“Well, Mitzi is going to be wearing a wire from now on, so we’ll know who she’s talking to and every word they say.”

“And you think a wire is going to make her safer? It’s more likely to get her killed.”

“Stone, a wire these days doesn’t mean what it meant back in the olden days, when you were on the force. They’re very clever little devices now.”

“Brian, if you send Mitzi in there you’re going to have to find a way to get her some on-site help. You need somebody at the scene in case things turn bad.”

“Well, as it happens, I’ve got just the guy to go in there with her. He’s known to all the participants, and he’ll fit right in.”

“Good. Who is that?”

“His name is Stone Barrington,” Brian said.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Stone said. “I’m retired, remember?”

“Oh, I think I can get you put on temporary, active status until we’re done with this.”

“I don’t want that, Brian, and in any case, you need a lot more than me. You need guys in black suits and body armor parked in a vegetable truck around the corner, ready to storm the place.

“Speaking of body armor, Mitzi is being fitted out in the latest fashion as we speak. I’m told it will make her even more inviting, that it’ll add a couple of inches to her tits.”

“Brian, you’re not getting this: The biggest threat to Mitzi is not from Sharpe or Larsen, it’s from the people who want Sharpe permanently out of business. Mitzi wearing a wire and armor is not going to protect her from a hail of shotgun or automatic weapons fire.”

“We do the best we can, Stone,” Brian said. “Now, I’ve already put in an application to the commissioner for your reactivation to the force, and I’m ordering you not to decline any invitations from Sharpe or Mitzi to join them on some occasion.”

“Ordering me? Where do you come off doing that?”

“Detective Second Grade Barrington, you will comply with the lawful orders of your superiors, including me, Lieutenant Brian Doyle, do you understand me?”

“I’m calling the commissioner myself,” Stone said.

“Since when does the commissioner take your phone calls?” Brian asked. “I heard never.”

“Then why do you think he would approve active status for me?”

“After speaking with him myself,” Brian said, “I think he believes it would be better to have you inside the tent, pissing out, than outside, pissing in. I believe Lyndon Johnson first said that, but it hasn’t lost its meaning over the years.”

“Oh, God,” Stone said.

“By the way, don’t leave your house; I’ve got an officer on the way over there to fit you out with some of today’s electronic marvels and your own cute little vest.”

“I won’t let him in the house,” Stone said.

“Oh, yes, you will,” Brian said, then hung up.

Stone put down the phone, feeling a little sick at his stomach. First Dolce and now this.

Joan buzzed him. “Willie Leahy on one,” she said.

That had been Stone’s next call. “Hello, Willie?”

“Yes, Stone.”

“What’s up? Is Carrie all right?”

“She’s still a pain in the ass, but she’s fine.”

“What’s going on?”

“Carrie said you wanted us to have a conversation with the guy staked outside your house.”

“Yes, that’s right. Is he Max Long’s?”

“Apparently not. Never heard of Max, in fact, and he doesn’t even know anybody in Atlanta.”

“Then what’s he doing out there?”

“Watching you.”

“For whom?”

“We couldn’t get him to say, not even with Peter’s hat pin, but somebody’s paying him well.”

“Oh, shit,” Stone said.

“A woman. We got that much out of him.”

“Shit again,” Stone said. “Thanks, Willie. Oh, does he have any instructions to hurt me?”

“He wasn’t armed, and I don’t think he’s the hand-to-hand-combat type.”

“Thanks, Willie. Good-bye.” Stone hung up. His very pleasant day had just gone to hell.

THE POLICE OFFICER SET a shirt-sized box on Stone’s desk. “Take off your shirt,” he commanded.

“Go fuck yourself and Brian Doyle, too,” Stone replied politely.

The man fished an envelope from a pocket and handed it to Stone. The return address in the corner belonged to the police commissioner. “Read this,” he said.

“I’m not touching that,” Stone replied.

The man tore open the envelope and extracted a sheet of paper. “I’ll read it to you,” he said.

“I’m not listening,” Stone replied, placing his fingers in his ears.

“Memo to personnel division!” the officer shouted. “ ‘Detective Second Grade Stone Barrington, retired, is hereby restored to active duty in the First Precinct under the command of Lieutenant Brian Doyle until further notice. Signed, et cetera, et cetera.’ Got it?”

“Stop shouting,” Stone said, removing his fingers from his ears. “I can hear you.”

The officer dug into another pocket and came out with a wallet containing a detective’s shield and an ID card with a very old photograph of Stone. “This is for you. Now take off your shirt. Orders from Lieutenant Doyle.”

“The police commissioner can’t draft somebody into the NYPD,” Stone said.

“He can, if you’re a retired cop on a pension,” the officer said. “Read your retirement papers.”

“Do they really say that?” Stone asked.

“Read ’ em yourself. Now take off your shirt, or I’ll tear it off you.”

Stone said a bad word and stood up, unbuttoning his shirt. “What’s in the box?” he asked.

“The latest in fashion,” the cop said, opening the box and holding up a gray undergarment. “They say it’ll stop anything that doesn’t have an armor-piercing tip.”

Stone fingered the garment. “Feels rough.”

“I’ll be gentle,” the cop said. “Turn around.”

Stone turned, and the man slipped the thing on him. “Zip it up,” he said.

The garment overlapped, like a double-breasted jacket, giving double protection for most of the important internal organs.

“A perfect fit,” the cop said. “You’ll take it.”

“Gee, thanks,” Stone said.

“Now sit down; I’ve got to fit you with the earpiece.”

“The what?”

The cop held out his hand, and a small bit of soft plastic lay in his palm with a wire protruding from it.

“People will be able to see that,” Stone said. “Bad people.”

“Nah,” the cop said. “It fits too far down in your ear canal. The wire has a hook on the end; that’s how you get it out: You hook the end of the wire in right here and just pull it out. My advice is, don’t lose the wire.” He turned Stone’s head to one side, stuck the device into his right ear, removed the hook, and handed it to Stone.

“How do you turn it on?”

“It’s on all the time. The battery is good for ten days.”

“What do you do after ten days?”

“If you’re still alive, I’ll bring you a new one.”

“Joan!” Stone shouted. “Bring me your makeup mirror!”

Joan came into the room with the mirror and handed it to him. “Cute underwear,” she said.

“Oh, shut up.” Stone held the mirror in position to look at his ear. “Can you see anything in my ear?”

She took back the mirror. “Yeah, daylight from the other side.” She went back to her office.

“Nice lady,” the cop said.

“Not always,” Stone replied. “Take my advice and stay away from her.”

“I heard that!” Joan yelled from her office.

“They heard it downtown,” the cop said, tapping his ear. He pulled out a vibrating cell phone. “Yeah? Good deal.” He closed the phone. “Like I said, they heard that downtown.”

“How do I get the fucking thing out?” Stone asked.

“Use the little wire with the little hook on the end.”

Stone began rooting around in his ear with the wire. “What am I supposed to hook it onto?”

“There’s a little plastic loop. I showed you, remember?”

Stone made contact and extracted the earpiece.

“It’s a good idea to wear it awhile, get used to it,” the cop said. He took the thing from Stone and reinserted it. “By the way, if you put a phone to that ear, downtown can hear both ends of the conversation, and they can speak to you.”