本书通过考察明清时代闽台地区的乡族组织与地方政治,探讨宋以后的社会变迁以及中国传统社会结构的转型。大致可以分为乡族组织与共有经济、家庭结构与宗族组织、民间信仰与仪式传统、地方行政与社会转型四个专题。“乡族与国家”这个话题始终值得学界深入探讨。作者郑振满在研究中的整合视野、问题意识及其作为研究基础的大量田野调查和地方文献、民间文书的整理和分析,在历史人类学、经济史、区域研究以及基层治理等学术领域,都有着持续的启发性。本书可称为所谓“华南学派”的经典著作之一。此次新版,作者将全文做了一次修订。

Vaste fresque de l'Amérique de 1850 à nos jours, Le Fils de Philipp Meyer, finaliste du prestigieux prix Pulitzer 2014, est porté par trois personnages, trois générations d'une famille texane, les McCullough, dont les voix successives tissent la trame de ce roman exceptionnel.Eli, enlevé par les Comanches à l'âge de onze ans, va passer parmi eux trois années qui marqueront sa vie. Revenu parmi les Blancs, il prend part à la conquête de l'Ouest avant de s'engager dans la guerre de Sécession et de bâtir un empire, devenant, sous le nom de « Colonel », un personnage de légende.À la fois écrasé par son père et révolté par l'ambition dévastatrice de ce tyran autoritaire et cynique, son fils Peter profitera de la révolution mexicaine pour faire un choix qui bouleversera son destin et celui des siens.Ambitieuse et sans scrupules, Jeanne-Anne, petite-fille de Peter, se retrouvera à la tête d'une des plus grosses fortunes du pays, prête à parachever l'oeuvre de son arrière-grand-père.Il est difficile de résumer un tel livre. Porté par un souffle hors du commun, Le Fils est à la fois une réflexion sur la condition humaine et le sens de l'Histoire, et une exploration fascinante de la part d'ombre du rêve américain.« Meyer est un impressionnant et remarquable conteur, de ceux qui vous font tourner les pages sans même que vous vous en rendiez compte. » Richard Ford

Church and theological seminary leaders have long desired a guidebook to help them orient candidates for ministry to the issue of sexuality and ministry. This is that book. Nils Friberg and Mark Laaser lay out the major problems and guidelines for solutions.

