Cop Out Read Online Free Page A

associates were not the types you would trust with your files, much less your life.
    I pondered that while I picked up the coconut satay and chicken brochettes, and if I hadn’t had the food in the car, I would have swung by Telegraph Avenue and bearded Ott in his den. His reason for not getting back to me wasn’t the issue; even the animosity he’d spawned wasn’t it. The bottom line was that a police officer doesn’t keep her sources by allowing them to blow her off.
    When I got home, Howard was sprawled on the couch, left arm hooked over the back, right leg stretched across the coffee table. He looked back to normal. The truth, I knew, was that he didn’t want any more dissension. That was fine with me.
    “Bryant Hemming’s already on,” he said, nodding toward the TV. He hadn’t looked up. That was fine with me too.
    I put the cartons on the table and plopped on the ottoman. On the television screen Bryant Hemming was smiling. The man looked so pleased it was hard not to be pleased for him.
    Next to him at the news table Jason Figueroa, the young anchor, made a quarter turn toward him. “What’s this we hear about your being called to mediate in Washington? You’ll be focusing on your specialty—disputes with bureaucracies, right? So, does that mean the Berkeley way has finally become legitimate?”
    Bryant Hemming nodded. In a light denim shirt and chinos, he could have been a Cal professor or a checkout clerk at Andronico’s Market. A man giving you something. “This is an important—a vital—project, if I do say so myself, and I’m delighted such a prestigious foundation in Washington is getting behind it.”
    “The Mutual Respect Project,” Figueroa slid in. “We’ll be following your progress with it, Bryant, in a weekly segment here on the evening news. And we—”
    “Here’s why it’s so vital.” Hemming leaned forward. “People are pissed off all over. Like these homegrown militiamen, and the radical right, and the radical leftists; everyone is pushed to the wall. But the thing is they’re not bulldozed by one big force, ‘the government.’ They’re pecked to death by a flock of smaller, often unintentional tyrants. Phone company marketers interrupting their dinners. People just want to mail letters and use the phone and get on with life. But see, these bureaucracies keep pecking. And when the citizen tries to deal with them, there’s no one to take responsibility. All people want is to be treated fairly and with respect. Bureaucrats want to be viewed as serving the public, but most of the time they just don’t know how.” He was looking right at the camera, imploring me to understand. Just as he’d done on A Fair Deal and just as effectively.
    “And are they happy when you point them out?” Figueroa asked, barely controlling a grin.
    Hemming had his smile in place too. “Well, Jason, a bureaucracy that sloughs off its clients isn’t likely to treat its workers much better. It’s demoralizing to represent a department people hate or, worse yet, scorn. What’s the TV image of the postal worker? Do you think letter carriers like to be portrayed that way? Of course not. Wouldn’t they rather work for a place they could be proud of?”
    Howard laughed. “Are we talking Utopia here?”
    “—Washington power brokers,” Figueroa was saying. “Won’t you be stepping on toes asking them to compromise?”
    Howard held up a finger. “Translation: Those guys don’t want to compromise; they want to win. Hemming better watch his ass.”
    On the screen Bryant Hemming simply smiled. “Good mediation means everyone benefits. The Mutual Respect Project is a great breakthrough. If it takes hold, think of the difference it’ll make. We can nip people’s fury in the bud. The project will save lives, not just through a lessening of tension in everyday life…”
    Figueroa didn’t utter the word overblown , but the sentiment was barely masked on his face.
    Hemming took a quick