“I’ll talk to the chief as soon as I get back to the OCME,” Jack assured him.

“Excellent! Here are the numbers for my cell and my private line here at the residence,” James said, handing Jack his personal business card. “Either call or e-mail as soon as you have Dr. Bingham’s response. I’ll be happy to talk with him directly, as need be.” He gripped Jack’s forearm and gave what Jack felt was a pathetic squeeze.

Father Maloney returned with Jack’s coat, bowing as Jack thanked him.

The next moment they were out the door. A shiny black limousine idled on the street, the liveried driver holding open the rear door. The archbishop climbed in, and the door was shut behind him. The car pulled away into the uptown traffic.

The next thing Jack heard over the sound of traffic was the slamming of the formidable residence’s door and the metallic and final click of its brass hardware. Jack looked back. Father Maloney was gone. Jack returned the glance at the quickly disappearing limo and wondered what life would be like being the archbishop and having a bevy of assistants to fulfill his every need. At first it sounded tempting, as it would certainly make life more efficient, but then he quickly realized he wouldn’t want to feel responsible for the emotional and spiritual well-being of millions of people, as he had a difficult enough time with one.

Chapter 17

17

1:36 P.M., FRIDAY, DECEMBER 5, 2008
NEW YORK CITY

Jack unlocked his bike and tried to beat the rain as he headed downtown. He almost did, but just before he was about to pull into one of the OCME loading bays, the heavens opened and drenched him.

Jack hung his damp jacket in his office and descended to the first floor to stand like a penitent in front of Mrs. Sanford’s desk. When employees showed up uninvited, she usually ignored them, as if she was so busy she couldn’t even look up. Jack imagined it was her way of demanding respect, which she thought she deserved, since she’d been there guarding Bingham since before the flood. There was no sense trying to fight her. She wouldn’t even let Bingham know that you were there until she felt like it.

After several minutes, she finally glanced up at Jack and did a fake mild double take.

“I need to see the chief,” Jack said, not fooled in the slightest.

“What about?”

“It’s personal,” Jack said, with a slight smile of satisfaction. He wouldn’t be intimidated by her nosiness. “Is the chief in?”

“He is, but he’s on the phone and has a call waiting,” she said with satisfaction. She tilted her head toward her phone, where a light blinked insistently. “I’ll let him know you are waiting.”

“That’s all I can ask,” Jack said, continuing the game.