Stone punched off the call, flipped on the radar scrambler, and concentrated on driving and watching for cops. In what seemed like half the usual time they were on the Saw Mill River Parkway, headed north. He crossed the Hudson on the Tappan Zee Bridge and picked up the New York State Thruway.

“There’s a little wind noise around this window,” Sarah said. “I would have thought that at, what, seventy miles an hour we wouldn’t hear that.”

“We’re doing a hundred and ten,” Stone replied.

“Oh. Are we going to be arrested?”

“Probably not.” He spotted a state trooper going in the opposite direction and slowed down, watching the car make a U-turn across the meridian. By the time the trooper was up to speed, Stone was at sixty-five. He could see the man fiddling with something on his dashboard, looking confused. A moment later, the trooper made another U-turn and drove off to the south. “Zap,” Stone said aloud.

“What?” Sarah asked.

“I just zapped his radar.”

“I thought his radar was supposed to zap you.”

“That’s the way it used to be.”

A little later Stone pulled into the visitor parking lot at Sing Sing and approached the guardhouse.

“Can I help you?” the guard asked.

“I’d like to speak to Captain Warkowski.”

“Just a minute.” The guard picked up a phone, said something into it, then handed it to Stone. “He’s on the line.”

“Hello, Captain,” Stone said. “This is Stone Barrington; I was up here with Lieutenant Bacchetti.”

“How could I forget?” Warkowski replied. “What can I do for you?”

“I’d like to see Herbert Mitteldorfer again; just a few questions.”

“I’m afraid you’ve missed him.”

“Missed him? Is he in town, running errands?”

“Herbie got out yesterday.”

“I see.” This didn’t come as a complete surprise. “Can I have his release address?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know his new address.”

“May I have the name of his parole officer, then?”

“He doesn’t have a parole officer.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“He got an unconditional release.”

“He was released unconditionally? From a sentence for murder? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“It’s rare, but it happens. Herbie was an outstanding prisoner, very helpful to the warden and me, and his psychiatric examination showed no likelihood of a repeat offense.”

“So you just cut him loose, and you’re hoping for the best?”

“That’s about it.”

“And you have no address for Mitteldorfer?”

“None at all; he’s as free as an eagle.”

“Thanks; sorry to trouble you.”

“No trouble at all,” Warkowski replied.

Stone could hear him laughing as he hung up. He returned to the car.

“Business all done?”

“Almost,” Stone said. He drove away from the prison and into the town, looking for something. It didn’t take him long to find it, and he drove into a parking place.