"Are you a member of the immediate family?" asked the nurse.

"I'm Donald Rafferty's brother," said Kurtz. He'd met Arlene's sister-in-law Gail and knew that she was a surgical nurse on the ninth floor, but he didn't want her to see him here.

The reception nurse grunted and glanced at one of the computer screens at her station. "Mr. Rafferty's in six-twenty-three. He was treated for a mild concussion and a broken wrist and is sleeping right now. The doctor who treated him, Dr. Singh, will be available in about twenty minutes if you want to talk to him."

"What about the girl?" said Kurtz.

"Girl?"

"Rachel… Rafferty. She was in the car with Donald. I understand she suffered more serious injuries."

The nurse frowned and tapped the keys again. "Yes. She's out of surgery."

"Can I see her?"

"Oh, no… the surgery went on for almost five hours. The girl will be in the ICU recovery for several hours."

"But the surgery went all right? She'll be all right?"

"You'd have to speak to the doctor."

"Dr. Singh?"

"No, no." The nurse frowned more deeply, her important time at the desk obviously being eaten up here on inconsequentials, and tapped more keys. "Dr. Fremont and Dr. Wiley were the primary surgeons."

"Two surgeons?"

"I just said that."

"Can I talk to them?"

The nurse rolled her eyes and played with the keyboard again. "Dr. Fremont has left the hospital and Dr. Wiley will be in surgery until after five o'clock."

"Where's the ICU?"

"You won't be allowed in there, Mr… ah… Rafferty."

Kurtz leaned over close enough that the nurse had to turn away from the computer screen and look into his eyes. "Where is it?"

She told him.

Kurtz, Angelina, and Marco had left the Gonzaga compound in a hurry, Angelina explaining to an obviously irritated Emilio that something important had come up for her and that they would reschedule the luncheon. Arnie and Mickey Kee had driven the silent trio back to Marina Towers in the armored limo. They had taken the elevator straight to the penthouse before talking.

"What the hell is going on, Kurtz?" Angelina was pale with anger and fighting a backwash of adrenaline.

"I need a car."

"I'll take you back to the health club where you parked your—"

Kurtz shook his head. "I need a car now."

Angelina hesitated for a second. Acquiescing to Kurtz now would change their relationship—whatever that was at the moment—forever. She looked at his face and then reached into her purse and tossed him a set of keys. "My silver Porsche Boxster, parked closest to the elevator in the garage."

Kurtz nodded and turned toward the elevator.

"What about him?" Angelina had brought out her.45 Compact Witness and was aiming it at Marco.

"He's not stupid," said Kurtz. "You can still use him. Offer him handcuffs in the John the way you offered Leo."

Angelina looked at Marco. "Sure. Why not?" said the big bodyguard. "Beats the alternative."

"All right," said Angelina. "What about…" She flicked her head toward the big walk-in freezer in the utility room off the kitchen.

"Tonight," said Kurtz. "I'll be back."

"This is not good," said Angelina, but Kurtz had already stepped into the elevator and closed the door.

Kurtz stepped out of the elevator and saw immediately how the Intensive Care Unit was set up with a nurses' station at the locus of a circle of single rooms with clear glass walls. The three nurses at the central station watched their own readouts but could look into any of the rooms and see the patients and their computer screens. An older nurse with a kind face looked up as Kurtz approached. "Can I help you, sir?"

"I'm Bob Rafferty, Rachel Rafferty's uncle. The nurse downstairs said she was in recovery here."

The nurse nodded and pointed toward one of the glass-walled rooms. Kurtz could see only Rachel's auburn hair, so much like Sam's. The rest was blankets, tubes, monitors, and a ventilating unit.

"I'm afraid you won't be able to visit her for a few days," said the nurse. "After such extensive surgery, the doctors are very concerned about infection and—"

"But she came out of surgery all right? She's going to live?"

The kind-faced nurse took a breath. "You really should talk to Dr. Fremont or Dr. Wiley."

"I was told they'd be unavailable all day."

"Yes. Well…" She looked at Kurtz. "Rachel had a very close thing this morning, Mr. Rafferty. Very close. But Dr. Wiley told me that the prognosis is good. We've given her eight units of blood—"

"Is that a lot?"

The woman nodded. "Essentially, we've replaced all the blood in her system, Mr. Rafferty. The Flight for Life helicopter saved her life."

"And they removed her spleen and a kidney?"

"Yes. Her left kidney. The damage was too extensive."

"That means that even if she recovers from this, she'll always be at risk, right?"

"It makes future illnesses or accidents more problematic, yes. And there will be a long recovery period. But your niece should be able to lead a normal life." She looked at where Kurtz was gripping the edge of the counter and lifted one hand as if she was going to touch him. She pulled back her hand. "Dr. Singh should be free very soon if you want to talk to him about your brother's injuries—"

"No," said Kurtz.

He took the elevator to the sixth floor and started down the corridor to Room 623. Kurtz had removed the.40 S&W in the elevator and now carried it in his right palm, letting the long sleeve of his open raincoat hang down over that hand. He paused three doors away from Rafferty's room.

A woman cop in plainclothes, probably a rape-contact officer, and a bored uniformed cop were sitting on folding chairs just outside the room. Kurtz stood there a minute, but when the woman plainclothes cop looked up at him, he stepped into the closest room. An ancient man lay asleep or in a coma on the only occupied bed. The old guy's eyes had sunken into his head in the way that Kurtz had seen in week-old corpses. Kurtz put his Smith & Wesson back in his belt holster and stood by the old man's bed for a minute. The geezer's gnarled hand was liver-spotted and bruised from IV punctures. The fingers were curled and the nails were long and yellow. Kurtz touched the hand once before going out the door and taking the elevator down to the parking garage.

The Boxster was a beautiful sports car, but it handled like shit on snow and ice. He had just headed south on the Kensington toward the downtown and Marina Towers when his cell phone rang again.

"Have you seen Rachel, Joe? How is she?"

Kurtz told Arlene what the nurse had said.

"And what about Donald Rafferty?"

"He's not going to survive the accident," said Kurtz.

Arlene was silent a minute. "I was heading down to the hospital, Mr. Frears said that he'd be all right here, but Mrs. Campbell, one of my older neighbors, called me and said that a suspicious-looking man in a gray Ford was parked in front of her house, half a block down the street."

"Shit," said Kurtz.

"Mrs. Campbell called the police."

"And?"

"And I was watching through the blinds. The squad car stopped, one of the uniformed officers got out, the man in the parked car showed him something, and the squad car left in a hurry."

"It's probably either Brubaker or Myers, one of the two homicide detectives who've been tailing me," said Kurtz. "But it could be Hansen… Captain Millworth. I don't know how he could've made the connection with Frears, but…"

"I used Alan's binoculars. It's a fat man, almost bald. Not very tall. Brown suit."

"That's Myers," said Kurtz. He pulled the Boxster off at the East Ferry exit and did a fast loop, getting back on the Expressway headed out toward Cheektowaga. "Arlene, we don't know that Brubaker and Myers aren't working directly for Hansen. Stay put. I'll be there in fifteen minutes."