Devlin awoke in the dark, sore, with an erection, remembering the dream, focusing on where he was: the loading bay he had found last night. It took a moment to sit up, and then get out of the car. While he was urinating he thought of Kevin in the trunk and his needs, and laughed. Let Kevin lie in his own stink awhile. Devlin wanted breakfast, and then he had to figure where to stash this car for the next four and a half hours so it wouldn’t be seen. He had to find a place to eat at this hour that wasn’t likely to be frequented by cops. No tuna fish sandwich takeout for Kevin. If Eileen had to go back to Ireland, even temporarily, then Kevin could go hungry for as long as Devlin could arrange it.

Now he remembered a place for breakfast and for “hiding” the car: a diner on Fifty-eighth Street, south of the cemetery and the expressway, in an industrial area of Maspeth that had been developed only in the last twenty years. No one ever was on foot there. Devlin got out of the car and slapped on the trunk lid. “Hey, I’m going to breakfast soon! You can lie there pissing your pants and thinking about all that food, or you can tell me you’re going to be a good boy and call your goons to let my girlfriend take a walk.”

“Fuck you,” came the muffled reply.

“You’re in for a long day,” Devlin said, and slapped the lid again.

First light. From an outdoor booth in Queens Plaza he called John Lord at home. “Hey, John, this is Kevin.”

“I don’t want to talk to you. I heard enough last night.”

“No, this is the real Kevin, not the guy who imitated my voice the other day.”

Devlin enjoyed the sudden silence. “Oh, that Kevin,” John said. “I’m glad you’re all right. How can I help you?”

“I’d like to have a private conversation with you. Over the phone will be okay. I just want to be sure it’s really private, you hear what I’m saying?”

“Can you wait until seven-fifteen?”

“I’ll call back then.”

“Exactly,” John said, and said good-bye.

Time to return to the loading bay.

The sun was above the horizon, and traffic outside the diner was picking up. He was working through breakfast, ordering courses one at a time, turning the meal into a Chinese banquet. Juice. Pancakes. Bacon and eggs. Paging through the newspapers between every mouthful. The statue had been unveiled, the torch lit, and new citizens from all over the world sworn in.