“And Brennan’s connected to the mayor,” John said. “Harry’s hoping you’ll get Brennan to spill his guts a little.”

Devlin closed his eyes. All he had hoped this afternoon was to get something out of old DiBennedetti that he would use to get Brennan to leave Eileen and him alone. Now he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to do that. Brennan hated him that much, Brennan was that powerful, and he was crazier than anybody had imagined, crazier than Devlin had ever thought crazy to mean.

John lifted one of the seats to get at a storage compartment. “Here are the files on Brennan and DiBennedetti, everything you asked for. The two old men have only one thing in common: Brooklyn. That’s all. Jim Brennan was born in Brooklyn, and Vittorio DiBennedetti spent his youth and young manhood there. Different neighborhoods. There’s no record that they ever met. Look for yourself.”

“I don’t have my reading glasses. We’ll have nothing on Brennan without a wire. I was wondering how you made a tape of the shoot-out, four point two seconds. You’re wearing a wire.”

John smiled. “Broadcasts to a recorder down below. There was another in a blue-and-white off Columbus Avenue. I’ll show you how it works.”