“Not unless you enjoy the sound of your bones breaking. They’re not friendly to outsiders of any kind, but especially women.”

“I’m sure there’s a New York City ordinance that prohibits such behavior. Why don’t you come down there with me and enforce it?”

“Because no law enforcement agency, local or federal, wants to disturb the action in the joint. Just between you and me, there’s probably more audio and video equipment installed in the walls there than at the Wiz.”

“What’s the Wiz?”

“A great big audio and video store.”

“I get the picture. Maybe I should just go down there and park outside until Trini shows up, then take him.”

“Holly, you’re not listening. You try to take somebody in that coffee shop, and a shooting war will break out. I wasn’t kidding about the SWAT team.”

“Can you arrange a SWAT team for me, Dino?”

“You got an extradition warrant?”

“It’s in my handbag, right next to Stone’s Walther.”

“Tell you what: If you can get the governor of Florida to call the governor of New York, and the governor to call the mayor of the city, and the mayor to call the police commissioner, and the commissioner to call the chief of detectives, and the chief to call me and order me to do it, then I’ll do it.”

“Dino, you sound reluctant.”

“What gave you that idea? Was it something I said?”

Stone spoke up. “Holly, the best you’re going to get out of the NYPD, except in the circumstances Dino described, is for them to look the other way until you’re on an airplane south with Trini trussed up like a turkey.”

“Dino, did you hear anything about what name Trini is using in the Witness Protection Program?”

“He’s using Trini at the La Boheme. Outside, who knows?”

“I’ve got an idea,” Holly said, digging her cell phone out of her purse.

“That’s it,” Dino said. “Call the director of the FBI. I’m sure he’ll be helpful.”

Holly dialed two zeros, then another digit. “Hello, may I please have the number, under the United States Government, Department of Justice, for the Federal Bureau of Investigation field office in American Samoa? S-A-M-O-A. It’s a bunch of tiny islands in the South Pacific. I’ll hold.” She turned to Stone. “Got a pen?”

Stone handed her his.

“Yes, that’s right.” She grabbed a cocktail napkin and jotted down a long number. “And everything but the last seven digits is the dialing code? Thank you very much.” She punched off.

“What time is it in Samoa?” Dino asked.

“I don’t even know what day it is,” Holly said, dialing the long number. “It’s ringing. Hello, may I speak with Harry Crisp, please? Tell him it’s Holly Barker calling.” She nodded at Stone and waited.