<DIV><DIV>  <DIV></DIV><DIV><DIV><B>THE TIN COLLECTORS</B></DIV><DIV>Principles serve to govern conduct when there are no rules.</DIV><BR><DIV><DIV>—LAPD MANAGEMENT GUIDE<BR>TO DISCIPLINE</DIV></DIV><BR></DIV><DIV><DIV><B>THE “CHOOCH” LETTER</B></DIV><DIV><I>Dear Dad:</I></DIV><DIV><I>Charles Sandoval, who everybody calls Chooch, arrived this afternoon as planned (actually, I picked him up). This is already shaping up as one of my biggest boners. I pulled up at the fancy private school Sandy’s got him enrolled in and I had to go to the principal’s office to sign the pickup permission slip. The principal, John St. John, is a wheezing, hollow-chested geek who seems to honestly hate Chooch. The way he put it was: “That child is from the ninth circle.” I had to ask, too. It’s from Dante’s Inferno. Apparently, the ninth circle is the circle closest to hell. Now that I’ve met Chooch, not an entirely inappropriate analogy. Then, this pale erection with ears hands me a packet of teacher evaluation slips. For a fifteen-year-old, his rap sheet is impressive … pulled fire alarms, and fights in the school cafeteria (food as well as fists). Mr. St. John informs me that they have notified Sandy that Chooch is not to return to the Harvard Westlake School next semester and that I need to get him enrolled elsewhere (like this is all of a sudden supposed to be my problem). But it’s not as if this boy doesn’t have a good reason to be angry. I think I wrote you, he’s a love child with one of Sandy’s old clients. Making matters worse, Sandy doesn’t want him to know how she makes her living, so she’s been shipping him off to boarding schools since third grade.</I></DIV><DIV><I>Needless to say, I had no idea what I was getting into here. Maybe I can last the month until Sandy takes him back or sends him to the next sucker on her list. One way or another, I’ll work it out.</I></DIV><DIV><I>I’m planning to get out to Florida again sometime next year. I was thinking you and I could rent one of those fishing boats like we did last time, drink some beer and cook what we catch over a beach fire. Those memories are treasures in my life.</I></DIV><DIV><I>I know, I know, cut the mush, blah … blah … blah. I miss you, Dad. That’s all for now.</I></DIV><BR><DIV><DIV><I>Love, <BR>Your son, <BR>Shane</I></DIV></DIV><BR><DIV><DIV><B>1</B></DIV><DIV><B>USE OF FORCE</B></DIV><DIV><B>SHANE WAS IN</B> deep REM black. Way down there, but still he heard the telephone’s electronic urgency. The sound hung over him, a vague shimmer, way above, up on the surface. Slowly he made his way to it, breaking consciousness, washed in confusion and anger. His bedroom was dark. The digital clock stung his eyeballs with a neon greeting: 2:16 A.M. He found the receiver and pressed it against his ear.</DIV><DIV>“Yeah,” he said, his voice a croak and a whisper.</DIV><DIV>“Shane, he’s trying to kill me,” a woman hissed urgently.</DIV><DIV>“What … who is this?”</DIV><DIV>“It’s Barbara.” She was whispering, but he could also hear a loud banging coming over the receiver on her end, as if somebody was trying to break down a door.</DIV><DIV>“He’s trying to kill you?” he repeated, buying time so his mind could focus.</DIV><DIV>Barbara Molar. He hadn’t seen her in over two months, and then just for a moment at a police department ceremony, last year’s Medal of Valor Awards. Her husband, Ray, had been one of three recipients.</DIV><DIV>A crash, then: “Jesus, get over here, Shane. Please. He’ll listen to you. He’s nuts, worse than ever.”</DIV><DIV>Shane heard another crash. Barbara started screaming. He couldn’t make out her next words, then: “Don’t, please …” She was whimpering, the phone was dropped on a hard floor, clattering, bouncing, getting kicked in some desperate struggle.</DIV><DIV>“Barbara? Barbara?” She didn’t answer. He heard a distant, guttural grunting like a man sometimes makes during sex, or a fight.</DIV><DIV>Shane got out of bed and started gathering up clothes. He slipped into his pants and grabbed his faded LAPD sweatshirt. He snapped up his ankle gun, hesitated for a moment, then pulled it out, chambered it, and strapped it on. He ran out of his bedroom toward the garage without even looking for his shoes. He was already behind the wheel when he realized he had forgotten that Chooch Sandoval was asleep in the other bedroom. He wasn’t used to having fifteen-year-old houseguests. He knew he shouldn’t leave Chooch alone. The garage door was going up as he backed out his black Acura. Grabbing for his cell phone, he dialed a number from memory. He streaked down the back alley away from his Venice, California, canal house, as cold beach air slipstreamed past the side window onto his face.</DIV><DIV>Brian “Longboard” Kelly, his boned-out next-door neighbor, picked up the phone. “Whoever this is, fuck you” was the way he came on the line.</DIV><DIV>“Sorry, Brian, it’s Shane. I got called out, and Chooch is still asleep in the guest bedrqom.”</DIV><DIV>“Chooch? Who the hell …”</DIV><DIV>“The kid I told you I was taking for the month. Sandy’s kid. He came yesterday.”</DIV><DIV>“Ohhh, man …” .</DIV><DIV>“Look, Brian, just go over and sleep on my couch. The key is in the pot by the back door.”</DIV><DIV>“Good place, dickbrain. Who would ever think to look there?”</DIV><DIV>“Just do it, will ya? I’ll owe ya.”</DIV><DIV>“Fuckin’ A.” Longboard slammed the phone down in Shane’s ear.</DIV><DIV>Shane was now at Washington Boulevard. He hung a left and headed the short distance to the Molar house. When they’d still been partners, he’d made this trip at least once’a day to pick up Ray, heading across Washington to South Venice Boulevard, through Gangbang Circle, where, once it got dark, the V-Thirteens and Shoreside Crips staged their useless, life-ending street actions, occasionally killing or wounding a tourist from Minnesota by mistake.</DIV><DIV>He shot across Abbot Kinney Boulevard and turned right onto California, finally coming to Shell Avenue. All the way there, he wondered why Barbara would call him. Why not dial 911? Of course, the answer was sort of obvious after he thought about it. Even though she was scared spitless, she still didn’t want another domestic-violence beef in Ray’s LAPD Internal Affairs jacket. He was a thirty-year veteran with a big pension, which another DV complaint would jeopardize. That pension was an asset that was half hers.</DIV><DIV>Still, Shane Scully was the last guy Ray Molar would want to see coming through his door, quoting departmental spousal-abuse regulations at two A.M. So why <I>Shane?</I> Why not Ray’s <I>current</I> partner? He guessed he knew that answer, too. She called him because she thought she could control him, use him for protection, then keep him from talking. Also he was handy, only five miles away … . Just like before, he had turned up as the double zero on her slow-turning roulette wheel.</DIV><DIV>When he got to Ray’s small, wood-sided house, he pulled into the driveway behind Ray’s car and jumped out. The hood was warm on the dark blue Cadillac Brougham; the lights were on in the house. Then he heard muffled screaming.</DIV><DIV>“Shit, I hate this,” he mumbled softly, feeling the cold grass on his bare feet. He moved toward the house, tried the front door and, to his surprise, found it was open. Reluctantly, he stepped into his ex-partner’s living room.</DIV><DIV>Ray’s house always seemed delicate and overdecorated. Too much French fleur-de-lis upholstery, too many knickknacks and hanging lamps. It was Barbara’s doing and definitely didn’t seem like the lair of a street monster like Ray Molar. Ray should live in a cave, cooking over an open fire, throwing the gnawed bones over his shoulder.</DIV><DIV>Shane could hear Barbara’s screams coming from the back of the house, so he moved in that direction. He came through the bedroom door just in time to see Ray Molar hit his slender, blond wife in the solar plexus with the butt end of his black metal street baton. Then, as she doubled over, he expertly swung the nightstick sideways, catching her in the side of the head with a “two from the ring” combat move … a baton-fighting tactic taught to every recruit at the Police Academy. Shane stood frozen, as Barbara, her head bleeding badly, slumped to the floor, almost unconscious.</DIV><DIV>“Ray …” Shane’s voice, a raspy whisper, cut the temporary silence like a sickle slashing dry wheat. “What’s the story here, buddy?”</DIV><DIV>Ray Molar swung around. He was at least six-four and weighed over two-forty, with huge shoulders and long arms. He had bristly blond hair and a corded, muscled neck. Adding to these Blutoesque dimensions was a huge jutting jaw and almost total lack of a forehead. “Get the fuck outta here, Scully. We don’t need the Boy Scouts,” Molar growled, his pupils round points of focused hatred.</DIV><DIV>Shane had seen that look in the street many times before and had come to fear it. “Let’s just back off, slow down, and give it a rest, Ray.” Shane was moving slowly toward him, not wanting any part of the fury and craziness he saw on his ex-partner, but feeling compelled to get close enough to protect Barbara if he swung on her again. When Ray lost control, he could turn instantly murderous. He spewed white rage without thought, violence without reason.</DIV><DIV>“You got anything to eat?” Shane said, trying to refocus the energy in the room. “I’m starved. Missed dinner. How ’bout I get us a beer and a sandwich, something … . We chill out a little … Cool out … Talk it down … Get solid …”</DIV><DIV>“You wanna eat somethin’? Eat shit, Scully!” He was halfway between Shane and Barbara, still brandishing the black metal police baton.</DIV><DIV>“Ray, I don’t want trouble, but you can’t go hitting Barbara with the nightstick, man. You’re gonna fuck her up bad.”</DIV><DIV>Then Ray started toward Shane, swinging the metal stick in a lose arc in front of him. “Yeah? Who’s gonna stop me, dickwad?”</DIV><DIV>“Come on, let’s stay frosty here, Ray. Let’s … let’s—” And he stopped talking because he had to duck.</DIV><DIV>Ray swung the nightstick. It zipped through the air an inch from Shane’s ear. As he was coming back up, Ray swung a fist, hitting him with a left hook that landed on Shane’s right temple, exploding like a pipe bomb, sending him to the floor, ears ringing. Then Ray yanked a small-caliber snubby out of his waistband. It looked to Shane like an off-brand piece, a European handgun of some kind, maybe a Titan Tiger or an Arminus .38, definitely not standard police issue. Ray always kept a “throw-down gun” on him to drop by a body if some street character got funky and had to take a seat on the sky bus.</DIV><DIV>“Put it away, Ray.”</DIV><DIV>“You fucking this bitch, too? You fucking her? ’Cause if you ain’t, you should get in line—everybody else is.”</DIV><DIV>“Come on, Ray, that’s crazy. I never touched your wife; nobody’s messin’ with Barb, and you know it. Why’re you doin’ this?”</DIV><DIV>“She’s been getting snaked by half the fuckin’ department.” He turned back and glowered at her. “Am I right, baby? Tell him ’bout all the wall jobs you been doin’ in the division garage.”</DIV><DIV>Barbara groaned. Ray, turning now, aimed the gun at Shane, pulling the hammer back. Shane watched the cylinder begin to rotate on the center post as Ray applied pressure on the trigger. He was strangely mesmerized by the hole in the barrel; a dark eye of damnation, freezing his stomach, dulling his reactions. He was seconds from death … . Almost without realizing it, his right hand slipped down to his ankle, fingers encircling the wood-checked grip of his 9mm automatic. He slid the weapon free.</DIV><DIV>Shane dove sideways just as Ray fired. The bullet thunked into the wooden doorframe behind him. Shane was operating on instinct now, with no control over what happened next, going with it, not questioning, rolling, coming up prone, his Beretta Mini-Cougar gripped in both hands.</DIV><DIV>As Ray turned to fire again, Shane squeezed the trigger. The bullet hit Ray Molar in the middle of his simian brow.</DIV><DIV>Huge head jerking back violently.</DIV><DIV>Brainpan exploding, catching the 9mm slug.</DIV><DIV>Then Ray looked directly at Shane as the gun slipped from his meaty paw and thumped onto the carpet. Ray’s pig eyes, bright in that instant, registered hatred and surprise, or maybe Shane was just looking for something human in all that animal ferocity.</DIV><DIV>Ray Molar took one uncertain step backward and sat on the edge of the bed. Even though his heart was probably still beating, Shane knew that his ex-partner was already dead. But the street monster sat down anyway, almost as if he needed a moment to consider what he should do next or where he should go, momentum and gravity making the decision for him, toppling him forward, thudding him hard, face first, onto the carpet.</DIV><DIV>Shane looked over at Barbara, who was staring at her dead husband, her mouth agape, her puffed lip split and bleeding.</DIV><DIV>“Whatta we do now, Shane?” she finally asked.</DIV></DIV><DIV><DIV><B>2</B></DIV><DIV><B>M-417-00</B></DIV><DIV><B>IN THE SECONDS</B> after the shots were fired, the bedroom seemed so quiet that he could almost hear dust settle. Then the sharp smell of cordite, mixed with the coppery smell of blood, began to fill his nostrils. Barbara was still on the floor not ten feet from Ray’s body. Shane moved first. He stood slowly, feeling his knees shake as he rose. He stumbled to the dresser and leaned on it heavily, propping himself up for support. They were both trying to digest it, understand what had just happened and comprehend how it would alter, in a ghastly way, events stretching before them. Then, from the floor, Ray Molar farted. Shit ran into his pants as his bowels let loose. The perfect punctuation mark for the past few minutes.</DIV><DIV>“We need to get a story, Barbara,” Shane said. “This isn’t going to go down smooth. You know how they all feel about Ray.”</DIV><DIV>“I don’t know … I don’t know … He just …”</DIV><DIV>“Barbara …”</DIV><DIV>Her eyes were darting around the room in a desperate escape dance. Her face was also beginning to swell where Ray had hit her on the right side, distorting her natural beauty.</DIV><DIV>“Tell me,” he prodded softly, “what set him off?”</DIV><DIV>Somewhere in the distance they could hear the faint wail of a police car.</DIV><DIV>“Already?” she said, referring to the sirens.</DIV><DIV>“You were screaming, shots were fired, you’ve got neighbors. Nine-one-one response time is supposed to be less than five minutes. If something more is going on here, I need to know, Babs. You and I, we’re not completely clean, if you know what I mean.”</DIV><DIV>“I know.” She pulled herself up on the bed and sat. He could see that her hands were shaking as she brought the back of her wrist up to wipe the blood oozing from the corner of her mouth. Her hand came away with an ugly red streak on the back. “He … he just … I don’t know.”