There was a smattering of loud applause in the background, and the cameras panned to show the people who were clapping outside of the police crime-scene tape.

Matt said, "Looks like Francis has the support of Batman and-what's that other character there that's the supervillain?-the Joker?"

Amanda looked at the screen and made a hmm sound.

"I think that particular Joker costume is supposed to be one of our distinguished city councilmen. You can tell by his trademark black bow tie that looks like a tiny cheap clip-on. And by all those exaggerated dollar-bill bribes-they're stuffing his pockets to the point of overflowing. The handcuffs on his left wrist are a nice touch. Oh, and there's a dollar symbol on his coat, kind of like the Riddler had those question marks."

Payne recalled that the loud cries of corruption in City Hall were back in the news-if they'd ever really left.

Either way, to bow-tied City Councilman H. Rapp Badde, Jr., a thirty-two-year-old native Philadelphian who was alternately charismatic and arrogant, it was simply politics as usual. Which also meant shenanigans as usual, including the hiring of a twenty-five-year-old "highly regarded colleague" as his executive assistant and the use of funds from his election campaign for them to attend a conference on urban renewal in, of all places, Bermuda.

As luck would have it, someone happened to recognize the publicity-happy councilman during the trip. And when a photograph appeared in the news media of the councilman and his tremendously attractive assistant on the beach-wearing, as one TV news wag said, "nothing that could be considered business attire, unless they were employed in a strip club at SeaWorld"-citizens of Philadelphia were furious, perhaps the least happy being Badde's wife of seven years.

Of course, the councilman, drawing on both his charisma and arrogance, repeatedly stated that it was all being misinterpreted, that the trip had cost the city not one red cent-his excess campaign contributions covered it. Then he spun the subject to what he and his able assistant had learned on advancing urban renewal and how H. Rapp Badde, Jr., was going to change Philly's fortunes.

The behavior stemmed from the same sort of above-reproach attitude-from the hanky-panky to the deny-and-spin-that he'd learned from his father, Horatio R. Badde, Sr., who'd once held the office Junior now so desperately desired, that of mayor.

To Matt and countless others in Philadelphia, the good news in all this was that there was a genuine first-class person serving as Hizzonor. The Honorable Jerome H. "Jerry" Carlucci was no-nonsense to the point that his detractors-and quite a few admirers-claimed he governed with an iron fist. Unapologetic, Carlucci fought the culture of corruption in City Hall just as he had fought crime in the city before being elected to public office.

Carlucci had risen through the ranks of the Philadelphia Police Department, and he bragged that he'd held every rank but that of policewoman.

Payne said: "Or maybe, more appropriately, that dollar sign is also supposed to represent a scarlet letter for Badde?"

These days it's easier finding a virgin in a whorehouse than an honest politician. He grunted to himself. An honest pol in or out of a whorehouse. With or without a scarlet letter.

Fuller could be heard speaking again, and the camera cut back to him:

"So, to all you out there who commit crimes, or you who are considering doing so, I share with you further wisdom of Benjamin Franklin: 'Fear to do ill, and you need fear nought else.'"

There was more applause. Fuller paused, waved briefly to acknowledge it, then looked back into the camera.

His face turned stern, and he wagged the stubby fat index finger of his right hand as he went on dramatically: "Evildoers, know that you are being watched. Know that eventually you will be caught"-with all his right hand's stubby fat fingers, he gestured behind himself, where the bodies had been dumped, never taking his eyes off the camera-"and know that you will be brought to justice. By God's grace and by God's words: As it says in Exodus 23:24, 'Then you shall give life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, foot for foot.' Lex Talionis. Thank you."

There was more applause, this time accompanied by whistles and cheers.

Matt sighed.

"'Evildoers.' Jesus! I've heard enough of that," he said, thumbing the MUTE button on the remote.

After a moment, Amanda said, "Well, I can't say I am opposed to what he's trying to accomplish."

Matt looked at her with an eyebrow raised. "But, baby, people just can't take the law into their own hands. And that's what he's basically encouraging."

She shrugged. "Sorry. I can't…"

Of course she can't.

Damn sure not after what she's gone through…

He nodded thoughtfully and kissed her on the forehead.

The news camera now followed Francis Fuller as he walked inside the office building. Then it panned the cheering crowd, and in the process captured some of the news media.

Payne said: "Hey, there's Mickey O'Hara. He's working the story?"

A young-looking Philadelphia Police Department patrolman was going back under the yellow police tape next to O'Hara, who Matt noted was standing apart from the pack of reporters quickly scribbling on their pads. O'Hara had a camera of some type hanging from his right shoulder by a thin black strap. He held in both hands what looked like a cell phone, and he was tapping it with both of his thumbs.

Then Payne felt his phone vibrate again, and a new text message appeared in a box on its screen:

"Old source" my ass-it was that wet-behind-the-ears uniform.

The kid's probably starstruck with Mickey and thought he'd show off how important he already is by sharing what's supposed to be kept quiet.

Hell, Mickey will keep his mouth shut if I ask, and if he's on the scene he probably has something good that I can use.

But Amanda is going to be pissed if I leave now to go work.

He heard her sigh, and when Matt looked to her, he saw that she'd read the screen.

He began to apologize: "I'm-"

"No," she interrupted. "It's okay. Really, it is. I can't agree that bad guys should be off the streets and then expect you not to do your job."

He kissed her forehead again.

"I'm sorry," he said, finishing the apology.

Then Payne texted "Liberties in 20" back to O'Hara.

Payne's phone vibrated once, then again. The first message was from O'Hara, who'd simply texted "OK." The second was from Tony Harris: -blocked number-