John cut him off. “I just got off the phone with your friend, Father Loncaric. He wants you to call him. It’s important, he said. I want to talk to you, too. It may be that Loncaric has the same thing on his mind. It’s time for you to come on in. You’re not guilty of anything, and anybody with a brain cell working knows that.”

“That’s not so now.” He told John what he had done in Paterson. “Going there in the first place wasn’t the brightest move I’ve ever made, but I wanted to stir things up. Now I can see some eager beaver prosecutor saying I coldcocked those guys only to foul his case against them for Major’s murder. I ran from the scene yesterday. I can hear Mr. Eager Beaver asking a jury why I ran if I wasn’t guilty of something. When I was with Major yesterday afternoon, I still thought I was acting under Harry Levine’s directive. I thought I could do myself some good. At this late date I can’t even prove I was in Sussex County Monday night. The FBI knows that Jack Brennan’s campaign headquarters once contained confidential files with my name on them, and that when somebody broke into that office, those files were taken. I was trussed up and ready for roasting long before I was aware of anything moving against me.”

“Time to come in, Frank. Really.”

“Why are you pushing it?”

“By your own admission, you’re making things worse for yourself.”

“The mayor and Torres have a lot to keep covered up, too! You know the city stinks from top to bottom!”

“I’m not going to get into an argument with you,” John said calmly. “You know you’re not going to be allowed to walk away from what you did in Paterson. If one side doesn’t get you, the other will. Our side will protect you from their side, which will kill you.”

“Ah, shit.” Devlin closed his eyes. “What about Eileen?”

“Call Loncaric.”

“Did he say something about her?”

“No, he said it was important. Look, Frank, no matter what, come in.”

“Not while Eileen could be in trouble.”