Now that you’ve read this, destroy it. You understand the situation and what is expected of you. I’m completely vulnerable to you and will want you to convince me that the letter doesn’t exist anymore. Obviously you will not be successful if I choose not to believe you. If “insistent curiosity” inflamed you, doubting and disbelief will drive you to violence—all the more because you know the truth about my behavior. I’ll bet you haven’t destroyed the pages you’ve already read. Why haven’t you? What are you waiting for?

So you see. Now it has to be this way. Take the next step, and destroy this letter, do you understand? Or is it all too complicated for you, because you’re a dumb fucking cunt with no imagination, like all the rest?

I’ll feel your anger yet,

Jack

John’s car pulled up behind Devlin’s. Devlin slipped the letter under the seat of the Falcon and hurried into “Mike’s Eclectic.” A guy in the middle of the bar was in the last stages of AIDS, blotches of Karposi’s Sarcoma blackening his face and arms. John led Devlin to the little restaurant in the rear. After telling the waiter that he and Devlin wanted only coffee, he stayed silent until the waiter left, and then he said, “Harry Levine went home this morning in the middle of the meeting with his bosses. Didn’t like what they wanted to do about you.”

“Went home?”

“Exactly. Home. ‘I’m going home to Forest Hills,’ he said, ‘and you two can go fuck yourselves.’ That’s the quote I got from Kevin, whose account I have to believe … I’ll tell you why in a moment. The mayor and Torres want you taken into custody ASAP because of the negative publicity otherwise, you follow?”

“Yes.”

The coffee arrived. John waited again. “All right, now let me tell you why I have to believe Kevin. Torres has put him in charge of delivering you. I’ll be honest, this surprises me—there’s more to Kevin than meets the eye. Apparently he has been working his connections in the commissioner’s office. He sees this as some kind of career opportunity.”

“Swell.”

“Kevin sounded gleeful. That’s why I believed him.”

Devlin heaved a sigh, letting the air hiss through his teeth. “I’m concerned about Eileen.”

“I called her myself at lunchtime. She was at her desk. She says we’re all bunking together tonight. I should make you sleep on the couch.” John eyed him. “You’re withholding.”

He told John about the guy coming to Eileen’s door. “So not only is her line tapped,” Devlin said, “but she was identified, and I don’t believe it was done for no reason.”

“Obviously. Do you want me to tell Kevin? The least he can do is see if it was the FBI—whatever. You want it in the record.”