Levine stopped under a streetlight in the middle of the block. “What I’m going to tell you stays between us—don’t even tell your girlfriend. Donald Manes wasn’t the only casualty in the mess here in Queens, and if he hadn’t killed himself, he probably would have been murdered. The people who shot down Paul Castellano outside Sparks Steak House last December wanted it public—an old-fashioned gangland execution, just as the newspapers called it. Another message, and sent to a hell of a lot of people. Castellano was killed not because of any goddamned dope-dealing but because the conviction of the judge out here for bribery threatened not only to expose the mob’s hold on the Queens judicial system, but the alliance the mob has with politicians in every borough in the city. The alliance is holding, even though Manes is dead and Stanley Friedman is as good as convicted. Donald Manes understood himself perfectly when he put a knife in his own heart. Stealing is the major business of the government of the city of New York today. That convicted judge hasn’t talked and never will, no matter how much time he serves, because if he says word one, it will be his last. As strong as the mob has been in the past, it’s stronger than ever today, and it means to stay that way. This is really why the mayor and the commissioner want you brought in. Any revelation at all is likely to open a larger can of worms. You start running your mouth about Brennan and DiBennedetti, the press will tie in Johnny Gotti and the rest of the Gambino family, and then the Brooklyn politicians. Domino effect? No end to it. The mayor would be running for his life. He can’t even think about you talking to anybody. Anybody.”

Devlin was staring ahead again. “I didn’t help my situation when I called DiBennedetti. There’s a guy in Paterson I jeopardized, too. He opened a liquor store so DiBennedetti could take a special telephone call. It won’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that the guy talked to the police.”

“I’ll take care of it. I know that this is the street where your girlfriend lives, not that Weinstein dame. I suppose you want to hear that answering machine tape. If there’s anything on it, let me know. Stay in touch. Devlin, you’ve got the cops, the mob, and maybe what’s left of the most powerful political family in the city after you. You don’t have the reflexes and eyesight of a young man, and you’re exhausted. When was the last time you used your weapon in the line of duty?”

Devlin was getting out of the car. “I never have. Thanks for your help.”

Levine shook his head. “You may need more than I’ve been able to give you.”

11:22 P.M. …

11:22 P.M. …