Leaning against a cinderblock wall with one arm crossed over his chest, Kogami rubbed the weariness from his eyes. A long, sleepless night with drunks and petty criminals in the LAPD holding tank had left him irritable, stiff-jawed, and on the verge of losing his temper. As of that morning, Kogami had been on the job for a straight 30 hours and under extreme pressure to perform beyond expectation. Even Enforcers were given time off the job to avoid further clouding their psycho passes.

A night of worrying about Akane had not helped matters. He stood restlessly in the jail's waiting room just outside of the booking area. There was no where to sit inside the facility. The drab interior colors and the antiseptic smell in the corridors and rooms were purposeful and meant as deterrent to keep the public at a distance.

It was just after 8:30am when the judge had seen him, via video camera, and accepted a No Contest plea to a laundry list of charges. His bail, set at $60,000, was promptly paid, but not out of his pocket, and the bondsman would not reveal the donor.

Two hours after his release, Akane was arraigned before the same judge and set free on her own recognizance. It was hard to miss her as she made her way down the hallway from the holding cells. The pink, four-foot panda clasped in her arms was a dead give away. She was exhausted, and there were faint gray rings beneath her eyes.

Kogami pushed himself from the wall. "Hey."

"Hey," she whispered.

"You alright?" He ran his hand through her hair and brought her close to him.

Her face was pale and lined with exhaustion. The makeup, while mostly intact, was beginning to smudge. Like him, she had been through a very long night and needed some sleep. Akane took a deep breath and laid her head against his chest and her panda bear. "That's as close to an isolation cell as I ever want to get."

"It's not so terrible," he replied. "If you're alone." He looked at the panda and chuckled at how she clung possessively to the stuffed toy. "Couldn't let go of this, could you?"

"After last night, I earned my panda." She fell in step beside him to the main exit.

"I think we both earned some sleep. But first we have to catch a ride."

"Where's BabyGirl?"

"Impounded. Rodriguez is making the red tape as real as possible. He suspects McNeill will reach out to make contact."

"How can he be so sure?"

"Who do you think paid $65,000 for my bail? Or the $15,000 for your bail? I didn't."

"McNeill?"

"I'd bet my meager paycheck on it." Kogami opened the glass door in the front entrance of the building and let her step outside onto the sidewalk ahead of him. Stunned by the brilliant morning sunlight, they were momentarily blinded. "I'll hail a cab."

"Mr. Kogami? Miss Tsunemori?"

The unfamiliar voice caught Kogami off guard. Though the Enforcer refrained from reacting defensively, he moved quickly enough to put himself between the stranger and Akane as a safeguard until his eyes adjusted.

Graying and bald at the crown of his head, the speaker was a man in his late fifties. Clean shaven with a manicured handlebar mustache, he smiled, but Kogami as not disarmed by his charm. It was a practiced gesture that betrayed the man's occupation as some sort of negotiator.

Dressed in a gray suit and matching shoes, he held a pair of orange bail tickets, tapping them quietly against his hand. A black, stretch limousine was parked at the curb with the motor running. The stranger stepped back toward the vehicle and opened the door in an evident invitation to them.

"You paid our bail?"

"Compliments of Mr. Travis McNeill, a local philanthropist. My name is Brent Walters, Mr. McNeill's personal attorney. On behalf of Mr. McNeill, I've been authorized to offer you a ride. If you'll please join me in the limo?"

It was not a request. Not an option. Not a choice. Kogami hesitated, eyes warily scanning the immediate area.

Walters held up his hands in good faith. "Mr. Kogami, Miss Tsunemori," he said, smiling at Akane, "you have my assurance that you both are in safe hands. Mr. McNeill would like to speak with you over breakfast at his estate. Afterwards, I will make certain that you get wherever you would like to go in the city."

Kogami pried the panda from Akane and shoved the toy into the lawyer's arms. Leading her by the hand, he gestured for her to get inside the limo. As Walters held the door open, she sat down on the maroon leather seats and slid to the side so that Kogami could join her. Putting the panda on a seat next to him by itself, the lawyer closed the door.

The next hour and a half passed with Walters offering a guided, historical tour of the greater city of Los Angeles, and then, as they left the city for the rolling hills, California's famous wine country. There was no need, nor any chance, for exchanging small talk because the unreserved attorney filled the time extolling the virtues of white wine over red and the necessities of possessing a sophisticated palate in the modern wine industry.

