(An encounter that takes place shortly after the end of the last chapter:)

"Ellroy! Ellroy Surtees! What are you doing back in town? Thought you were heading out for Tallahassee?"

The face was vaguely familiar. Ezra turned, smiling as he scrabbled for shreds of an old persona. He'd been Surtees on his first, no, second case with the MAG. A nervous man, seeing portents in every siren and passing stranger. Nobody'd been surprised when he pulled out of a cash-for-guns deal, forcing the two principals to meet without a middleman.

"Was. Did. Got too hot there. Figured I was better off where I knew the players."

They'd probably been surprised when the MAG moved in on them, but the survivors on either side persisted in blaming each other. He hadn't expected anyone at liberty to remember or recognize Ellroy. Juneau was a small fish though. Doubtless Larrabee had let him swim to see where he ended up.

"Been some changes here. Guess you heard about the busts? Harry's crowd went down, and half of Francisco's. You really think you still know people here?"

"Made the papers, even where I was. But the people I know, they were smart enough to get their heads down. Didn't I tell you guys something was hinky? I took a loss, leaving like that, but I figure it was worth it."

"Guess you were right, at that. Here's to instinct!"

"Profitable instinct," Ezra said. "I'll drink to that."

"Profitable instincts! Oh, yeah, you got it right there. Be worth millions, 'cause of instincts."