“How long you want to stay here? Joe’s guess is that the guy’s either set up by now or he’s not gonna move tonight. We can cover you every step from here back to the hotel. Of course we can’t insure against the possibility of a sniper firing from a rooftop or a high window. We did a rooftop check earlier but there’s no guarantee.”

“I don’t think he’ll do it from a distance.”

“Then we’re in pretty good shape. And you’re wearing the bulletproof vest.”

“Yes.”

“That’s a help. Of course it’s mesh, it doesn’t always stop a blade, but nobody’s about to let him get that close to you. We figure if he’s out there he’ll make a move between here and the doorway of your hotel.”

“That’s what I figure, too.”

“When do you want to run the gauntlet?”

“A few minutes,” I said. “I might as well finish this coffee.”

“Listen,” he said, rising, “what the hell. Enjoy it.”

He returned to his spot at the bar. I finished my coffee, got up, went to the lavatory. There I checked my .32 and made sure I had a round under the hammer and three more rounds to back it up. I could have asked Durkin for a couple more cartridges to fill the empty chambers. For that matter, he’d have given me a larger gun with more of a punch to it. But he didn’t even know I was carrying the .32 and I hadn’t wanted to tell him. The way things were set up, I wasn’t going to have to shoot anybody. The killer was supposed to walk right into our arms.

Except it wasn’t going to happen that way.

I paid the check, left a tip. It wasn’t going to work. I could feel it. The son of a bitch wasn’t out there.

I walked out the door. The rain had let up some. I looked at the Mercury and glanced at the buildings across the street, wondering where the police sharpshooters were planted. It didn’t matter. They weren’t going to have any work to do tonight. Our quarry wasn’t taking the bait.

I walked down to Fifty-seventh Street, staying close to the curb just in case he’d managed to find a spot in a dark doorway. I walked slowly and hoped I was right and he wouldn’t try to do it from a distance, because a bulletproof vest doesn’t always stop a bullet and it doesn’t do anything to protect you from a head shot.

But it didn’t matter. He wasn’t there. Damnit, I knew he wasn’t there.

Still, I breathed easier when I walked into my hotel. I may have been disappointed but I was also relieved.