</DIV><DIV>“He just what? Let’s go, there isn’t much time. What set him off?”</DIV><DIV>“I got a call yesterday from a woman. She asked me if I’d seen the videotape yet.”</DIV><DIV>“What videotape?”</DIV><DIV>“I don’t know. That’s the whole point. I haven’t got any tape, and I told her. She sounded like she was crying. Then she said it was coming in the mail, and it will show me what a cheating . bastard Ray was.”</DIV><DIV>“Who was she?”</DIV><DIV>“Didn’t say. I didn’t recognize the voice. She just hung up.”</DIV><DIV>The sirens were now less than a block away as Barbara Molar looked at Shane in desperation. “What’re they gonna do?”</DIV><DIV>“They’re gonna separate us. Take statements. This is our only chance to coordinate. We need the same story. Stay with me here, Babs. Keep goin’. What happened next?”</DIV><DIV>“Ray hasn’t been home much since he got his new assignment. He’s been away days at a time, so when he got home tonight, I asked him where he was all the time. I told him what the woman said and he … he just … went nuts. You know his temper, how he gets. You worked patrol with him. He accused me of sleeping with his friends. He called me a whore. He started beating me. I can’t take any more beatings. I can’t. I told him I was going to leave him, and then he chased me into the bathroom. I locked the door and called you. Then he just—”</DIV><DIV>The sirens growled to the curb outside, and Shane quickly looked around the bedroom, taking mental pictures of the crime scene, filing them in his memory for later. Oddly enough, it was Ray who had schooled him in this technique, quizzing him at “end of watch” on what he remembered. They’d sit in some bar at EOW, betting drinks on the answers. Ray would ask questions: What was on the dresser? How many windows in the kitchen? Were there screens? Ray was violent and unpredictable, but he sure knew how to police a crime scene.</DIV><DIV>“They’re gonna take me downtown,” Shane said. “They’ll take your statement here, then probably transport you to the ER. Just say exactly what happened. He would have killed you, Barbara. He fired first. This was self-defense. Just leave out you and me. Whatever you do, stay tight on that.”</DIV><DIV>They could hear cops coming into the house through the open front door.</DIV><DIV>“We’re back here, LAPD!” Shane yelled. Then, as an afterthought, he whispered to Barbara, “Call the phone company and see if you can get an AT&T printout of calls to your phone so we can try and find out who that woman is.”</DIV><DIV>Barbara nodded just as a uniformed South Bureau “dog and cat” team came through the door, guns drawn. Shane had his hands in the air and his Beretta Mini-Cougar hanging down, dangling uselessly from his right thumb. “LAPD,” he said again.</DIV><DIV>The cops didn’t know him, and not seeing a badge, the male officer rushed him, disarmed him, and threw him down onto the floor right next to a puddle of Ray’s blood. The female kept her Smith & Wesson trained on him until her partner had Shane cuffed. Then they both roughly yanked him up.</DIV><DIV>“Where’s your shield?” the lady cop said. Her nameplate read S. RILEY.</DIV><DIV>“On my dresser, at home. I was asleep. She called for help. I live four miles from here. I’m Sergeant Shane Scully, Southwest RHD. My serial number is 50867.”</DIV><DIV>They looked down at Shane’s now-bloody bare feet, then at Ray. The male cop was a policeman III; his nameplate read P. APPLEGATE. He knelt down and looked closely at the body. “Shit. This is Steeltooth. You shot Lieutenant Molar.”</DIV><DIV>Shane stood quietly as Applegate fingered his shoulder mike. “This is X-ray Twelve. We’re Code Six at 2387 Shell Avenue. We have a police officer down. We need a sergeant on the scene and the coroner. Notify South Bureau Detectives we have the shooter in custody. He claims to be Southwest Robbery/Homicide Sergeant Shane Scully.” Then he turned to Shane. “Gimme that serial number again.”</DIV><DIV>“It’s 50867,” Shane said into the officer’s open shoulder mike.</DIV><DIV>“You get that?” Applegate asked. The female radio-transmission officer answered quickly.</DIV><DIV>“Roger, X-ray Twelve. That’s 50867. You’re Code Six Adam at Shell Avenue, requesting a supervisor and a Homicide unit. Stand by.” There was static, and in less than thirty seconds, the RTO came back on. “X-ray Twelve, on your suspect ident: that badge number is confirmed to Southwest RHD Sergeant Shane Scully, 143 East Channel Road, Venice, California.”</DIV><DIV>“Roger. We’re locking down this crime scene for Homicide and moving outside.” The officer then turned to Shane. “Who’s your direct supervisor?”</DIV><DIV>“Captain Bud Halley, Southwest Division Robbery/Homicide.”</DIV><DIV>“You got his call-out number?”</DIV><DIV>“Just call the squad. I can do it myself if you take these cuffs off.”</DIV><DIV>“Hey, Scully, you done enough already. You just croaked the best fucking cop on the force.” Then he unlocked the handcuffs. “Shannon, take Mrs. Molar into the kitchen. I’ll hold Sergeant Scully in the living room.” They left Raymond Molar in an expanding pool of his own blood to wait for the Homicide team and lab techs.</DIV><DIV><BR><BR><BR></DIV><DIV>On every unnatural death in L.A., the RHD assigns a fresh homicide number and the next team up on the division rotation gets the squeal. The numbers start on January 1 and continue sequentially until the last day of December. If the body is a male, the number is proceeded by an M; if female, by an F. On that chilly April morning, Lieutenant Raymond George Molar became M-417-00.</DIV><DIV>The RHD team got there a little after three-thirty A.M. as the crime lab was just finishing photographing the scene. The two lab techs had already done their preliminary workup. They’d bagged the lieutenant’s hands, outlined the DB in tape, and were standing around, waiting for the detectives to show before rolling the body.</DIV><DIV>Both Homicide dicks were veterans and had been notified before they got there that the officer down was the legendary LAPD Lt. Ray “Steeltooth” Molar. They had both signed Patrolman Applegate’s crime-scene attendance sheet and now stood in the bedroom looking down at the body with stone-cut expressions as the lab techs flopped Ray over. His face had already begun to fill with blood, causing a darkening of the skin, known as lividity. More postmortem renal jettisoning had occurred, and the smell of feces in the room was getting strong as the two detectives from Robbery/Homicide silently policed the area, making their preliminary notes and observations. They graphed the location of the body and marked the bullet in the doorjamb that Ray had fired, then instructed the lab techs to dig the slug out and get it to the Investigative Analysis Section for a ballistics comparison. They bagged Shane’s 9mm Beretta; it would be booked as evidence.</DIV><DIV>Shane was waiting in the living room with Patrolman Applegate. After half an hour the lead Homicide dick, an old, wheezing department warhorse with a basset-hound jawline, came out and sat on the sofa opposite Shane. His name was Garson Welch; he and Shane had shared a few easy grounders back when Shane was still working uniform in Southwest. One case had been so simple, they solved it in less than ten minutes when Shane arrested the perp half a block away as he was trying to stuff the murder weapon down into a Dumpster. The man had confessed on the spot. Shane and Welch had gone EOW at the jail and had had a few beers in a cop bar on Central known as the Billy Club. They didn’t have what you’d call a friendship, but they were at least friendly—better than nothing.</DIV><DIV>“This ain’t gonna go down too good at Parker Center, Shane,” the old detective said, rubbing his ample forehead with a big, liver-spotted hand.</DIV><DIV>“Yeah, Gar, you’re right. I should’ve just stood there and let him kill her with his nightstick.”</DIV><DIV>“Calm down and listen,” Welch went on. “What we got here is a brown shit waffle. Lieutenant Molar had big juice with the Super Chief. People you and I only read about in the L.A. Times are getting phone calls right now over this piece of work. I just got a call and found out he’s been Mayor Clark Crispin’s police driver for the past two months. So there’s gonna be big interest at the city level. We’re gonna go slow and get it right.”</DIV><DIV>“The mayor’s driver? Shit,” Shane said. He hadn’t known that was Ray’s new assignment.</DIV><DIV>“I’m gonna take your preliminary here, then send you to the Glass House and let your captain do the DFAR,” Welch said, referring to the Division Field Activity Report that had to be filed after any incident involving violence or death at the hands of a police officer.</DIV><DIV>“I got my car. I can meet you there,” Shane volunteered.</DIV><DIV>“I’ll have one of the blues drive it in and park it for you in the underground garage, but you’re gonna go downtown in the back of a detective car. By the book. That way, nobody gets days off for bullshit nitpicks.”</DIV><DIV>“Yeah, sure, if that’s the way you want it.” Shane was beginning to get a premonition of disaster. Then he followed Detective Welch out of the house for the long drive to Parker Center.</DIV></DIV><DIV><DIV><B>3</B></DIV><DIV><B>DFAR</B></DIV><DIV><B>THE TRIP DOWNTOWN</B> at four A.M. on deserted freeways took only twenty-two minutes. The black-and-white slickback that the RHD dicks were forced to drive now finally made a wide turn off Broadway, its headlights sweeping the south side of the Glass House. It pulled up to the security station. Sergeant Welch showed his badge, signed them all in, and drove into the huge underground parking garage that adjoined Parker Center.</DIV><DIV>The building was known as “the Glass House” to everybody on the job because of the excessive amount of plate glass that draped its huge boxy shape. The otherwise nondescript building had been designed in the fifties, which had proved to be a decade of architectural blight. The parking garage next door went down nine stories underground. The detectives found a spot on U-3, and both led Shane out of the parking complex, through a security door, and into the third basement of police headquarters. They took the elevator to six and got off at the Robbery/Homicide Division, which took up half the floor and was fronted by a thick glass partition.</DIV><DIV>Garson Welch buzzed them through and found the OOD, a thin-faced sergeant in uniform, sitting at a computer just inside the squad room. “Is Captain Halley around? He was supposed to get a call out on this activity report.”</DIV><DIV>The sergeant nodded and pointed down the hall. “Interview room Three,” he said.</DIV><DIV>They moved single file down the linoleum-floored corridor and turned into a small, windowless interrogation room that contained a scarred desk, two wooden chairs, and Robbery/Homicide Captain Bud Halley. Halley had his jacket off and was showing the beginnings of a twelve-hour beard, having missed his shave at four A.M. He had also missed two belt loops. Other than that, he was a remarkably handsome, fit, prematurely gray man in his mid-forties. He was Shane’s Southwest Homicide Bureau commander. They had a good professional relationship. In the two years Shane had been assigned to Southwest Detectives, Halley had given him two excellent evaluation reports. As Shane came through the door, Captain Halley motioned him to a chair. “You guys don’t have to stick around unless you need him. I’m gonna send him home after the activity report,” he said to the two detectives.</DIV><DIV>“Thanks, Cap, check you later,” Welch said as they left the room and closed the door behind them.</DIV><DIV>“We only have a few minutes and then God knows what happens,” Halley said.</DIV><DIV>“A few minutes? What’re you talking about? You’re doing the DFAR. What’s the rush?”</DIV><DIV>“’Cept I’m not doing it. Deputy Chief Thomas Mayweather is on his way in. He’s doing it.”</DIV><DIV>“The head of Special Investigations Division is doing my activity report? You can’t be serious. Why him?”</DIV><DIV>“Chief Brewer ordered it,” Halley said.</DIV><DIV>“Same question, then.”</DIV><DIV>“Don’t you know what Ray Molar’s assignment was?”</DIV><DIV>“Yeah … he was Mayor Clark Crispin’s bodyguard and driver. He was also killing his wife with a nightstick. He fired a shot at me. Barbara Molar is my wit. This should be a slam dunk. So what’s the deal?”</DIV><DIV>“Lemme give you the secret to survival around here.” Shane waited for the punch line. “Everything that’s not department history is department politics. Chief Brewer was awakened by Mayor Crispin, who called the Big Kahuna from the Dark Side, who got rousted off his sailboat at the marina. He was planning to sail across the channel for a long weekend in Avalon. Now, instead of salt air and sea chanteys, Deputy Chief Mayweather is coming here, in his fucking yacht attire, looking to tear you a new asshole.”</DIV><DIV>“Cap, let me say this again, so none of us miss it. Steeltooth was killing his wife. He shot first. If I hadn’t returned fire, we’d both be in the county icebox bleeding from the ears. I know for a fact Ray has two spousal-abuse beefs in his IAD package. He’s a regular at rage-management counseling. Aside from that, we both know he was a head thumper from way back. You don’t get the nickname Steeltooth just because your last name’s Molar.”</DIV><DIV>“Don’t convince me. Make Mayweather believe it,” Halley said softly.</DIV><DIV>Shane’s hands started to shake. He was coming down from a two-hour adrenaline rush. He had killed Ray Molar, his ex-partner, a man he had once respected, then came to fear, and then finally to hate. His emotions hovered just below consciousness. He knew he couldn’t afford a mistake, so he pushed personal feelings aside and concentrated on his plight, his survival instincts taking precedence.</DIV><DIV><BR><BR><BR></DIV><DIV>Deputy Chief Mayweather was six three and ebony black. He had a shaved head and always carried himself with the athletic grace he had shown as a first-string point guard on the UCLA basketball team in the seventies.</DIV><DIV>He moved through the predawn stillness of the Robbery/Ho , micide Division and looked at the tired collection of swing-shift detectives who were manning their desks, sneaking glances at the clock, waiting for the day-watch to show up and relieve them. Mayweather stuck his gleaming black head into the interrogation room containing Scully and Halley.</DIV><DIV>“Let’s do this upstairs.” Mayweather’s voice was cold and smooth, Vaseline on ice. “We’ll use the conference room on nine. Bud, see if they got some coffee down here and bring it up.” Then, without even looking at Shane, he moved out of the room, leaving them there.</DIV><DIV>“Good luck,” Halley said as Shane got up off his hardwood chair and followed Mayweather, who was already halfway down the hall, striding t

