"Yes, he did. The FBI has made that clear enough to the Khalil family, who were among his victims. That's the evidence I'm trying to get in front of the court this time around. If Nolan was killing people on contract, then revenge becomes a motive for his own death, and that might give Evan an out."

Allstrong came out with the question Hardy had been leading him toward. "You say Nolan was killing people on contract? That's absurd."

"The FBI doesn't think so."

"So who was paying him?"

"Well, the FBI makes the case to the Khalils that it was one of your former clients in Iraq, a man named Kuvan Krekar."

"Kuvan is dead. He's been dead now a couple of years."

"I know that. He was killed by the Khalils over in Iraq, but I don't think Kuvan was paying Nolan anyway. For what it's worth, a couple of inspectors with San Francisco's homicide department think the same thing I do, and they won't be giving up on their investigation anytime soon. They think that whoever paid Nolan to kill the Khalils also had a hand in the deaths of Charlie and Hanna Bowen. You got any idea who that might be?"

"None at all."

"That's funny, because all of us have the idea that it's someone in your company, Jack. Allstrong Security."

After a long pause, Allstrong said, "If that ridiculous accusation ever sees the light of day, Mr. Hardy, I hope you're prepared to spend the rest of your life defending the lawsuit I'll bring against you."

"I'M GLAD I did it," Hardy said. "I had to shake something up. It was kind of fun."

Frannie sat next to him at the bar of the Little Shamrock. Her brother, Moses McGuire, was standing across from them both behind the bar. "It was kind of fun," Frannie said to Moses, mimicking Hardy's voice with heavy irony. "I think it's kind of fun to threaten a man who's already killed at least two people and tried for three trying to keep this information from getting out. I think it's kind of fun that he can put me on his kill list next so me and my family can live in fear of being murdered every day from now on. I really think that's kind of fun." Frannie's color was high, her eyes shining with anger.

Hardy put a hand over his wife's. "That's not going to happen, Frannie. And you know why? Moses knows why, don't you, Mose?"

McGuire sipped his soda and lime. "Because you told Allstrong the cops were on it too. Killing you the way he'd done the Bowens wouldn't get him anything. But"-he held up a finger-"here's the tiny flaw my smart little sister has picked up on in your strategy, Diz. If this guy is juiced enough that he can pull strings inside the FBI, and apparently he is, what on God's good earth makes you think that he can't get around Abe Glitsky and Darrel Bracco?" He turned to Frannie. "Did I express that succinctly enough, you think?"

She bobbed her head once, still furious. "Perfectly," she said.

"Guys, come on," Hardy said. "He's not going to kill two cops, for Christ's sake. And who knows who else is in on the investigation. That's just not going to happen."

"He doesn't have to kill them," Frannie replied. "But what about if he has them ordered off from on high? Where does that leave you then?"

"Me, me, Monty, call on me." Moses wasn't smiling, either, though. He leaned over into his brother-in-law's face. "That leaves you hanging out there alone in the breeze, Diz."

"Okay, but if that unlikely event happens, which I doubt-"

"Then you'll have an accident, like Charlie Bowen did," Frannie said.

"No, Abe would never rest if-"

Frannie slammed her palm down on the bar. "You'd already be dead, you idiot!"

In the silence that descended, Hardy put his hand gently over Frannie's again. "Well," he said, "then I'd better get this whole thing done fast, shouldn't I?"

HARDY COULD BE GLIB all he wanted, but in fact Frannie and Moses weren't all wrong, or even mostly wrong. He knew that he'd possibly put himself in an elevated state of jeopardy and could live with that-he also thought he'd mitigated the problem dramatically by telling Allstrong that the police were already involved in this same investigation.

But the more he lived with it, the more he found himself worrying. He hadn't adequately considered that his phone call to Allstrong might also have put Frannie in danger. That had not been his intention, though it might very well be the result.

So Date Night, even at their old favorite restaurant Yet Wah, ended early. Frannie, still very upset over Hardy's call to Allstrong, went straight up to bed. Hardy went to his chair in the living room and punched up Darrel Bracco's number on his cell phone. The inspector picked up and Hardy told him his story-putting a press on Jack Allstrong in person-to a considerably more enthusiastic response than Frannie had given him. When he finished, Bracco said, "So we know both the Bowens were talking to Allstrong. I got that from the phone records too. But so what?"

"So what is what else this tells us."

"What's that?"

"This is close to him, personally. It's not just some corporate thing."

"How do you know that?"

"Mostly," Hardy said, "because he came to the phone to talk to me when there was no reason he needed to. He's got two hundred people under him down there. I guarantee he's got several levels of bureaucracy between him and the front desk. But I call him up out of thin air and mention Evan Scholler and the Bowens and he came right away. He wanted to know what I knew, to see how exposed he was. And I'm confident that I made it pretty clear."

"Why did you want to do that?" Bracco asked. "Warn him we're coming."

"My wife had the same question," Hardy said. "But maybe rattling his cage gets him to do something stupid."

"Something stupid to do with you, maybe."

"Maybe, but unlikely. I made it clear to Allstrong that now it's not just one lone attorney, and then several months later, his wife, also acting alone. The police are part of it now. If any of us disappears or has an accident, the heat only goes up on him. So he's got to figure another way out, make this investigation go away, and I'm trying to make it easy for him."

"He's not going to confess to ordering a domestic murder. Or anything to do with the Bowens."

"True. But I don't need that. I just need to get my client off. As far as he's concerned, that's going to be all I want."

"I want these murders," Bracco said.

"Of course you do," Hardy replied. "And you should. But you'll admit that building any kind of winnable case on the evidence we see so far after all this time is pretty long odds. Meanwhile, Allstrong knows this whole thing is driven by Evan Scholler. That's what was behind the attack this morning in prison. He already believes that if Scholler goes away, all his problems go away."

"I'm not going to go away," Bracco said.

"You won't have any choice if he's left you no evidence to work with. I got the feeling this guy's built his business by getting around local authorities everywhere he sets up shop. Now he's got political clout and the veneer of respectability. We're not going to take him head-on."

"So you've got a better idea?" Bracco asked.

"As a matter of fact," Hardy said, "I think I do."

AS HE TIPTOED into his bedroom at a little after eleven o'clock, Frannie switched on the light next to the bed.

"Hey," Hardy said.

"Hey." She patted the bed next to her. "I'm sorry," she said. "I was worried. I'm still worried, but I don't want to fight about it."

He crossed over to her and sat down, put a hand on her shoulder. "I don't either."