"This actually has to do with someone assaulting an Iranian U.N. diplomat in the men's room."

"Let me check my notes and I'll get back to you."

He looked at me a moment, then said, "You have demonstrated in the past a tendency toward rough justice." He reminded me, "We don't work that way here."

"Right."

He added, "Payback is not what we do. Neither is personal revenge."

"Right."

He changed the subject. "Why do you think this will all be over in a week?"

I replied, "That's my gut feeling."

He considered that reply, then said, "I thought you had some logical reason for that statement."

"All right. It's like this-Khalil began by killing this guy Farid and hiding his body, then he went for Wiggins, Kate, the Haythams, the livery driver, and the taxi driver. This was done so quickly that we had no clue and no time to react. Now we're all awake and waiting for him to strike again. And keep in mind he didn't go for me when he had the chance. Not to overdo the lion metaphor, Tom, but he's playing cat and mouse with me and with us." I reminded him, "The killing is secondary to the game, and he definitely has a game plan, which includes me and maybe you, Vince and George, and others not yet known. But he knows he can't start knocking people off one at a time and expect that his next victim will be sitting around waiting to die. So what's going to happen is that Khalil will make a clean sweep, probably in the course of a single night, and by the time the first body is discovered, the last victim will already be dead." I concluded, "It's all planned and ready to go," then added, "Sorry I can't tell you the night-but I don't think he'll hang around here for more than a week."

Walsh said nothing for a few seconds, then pointed out, "That assumes Khalil does plan to kill more people."

"That's my best guess. But I may be wrong. Maybe he's done-except for me."

He nodded and agreed, "You may be the only reason he's still here."

"We'll find out."

Walsh didn't reply to that and speculated, "But maybe he is gone. Maybe it got too hot for him here."

"He's here."

"Well… good. We want him here."

"I want him here."

He walked me to the door and reminded me in an almost offhand way, "If you find him, and if you kill him-and if you can't prove self-defense-you will face murder charges."

I didn't reply.

He also reminded me, "They want this guy alive."

"Why?"

"Obviously, he's worth more to us alive." He added, "Also, we don't murder people. Or even punch them in the groin. We try them in Federal court, as common criminals."

I didn't think that was such a good idea, but I didn't reply.

Walsh assured me, "Asad Khalil will go to jail. Forever."

"We don't know that, Tom."

"Of course we do." He got to the heart of the matter. "You killing Asad Khalil has less to do with protecting yourself and Kate than it does with pure and simple revenge. An eye for an eye. But I want you to consider that incarceration for life is worse than death." He added, "That goes for you as well as Khalil."

I pointed out, "Asad Khalil is more than eligible for the death penalty, but you and I know that the government never asks for the death penalty in these cases, even when the crime is mass murder."

He thought about that and replied, "We don't want to create martyrs for Islam. We want them to rot."

And we didn't want to upset the world community with our primitive death penalty laws. But I didn't want to argue with him-I wanted to cool it, so I said, "I see your point."

He didn't believe me and said, "Think of yourself, of Kate, and of your country."

"I always do, Tom."

"You need to promise me that if you have or receive any knowledge of Khalil's whereabouts, or if he contacts you, you will inform me immediately."

"What else would I do with that information?"

"If you can't promise that before you leave here, then I promise you that I'll do everything in my power to get you put in protective custody." He added, "Ankle bracelet, house arrest, the whole nine yards."

I think that was a bluff. He wanted me out and about with backup people following me. I was his best-and maybe only-chance to grab Asad Khalil. On the other hand, I shouldn't call his bluff if I wanted to stay free.

"John?"

I looked him in the eye and said, "I understand that this is not about me. You can count on me to keep you fully informed, to coordinate with the Task Force, to stay close to my surveillance team, and if I should somehow come into personal contact with the suspect, I will follow all the rules regarding the use of deadly force." I added, "I promise."

That seemed to make him happy and he said, "Good." He assured me, "That's the right thing."

"I know it is."

We shook on the deal, and I left his office, thinking that he was right and that what I'd just said was the right thing, and also the best thing for everyone. Revenge is not justice.

By the time I got to the elevators, however, I was back to where I was when I saw Khalil cut Kate's throat.

It's really scary when you have a moment of temporary sanity.

I went down to the 26th floor to gather a few things from my desk, but before I did that, I went to Gabe's desk to look for his copy of the Khalil folder. In a file storage box I found his folder labeled "Islamic Community Outreach Program."

I noticed another box marked "Haytham-Personal" and opened it. There wasn't much in the box-mostly desk items and grooming aids-but I saw the Koran in Arabic, and also a book of Arab proverbs in English, with tabbed pages. I opened the book to a marked page and read an underlined sentence: "Death is afraid of him, because he has the heart of a lion."

I put the book back in the box and saw a framed photograph showing two smiling, attractive women who must have been Gabe's wife and daughter. I stared at the photo awhile, realizing that these two women were dead-murdered by Asad Khalil in cold blood. I could understand his motives and his sick rationale for the other murders, but even after a decade of homicide work, I was still shocked by motiveless murder-sport killing. And they wanted this guy taken alive?

I closed the box and went to Kate's desk. I took a red marker and wrote on her desk blotter: Welcome back, darling-Love, John.

I went to my desk and played my voice mails, skipping through most of them, listening for a message from Asad Khalil. I'd given him my office number three years ago, asking him to give me a call about getting together when he was in town again. Mr. Khalil had not called, but he had Kate's cell phone and Gabe's cell phone, so he now had all my phone numbers, and I was certain I'd hear from him.

I logged onto my computer, checked my e-mails, and printed out a few. I also printed out ten copies of the NYPD Be On The Lookout photo of Asad Khalil and put them in Gabe's Khalil folder.

People were starting to drift back in from lunch to see how the war on terrorism was going, and I didn't want to get involved in conversations with my colleagues, so I locked up and headed to the elevators.

I was supposed to go to the tech squad to pick up my tracking device and wire, but I forgot. I think I was also supposed to see Captain Paresi, but I was under a lot of stress, which made me forgetful.

Out on the street, I got into my Jeep and drove over to Murray Street to see the scene of what I hoped was Khalil's last crime.

I parked across the street from the IRS building and imagined this street on a Sunday afternoon. No one lived on this block, and the offices were closed, so it would be nearly deserted, and Asad Khalil did not pick this street at random. He had some knowledge of the area-either personal knowledge, or more likely someone here in New York had briefed him. What I was seeing with these murders was the end product of a fairly competent and well-informed group living and working in New York. Khalil was the celebrity killer; the others were his advance men, managers, and booking agents.