How will America, and the characters you have come to love, continue to heal from the backlash of the Civil War?Carrie travels to Philadelphia to fulfill a promise, but is stunned by what she discovers, and is thrown into a world she knows nothing about.Moses and Rose are moving forward in college, but will Moses make a different decision? How will Felicia handle the challenges?Jeremy and Marietta receive the surprise of their life, forcing them to make a decision they hoped they would not have to make.Matthew and Janie welcome a new child at the same time Matthew deals with great turmoil.When everyone really just wants a simple, clear future, each person finds they have to make the choice every single day to Look To The Future.Volume # 11 of the Bregdan Chronicles continues the sweeping historical saga that now encompasses the fourth year of American Reconstruction.

<DIV><DIV>  <DIV></DIV><DIV><DIV><B>THE TIN COLLECTORS</B></DIV><DIV>Principles serve to govern conduct when there are no rules.</DIV><BR><DIV><DIV>—LAPD MANAGEMENT GUIDE<BR>TO DISCIPLINE</DIV></DIV><BR></DIV><DIV><DIV><B>THE “CHOOCH” LETTER</B></DIV><DIV><I>Dear Dad:</I></DIV><DIV><I>Charles Sandoval, who everybody calls Chooch, arrived this afternoon as planned (actually, I picked him up). This is already shaping up as one of my biggest boners. I pulled up at the fancy private school Sandy’s got him enrolled in and I had to go to the principal’s office to sign the pickup permission slip. The principal, John St. John, is a wheezing, hollow-chested geek who seems to honestly hate Chooch. The way he put it was: “That child is from the ninth circle.” I had to ask, too. It’s from Dante’s Inferno. Apparently, the ninth circle is the circle closest to hell. Now that I’ve met Chooch, not an entirely inappropriate analogy. Then, this pale erection with ears hands me a packet of teacher evaluation slips. For a fifteen-year-old, his rap sheet is impressive … pulled fire alarms, and fights in the school cafeteria (food as well as fists). Mr. St. John informs me that they have notified Sandy that Chooch is not to return to the Harvard Westlake School next semester and that I need to get him enrolled elsewhere (like this is all of a sudden supposed to be my problem). But it’s not as if this boy doesn’t have a good reason to be angry. I think I wrote you, he’s a love child with one of Sandy’s old clients. Making matters worse, Sandy doesn’t want him to know how she makes her living, so she’s been shipping him off to boarding schools since third grade.</I></DIV><DIV><I>Needless to say, I had no idea what I was getting into here. Maybe I can last the month until Sandy takes him back or sends him to the next sucker on her list. One way or another, I’ll work it out.</I></DIV><DIV><I>I’m planning to get out to Florida again sometime next year. I was thinking you and I could rent one of those fishing boats like we did last time, drink some beer and cook what we catch over a beach fire. Those memories are treasures in my life.</I></DIV><DIV><I>I know, I know, cut the mush, blah … blah … blah. I miss you, Dad. That’s all for now.</I></DIV><BR><DIV><DIV><I>Love, <BR>Your son, <BR>Shane</I></DIV></DIV><BR><DIV><DIV><B>1</B></DIV><DIV><B>USE OF FORCE</B></DIV><DIV><B>SHANE WAS IN</B> deep REM black. Way down there, but still he heard the telephone’s electronic urgency. The sound hung over him, a vague shimmer, way above, up on the surface. Slowly he made his way to it, breaking consciousness, washed in confusion and anger. His bedroom was dark. The digital clock stung his eyeballs with a neon greeting: 2:16 A.M. He found the receiver and pressed it against his ear.</DIV><DIV>“Yeah,” he said, his voice a croak and a whisper.</DIV><DIV>“Shane, he’s trying to kill me,” a woman hissed urgently.</DIV><DIV>“What … who is this?”</DIV><DIV>“It’s Barbara.” She was whispering, but he could also hear a loud banging coming over the receiver on her end, as if somebody was trying to break down a door.</DIV><DIV>“He’s trying to kill you?” he repeated, buying time so his mind could focus.</DIV><DIV>Barbara Molar. He hadn’t seen her in over two months, and then just for a moment at a police department ceremony, last year’s Medal of Valor Awards. Her husband, Ray, had been one of three recipients.</DIV><DIV>A crash, then: “Jesus, get over here, Shane. Please. He’ll listen to you. He’s nuts, worse than ever.”</DIV><DIV>Shane heard another crash. Barbara started screaming. He couldn’t make out her next words, then: “Don’t, please …” She was whimpering, the phone was dropped on a hard floor, clattering, bouncing, getting kicked in some desperate struggle.</DIV><DIV>“Barbara? Barbara?” She didn’t answer. He heard a distant, guttural grunting like a man sometimes makes during sex, or a fight.</DIV><DIV>Shane got out of bed and started gathering up clothes. He slipped into his pants and grabbed his faded LAPD sweatshirt. He snapped up his ankle gun, hesitated for a moment, then pulled it out, chambered it, and strapped it on. He ran out of his bedroom toward the garage without even looking for his shoes. He was already behind the wheel when he realized he had forgotten that Chooch Sandoval was asleep in the other bedroom. He wasn’t used to having fifteen-year-old houseguests. He knew he shouldn’t leave Chooch alone. The garage door was going up as he backed out his black Acura. Grabbing for his cell phone, he dialed a number from memory. He streaked down the back alley away from his Venice, California, canal house, as cold beach air slipstreamed past the side window onto his face.</DIV><DIV>Brian “Longboard” Kelly, his boned-out next-door neighbor, picked up the phone. “Whoever this is, fuck you” was the way he came on the line.</DIV><DIV>“Sorry, Brian, it’s Shane. I got called out, and Chooch is still asleep in the guest bedrqom.”</DIV><DIV>“Chooch? Who the hell …”</DIV><DIV>“The kid I told you I was taking for the month. Sandy’s kid. He came yesterday.”</DIV><DIV>“Ohhh, man …” .</DIV><DIV>“Look, Brian, just go over and sleep on my couch. The key is in the pot by the back door.”</DIV><DIV>“Good place, dickbrain. Who would ever think to look there?”</DIV><DIV>“Just do it, will ya? I’ll owe ya.”</DIV><DIV>“Fuckin’ A.” Longboard slammed the phone down in Shane’s ear.</DIV><DIV>Shane was now at Washington Boulevard. He hung a left and headed the short distance to the Molar house. When they’d still been partners, he’d made this trip at least once’a day to pick up Ray, heading across Washington to South Venice Boulevard, through Gangbang Circle, where, once it got dark, the V-Thirteens and Shoreside Crips staged their useless, life-ending street actions, occasionally killing or wounding a tourist from Minnesota by mistake.</DIV><DIV>He shot across Abbot Kinney Boulevard and turned right onto California, finally coming to Shell Avenue. All the way there, he wondered why Barbara would call him. Why not dial 911? Of course, the answer was sort of obvious after he thought about it. Even though she was scared spitless, she still didn’t want another domestic-violence beef in Ray’s LAPD Internal Affairs jacket. He was a thirty-year veteran with a big pension, which another DV complaint would jeopardize. That pension was an asset that was half hers.</DIV><DIV>Still, Shane Scully was the last guy Ray Molar would want to see coming through his door, quoting departmental spousal-abuse regulations at two A.M. So why <I>Shane?</I> Why not Ray’s <I>current</I> partner? He guessed he knew that answer, too. She called him because she thought she could control him, use him for protection, then keep him from talking. Also he was handy, only five miles away … . Just like before, he had turned up as the double zero on her slow-turning roulette wheel.</DIV><DIV>When he got to Ray’s small, wood-sided house, he pulled into the driveway behind Ray’s car and jumped out. The hood was warm on the dark blue Cadillac Brougham; the lights were on in the house. Then he heard muffled screaming.</DIV><DIV>“Shit, I hate this,” he mumbled softly, feeling the cold grass on his bare feet. He moved toward the house, tried the front door and, to his surprise, found it was open. Reluctantly, he stepped into his ex-partner’s living room.</DIV><DIV>Ray’s house always seemed delicate and overdecorated. Too much French fleur-de-lis upholstery, too many knickknacks and hanging lamps. It was Barbara’s doing and definitely didn’t seem like the lair of a street monster like Ray Molar. Ray should live in a cave, cooking over an open fire, throwing the gnawed bones over his shoulder.</DIV><DIV>Shane could hear Barbara’s screams coming from the back of the house, so he moved in that direction. He came through the bedroom door just in time to see Ray Molar hit his slender, blond wife in the solar plexus with the butt end of his black metal street baton. Then, as she doubled over, he expertly swung the nightstick sideways, catching her in the side of the head with a “two from the ring” combat move … a baton-fighting tactic taught to every recruit at the Police Academy. Shane stood frozen, as Barbara, her head bleeding badly, slumped to the floor, almost unconscious.</DIV><DIV>“Ray …” Shane’s voice, a raspy whisper, cut the temporary silence like a sickle slashing dry wheat. “What’s the story here, buddy?”</DIV><DIV>Ray Molar swung around. He was at least six-four and weighed over two-forty, with huge shoulders and long arms. He had bristly blond hair and a corded, muscled neck. Adding to these Blutoesque dimensions was a huge jutting jaw and almost total lack of a forehead. “Get the fuck outta here, Scully. We don’t need the Boy Scouts,” Molar growled, his pupils round points of focused hatred.</DIV><DIV>Shane had seen that look in the street many times before and had come to fear it. “Let’s just back off, slow down, and give it a rest, Ray.” Shane was moving slowly toward him, not wanting any part of the fury and craziness he saw on his ex-partner, but feeling compelled to get close enough to protect Barbara if he swung on her again. When Ray lost control, he could turn instantly murderous. He spewed white rage without thought, violence without reason.</DIV><DIV>“You got anything to eat?” Shane said, trying to refocus the energy in the room. “I’m starved. Missed dinner. How ’bout I get us a beer and a sandwich, something … . We chill out a little … Cool out … Talk it down … Get solid …”</DIV><DIV>“You wanna eat somethin’? Eat shit, Scully!” He was halfway between Shane and Barbara, still brandishing the black metal police baton.</DIV><DIV>“Ray, I don’t want trouble, but you can’t go hitting Barbara with the nightstick, man. You’re gonna fuck her up bad.”</DIV><DIV>Then Ray started toward Shane, swinging the metal stick in a lose arc in front of him. “Yeah? Who’s gonna stop me, dickwad?”</DIV><DIV>“Come on, let’s stay frosty here, Ray. Let’s … let’s—” And he stopped talking because he had to duck.</DIV><DIV>Ray swung the nightstick. It zipped through the air an inch from Shane’s ear. As he was coming back up, Ray swung a fist, hitting him with a left hook that landed on Shane’s right temple, exploding like a pipe bomb, sending him to the floor, ears ringing. Then Ray yanked a small-caliber snubby out of his waistband. It looked to Shane like an off-brand piece, a European handgun of some kind, maybe a Titan Tiger or an Arminus .38, definitely not standard police issue. Ray always kept a “throw-down gun” on him to drop by a body if some street character got funky and had to take a seat on the sky bus.</DIV><DIV>“Put it away, Ray.”</DIV><DIV>“You fucking this bitch, too? You fucking her? ’Cause if you ain’t, you should get in line—everybody else is.”</DIV><DIV>“Come on, Ray, that’s crazy. I never touched your wife; nobody’s messin’ with Barb, and you know it. Why’re you doin’ this?”</DIV><DIV>“She’s been getting snaked by half the fuckin’ department.” He turned back and glowered at her. “Am I right, baby? Tell him ’bout all the wall jobs you been doin’ in the division garage.”</DIV><DIV>Barbara groaned. Ray, turning now, aimed the gun at Shane, pulling the hammer back. Shane watched the cylinder begin to rotate on the center post as Ray applied pressure on the trigger. He was strangely mesmerized by the hole in the barrel; a dark eye of damnation, freezing his stomach, dulling his reactions. He was seconds from death … . Almost without realizing it, his right hand slipped down to his ankle, fingers encircling the wood-checked grip of his 9mm automatic. He slid the weapon free.</DIV><DIV>Shane dove sideways just as Ray fired. The bullet thunked into the wooden doorframe behind him. Shane was operating on instinct now, with no control over what happened next, going with it, not questioning, rolling, coming up prone, his Beretta Mini-Cougar gripped in both hands.</DIV><DIV>As Ray turned to fire again, Shane squeezed the trigger. The bullet hit Ray Molar in the middle of his simian brow.</DIV><DIV>Huge head jerking back violently.</DIV><DIV>Brainpan exploding, catching the 9mm slug.</DIV><DIV>Then Ray looked directly at Shane as the gun slipped from his meaty paw and thumped onto the carpet. Ray’s pig eyes, bright in that instant, registered hatred and surprise, or maybe Shane was just looking for something human in all that animal ferocity.</DIV><DIV>Ray Molar took one uncertain step backward and sat on the edge of the bed. Even though his heart was probably still beating, Shane knew that his ex-partner was already dead. But the street monster sat down anyway, almost as if he needed a moment to consider what he should do next or where he should go, momentum and gravity making the decision for him, toppling him forward, thudding him hard, face first, onto the carpet.</DIV><DIV>Shane looked over at Barbara, who was staring at her dead husband, her mouth agape, her puffed lip split and bleeding.</DIV><DIV>“Whatta we do now, Shane?” she finally asked.</DIV></DIV><DIV><DIV><B>2</B></DIV><DIV><B>M-417-00</B></DIV><DIV><B>IN THE SECONDS</B> after the shots were fired, the bedroom seemed so quiet that he could almost hear dust settle. Then the sharp smell of cordite, mixed with the coppery smell of blood, began to fill his nostrils. Barbara was still on the floor not ten feet from Ray’s body. Shane moved first. He stood slowly, feeling his knees shake as he rose. He stumbled to the dresser and leaned on it heavily, propping himself up for support. They were both trying to digest it, understand what had just happened and comprehend how it would alter, in a ghastly way, events stretching before them. Then, from the floor, Ray Molar farted. Shit ran into his pants as his bowels let loose. The perfect punctuation mark for the past few minutes.</DIV><DIV>“We need to get a story, Barbara,” Shane said. “This isn’t going to go down smooth. You know how they all feel about Ray.”</DIV><DIV>“I don’t know … I don’t know … He just …”</DIV><DIV>“Barbara …”</DIV><DIV>Her eyes were darting around the room in a desperate escape dance. Her face was also beginning to swell where Ray had hit her on the right side, distorting her natural beauty.</DIV><DIV>“Tell me,” he prodded softly, “what set him off?”</DIV><DIV>Somewhere in the distance they could hear the faint wail of a police car.</DIV><DIV>“Already?” she said, referring to the sirens.