After an enormous yawn that brought tears to her eyes, Akane took Kogami's hand and interlaced their fingers. She was clearly exhausted by the night's ordeal, and it was showing. Kogami gave her a reassuring squeeze, but kept his eyes on the talkative lawyer. He felt trapped, which was fine with him, but Akane was in the cage with him, and that limited what he could do under duress. Bringing her hand to his lips, Kogami kissed the back of it and pulled her close to him.

Akane laid her head against his shoulder, and he hoped that she might fall asleep. But considering their situation, he doubted that she would feel comfortable enough to rest in the company of a stranger. He caressed the back of her neck and shoulders to reassure her that if she did doze off, he was there to watch over her.

"My apologies to you both," Walters said. "Prattling on and forgetting my manners." He opened the door to a mini fridge and surveyed the contents. "Mr. McNeill often tells me that I talk too much. He's right, but it comes in handy when overseeing his legal affairs." He retrieved two water bottles and held them out to his guests.

Kogami took one of the bottles and cracked the top. He gave it to Akane who drank deeply from it and then gave it back. Pushing it back to her, he gestured for her to drink some more, and she took another swallow. Walters continued to hold the second bottle out, but Kogami would not accept it.

The refusal was an obstinate gesture meant to be rude. While McNeill's man had the advantage, Kogami wanted to it be clear that he was drawing a line in the sand and was prepared to defend it. He took the water back from Akane and finished what was left. Crushing the plastic in one, strong hand, he left it sitting in a cup holder.

Kogami's attempt at intimidation worked. Walters averted his eyes, showing himself the weaker of the two men, and returned the second bottle to the fridge. "Ah, we're here."

The limousine pulled into a long drive, weaving between manicured pastures, five-rail post fence, and small herds of horses out to graze in the sun. Kogami was reminded of the expansive Kurosawa estate situated in the shadow of Mt. Fuji. But they were far from home and far from the familiar profile of Japan's most famous mountain.

This was genuinely California wine country. An extensive vineyard stretched across the acreage behind a sprawling palatial residence that looked out of place and out of time as if plucked directly from the picturesque hills of southern Italy. Despite it splendor, the estate's modernity was exposed by the well secured placement of guard houses along the perimeter and roaming patrols accompanied by Doberman Pinschers at heel.

"Expecting trouble?" Kogami asked. His voice was hoarse from a long silence.

"There are many people who envy what Mr. McNeill has built and would strive to take it, if they could," Walters replied. "Forgive the show of force. You have my personal assurance. You're safe here."

"From who? You?" Kogami took very little value in the lawyer's assurance.

Walters grinned, another rehearsed gesture from a man trained to keep secrets. He glanced at his cell phone. "Mr. McNeill will be with you shortly."

The limo came to a stop in a cobblestone courtyard. Stepping outside to hold the door, the lawyer waited for Kogami and Akane to get out behind him. While Akane reached across the seat to retrieve her panda, Kogami stood protectively over her when an armed contingent of men approached them from the side of the stately house.

This security detail was led by the long, confident strides of the man who paid their salaries. Travis McNeill was an average-sized man, some inches shorter than Kogami, and powerfully built over his chest and shoulders. He was dressed in a gray suit, tailor-cut silk and designed for the hot weather, with matching shoes as if he had just left a high-powered boardroom meeting.

The aura of hubris that moved with McNeill was nearly palpable. This was a man who led through the sadistic pleasure of menace and intimidation. In another time or another place, Kogami might have admired him. For the moment, however, he felt stifled and inadvertently threatened, as if the weight of the man's power and his reach might suffocate him.

McNeill grinned with the poise of a host greeting old, treasured friends. He stared at the panda and ran his hand over the top of the stuffed toy close to Akane's face. "Cute," he said. When Kogami bristled at his close proximity, McNeill promptly removed his hand. "Kogami, right? And Akane? Or at least that's what the bail ticket reads." He took the paperwork from Walters and casually glanced at the information before returning them to his lawyer. "Name's Travis, Travis McNeill." He extended his hand.

"Seems you already know us," Kogami replied, ignoring the gesture.

"Indeed, I do." McNeill retracted his hand and scratched his chin. If he was bothered by Kogami's rudeness, the smile did not betray it. "Loved that stunt you pulled last night. The one where you drifted through the roundabout?" He grinned, his eyes shaded with hidden agendas. "That was some serious driving. Impressive footwork through the warehouse at the port authority, too."

"You were watching?"

"Always. I've been a fan of Luda's little network of outlaw street racers from the inception, but there's nothing like a newcomer to shake things up." McNeill pointed at Kogami and chuckled softly. "Last night. That was you."

