Or perhaps he just needed the comfort of her touch right now. As much as she needed his.

She waited for him to open the conversation. A block later, he finally did. "What do you think?" he asked.

"For one thing, he's lying about Melantha," she said. "He knows perfectly well what they want her for."

He eyed her oddly. "You sure?"

"Absolutely," she said. "I could see it in his face."

"Oh," he said, sounding a bit taken aback. "Actually, I was asking more about what you thought we should do about Melantha if we find her again."

Caroline gave him a sideways look. "Roger, they want to kill her."

"I'm not sure I believe that anymore," he said. "How can killing a twelve-year-old girl prevent a war?"

"Maybe we should try to find out before we throw her to the wolves," Caroline shot back.

"They're not all wolves, Caroline," he said. "No matter what Melantha told you, they can't all want her dead."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Weren't you listening?" he said. "Velovsky as good as admitted there was a power struggle going on between Aleksander and Cyril. They both want Melantha, only for different reasons."

"Or maybe they just disagree about the best way to kill her," Caroline muttered.

"No," Roger said, shaking his head. "Remember that crack about appeasement. Cyril apparently has a plan to somehow buy off the Grays."

"With Melantha's death?"

"Possibly, though I still don't see how that would work," Roger said. "Aleksander, on the other hand, seems to be going for final victory."

Caroline shivered. "So we basically have a choice between letting Melantha die or letting the Grays get slaughtered."

Roger snorted. "We have no choice of anything," he reminded her sourly. "With Melantha gone, we're out of the game."

"No, we're not," Caroline said firmly. "Number one: they still think we know where she is. That gives us some leverage."

"Leverage in what? Caroline, this isn't any of our business."

"With our city about to become a battleground?" Caroline countered. "Of course it's our business.

And number two: if Melantha's free, she is going to come back to us. I know she is."

Roger sighed, and she braced herself for more argument. To her relief, though, he just shook his head. "Well, if it comes down to Melantha or the Grays, I don't think there's much of a choice," he said. "After all, it was the Grays who destroyed the Greens' world."

"Or so Velovsky says," Caroline said. "But don't forget that his attitude toward them started with a brain-meld or whatever with the Green Leader, not to mention seventy-five years of cozying up to them. Of course he's going to take their side."

"Well... maybe."

"And there's one other point," she added. "It wasn't a Green—from either side—who gave Melantha to us in the first place. It was a Gray."

"It was, wasn't it?" Roger said thoughtfully. "Both the body type and disappearing act show that."

"So at least some of the Grays want her alive, too," Caroline concluded.

Roger snorted. "Unfortunately, the only Gray contact we have is Torvald, who's doing his best to push the Greens out of Manhattan."

"According to Velovsky."

"Velovsky wasn't the one using me for target practice last night."

"We still need to hear their side of the story," Caroline insisted.

Roger sighed, shifting their direction toward an artist's supply shop just ahead. "Fine. Torvald likes art. He'd probably appreciate it if we called from an art store."

They ducked into the store, Roger closing the umbrella and shaking it on the doorstep before bringing it inside. Finding a quiet corner, he pulled out his cell phone. "I don't suppose you'd like to talk to him?"

"You're the one he knows."

"I didn't think so." Digging a business card out of his wallet, he glanced at the number and punched it in.

Caroline touched him on the arm and pantomimed putting a phone to her ear. He nodded and leaned his head close to hers, angling the phone so they could both hear.

There was a click. "Hello?" a woman answered.

"I'd like to speak to Torvald," Roger said.

"Who's calling, please?"

"This is Roger," Roger said. "We met yesterday over a trassk."

There was a slight pause. "Just a minute."

The phone went dead. Caroline counted off ten seconds; and then there was another click. "Hello, Roger," a much deeper voice said. "What can I do for you?"

"Hello, Torvald," Roger said. "I called to see if you could clear up a couple of points I'm confused about."

"Certainly," Torvald said. "What would you like to know?"

"Why do you and the Greens both want Melantha dead?"

There was another pause. "You certainly are a direct one," Torvald said. "I'd be happy to discuss the matter. But in person, not over the phone."

Out of the corner of her eye, Caroline saw Roger smile tightly. "Fine," he said. "How about the bar at the Ritz-Carlton? Central Park South at Sixth Avenue."

There was a soft chuckle. "Across the street from Aleksander's private estate?" Torvald asked dryly.

"No, thank you. How about the benches in Police Plaza instead?"

Roger gave a soft snort. "Fine. When?"

"Will an hour from now give you enough time to get there?"

"Sure," Roger said. "See you then."

He broke the connection. "Cute," he said, tucking the phone back into his pocket. "I knew he wouldn't want to go anywhere near Central Park, but I expected him to compromise with someplace as far north as he felt comfortable."

"Which might have told us how far the Grays have penetrated onto Manhattan," Caroline said, nodding her understanding.

"Right," Roger said. "But this doesn't tell us anything at all. With all the cops roaming around Police Plaza, he could probably walk into a Green town meeting and still be safe."

"So are we going to meet him?"

Roger turned and stared out the window. "We could," he said slowly. "Or we could try being cute."

"What do you mean?" Caroline asked suspiciously.

"We assume Torvald will soon be on his way to Police Plaza," Roger said, clearly still working it through. "While he's gone, maybe I should drop by his studio and see what I can dig up."

"You can't be serious," Caroline said, her heart tightening in her chest. "What if they catch you?"

"What if they do?" he countered. "Don't forget, as far as Torvald knows we're still holding the trump card. If he wants Melantha, there's not much he can do, no matter what he catches me doing."

Caroline shook her head. This was undoubtedly the craziest idea Roger had ever come up with. Still, she had to admit that it felt good to see her husband taking a more proactive stance for a change. "All right," she said. "But I'm going with you."

"Caroline—"

"You'll need someone to keep watch," she interrupted him. "And if Torvald can't do anything to you, he can't do anything to me, either."

"I suppose," Roger said, a note of resignation in his voice. "Fine. Let's go."