</DIV><DIV>“You were screaming, shots were fired, you’ve got neighbors. Nine-one-one response time is supposed to be less than five minutes. If something more is going on here, I need to know, Babs. You and I, we’re not completely clean, if you know what I mean.”</DIV><DIV>“I know.” She pulled herself up on the bed and sat. He could see that her hands were shaking as she brought the back of her wrist up to wipe the blood oozing from the corner of her mouth. Her hand came away with an ugly red streak on the back. “He … he just … I don’t know.”</DIV><DIV>“He just what? Let’s go, there isn’t much time. What set him off?”</DIV><DIV>“I got a call yesterday from a woman. She asked me if I’d seen the videotape yet.”</DIV><DIV>“What videotape?”</DIV><DIV>“I don’t know. That’s the whole point. I haven’t got any tape, and I told her. She sounded like she was crying. Then she said it was coming in the mail, and it will show me what a cheating . bastard Ray was.”</DIV><DIV>“Who was she?”</DIV><DIV>“Didn’t say. I didn’t recognize the voice. She just hung up.”</DIV><DIV>The sirens were now less than a block away as Barbara Molar looked at Shane in desperation. “What’re they gonna do?”</DIV><DIV>“They’re gonna separate us. Take statements. This is our only chance to coordinate. We need the same story. Stay with me here, Babs. Keep goin’. What happened next?”</DIV><DIV>“Ray hasn’t been home much since he got his new assignment. He’s been away days at a time, so when he got home tonight, I asked him where he was all the time. I told him what the woman said and he … he just … went nuts. You know his temper, how he gets. You worked patrol with him. He accused me of sleeping with his friends. He called me a whore. He started beating me. I can’t take any more beatings. I can’t. I told him I was going to leave him, and then he chased me into the bathroom. I locked the door and called you. Then he just—”</DIV><DIV>The sirens growled to the curb outside, and Shane quickly looked around the bedroom, taking mental pictures of the crime scene, filing them in his memory for later. Oddly enough, it was Ray who had schooled him in this technique, quizzing him at “end of watch” on what he remembered. They’d sit in some bar at EOW, betting drinks on the answers. Ray would ask questions: What was on the dresser? How many windows in the kitchen? Were there screens? Ray was violent and unpredictable, but he sure knew how to police a crime scene.</DIV><DIV>“They’re gonna take me downtown,” Shane said. “They’ll take your statement here, then probably transport you to the ER. Just say exactly what happened. He would have killed you, Barbara. He fired first. This was self-defense. Just leave out you and me. Whatever you do, stay tight on that.”</DIV><DIV>They could hear cops coming into the house through the open front door.</DIV><DIV>“We’re back here, LAPD!” Shane yelled. Then, as an afterthought, he whispered to Barbara, “Call the phone company and see if you can get an AT&T printout of calls to your phone so we can try and find out who that woman is.”</DIV><DIV>Barbara nodded just as a uniformed South Bureau “dog and cat” team came through the door, guns drawn. Shane had his hands in the air and his Beretta Mini-Cougar hanging down, dangling uselessly from his right thumb. “LAPD,” he said again.</DIV><DIV>The cops didn’t know him, and not seeing a badge, the male officer rushed him, disarmed him, and threw him down onto the floor right next to a puddle of Ray’s blood. The female kept her Smith & Wesson trained on him until her partner had Shane cuffed. Then they both roughly yanked him up.</DIV><DIV>“Where’s your shield?” the lady cop said. Her nameplate read S. RILEY.</DIV><DIV>“On my dresser, at home. I was asleep. She called for help. I live four miles from here. I’m Sergeant Shane Scully, Southwest RHD. My serial number is 50867.”</DIV><DIV>They looked down at Shane’s now-bloody bare feet, then at Ray. The male cop was a policeman III; his nameplate read P. APPLEGATE. He knelt down and looked closely at the body. “Shit. This is Steeltooth. You shot Lieutenant Molar.”</DIV><DIV>Shane stood quietly as Applegate fingered his shoulder mike. “This is X-ray Twelve. We’re Code Six at 2387 Shell Avenue. We have a police officer down. We need a sergeant on the scene and the coroner. Notify South Bureau Detectives we have the shooter in custody. He claims to be Southwest Robbery/Homicide Sergeant Shane Scully.” Then he turned to Shane. “Gimme that serial number again.”</DIV><DIV>“It’s 50867,” Shane said into the officer’s open shoulder mike.</DIV><DIV>“You get that?” Applegate asked. The female radio-transmission officer answered quickly.</DIV><DIV>“Roger, X-ray Twelve. That’s 50867. You’re Code Six Adam at Shell Avenue, requesting a supervisor and a Homicide unit. Stand by.” There was static, and in less than thirty seconds, the RTO came back on. “X-ray Twelve, on your suspect ident: that badge number is confirmed to Southwest RHD Sergeant Shane Scully, 143 East Channel Road, Venice, California.”</DIV><DIV>“Roger. We’re locking down this crime scene for Homicide and moving outside.” The officer then turned to Shane. “Who’s your direct supervisor?”</DIV><DIV>“Captain Bud Halley, Southwest Division Robbery/Homicide.”</DIV><DIV>“You got his call-out number?”</DIV><DIV>“Just call the squad. I can do it myself if you take these cuffs off.”</DIV><DIV>“Hey, Scully, you done enough already. You just croaked the best fucking cop on the force.” Then he unlocked the handcuffs. “Shannon, take Mrs. Molar into the kitchen. I’ll hold Sergeant Scully in the living room.” They left Raymond Molar in an expanding pool of his own blood to wait for the Homicide team and lab techs.</DIV><DIV><BR><BR><BR></DIV><DIV>On every unnatural death in L.A., the RHD assigns a fresh homicide number and the next team up on the division rotation gets the squeal. The numbers start on January 1 and continue sequentially until the last day of December. If the body is a male, the number is proceeded by an M; if female, by an F. On that chilly April morning, Lieutenant Raymond George Molar became M-417-00.</DIV><DIV>The RHD team got there a little after three-thirty A.M. as the crime lab was just finishing photographing the scene. The two lab techs had already done their preliminary workup. They’d bagged the lieutenant’s hands, outlined the DB in tape, and were standing around, waiting for the detectives to show before rolling the body.</DIV><DIV>Both Homicide dicks were veterans and had been notified before they got there that the officer down was the legendary LAPD Lt. Ray “Steeltooth” Molar. They had both signed Patrolman Applegate’s crime-scene attendance sheet and now stood in the bedroom looking down at the body with stone-cut expressions as the lab techs flopped Ray over. His face had already begun to fill with blood, causing a darkening of the skin, known as lividity. More postmortem renal jettisoning had occurred, and the smell of feces in the room was getting strong as the two detectives from Robbery/Homicide silently policed the area, making their preliminary notes and observations. They graphed the location of the body and marked the bullet in the doorjamb that Ray had fired, then instructed the lab techs to dig the slug out and get it to the Investigative Analysis Section for a ballistics comparison. They bagged Shane’s 9mm Beretta; it would be booked as evidence.</DIV><DIV>Shane was waiting in the living room with Patrolman Applegate. After half an hour the lead Homicide dick, an old, wheezing department warhorse with a basset-hound jawline, came out and sat on the sofa opposite Shane. His name was Garson Welch; he and Shane had shared a few easy grounders back when Shane was still working uniform in Southwest. One case had been so simple, they solved it in less than ten minutes when Shane arrested the perp half a block away as he was trying to stuff the murder weapon down into a Dumpster. The man had confessed on the spot. Shane and Welch had gone EOW at the jail and had had a few beers in a cop bar on Central known as the Billy Club. They didn’t have what you’d call a friendship, but they were at least friendly—better than nothing.</DIV><DIV>“This ain’t gonna go down too good at Parker Center, Shane,” the old detective said, rubbing his ample forehead with a big, liver-spotted hand.</DIV><DIV>“Yeah, Gar, you’re right. I should’ve just stood there and let him kill her with his nightstick.”</DIV><DIV>“Calm down and listen,” Welch went on. “What we got here is a brown shit waffle. Lieutenant Molar had big juice with the Super Chief. People you and I only read about in the L.A. Times are getting phone calls right now over this piece of work. I just got a call and found out he’s been Mayor Clark Crispin’s police driver for the past two months. So there’s gonna be big interest at the city level. We’re gonna go slow and get it right.”</DIV><DIV>“The mayor’s driver? Shit,” Shane said. He hadn’t known that was Ray’s new assignment.</DIV><DIV>“I’m gonna take your preliminary here, then send you to the Glass House and let your captain do the DFAR,” Welch said, referring to the Division Field Activity Report that had to be filed after any incident involving violence or death at the hands of a police officer.</DIV><DIV>“I got my car. I can meet you there,” Shane volunteered.</DIV><DIV>“I’ll have one of the blues drive it in and park it for you in the underground garage, but you’re gonna go downtown in the back of a detective car. By the book. That way, nobody gets days off for bullshit nitpicks.”</DIV><DIV>“Yeah, sure, if that’s the way you want it.” Shane was beginning to get a premonition of disaster. Then he followed Detective Welch out of the house for the long drive to Parker Center.</DIV></DIV><DIV><DIV><B>3</B></DIV><DIV><B>DFAR</B></DIV><DIV><B>THE TRIP DOWNTOWN</B> at four A.M. on deserted freeways took only twenty-two minutes. The black-and-white slickback that the RHD dicks were forced to drive now finally made a wide turn off Broadway, its headlights sweeping the south side of the Glass House. It pulled up to the security station. Sergeant Welch showed his badge, signed them all in, and drove into the huge underground parking garage that adjoined Parker Center.</DIV><DIV>The building was known as “the Glass House” to everybody on the job because of the excessive amount of plate glass that draped its huge boxy shape. The otherwise nondescript building had been designed in the fifties, which had proved to be a decade of architectural blight. The parking garage next door went down nine stories underground. The detectives found a spot on U-3, and both led Shane out of the parking complex, through a security door, and into the third basement of police headquarters. They took the elevator to six and got off at the Robbery/Homicide Division, which took up half the floor and was fronted by a thick glass partition.</DIV><DIV>Garson Welch buzzed them through and found the OOD, a thin-faced sergeant in uniform, sitting at a computer just inside the squad room. “Is Captain Halley around? He was supposed to get a call out on this activity report.”</DIV><DIV>The sergeant nodded and pointed down the hall. “Interview room Three,” he said.</DIV><DIV>They moved single file down the linoleum-floored corridor and turned into a small, windowless interrogation room that contained a scarred desk, two wooden chairs, and Robbery/Homicide Captain Bud Halley. Halley had his jacket off and was showing the beginnings of a twelve-hour beard, having missed his shave at four A.M. He had also missed two belt loops. Other than that, he was a remarkably handsome, fit, prematurely gray man in his mid-forties. He was Shane’s Southwest Homicide Bureau commander. They had a good professional relationship. In the two years Shane had been assigned to Southwest Detectives, Halley had given him two excellent evaluation reports. As Shane came through the door, Captain Halley motioned him to a chair. “You guys don’t have to stick around unless you need him. I’m gonna send him home after the activity report,” he said to the two detectives.</DIV><DIV>“Thanks, Cap, check you later,” Welch said as they left the room and closed the door behind them.</DIV><DIV>“We only have a few minutes and then God knows what happens,” Halley said.</DIV><DIV>“A few minutes? What’re you talking about? You’re doing the DFAR. What’s the rush?”</DIV><DIV>“’Cept I’m not doing it. Deputy Chief Thomas Mayweather is on his way in. He’s doing it.”</DIV><DIV>“The head of Special Investigations Division is doing my activity report? You can’t be serious. Why him?”</DIV><DIV>“Chief Brewer ordered it,” Halley said.</DIV><DIV>“Same question, then.”</DIV><DIV>“Don’t you know what Ray Molar’s assignment was?”</DIV><DIV>“Yeah … he was Mayor Clark Crispin’s bodyguard and driver. He was also killing his wife with a nightstick. He fired a shot at me. Barbara Molar is my wit. This should be a slam dunk. So what’s the deal?”</DIV><DIV>“Lemme give you the secret to survival around here.” Shane waited for the punch line. “Everything that’s not department history is department politics. Chief Brewer was awakened by Mayor Crispin, who called the Big Kahuna from the Dark Side, who got rousted off his sailboat at the marina. He was planning to sail across the channel for a long weekend in Avalon. Now, instead of salt air and sea chanteys, Deputy Chief Mayweather is coming here, in his fucking yacht attire, looking to tear you a new asshole.”</DIV><DIV>“Cap, let me say this again, so none of us miss it. Steeltooth was killing his wife. He shot first. If I hadn’t returned fire, we’d both be in the county icebox bleeding from the ears. I know for a fact Ray has two spousal-abuse beefs in his IAD package. He’s a regular at rage-management counseling. Aside from that, we both know he was a head thumper from way back. You don’t get the nickname Steeltooth just because your last name’s Molar.”</DIV><DIV>“Don’t convince me. Make Mayweather believe it,” Halley said softly.</DIV><DIV>Shane’s hands started to shake. He was coming down from a two-hour adrenaline rush. He had killed Ray Molar, his ex-partner, a man he had once respected, then came to fear, and then finally to hate. His emotions hovered just below consciousness. He knew he couldn’t afford a mistake, so he pushed personal feelings aside and concentrated on his plight, his survival instincts taking precedence.</DIV><DIV><BR><BR><BR></DIV><DIV>Deputy Chief Mayweather was six three and ebony black. He had a shaved head and always carried himself with the athletic grace he had shown as a first-string point guard on the UCLA basketball team in the seventies.</DIV><DIV>He moved through the predawn stillness of the Robbery/Ho , micide Division and looked at the tired collection of swing-shift detectives who were manning their desks, sneaking glances at the clock, waiting for the day-watch to show up and relieve them. Mayweather stuck his gleaming black head into the interrogation room containing Scully and Halley.</DIV><DIV>“Let’s do this upstairs.” Mayweather’s voice was cold and smooth, Vaseline on ice. “We’ll use the conference room on nine. Bud, see if they got some coffee down here and bring it up.” Then, without even looking at Shane, he moved out of the room, leaving them there.</DIV><DIV>“Good luck,” Halley said as Shane got up off his hardwood chair and followed Mayweather, who was already halfway down the hall, striding t

