“Now!” Laurie barked.

“Okay, okay,” Jack repeated. It was clear to him she was as tense as a piano wire about to snap.

“Listen, Lou,” Jack said into the phone. “Laurie just came in, and she’s upset. Let me call you right back.”

“Hold on!” Laurie snapped. “Is that Lou Soldano you’re talking with?”

“Yeah,” Jack said hesitantly. For an irrational instant, he thought that Laurie was overwrought because he was talking with Lou.

“Where is he?” Laurie demanded.

Jack shrugged. “I guess he’s in his office.”

“Ask him,” Laurie snapped.

Jack posed the question, and Lou answered in the affirmative. Jack nodded to Laurie. “He’s there,” he said.

“Tell him we’re coming down to see him,” Laurie said.

Jack hesitated. He was confused.

“Tell him!” Laurie repeated. “Tell him we’re leaving right away.”

“Did you hear that?” Jack asked Lou. Laurie then disappeared down the corridor toward her office.

“I did,” Lou said. “What’s going on?”

“Damned if I know,” Jack said. “She just barreled in. Unless I call you right back, we’ll be there.”

“Fine,” Lou said. “I’ll wait.”

Jack hung up the phone and rushed out into the hall. Laurie was already on her way back and was struggling into her coat. She eyed him as she brushed past on her way to the elevators. Jack hustled to catch up with her.

“What’s happened?” Jack asked hesitantly. He was afraid to upset her any more than she already was.

“I’m about ninety-nine percent sure how Franconi’s body was taken from here,” Laurie said angrily. “And two things are becoming clear. First, the Spoletto Funeral Home was involved and second, the abduction was surely abetted by someone who works here. And to tell you the truth, I’m not sure which of these two things bothers me more.”

“Jeez, look at that traffic,” Franco Ponti said to Angelo Facciolo. “I’m sure as hell glad we’re going into Manhattan instead of going out.”

Franco and Angelo were in Franco’s black Cadillac, heading west on the Queensboro Bridge. It was five-thirty, the height of rush hour. Both men were dressed as if they were going to a ritzy dinner.

“What order do you want to do this in?” Franco asked.

Angelo shrugged. “Maybe the girl first,” he said. His face twisted into a slight smile.

“You’re looking forward to this, aren’t you?” Franco commented.

Angelo raised his eyebrows as much as his facial scar tissue would allow. “Five years I’ve been dreaming about seeing this broad professionally,” he said. “I guess I never thought I would get my chance.”

“I know I don’t have to remind you that we follow orders,” Franco said. “To the letter.”

“Cerino was never so specific,” Angelo said. “He’d just tell us to do a job. He didn’t tell us how to do it.”

“That’s why Cerino is in jail and Vinnie is running the show,” Franco said.

“I’ll tell you what,” Angelo said. “Why don’t we do a drive by Jack Stapleton’s place. I’ve already been inside Laurie Montgomery’s apartment, so I know what we’re getting ourselves into. But I’m a little surprised by this other address. West One Hundred-sixth Street isn’t where I’d expect a doctor to be living.”