"Huh." He was watching her, his elbow on the arm of the chair, one finger at his chin.

"So what's this all about?" she asked. The weariness had slipped from her voice, and she looked up, intent.

"You and O'Dell are running me as some kind of lure," Lucas said. "You're dragging me out in front of whoever your targets are. I need to know who you think they are."

After a long moment of silence, she said, "Fell. As far as I know, that's it."

"Bullshit."

"It's not bullshit," she said. "She's all we've got."

"That can't be right."

"It is."

"You know everything that O'Dell is doing?"

"Well, yes, I mean I schedule for him… I suppose he could run something on the side…"

There was another moment of silence, then Lucas said, "I'm afraid you're betraying me."

She was offended, angry. "God damn it."

"I know you are-or somebody is. O'Dell for sure, and you're with O'Dell…"

"Tell me about it," she said, sitting back again.

Lucas looked her over and said, "First of all, Fell's not involved."

"Why not?"

"I just know, and I'm not wrong," Lucas said.

"Lucas, instincts or no instincts, the goddamn records aren't lying about this," Lily said. "She's all over the place."

"I know. She's an alarm."

"What?"

"She's a trip wire," Lucas said. "Working the jobs she has, in Burglary, and as a decoy, she knows half the assholes in Midtown. So Robin Hood used her as a reference and picked on assholes that she knew. Then they watched her. If anybody got close, they'd get close to her first…"

"I don't know." Lily was shaking her head. She didn't believe it.

"It'd have to be a tough sonofabitch to set that up," Lucas continued. "As soon as you pulled her off her regular job and put me next to her, the alarm went off. Petty's been killed, the official investigation seems to be dead in the water-and here comes Lily Rothenburg and the department's Svengali, towing me along behind. And you stick me next to Fell. They never bought the Bekker thing: they've been reading us like a book."

"Who?"

Lucas hesitated. "I'm tempted to say Kennett."

"Bullshit." Lily shook her head. "I'd know. In fact, I asked him. He doesn't even think there is such a group."

"But we know there is. And I'm still tempted to say Kennett. O'Dell put me right up against Fell and he put me right up against Kennett. It's possible that O'Dell knows it's Kennett, but doesn't have the proof."

Lily thought it over, staring at him. "That's…"

"Bizarre. I agree. And of course, there're other possibilities, too."

"That it's me?" She smiled a small and frosty smile.

"Yeah." Lucas nodded. "That's one of them."

"And what do you think?"

He shook his head. "It's not you, so…"

"How do you know it's not me?" she asked.

"Same way I know it's not Fell-I've seen you operate."

"Thanks for that," Lily said.

"Yeah… which brings us to the last possibility."

"O'Dell?"

"O'Dell. He has access to everything he needs to organize the group. He knows everybody on the force, and he probably could pick out likely candidates for his hit teams. He has the computer files to pick out the assholes, and to set up Fell as an alarm…"

"There's a hole," Lily said quickly. "He's so high up he wouldn't need an alarm…"

"Internal Affairs-he might not know about Internal Affairs investigations."

She bit her lip. "Okay. Go ahead."

"Since Petty was a computer maven too, maybe computers led him to O'Dell. Whatever it was, for whatever reason Petty got hit, O'Dell was right there to manage the investigation. Kept it out of Internal Affairs…"

"Said it was too political," Lily said thoughtfully.

"Yeah. Then he pulls me into it, produces Fell, and he puts me up against Kennett. And you know what? Fell and Kennett are all I've got-all that paper you gave me, the regular investigation, the reports. It's all bullshit. It's all a stone wall. It looks impressive, but there's nothing in it."

"Why would O'Dell pick on Kennett?"

"Because Kennett's going to die," Lucas said bluntly. "Suppose he gets everything pointed at Kennett, and then Kennett… dies. Natural causes, a heart attack. If there was an agreement that Kennett was it, the investigation would die and the real organizer would be clear."

Lily, pale as notebook paper: "He couldn't have… I don't think."

"Why not?"

"I don't think… I don't think he's brave enough. Physically. He'd be thinking about prison."

"That all depends on how he's set it up. Maybe his shooters don't know him."

"Yeah, but remember-if O'Dell is it, he wouldn't have to give you Fell. If Fell's an alarm, I mean, he'd know what you were here for."

"Yeah. And he'd know that Fell would get me exactly where she has: nowhere. And at the same time, lend a touch of truth to the whole business. Fell did know all those dead guys. Besides, with Petty talking to both of you, and Fell popping out of the computer, there was no way to get her back inside…"

"Maybe," she said.

"How'd you meet Kennett?" Lucas asked abruptly.

"In the intraconference meetings."

"As O'Dell's assistant?"

"Yes."

"Did O'Dell feed you to him?" Lucas asked.

"Jesus, Lucas," she said.

"Did he? I mean, he knows both of you. Could he have figured…"

"I don't know. They don't like each other, you know." Lily stood and turned in place, like a dog trying to make a bed more comfortable. "You know, you've put this whole tissue together without a single goddamned fact…"

"I've got one interesting, surprising, generally unknown fact," he said; and it was his turn to produce a wintry smile.

"What?"

"I know that O'Dell's trying to frame Kennett. I know that for sure. The question is, is he doing it because Kennett's guilty and it's the only way to get him? Or because he's looking for a scapegoat?"

"Bullshit," she said, but he could see the shock in her eyes.

"I found Red Reed in Charleston, South Carolina," he said. "He's a friend of O'Dell's, from Columbia…"

And then he told her most of the rest of it, except for the curious thing Mrs. Logan had said, when they interviewed her in the apartment below Petty's.

Lily listened as Lucas called Fell, watched his face, watched him smiling, turning away, setting up a date. Lucas left, hurrying, and she stood at the window with her purse, watching him. He flagged a cab, and just before he got in, looked up and saw, pointed at her purse, waved.

Then he was gone.

She walked through the apartment, touching things, with the sense of something ending, with a sense of dread.

Kennett? No. But O'Dell was unthinkable too. Could O'Dell have coldly executed his own man…

Finally, she picked up the phone and punched in the number for Kennett's boat. He picked it up and said, "Lily."

Pleased, she said, "How'd you know it was me?"

"I think it might be love," he said. "Are you feeling lonely?"

"You're reading my mind."

"The river's beautiful tonight…"

The river was quiet, smelling of mud and oil and salt. Halyard hardware tinkled against the aluminum masts. A late-night squall was rolling off the coast far to the northeast, and they could see the lightning in the sky far beyond the lights of Manhattan.

As Lily and Kennett made love, she had a moment of absolute clarity, could hear the Crash Test Dummies' song "Superman" roll mournfully out of a nearby boat, muted by the ten thousand unidentifiable cheeps and knocks of the marina.

Later, in the cockpit…

"Jesus, I'm sitting here bullshitting and you're sitting there crying," Kennett said quietly. He reached across and thumbed a tear off her cheek. "What's all this about?"