Myron did. A dark alley. Win's doctored bullets.

Brain matter tossed about like parade confetti. Classic Win. Effective but excessive. Like squashing a bug with a wrecking ball.

Esperanza broke the long silence. "Like I said before," she began softly, "cuckoo."

Myron wanted to change the subject. "Any messages?"

"About a million. Nothing that can't wait, though."

Then she asked, "Have you ever met her?"

"Who?"

"Madonna," she snapped.- "Who do you think?

Win's mother."

"Once," Myron said, remembering. More than ten years ago. He and Win had been having dinner at Merion, in fact. Win hadn't spoken to her on that occasion. But she had spoken to him. The memory made Myron cringe anew.

"Have you told Win about this yet?" she asked.

"Nope. Any advice?"

Esperanza thought a moment. ' 'Do it over the phone,' '

she said. "At a very safe distance."

Chapter 3

They got a quick break.

Myron was still sitting in the Coldrens' den with Linda when Esperanza called back. Bucky had gone back to Merion to get Jack.

"The kid's ATM card was accessed yesterday at 6: 18

P. M.," Esperanza said. "He took out $180. A First Phila- (

delphia branch on Porter Street in South Philly."

"Thanks."

Information like that was not difficult to obtain. Any

body with an account number could pretty much do it with a phone by pretending they were the account holder.

Even without one, any semi human who had ever worked in law enforcement had the contacts or the access numbers or at least the wherewithal to pay off the right person.

It didn't take much anymore, not with today's overabundance of user-friendly technology. Technology did more than depersonalize; it ripped your life wide open, gutted you, stripped away any pretense of privacy.

A few keystrokes revealed all.

"What is it?" Linda Coldren asked.

He told her.

"It doesn't necessarily mean what you think," she said. "The kidnapper could have gotten the PIN number from Chad."

"Could have," Myron said.

"But you don't believe it, do you?"

He shrugged. "Let's just say I'm more than a little skeptical."

"Why?"

"The amount, for one thing. What was Chad's max?"

"Five hundred dollars a day."

"So why would a kidnapper only take $l80?"

Linda Coldren thought a moment. "If he took too much, someone might get suspicious."

Myron sort of frowned. "But if the kidnapper was that careful," he began, "why risk so much for $l80?

Everyone knows that ATMs are equipped with security cameras. Everyone also knows that even the simplest computer check can yield a location."

She looked at him evenly. "You don't think my son is in danger."

"I didn't say that, This whole thing may look like one thing and be another. You were right before. It's safest to . assume that the kidnapping is real."

"So what's your next step?"

"I'm not sure. The ATM machine was on Porter Street in South Philadelphia. Is that someplace Chad likes to hang out?"

"No," Linda Coldren said slowly. "In fact, it's a place I would never imagine him going."