在以知识的创新与应用为特征的21世纪,创新人才的培养成为影响整个民族生存和发展的关键,随着高中新课改浪湖滚滚而来,全面培养学生的创新精神、实践能力、提倡主动学习、互动学习、合作学习...

2 (p1): 第6章 立体几何初步 2 (p1-1): 6.1空间的几何体 3 (p1-1-1): 6.1.1几类简单的几何体 10 (p1-1-1-1): 习题6.1 11 (p1-1-2): 6.1.2在平面上画立体图形 16 (p1-1-2-1): 习题6.2 17 (p1-2): 实习作业 画建筑物的视图与直观图 18 (p1-2-1): 6.1.3面积和体积公式 26 (p1-2-1-1): 习题6.3 27 (p1-3): 6.2空间的直线与平面 28 (p1-3-1): 6.2.1点、线、面的位置关系 36 (p1-3-1-1): 习题6.4 37 (p1-3-2): 6.2.2平行关系 44 (p1-3-2-1): 习题6.5 45 (p1-3-3): 6.2.3垂直关系 49 (p1-4): 数学实验 直线和平面的垂直关系 53 (p1-4-1): 习题6.6 54 (p1-5): 数学建模 半平面绕轴的转动 56 (p1-6): 数学实验 正四棱锥的截面 58 (p1-7): 小结与复习 63 (p1-8): 复习题六 66 (p2): 第7章 解析几何初步 66 (p2-1): 数学实验 凹面镜的反射 69 (p2-2): 7.1点的坐标 74 (p2-2-1): 习题7.1 74 (p2-3): 7.2直线的方程 74 (p2-3-1): 7.2.1直线的一般方程 81 (p2-3-1-1): 习题7.2 81 (p2-3-2): 7.2.2两条直线的位置关系 84 (p2-3-2-1): 习题7.3 85 (p2-3-3): 7.2.3点到直线的距离 90 (p2-3-3-1): 习题7.4 92 (p2-4): 数学建模 道路的坡度与运动的速度 94 (p2-4-1): 7.2.4直线的斜率 99 (p2-4-1-1): 习题7.5 100 (p2-5): 7.3圆与方程 100 (p2-5-1): 7.3.1圆的标准方程 102 (p2-5-2): 7.3.2圆的一般方程 105 (p2-5-3): 7.3.3直线与圆、圆与圆的位置关系 110 (p2-5-4): 习题7.6 112 (p2-6): 7.4几何问题的代数解法 114 (p2-6-1): 习题7.7 115 (p2-7): 7.5空间直角坐标系 120 (p2-7-1): 习题7.8 121 (p2-8): 小结与复习 126 (p2-9): 复习题七 129 (p2-10): 数学文化 笛卡儿之梦 5 (p3): [多知道一点] 5 (p3-1): 平行六面体 14 (p3-2): 正等测画法 89 (p3-3): 行列式的记号 132 (p4): 附录 数学词汇中英文对照表

2 (p1): 第3章 三角函数 2 (p1-1): 数学建模 怎样度量平面上的转动 4 (p1-2): 3.1弧度制与任意角 4 (p1-2-1): 3.1.1角的概念的推广 7 (p1-2-2): 3.1.2弧度制 11 (p1-2-3): 习题3.1 12 (p1-3): 问题探索 用方向和距离表示点的位置 14 (p1-4): 3.2任意角的三角函数 14 (p1-4-1): 3.2.1任意角三角函数的定义 20 (p1-4-2): 3.2.2同角三角函数之间的关系 22 (p1-4-3): 3.2.3诱导公式 28 (p1-4-4): 习题3.2 30 (p1-5): 3.3三角函数的图象与性质 30 (p1-5-1): 3.3.1正弦函数、余弦函数的图象与性质 34 (p1-5-2): 3.3.2正切函数的图象与性质 36 (p1-5-3): 习题3.3 37 (p1-6): 3.4函数y=Asin(ωx+?)的图象与性质 37 (p1-6-1): 3.4.1三角函数的周期性 39 (p1-6-2): 3.4.2函数y=Asin(ωx+?)的图象与性质 46 (p1-6-3): 3.4.3应用举例 52 (p1-6-4): 习题3.4 54 (p1-7): 数学实验 函数y=Asin(ωx+?)的动态图象 56 (p1-8): 阅读与思考 月球绕地球转动一周需要多少天 58 (p1-9): 数学实验 电子琴为什么能模拟不同乐器的声音 61 (p1-10): 小结与复习 66 (p1-11): 复习题三 71 (p1-12): 数学文化 数学家傅立叶 74 (p2): 第4章 向量 74 (p2-1): 数学建模 怎样描述位置的变化 76 (p2-2): 4.1什么是向量 78 (p2-2-1): 习题4.1 79 (p2-3): 4.2向量的加法 83 (p2-3-1): 习题4.2 84 (p2-4): 4.3向量与实数相乘 91 (p2-4-1): 习题4.3 92 (p2-5): 4.4向量的分解与坐标表示 101 (p2-5-1): 习题4.4 101 (p2-6): 4.5向量的数量积 102 (p2-6-1): 4.5.1向量的数量积 105 (p2-6-2): 4.5.2利用数量积计算长度和角度 108 (p2-6-3): 4.5.3利用坐标计算数量积 110 (p2-6-4): 习题4.5 111 (p2-7): 4.6向量的应用 113 (p2-7-1): 习题4.6 115 (p2-8): 数学实验 点电荷组的电力线 118 (p2-9): 小结与复习 121 (p2-10): 复习题四 125 (p3): 第5章 三角恒等变换 125 (p3-1): 数学建模 平面上的旋转——问题的提出 126 (p3-2): 5.1两角和与差的三角函数 126 (p3-2-1): 5.1.1两角和与差的正弦和余弦 129 (p3-2-2): 5.1.2两角和与差的正切 132 (p3-2-3): 习题5.1 133 (p3-3): 5.2二倍角的三角函数 136 (p3-3-1): 习题5.2 137 (p3-4): 5.3简单的三角恒等变换 142 (p3-4-1): 习题5.3 144 (p3-5): 数学建模平面上的旋转——问题的解决 147 (p3-6): 数学实验 光的干涉 150 (p3-7): 小结与复习 153 (p3-8): 复习题五 155 (p4): 附录 数学词汇中英文对照表