There was a panicked shout from nearby and a sound that was familiar to Kogami, the clipped, rhythmic beat of hoofbeats on concrete. Slipping on the pavement, a spooked horse broke free from its handler and recklessly cantered toward their group.

One of McNeill's men broke away from the detail. Arms spread wide, he tried to stop the runway, but the brown and white paint knocked him to the ground. To exacerbate the problem, the loaded gun in his shoulder holster fired a round, injuring him and frightening the loose animal even more.

With the whites of its eyes showing, the horse reared up at the noise and the subsequent shouting that followed. Slipping on the ground because of its shoes, the horse landed on the injured security guard. The colt stumbled, but rather than fall, it leaped into the air, striking the fallen guard before continuing its flight.

Kogami responded to the danger by quickly shifting his weight toward the limo. He pulled Akane by the arm to the same side and behind him. Stepping forward with caution, he stood in the direct path of the animal with arms outstretched. "Whoa," he whispered. Kogami reached into his pocket for a stick of gum. Shoving the gum in his mouth, he crinkled the paper in a deliberate, noisy fashion.

The horse's ears pricked up. More interested in food than his fear, the colt lowered its head and trotted up to him, which allowed Kogami to grab the dangling lead rope clipped to its halter. "Behave," Kogami whispered. He pushed the colt's head away as the horse attempted to search his pockets for treats.

"Sorry, Mr. McNeill," a young man breathlessly said.

"No harm. But we're going to talk about this, Jake. Get him back in the shed," McNeill said. The businessman never took his eyes off Kogami. "Somebody clean up this mess." He indicated the wounded guard in the driveway, who was bleeding from the gunshot wound and a kick to the head. "Safety on in the holster, Portman. How many times do I have to tell you?" McNeill shrugged, still regarding Kogami with a feral predator's scrutiny.

Kogami protectively wrapped his arms about Akane. He was out of his element and riding a thin line between his undercover role and his job as an Enforcer on special assignment.

"It's so hard to find good help these days." McNeill grinned like a cobra about to strike. "You wouldn't be available, would you?"

"Mr. McNeill," said a man dressed in a white suit. "Breakfast is ready."

"Thank you, Andre," he replied. Running a hand salaciously down along his cheek and square jaw, he took stock of Akane's long legs. "A night in the clink with LA's night life could not have been a good experience. Bobbi!" He clapped his hands loudly. In the landscaped garden surrounding a large pool, a dozen bikini-clad women paused.

Bobbi sauntered from her pool lounger toward them. Wearing a knit-beach robe over the swimsuit and six-inch stilettos, she was unhurried in her stride and smiled in greeting. Her eyes were hidden behind a pair of overly large sunglasses that covered much of her tanned face. Kogami thought he saw a bruise on the outside of her eye. "Morning, Mr. McNeill."

"Breakfast is ready. Why don't you take my guest, Akane, to the powder room and help her freshen up?"

Alarmed by their imminent separation, Akane wrapped herself and the panda about Kogami's arm. "Her English is not very good," Kogami explained.

"Women don't need language," McNeill said. "They simply need to be beautiful." In spite of Kogami, the arrogant tycoon strolled up to Akane and, taking one of her hands, kissed the back of it. "The men have business to discuss, honey. I promise to bring him back. Bobbi?"

Reluctantly, Akane and the panda went with Bobbi back to the pool and garden, where the women vanished into the interior of a large pool house near the entrance to the deck.

"No language needed at all," McNeill said, admiring them as they left. "Horses are another matter entirely. They speak a language that very few humans understand, and clearly you are one of the few." He regarded Kogami for a long moment. "Cars function on a pattern of similar language, wouldn't you agree?"

"Depends on the car."

"I can imagine, after a night in jail, you're hungry and tired, but indulge me for a few minutes. I've got a good feeling about you, and it's not often I get to show off."

Pompous liar. Kogami bit the inside of his lip. The show of strength was evident, and he resented it.

Still flanked by an entourage of wary guards, McNeill led Kogami to a cobblestoned plaza that sat 20 yards deeper inside the estate. A dozen meticulously stained, wooden garage doors, some closed and the other half opened, revealed a menagerie of high-performance cars. The vehicles represented the best from the past and the present and would have given pause to even the most ardent automobile collector.

A silver Mustang GT500 sat in the middle of the yard with the hood open. The engine was running, but produced a subtle, labored whistling that seemed to confound the mechanic working to find the fault. From the frustrated look on his face, he was not close to an explanation for the noise or a solution to fix it.

