Curtis placed his elbows on the desk and peered at Danny, waiting for a reaction.

“As you say, sir,” Danny said.

“Welcome to the new Boston Police Department,” Curtis said. “You’re dismissed, gentlemen.”

Walking out of the office, Danny was in such a state of shock that he assumed nothing else could add to it, but then he saw the men waiting their turn in the anteroom:

Trescott, recording secretary for the BSC.

McRae, treasurer.

Slatterly, vice president.

Fenton, press secretary.

It was McRae who stood and said, “What the hell’s going on? I got a call half an hour ago telling me to report to Pemberton immediately. Dan? Mark?”

Mark looked shell-shocked. He placed a hand on McRae’s arm. “It’s a bloodbath,” he whispered.

Outside, on the stairs, they lit cigarettes and tried to regain their composure.

“They can’t do this,” Mark said.

“They just did.”

“Temporary,” Mark said. “Temporary. I’ll call our lawyer, Clarence Rowley. He’ll scream bloody murder. He’ll get an injunction.”

“What injunction?” Danny said. “He didn’t suspend us, Mark. He just reassigned us. It’s within his power. There’s nothing to sue over.”

“When the press hears, they’ll…” His voice drifted off and he took a drag off his cigarette.

“Maybe,” Danny said. “If it’s a slow news day.”

“Jesus,” Mark said softly. “Jesus.”

Danny stared out at the empty streets and then up at the empty sky. Such a beautiful day, crisp and windless and clear.

CHAPTER twenty-two

Danny, his father, and Eddie McKenna met in the study before Christmas dinner. Eddie wouldn’t be staying; he had his own family to join at home on Telegraph Hill a few blocks away. He took a long gulp from his brandy snifter. “Tom, the man’s on a crusade. And he thinks we’re the infidels. He sent an order to my office last night that I’m to retrain all my men on crowd control and riot procedure. He wants them requalified for mounted duty as well. And now he’s going after the social club?”

Thomas Coughlin came to him with the brandy decanter and refilled his glass. “We’ll ride it out, Eddie. We’ve ridden out worse.”

Eddie nodded, bolstered by the pat of Thomas Coughlin’s hand on his back.

Thomas said to Danny, “Your man, Denton, he’s contacting the BSC lawyer?”

Danny said, “Rowley, yeah.”

Thomas sat back against the desk and rubbed his palm over the back of his head and frowned, a sign he was thinking furiously. “He played it smart. If he’d suspended you, that’s one thing, but reassignment—while it may look bad—is a card he can play very well if you buck back against him. And lest we forget—he’s got you on that terrorist you shacked up with.”

Danny refilled his own drink, noticing the last one had gone down rather quickly. “And how’s he know about that? I thought it was suppressed.”

His father’s eyes widened. “It didn’t come from me, if that’s what you’re implying. You, Eddie?”

Eddie said, “You had some kind of dustup, I heard, with some Justice agents a few weeks back. On Salem Street? Pulled some girl out of a car?”