he liked, a Fed he trusted, a Fed he could work with and a Fed with a sense of humour. They'd frequently cooperated when he'd been stationed in Miami-another rarity, because while police departments grudgingly shared information and resources, getting more than a straight refusal from a G-Man was like getting Mount Rushmore to crack a smile.
What do You think about The King Of Swords (max Mingus)?