Wiping his greasy hands on a rag, he blew out that frustration through his mouth and leaned on the car. "I dunno, Mr. McNeill. Might need to strip down the whole engine and building it back from scratch."

"Not what I want to hear, Julius," McNeill said. His voice cut like a knife. "This car is what she is because of that engine and the man who built her. I don't want anyone tampering with that magic, least of all you."

Sheepishly, the freckled-faced mechanic straightened when he saw Kogami. Forgetting where he was, he banged his head against the hood. "Of course, Mr. McNeill, whatever you say."

"Beautiful pony, but she's not feeling very well," McNeill said to Kogami. "I don't seem to have the proper vet to get her back on her feet."

"Shelby Fastback?" Kogami asked.

"Four on the floor. Vintage muscle."

Admiring its fine lines, Kogami ran his fingers over the legendary car. Only in the United States could such a masterwork of mechanical muscle be forged. He listened carefully to the engine and paused for a moment at the rear of the Mustang to regard the exhaust pipe. The Mustang was indeed troubled, but the tell-tale signs were hidden to an unskilled eye. Completing a circuit of the car, Kogami stood behind the mechanic and waited for the mealy faced underling to move.

"Julius," McNeill growled, "get out of the man's way."

Kogami stared into the orderly complications that were the Mustang's engine. It was clear that Julius had been at work meddling. He honed in on the flute-like whistle with the uncanny perception of a hound on the scent of a pheasant. Taking the gum out of mouth, Kogami reached under the hood and packed it around the edge of a head gasket to seal a small warp in the metal. The whistling promptly ceased.

With a cue from McNeill, the mechanic behind the wheel punched the throttle. The Mustang responded with a throaty roar. Power restored and increasing, the muscle car shook with unreleased potency. McNeill put his hand out, and without question one of the guards put a 9mm pistol in it. He curled his fingers around the weapon and remorselessly pistol whipped Julius in the face. Knocking the cowed man to the ground in front of the car, McNeill stood over him and delivered a second blow.

No longer the center of their attention, Kogami carefully made his way to the other side of the opulent plaza. Leaning on the rear quarter panel of a Toyota AE86, he reached into his pocket and tapped a cigarette from the pack. He needed the distraction to calmly appraise the situation.

It was evident to him, without any experience or training necessary, that McNeill was a dangerous narcissist, capable of brutal cruelty. Beneath the veneer of cool control lurked a monster that could be summoned for any given slight. There was no where to run, and no where to seek refuge. Lighting the cigarette, Kogami took a deep inhale and watched on with feigned disinterest.

"I'm going to ask you one more time," McNeill said. He released the handgun's safety and cocked the hammer with the muzzle inches from Julius' eye socket. "Did you touch this engine block? Did you even change a spark plug?"

"I just—"

"Just what!"

"I used a composite head gasket. Mr. McNeill! I can change it back!" His eyes were squeezed shut tightly as the gun barrel was jammed into his face.

McNeill softened his stance, only then realizing that his tumultuous behavior was on display in front of a guest. Returning the gun to his henchman, he grinned at Kogami. With little regard for the man's dignity, he patted Julius on the head like a wayward dog. "As I was saying, good help is so very difficult to find." He turned his gaze to Julius. "Do you still have the original parts?"

The frightened mechanic responded with a submissive nod. "Yes, Mr. McNeill."

"Get it fixed, and get it done by tonight if you want to keep your teeth. And clean your face up. Don't want any blood on the new paint job." McNeill slapped the back of Julius' head. With a grin, he looked around the arena of parked cars and then back to Kogami. "Of all the vehicles you could have chosen, you chose that one?"

Kogami glanced at the white on black AE86. "Reminds me of home." He exhaled a cloud of smoke over his head and crossed his arms over his chest.

McNeill laughed. He nodded to one of his men and pointed to the AE86. "Breakfast is served. You must be starving." He gently cuffed Kogami on the back and led him back to the spacious pool and garden deck.

Despite the frenzy of activity in and around the pool, beach balls flying, water splashing, laughing, and friendly taunts from the women, Akane sat listlessly on the edge of a beach chair with the panda between her legs. Her slender arms were wrapped about the bear's chest, and her chin was perched forlornly on its head. Blank eyes peered from a pale, expressionless face until she saw Kogami returning with McNeill.

Jumping up, she ran across the deck, slipped before regaining her footing, and rushed into his arms. "Doshitan desu ka?"

