We sat without talking for a while, looking at the shut wooden door that led into our empty station. Above us, hundreds of people were walking sodden streets to demonstrate they were fed up with crime. I began looking at a subway map.

Commander Penn said, ‘He should be at Second Avenue now. He should have gotten off at an earlier or later stop and walked the rest of the way through the tunnel.’

A terrible thought occurred to me. ‘He could do the same thing here. We’re not as close to the pharmacy, but we’re on the number six line too.’

‘Yeah,’ Lucy said, turning around to look at me. ‘The walk from here to Houston is nothing.’

‘But we’re closed,’ I said.

Lucy was typing again.

I got up out of my chair and looked at Commander Penn. ‘We’re here alone. It’s just the three of us. The trains don’t stop here on the weekends. There is no one. Everyone is at Second Avenue and the pharmacy.’

‘Base station to unit two,’ Lucy was saying into the radio.

‘Unit two,’ Wesley said.

‘Everything ten-four? Because we’ve lost him.’

‘Stand by.’

I opened my briefcase and got out my gun. I cocked it and pushed on the safety.

‘What’s your ten-twenty?’ Commander Penn got on the air to ask for their location.

‘Holding steady at the pharmacy.’

Screens were flashing by crazily as Lucy tried to locate Gault.

‘Hold on. Hold on,’ Wesley’s voice came over the air.

Then we heard Marino. ‘It looks like we’ve got him.’

‘You’ve got him?’ Commander Penn, incredulous, asked the radio. ‘What is the location?’

‘He’s walking into the pharmacy.’ Wesley was back. ‘Wait a minute. Wait a minute.’

There was silence. Then Wesley said, ‘He’s at the counter getting the money. Stand by.’

We waited in frantic silence.

Three minutes passed. Wesley was back on the air. ‘He’s leaving. We’re going to close in once he gets inside the terminal. Stand by.’

‘What’s he wearing?’ I asked. ‘Are we sure it’s the person who got on at the museum?’

Nobody paid me any mind.

‘Oh Christ,’ Lucy suddenly exclaimed, and we looked at the monitors.

We could see the platforms of Second Avenue station, and HRT exploding out of the darkness of the tracks. Dressed in black fatigues and combat boots, they ran across the platform and up steps leading to the street.

‘Something’s gone wrong,’ Commander Penn said. ‘They’re grabbing him above ground!’

Voices ricocheted on the radio.

‘We’ve got him.’

‘He’s trying to run.’

‘Okay, okay, we’ve got his gun. He’s down.’

‘Have you got him cuffed?’

A siren went off inside the control room. Lights along the ceiling began flashing blood red, and a red code 429 began flashing on a computer screen.