“Roger, Two-five-five. He's in the field. Give me your number we'll have him call back on landline.”

“Negative, Central. This is urgent. I need that coordinator now.”

A long pause, then static, then a voice saying, “Hey, Sam. It's Brad. Whasshappenin'?”

“I may have a suspect in the porn bombings. Check CATCH, National Crime Database and Army CID. Tell me what you got on a Thomas or Tommy Savorne. I'll wait.”

“Spelled?”

Healy looked at Rune. “Spelled?”

She shrugged.

“Guess.”

Two minutes later the ops coordinator came back on the line.

“Got yourself a bad boy, homes. Thomas A. Savorne, private first class, LKA Fort Ord in California. Present whereabouts unknown. Dishonorably discharged a year and a half ago as part of plea bargain with JA's office for an agreement to drop court-martial proceedings. The charge was theft of government property. A codefendant was court-martialed and served eleven months on one count of theft and one count of weapons possession. Sam, the codefendant still lives out there and is believed to be dealing in arms. FBI hasn't been able to nail him yet.”

“Damn... What'd Savorne do in service?”

“Engineer.”

“So he knows demolition.”

“Something about it, I'd guess.”

Healy spun to Rune. “Where is he? You have any idea?”

“No...” And then she remembered. “Oh, Jesus, Sam — he was going over to Shelly's friend's place tonight. Maybe he's going to hurt her too.” She gave him Nicole's name and address.

“Okay, Brad, listen up,” Healy said. “Got a possible Ten-thirty in progress, one-four-five West Fifty-seventh. Apartment?”

He looked at Rune, who said, “I don't remember. Her last name's D'Orleans.”

Healy repeated the name. “Subject probably armed, maybe with plastic, and it looks like a possible hostage situation.”

“I'll get ESU rolling.”

“One other thing... The guy's probably emotionally disturbed.”

“Oh, some kind of fucking wonderful, Sam. An EDP with plastic and a hostage. I'll do you a favor someday. Ten-four.”

“Two-five-five out.”

Rune was getting her arguments ready — to talk him into letting her come with him. But there was no problem with that. Healy said, “Come on, let's hustle. I'll get a squad car at the Sixth.”

West Fifty-seventh Street was lit up like a carnival. Flashing lights, blue-and-white cars and Emergency Service Unit trucks parked in the street. The big Bomb Squad truck, with its TCV chamber on a trailer, was parked near the canopied entrance.

But there wasn't much of a sense of urgency.

Two of the ESU guys, holding those black machine guns — like they used in Vietnam — leaned against the doorway, smoking. Their hats were on backwards. They looked awfully young — like stickball players from the Bronx.

So, Rune understood, they'd gotten here in time. They'd moved fast and caught Tommy. It was all over. She looked for Nicole. What a surprise she'd have had. The knock, the door bursting open, cops pointing guns at Tommy.