“My nose is what’s going on. I’ll show them my shield. I don’t want to miss that fucking plane!”

“You won’t. Lots of time.”

Devlin wanted Sonny distracted. A second car, almost certainly the Olds, was behind them. Devlin wanted to be positive about the identity of the vehicle, but he couldn’t be seen looking in the side mirror, much less turning around. Back on Route 80, Sonny had made a couple of maneuvers for the purpose of lining up a second car. Devlin had to keep working on Sonny. There were only so many options with a guy like him. Devlin scratched his right ear. Sonny was tough—obviously he was the designated hitter. Even if Devlin waited until they were on the bridge before taking him on, it might take Devlin so long to have any effect that the guys in the second car might arrive before he was done. Guys. Two—one to keep the other company. Devlin figured the red-haired guy and the one who had helped Devlin sit up. Not Rizzo. Rizzo was too emotional, not one hundred percent, a liability.

It took another fifteen minutes to reach the tollbooths, and then traffic moved again, slowly. Devlin was trying to keep his head clear, but it was difficult not to think of all the dead—and Jim Brennan. From the upper deck Devlin could see the Manhattan skyline, brighter than usual, but not otherwise different. Traffic on the West Side Drive wasn’t moving at all. Not even inches. “Take Broadway,” Devlin said.

“You really want to get there, don’t you?”

“It’s going to be nine o’clock before we’re done. You see what’s happening. I can hit one bottleneck, maybe two, but if I get caught in something like that, I’m dead.”

Sonny was quiet. “Yeah, I see what you mean.”

Perfect. Devlin scratched his ear again. When it was time to change lanes, Devlin looked behind them as Sonny cut the wheel. The Olds—no mistake.

He was about to find out how good a cop John Lord really was. Harry Levine, too, if he’d jumped for the bait of Jack Brennan’s letter to his girlfriend. They were looking for Kevin’s Plymouth plainwrap; they had it in their minds. Devlin had said he was going to try to stay with Kevin’s car. A lot had happened to Devlin in the time since his last conversation with John. For all he knew, John was in jail and Harry Levine was in the next cell.

No, Devlin thought, John would do better than that. Harry Levine was even more able. Look on the bright side, Eileen would say, using another Irish expression Americans thought was their own.…

7:54 P.M. …

7:54 P.M. …