"Nothing," he replied. Holding the cigarette between his fingers, he put his hands on each side of her face and kissed her forehead. The girls in the pool all swooned at the tender gesture, which was mostly done for their benefit. Then looking into Akane's eyes, he subtly shook his head from side to side in caution. In Japanese or English, they had to be careful what they said in front of McNeill or any of his hirelings.

McNeill sat down at the head of a long table and welcomed them to join him. Looking across the table at them, he scratched at his chin. "Thank you, Bobbi, for helping our guest get refreshed. Or whatever it is you girls do," he said.

"Sure thing, Mr. McNeill," Bobbi replied. Peering at Kogami through her ostentatious sunglasses, she shook a finger at him. "She's a doll that one. You better be good to her, sugar."

McNeill sent her away with a dismissive gesture of his hand. "Please, help yourself."

The man in the white suit, Andre, laid out trays of bagels, grapes, and cream cheese. He left a decanter of coffee and another of tea in the center of the table. "I imagine you have questions."

"Why did you pay our bail?" Kogami asked. No stranger to forthrightness, he felt it was best to cut through the pleasantries and get to the point.

"Worth the price of admission," McNeill replied. A grin spread across his handsome face. "Small price to pay."

Kogami picked up a butter knife and twirled it absently in his fingers. One of McNeill's security detail moved to intercept him, but a hand gesture from the businessman stopped him. Dipping the knife in the cream cheese, Kogami took a bagel half and spread the cream cheese over the bread. He took a bite before handing it over to Akane.

Careful to avoid getting cream cheese on the panda, Akane gingerly took a bite. "Arigato," she whispered with a slight bowing of her head.

"Dōitashi mashite," the businessman replied with perfect intonation.

"You speak Japanese?" Kogami asked.

"In my line of business, speaking several languages is a fringe benefit."

"And what line of business might that be?"

McNeill sat back in his chair and proudly spread his arms wide. "I'm a collector, you might say. I like to collect beautiful things." His eyes went to the assortment of women at play in the pool. "Cars. Women. Cars. Art. Watches. Did I mention cars?"

"You have so many already," Akane said.

"When you have as much money as I do, there's no such thing as limits or boundaries." He spread his arms over the back of the chair. "And sadly, there's no such thing as contentment."

Kogami put his hand on Akane's thigh and rubbed his thumb possessively over her smooth skin. She was cold. Goose bumps rose beneath his touch as evidence of that fact. "She's not for sale."

McNeill laughed out loud. "I would never come between another man and his lady—"

"Wasn't talking about her," Kogami said with a nod toward Akane. "I meant the Porsche. BabyGirl's not for sale."

The businessman's face darkened with disappointment, but the smirk in the corners of his mouth remained. "Everything has a price, Ko. I may call you, Ko, right?"

"I appreciate the bail money," Kogami said, exhaling smoke above his head. "If compensation is in order—"

"I wouldn't think of it," McNeill said. "As I said, it was a small price to pay for the entertainment. As for the car, I'll make the transaction worth your time."

"Not interested." Kogami stared into the distant vineyard. Since arriving on McNeill's estate, he felt the tide of power shifting in his favor.

"Mr. McNeill, sir?" Like a scalded dog, Julius slinked into the pool area and avoided making direct contact with his boss' eyes. Head low, he said, "They're ready."

"Are you a betting man, Ko?" McNeill folded his hands in front of him and held on to his knee.

"If I'm betting on myself, and if the odds don't seem overly stacked against me."

"Do you feel the odds are stacked against you?"

Kogami shrugged indifferently. "Let's just say, I'm feeling a little claustrophobic."

"I have an idea that might cure that."

"Do I have a choice?"

"You will. You do."

"I'm listening."

"I propose a contest. If you win, my driver will see you back into the city. If I win, you'll take $500,000 cash for the Porsche, and my driver will see you back into the city."

Kogami heard Akane sharply draw in a breath. Her grip on the panda bear tightening. He squeezed her thigh and glanced at her with the confidence of a determined hound on the hunting line. "What's the game?"

McNeill signaled his guards and got up from the breakfast table. "You're intimately familiar with it. Follow me."

"Said the spider to the fly," Akane whispered. She glared at Kogami and silently chided him for getting them into yet another difficult position.

Kogami chuckled at her guileful reprimand and disapproval. He tapped out his cigarette in a tray on the table and stood up. Helping Akane to her feet, he leaned over her protectively. "Do you have your phone handy? Something tells me I might be needing Virgil."

"Do you think it will work?"

"Only one way to find out." He smiled and put an arm about her shoulders, as she covertly slipped her cell phone into the back pocket of his jeans.