“You have a point,” Stone said.

“I have many points.”

“She’s such a striking woman that it’s a wonder she could move around in public without being spotted by some citizen. After all, her face was all over TV last summer and fall.”

“Yeah, but the only photo they had was the one on her FBI ID,” Holly said, “just a straight-on, washed-out black-and-white shot, no better than a mug shot, really, and her hair was short when that picture was taken. Hair dye and makeup can work wonders for a girl these days.” She held up a strand of her auburn hair. “Look at this.”

The bell on the dumbwaiter rang, and Stone got out of bed and brought back the big breakfast tray, complete with the New York Times and the Wall Street Journal. Stone took the front page of the Times and handed the rest to Holly.

“I can’t face the news without something in my stomach besides champagne,” she said.

Stone went to the bar fridge, came back with a half bottle of Schramsberg Blanc de Blanc, and popped the cork. “Hair of the dog,” he said, pouring half a glass and adding orange juice.

“A mimosa,” she said. “Just the thing.”

“A Buck’s Fizz, the Brits call it. I like that better.”

Holly took a long draft. “Whatever you call it, it hits the spot.”

They dug into breakfast.

DINO FINISHED breakfast at his local diner then got out his cell phone and speed-dialed FBI headquarters, in Washington.

“Deputy Director Kerry Smith,” he said to the operator. “Lieutenant Dino Bacchetti, NYPD, calling.”

“Deputy Director Smith’s office,” a secretary said. “Lieutenant Bacchetti?”

“Right here.”

“He’s … no, wait, he just got off the line.”

There was a click, then Kerry Smith said, “Dino?”

“One and the same.”

“How are you?”

“A little hungover,” Dino admitted. “We closed Elaine’s last night, for the last time.”

“You know, I never made it there,” Kerry replied.

“Too late now,” Dino said. “You know who else was there?”

“Who?”

“Your former assistant director, Ms. Bach.”

“You saw her? Did you call it in?”

“No, she saw me. There was a message from her on my answering machine when I got in. You want to hear it?”

“Yes, please.”

Dino held the phone next to the machine and pressed the button. When she had finished talking he put the phone back to his ear. “Could you hear that?”

“Yes, and I recorded it, so I don’t have to send two agents over there to rip out your phone and take the tape.”

“That’s kind of you, Kerry. What now?”

“I’ll alert the New York field office, and they’ll take it from there.”

“You want me to put out an APB with my department? Your guys don’t know anything about finding a fugitive in New York.”

“I don’t accept that contention, but I accept your offer of an APB. What do you think your chances are of finding her?”

“About the same as yours,” Dino said. “Zip, pretty much. She’s a smart girl, you should forgive the expression, and if you haven’t run her down so far, you’re not likely to get her now. There are eight million stories in the city, and hers is only one of them.”