“Listen up,” Dino said into the radio to the four detectives in the car behind him. “Get out at Sixty-fifth and Madison and work your way north, shop by shop. I’ll be working south from Seventy-sixth Street. We’re looking for a good-looking white woman, probably alone, thirty to forty, five-six or -seven, a hundred and thirty pounds, wearing a black cocktail dress and black gloves. She may be wearing a coat, too. It’s nearly ten, and nothing’s open this time of night, but we had her standing still at Seventy-third and Madison for a couple of minutes, so she may be window-shopping. Detain and identify anybody of that description, alone or accompanied. Until you do, try not to look like cops. Be careful, because she’s armed and very dangerous.” Dino released the talk button on the radio. “This isn’t going to work,” he said.

“Why not?” Stone asked. “We may get lucky.”

“I don’t get this lucky,” Dino said. “You get this lucky. Anyway, if we catch her, she’s going to kill at least one cop before somebody shoots her.”

Stone didn’t comment on that.

“Remind me,” Dino said. “How did I get mixed up in this?”

“There was a murder on your beat,” Stone said.

“Oh, yeah. Next, you’re going to remind me that I had her in custody and let her go.”

“I wasn’t going to, but, of course, that’s true.”

“I’m going to be lucky to get out of this with my badge.”

“Dino, all you have to do is blame it on the Brits and the FBI.”

Dino brightened. “Yeah, you’re right.” He tapped his driver on the shoulder. “Right here.”

Dino and Stone got out of the car. “You take the east side of the street, I’ll take the west,” he said to Stone. “Are you carrying?”

“No.”

Dino handed him a .32 automatic. “Take my backup.”

“Thanks,” Stone replied.

The two men began walking south on Madison. It was well after dark, but there were still a lot of people on the street.

Stone looked carefully at every woman he saw, looking for something familiar. She may have already changed clothes, he thought, but he might be able to recognize her. Then, half a block away from him, walking slowly uptown, he saw her. She wasn’t wearing gloves, but her dress was black, and her hair shoulder-length and dark. The face? He couldn’t tell; each time he had seen her she had looked so different. His hand closed over the gun in his pocket. She stopped and looked into a shop window for a moment.

Stone looked across the street at Dino and nodded toward the woman. Dino began making his way across Madison Avenue, through heavy traffic, not waiting for the light.

Stone walked up to her. “Excuse me, haven’t we met?” he asked.