“Oh, that,” Decker said. “I’ve come to a decision—a semi-ethical compromise. When this thing is over—if it ever gets over—I’m going to evaluate Noam myself. If I think he’s salvageable, I’ll close my eyes to justice and throw the damn thing away. But if he’s not…I throw him to the wolves, and damn the family consequences.”

“I think that sounds very fair, Peter,” Rina said.

“You’re very supportive,” Decker said. “Good night.”

When he was deep asleep, Rina slithered out from under him. She debated for a moment whether she should write a note, then thought, the heck with it. He’d just have a fit and it wasn’t worth that.

She went inside the kitchen and found Peter’s spare key ring hanging on the wall. He must have twenty keys in his possession—probably a key to every men’s bathroom at the station house. It looked like a janitor’s ring. Among the lot were bound to be the keys to the Porsche.

She jingled the ring for a moment, then peered inside her purse. The gun was nestled at the bottom, tucked beneath loose tissues. She slung her bag over her shoulder and closed the door quietly behind her.

Hank brushed lint off English-worsted gray-flannel slacks, thinking: If the boys back home could see him now. Hundred and fifty bucks for the pants, seventy-seven for the shirt—Sea Island cotton. Then there was another fifty for the tie cause it was pure silk and imported from Wopland. Count Heinrich Stremmer would wear pure silk ties, natch.

Only trouble was that the duds ate up almost half the take. The rest was taken up by food—a real waste, you’d eat it, then shit it out—and cash shelled out for the roachtrap they had checked into. Then, there was Nick-O. As promised, Nick-O, or Nicholas, when Heinrich Stremmer was in his German mood, got his Aerosmith T-shirt and a new pair of black jeans. Hank thought Nick-O would be happy, but the kid just tossed the bag on the fleabag mattress and went back to sulking.

Hank had screamed, I just spent a fuckin’ hour pickin’ that out for you and you toss it away like it was garbage?

Nick-O had a strange expression on his face. All he had said was: So return it.