2 (p0-1): 第一章 宇宙中的地球 2 (p0-2): 第一节 地球在宇宙中 2 (p0-3): 知识梳理 2 (p0-4): 课标导航 3 (p0-5): 课本内容解读 5 (p0-6): 典型例题探究 7 (p0-7): 链接高考 8 (p0-8): 自主探究 13 (p0-9): 学海拾贝 14 (p0-10): 第二节 太阳对地球的影响 14 (p0-11): 知识梳理 14 (p0-12): 课标导航 15 (p0-13): 课本内容解读 17 (p0-14): 典型例题探究 18 (p0-15): 链接高考 20 (p0-16): 自主探究 24 (p0-17): 学海拾贝 25 (p0-18): 第三节 地球的运动 25 (p0-19): 知识梳理 26 (p0-20): 课标导航 26 (p0-21): 课本内容解读 31 (p0-22): 典型例题探究 33 (p0-23): 链接高考 36 (p0-24): 自主探究 42 (p0-25): 学海拾贝 43 (p0-26): 第四节 地球的圈层结构 43 (p0-27): 知识梳理 44 (p0-28): 课标导航 44 (p0-29): 课本内容解读 48 (p0-30): 典型例题探究 49 (p0-31): 链接高考 50 (p0-32): 自主探究 55 (p0-33): 学海拾贝 56 (p0-34): 章末复习方略 56 (p0-35): 知识网络扫描 56 (p0-36): 本章专题透析 58 (p0-37): 综合例题解析 61 (p0-38): 高考命题展望 64 (p0-39): 高考命题在线 69 (p0-40): 第二章 自然地理环境中的物质运动和能量交换第一节 大气的热状况与大气运动 69 (p0-41): 知识梳理 69 (p0-42): 课标导航 70 (p0-43): 课本内容解读 76 (p0-44): 典型例题探究 80 (p0-45): 链接高考 82 (p0-46): 自主探究 89 (p0-47): 学海拾贝 90 (p0-48): 课标导航 90 (p0-49): 知识梳理 90 (p0-50): 第二节 水的运动 91 (p0-51): 课本内容解读 93 (p0-52): 典型例题探究 96 (p0-53): 链接高考 97 (p0-54): 自主探究 104 (p0-55): 学海拾贝 105 (p0-56): 第三节 地壳的运动和变化 105 (p0-57): 知识梳理 105 (p0-58): 课标导航 106 (p0-59): 课本内容解读 109 (p0-60): 典型例题探究 111 (p0-61): 链接高考 113 (p0-62): 自主探究 118 (p0-63): 学海拾贝 120 (p0-64): 章末复习方略 120 (p0-65): 知识网络扫描 121 (p0-66): 本章专题透析 123 (p0-67): 综合例题解析 126 (p0-68): 高考命题展望 130 (p0-69): 高考命题在线 135 (p0-70): 第三章 地理环境的整体性和区域差异 135 (p0-71): 第一节 影响气候的因素及气候在地理环境中的作用 135 (p0-72): 知识梳理 135 (p0-73): 课标导航 136 (p0-74): 课本内容解读 139 (p0-75): 典型例题探究 140 (p0-76): 链接高考 142 (p0-77): 自主探究 146 (p0-78): 学海拾贝 147 (p0-79): 第二节 地理环境的整体性和地域分异 147 (p0-80): 知识梳理 147 (p0-81): 课标导航 148 (p0-82): 课本内容解读 150 (p0-83): 典型例题探究 152 (p0-84): 链接高考 153 (p0-85): 自主探究 157 (p0-86): 学海拾贝...

...,属高考总复习类书。本书是按照“教材知识能力化,教材内容问题化”思路编写的,这种理念是超前的,让学生在轻松愉快中提升知识水平,给学生一种全新的学习思路。适合二轮复习,定位于中档学生,力求通过基础知识的复习...

佛说阿弥陀经(注音版)弘化常诵佛经系列之三注音读诵版 无水印

在以知识的创新与应用为特征的21世纪,创新人才的培养成为影响整个民族生存和发展的关键,随着高中新课改浪湖滚滚而来,全面培养学生的创新精神、实践能力、提倡主动学习、互动学习、合作学习...

1 (p1): 第一章 番茄概述 1 (p2): 第一节 番茄简介 2 (p3): 第二节 番茄种植的发展趋势 5 (p4): 第二章 番茄生物学特性 5 (p5): 第一节 番茄的植物学特性 8 (p6): 第二节 番茄的生长发育周期 10 (p7): 第三节 对环境条件的要求 18 (p8): 第三章 番茄类型和优良品种 18 (p9): 第一节 番茄类型 19 (p10): 第二节 大番茄品种介绍 70 (p11): 第三节 樱桃番茄品种介绍 78 (p12): 第四章 番茄育苗技术 78 (p13): 第一节 种子的选择和播前种子处理 83 (p14): 第二节 床土配制与消毒 85 (p15): 第三节 播种 87 (p16): 第四节 育苗期间病虫害的发生防治 93 (p17): 第五节 育苗设施 95 (p18): 第六节 育苗方式 106 (p19): 第七节 育苗程序 109 (p20): 第八节 苗期管理 118 (p21): 第五章 栽培管理技术 118 (p22): 第一节 种植前的准备 120 (p23): 第二节 定植技术 123 (p24): 第三节 田间管理 128 (p25): 第四节 植株调整 137 (p26): 第五节 保花保果技术 142 (p27): 第六节 番茄采种技术

1 (p1): 一乘除法 1 (p2): 1.一位数乘整十数(练习1) 2 (p3): 2.一位数乘两位数(练习2) 3 (p4): 3.乘加乘减(练习3) 4 (p5): 4.整十、整百、整千除以一位数(练习 5 (p6): 5.两位数除以一位数(练习5) 6 (p7): 6.除加除减(练习6) 7 (p8): 7.综合练习(练习7~9) 10 (p9): 第一单元口算测试卷 11 (p10): 二观察物体 11 (p11): 搭一搭(练习10) 12 (p12): 三千克、克、吨 12 (p13): 1.有多重(练习11~12) 14 (p14): 2.配菜(练习13) 15 (p15): 第三单元口算测试卷 16 (p16): 四 乘法 16 (p17): 1.乘法(练习14) 17 (p18): 2.乘火车(练习15) 18 (p19): 3.含有0的算式的乘法(练习16) 19 (p20): 4.买饮料(练习17) 20 (p21): 5.乘除(练习18) 21 (p22): 6.实践活动(练习19~20) 23 (p23): 7.综合练习(练习21~25) 28 (p24): 第四单元口算测试卷 29 (p25): 五周长 29 (p26): 1.长方形的周长(练习26~27) 31 (p27): 2.正方形(练习28) 32 (p28): 3.综合练习(练习29) 33 (p29): 第五单元口算测试卷 34 (p30): 4.交通与数学(练习30) 35 (p31): 六 除法 35 (p32): 1.分桃子(练习31) 36 (p33): 2.淘气的猴子(练习32) 37 (p34): 3.一位数除两位数(练习33) 38 (p35): 4.一位数除三位数(练习34) 39 (p36): 5.除加除减(练习35) 40 (p37): 6.送温暖(练习36) 41 (p38): 7.买新书(练习37) 42 (p39): 8.综合练习(练习38~39) 44 (p40): 第六单元口算测试卷 45 (p41): 七 年月日 45 (p42): 1.看日历(练习40) 46 (p43): 2.一天的时间(练习41~42) 48 (p44): 3.时间与数学(练习43) 49 (p45): 4.综合练习(练习44) 50 (p46): 第七单元口算测试卷 51 (p47): 八可能性 51 (p48): 1.摸球游戏(练习45) 52 (p49): 2.生活中的推理(练习46) 53 (p50): 九 总复习 53 (p51): 总复习(练习47~52) 59 (p52): 期末测试卷

... 其实,我给予您的,是需要您辛勤劳作的土地。 我爱您,我对所有的老师充满敬意......,将高考贬得一钱不值,高考复习课被各种优质课大赛拒之千里,高考课堂教学只好躲在被遗忘的角落里...

2 (p1): 第1章 集合与函数 2 (p1-1): 1.1集合 2 (p1-1-1): 1.1.1集合的含义和表示 5 (p1-1-1-1): 习题1 6 (p1-1-2): 1.1.2集合的包含关系 9 (p1-1-2-1): 习题2 10 (p1-1-3): 1.1.3集合的交与并 13 (p1-1-3-1): 习题3 16 (p1-2): 1.2函数的概念和性质 16 (p1-2-1): 1.2.1对应、映射和函数 19 (p1-2-1-1): 习题4 21 (p1-3): 阅读与思考 计算机编程语言中的函数 24 (p1-3-1): 1.2.2表示函数的方法 28 (p1-3-1-1): 习题5 29 (p1-4): 数学实验 用计算机作函数图象和列函数表 32 (p1-4-1): 1.2.3从图象看函数的性质 36 (p1-4-1-1): 习题6 38 (p1-4-2): 1.2.4从解析式看函数的性质 41 (p1-4-2-1): 习题7 42 (p1-4-3): 1.2.5函数的定义域和值域 45 (p1-4-3-1): 习题8 46 (p1-4-4): 1.2.6分段函数 49 (p1-4-4-1): 习题9 50 (p1-4-5): 1.2.7二次函数的图象和性质——增减性和最值 53 (p1-4-5-1): 习题10 54 (p1-4-6): 1.2.8二次函数的图象和性质——对称性 58 (p1-4-6-1): 习题11 59 (p1-5): 数学实验 用计算机研究二次函数的图象 64 (p1-6): 小结与复习 69 (p1-7): 复习题一 74 (p2): 第2章 指数函数、对数函数和幂函数 74 (p2-1): 问题探索 射线在介质中的衰减 76 (p2-2): 阅读与思考 放射性元素的衰变 78 (p2-3): 2.1 指数函数 78 (p2-3-1): 2.1.1指数概念的推广 83 (p2-3-1-1): 习题1 84 (p2-3-2): 2.1.2指数函数的图象和性质 87 (p2-3-2-1): 习题2 88 (p2-4): 阅读与思考 指数爆炸和指数衰减 90 (p2-5): 2.2对数函数 90 (p2-5-1): 2.2.1对数的概念和运算律 95 (p2-5-1-1): 习题3 96 (p2-5-2): 2.2.2换底公式 100 (p2-5-2-1): 习题4 102 (p2-6): 阅读与思考 对数小史 104 (p2-6-1): 2.2.3对数函数的图象和性质 107 (p2-6-1-1): 习题5 108 (p2-7): 2.3幂函数 108 (p2-7-1): 2.3.1幂函数的概念 111 (p2-7-1-1): 习题6 112 (p2-7-2): 2.3.2幂函数的图象和性质 114 (p2-7-2-1): 习题7 116 (p2-8): 2.4函数与方程 116 (p2-8-1): 2.4.1方程的根与函数的零点 119 (p2-8-1-1): 习题8 120 (p2-8-2): 2.4.2计算函数零点的二分法 121 (p2-8-2-1): 习题9 122 (p2-9): 数学实验 用二分法求方程的近似解 126 (p2-10): 2.5函数模型及其应用 126 (p2-10-1): 2.5.1几种函数增长快慢的比较 130 (p2-10-1-1): 习题10 132 (p2-10-2): 2.5.2形形色色的函数模型 136 (p2-10-2-1): 习题11 137 (p2-11): 小结与复习 144 (p2-12): 复习题二 152 (p2-13): 数学文化 函数概念小史 8 (p3): [多知道一点] 8 (p3-1): 用计算机给区域填色 31 (p3-2): 表示函数的其他方法 99 (p3-3): 用概念解决问题 114 (p3-4): 负数有时也有有理指数幂 155 (p4): 附录 数学词汇中英文对照表

本书为高三复习解析类用书,主要按单元编写,每单元设置问题磁场、案例探究、知识归纳、思维拓展、创新训练等栏目。全书紧扣考点...

1 (p0-1): 第一单元 1 (p0-2): 单元目标 2 (p0-3): 1 藤野先生 8 (p0-4): 2 我的母亲 13 (p0-5): 3我的第一本书 18 (p0-6): 4 列夫·托尔斯泰 23 (p0-7): 5再塑生命 28 (p0-8): 单元小结 29 (p0-9): 单元创新测试卷(一) 35 (p0-10): 写作·口语交际·综合性学习 35 (p0-11): 献给母亲的歌 38 (p0-12): 第二单元 38 (p0-13): 单元目标 39 (p0-14): 6 雪 44 (p0-15): 7雷电颂 49 (p0-16): 8短文两篇 55 (p0-17): 9 海燕 59 (p0-18): 10组歌(节选) 64 (p0-19): 单元小结 65 (p0-20): 单元创新测试卷(二) 70 (p0-21): 写作·口语交际·综合性学习 70 (p0-22): 寻觅春天的踪迹 73 (p0-23): 第三单元 73 (p0-24): 单元目标 74 (p0-25): 11 敬畏自然 78 (p0-26): 12罗布泊,消逝的仙湖 83 (p0-27): 13旅鼠之谜 88 (p0-28): 14大雁归来 92 (p0-29): 15喂——出来 98 (p0-30): 单元小结 99 (p0-31): 单元创新测试卷(三) 104 (p0-32): 写作·口语交际·综合性学习 104 (p0-33): 科海泛舟 107 (p0-34): 单元目标 107 (p0-35): 第四单元 108 (p0-36): 16云南的歌会 112 (p0-37): 17端午的鸭蛋 117 (p0-38): 18吆喝 121 (p0-39): 19春酒 125 (p0-40): 20俗世奇人 130 (p0-41): 单元小结 131 (p0-42): 单元创新测试卷(四) 137 (p0-43): 写作·口语交际·综合性学习 137 (p0-44): 到民间采风去 140 (p0-45): 第五单元 140 (p0-46): 单元目标 141 (p0-47): 21 与朱元思书 145 (p0-48): 22五柳先生传 150 (p0-49): 23马说 154 (p0-50): 24送东阳马生序(节选) 159 (p0-51): 25诗词曲五首 164 (p0-52): 单元小结 165 (p0-53): 单元创新测试卷(五) 169 (p0-54): 写作·口语交际·综合性学习 169 (p0-55): 古诗苑漫步 173 (p0-56): 第六单元 173 (p0-57): 单元目标 174 (p0-58): 26小石潭记 178 (p0-59): 27岳阳楼记 182 (p0-60): 28醉翁亭记 186 (p0-61): 29满井游记 190 (p0-62): 30诗五首 195 (p0-63): 单元小结 196 (p0-64): 单元创新测试卷(六) 201 (p0-65): 写作·口语交际·综合性学习 201 (p0-66): 背起行囊走四方 205 (p0-67): 参考答案

...当一道道疑似难题摆在你面前时,是胸有成竹,还是纂找不着头绪?如果是前者,那恭喜你,你已经跨越了教材与考试之间的差距......》在教材与考试问为你搭建一个沟通平台。 不少同学有这样的感觉:教材都熟悉了,课堂上也听|董了,但考试却取不到好成绩...

普贤菩萨行愿品(注音版)弘化常诵佛经系列之五注音读诵版 无水印

观世音菩萨普门品(注音版)弘化常诵佛经系列之四注音读诵版 无水印

1 (p0-1): 目录 1 (p0-2): 第一章 清朝晚期中国开始沦为半殖民地半封建社会 1 (p0-3): 第一节 鸦片战争 5 (p0-4): 第二节 鸦片战争的影响 10 (p0-5): 第三节 第二次鸦片战争 15 (p0-6): ★第四节 西方资本主义国家经济势力的入侵 17 (p0-7): 第五节 太平天国运动的兴起和发展 22 (p0-8): 第六节 太平天国后期的保卫战 27 (p0-9): 第七节 新思想的萌发 31 (p0-10): 本章综合检测 34 (p0-11): 本章课后习题答案 35 (p0-12): 本章高考试题精编 38 (p0-13): ★第一节 清朝政局的变动 38 (p0-14): 第二章 中国资本主义的产生、发展和半殖民地半封建社会的形成 40 (p0-15): 第二节 洋务运动 44 (p0-16): 第三节 中国资本主义的产生 48 (p0-17): ★第四节 中国边疆地区的新危机和中法战争 51 (p0-18): 第五节 甲午中日战争 56 (p0-19): ★第六节 瓜分中国的狂潮 59 (p0-20): 第七节 戊戌变法 66 (p0-21): 第八节 义和团运动和八国联军侵华战争 71 (p0-22): 本章综合检测 72 (p0-23): 本章课后习题答案 74 (p0-24): 本章高考试题精编 78 (p0-25): 第三章 资产阶级民主革命和清朝的覆亡 78 (p0-26): ★第一节 资产阶级民主革命的兴起 82 (p0-27): 第二节 同盟会的成立和革命形势的发展 86 (p0-28): 第三节 清朝统治危机的加深和辛亥革命的爆发 90 (p0-29): 第四节 中华民国的成立 96 (p0-30): 本章综合检测 98 (p0-31): 本章课后习题答案 99 (p0-32): 本章高考试题精编 100 (p0-33): 第四章 北洋军阀的统治 100 (p0-34): 第一节 袁世凯独裁统治的建立 104 (p0-35): ★第二节 军阀割据下的中国政局 108 (p0-36): 第三节 中国民族资本主义的进一步发展 112 (p0-37): 本章综合检测 113 (p0-38): 本章课后习题答案 114 (p0-39): 本章高考试题精编 116 (p0-40): 第五章 新文化运动和中国共产党的诞生 116 (p0-41): 第一节 新文化运动 122 (p0-42): 第二节 五四爱国运动 127 (p0-43): 第三节 中国共产党的诞生 132 (p0-44): 本章综合检测 134 (p0-45): 本章课后习题答案 134 (p0-46): 本章高考试题精编 136 (p0-47): 第六章 国民革命运动的兴起和失败 136 (p0-48): 第一节 第一次国共合作的实现 141 (p0-49): 第二节 国民革命运动的兴起 145 (p0-50): 第三节 国民革命运动的发展 149 (p0-51): 第四节 国民革命运动的失败 153 (p0-52): 本章综合检测 155 (p0-53): 本章课后习题答案 156 (p0-54): 本章高考试题精编 157 (p0-55): 期中标准测试卷 159 (p0-56): 期末标准测试卷 162 (p0-57): 参考答案

本书逐一收录2007—2015年课标全国卷,可谓最完整、最全面、最直观。通过画卷般一一呈现9年高考12套课标全国卷,深度揭示高考全国统一命题卷的命题规则和命题精髓。

《中学教材创新讲解》秉承新课程改革的最新理念和要求经过全国重点中学一线名师倾力打造,品质全面升级,理念更新颖,体例更科学、实用。它在完全遵循学生认知规律的前提下,全面优化学习流程,全新设计讲练模式...

本书是名师伴读系列丛书中的初中政治二年级分册。全书以现行教材及教学大纲为基础编写,分为课前预习、课内练习、课后练习以及课后习题选解四部分...

...!它开创了教辅图书的新形态,在神州大地独树一帜,为广大师生增添了新的选择,给图书市场增加了新的亮点,创造了教辅图书的新神话!“会当凌绝顶,一览众山小。”只有出乎其类,方能拔乎其萃。目前同类产品已不下百种...

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金刚经(注音版)弘化常诵佛经系列之一

《天利38套·新课标常考易错典型试题·全国高中学业水平考试会考真题精选:生物》选编的试题均来自全国新课标地区的高中学业水平考试试题,具有广泛的代表性。因此,该书适用于全国绝大多数省市的考生...

1 (p0-1): 语文 1 (p0-2): 第一单元 语音(识记现代汉语普通话的字音) 2 (p0-3): 第二单元 汉字(识记现代汉字的字形) 4 (p0-4): 第三单元 标点(正确使用标点符号) 5 (p0-5): 第四单元 词语(正确使用词语) 8 (p0-6): 第五单元 句子 8 (p0-7): 第一节 辨析并修改病句 10 (p0-8): 第二节 扩展语句、压缩语段 13 (p0-9): 第三节 选用、仿用、变换句式 15 (p0-10): 第六单元 修辞 15 (p0-11): 第一节 语言表达简明、连贯、得体 17 (p0-12): 第二节 正确运用常见的修辞方法 18 (p0-13): 第七单元 文学常识(识记文学常识) 19 (p0-14): 第八单元 名句名篇(默写常见的名句名篇) 21 (p0-15): 第九单元 古代诗歌鉴赏 25 (p0-16): 第十单元 文言文阅读 25 (p0-17): 第一节 选择题 38 (p0-18): 第二节 翻译题 40 (p0-19): 第十一单元 现代文阅读 40 (p0-20): 第一节 现代文阅读(自然科学类) 46 (p0-21): 第二节 现代文阅读(社会科学类) 53 (p0-22): 第三节 现代文阅读(文学作品类) 71 (p0-23): 第十二单元 写作 71 (p0-24): 第一节 写作(话题作文) 72 (p0-25): 第二节 写作(其他作文) 73 (p0-26): 参考答案及点拨

1 (p1): 第五课 财政税收和纳税人 6 (p1-2): 第一节 国民收入的分配与财政 6 (p1-3): 第一框 国民收入的分配 7 (p1-4): 第二框 财政收入和支出 8 (p1-5): 第三框 财政的巨大作用 9 (p1-6): 基础训练 12 (p1-7): 第二节 税收与纳税人 12 (p1-8): 第一框 税收及其基本特征 13 (p1-9): 第二框 我国税收的性质和作用 14 (p1-10): 第三框 依法纳税是公民的基本义务 15 (p1-11): 基础训练 18 (p1-12): 单元双基综合训练 22 (p1-13): 新编高中新教材同步测控优化训练(一) 26 (p2): 第六课 银行和储蓄者 31 (p2-2): 第一节 我国的银行 31 (p2-3): 第一框 银行的产生 32 (p2-4): 第二框 银行的分类及其职能 33 (p2-5): 第三框 银行的业务和作用 35 (p2-6): 基础训练 38 (p2-7): 第二节 公民的储蓄 38 (p2-8): 第一框 存款储蓄 利国利民 39 (p2-9): 第二框 债券和商业保险 41 (p2-10): 基础训练 44 (p2-11): 单元双基综合训练 48 (p2-12): 新编高中新教材同步测控优化训练(二) 52 (p2-13): 新编高中新教材同步测控优化训练(三) 56 (p2-14): 新编高中新教材同步测控优化训练(四) 60 (p3): 第七课 商品服务市场和消费者 64 (p3-2): 第一节 商品服务市场 64 (p3-3): 第一框 商品服务市场的内容及特点 65 (p3-4): 第二框 市场交易的原则 67 (p3-5): 基础训练 69 (p3-6): 第二节 家庭消费与消费者的合法权益 69 (p3-7): 第一框 家庭消费的内容 70 (p3-8): 第二框 树立正确的消费观 71 (p3-9): 第三框 依法保护消费者的合法权益 73 (p3-10): 基础训练 76 (p3-11): 单元双基综合训练 80 (p3-12): 新编高中新教材同步测控优化训练(五) 84 (p4): 第八课 当代世界市场和我国的对外贸易 92 (p4-2): 第一框 世界市场的形成与发展 92 (p4-3): 第一节 当代世界市场 94 (p4-4): 第二框 世界性贸易与金融组织 97 (p4-5): 第三框 世界市场价格 100 (p4-6): 第四框 我国社会主义市场经济必须面向世界 102 (p4-7): 基础训练 106 (p4-8): 第二节 我国的对外贸易 106 (p4-9): 第一框 对外贸易的基本含义与主要内容 108 (p4-10): 第二框 我国对外贸易的方式与作用 110 (p4-11): 第三框 我国对外贸易的基本原则 112 (p4-12): 基础训练 116 (p4-13): 单元双基综合训练 120 (p4-14): 新编高中新教材同步测控优化训练(六) 125 (p4-15): 新编高中新教材同步测控优化训练(七) 129 (p4-16): 新编高中新教材同步测控优化训练(八)