And then, as his shoes slid over the cement, he figured it out.

Time slowed as Kyle grabbed once again at Vern’s wrists. He k new that Vern would press up with his hands, as he had before, but this time Kyle wouldn’t fight it. This time Kyle would wait for the upward lift and then use it to his advantage.

When it came, raising Kyle off the ground, he brought his knees forward, banging them sharply into Vern’s thighs. Vern jerked back, twisting away, and Kyle twisted with him, gaining just enough room to turn his body to the side. Leveraging off Vern’s bulk, he whipped his legs out behind him as savagely as he could.

He felt his heels dig into the lug’s soft middle even as Vern staggered away from him, leaving him free and horizontal in the air. He stayed like that for a strange, delicious moment in the slow motion of his action time before he fell like a stone smack onto the cement.

Despite the pain, he rolled to his hands and knees and took stock of his position. The lug was writhing on the ground behind him. Vern was still on his feet and stepping toward him now, one hand reaching behind his back.

Kyle drew his legs into his chest, a sprinter readying to charge at the sound of the starter’s gun, when a flash of chrome and green metal jumped the curb in front of him and slammed into Vern, sending him flying into a brick wall. Vern’s head bounced off the brick like a basketball.

Kyle stood up slowly. The green car was now stopped dead and almost wholly on the sidewalk.

The passenger door swung wide. Liam Byrne, behind the wheel, leaned toward the open door. “Having some trouble, boyo?”

Kyle looked around at the two thugs sprawled on the sidewalk. “I was.”

“A fine suit you have on now.”

“Thanks.”

“The tie could use a bit more flash, though.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Are you okay?”

“I think.”

“And the suit?”

He checked it out quickly. “Seems no more distressed than usual.”

“Well, then, get in. We have much work to do yet, and time’s a-wasting.”

Kyle looked around at the scene one more time. The lug lay groaning on the ground, grabbing at his lower chest as if to keep shattered ribs in place. Vern was propped up against the wall, holding his cracked head with bloodied arms. Kyle himself, except for a banged hip and scraped palms, was uninjured. He had been in the middle of something dangerous, one of those intense physical moments where time had slowed down on him. These were the moments when he was always on his own, with his fate hanging by the thread of his own physical ability. But here, now, for the first time in memory, someone actually had his back. And how incredible was it that the someone turned out to be his father?

“Okay,” he said as he started climbing inside. “Let’s get out of here.”

Before he could close the door, his father jerked the car into reverse, sending it spinning back to the road, amid the jagged sounds of brakes and horns. And then he started off again, turning sharply right and left and right again, making good their escape.

“W ho were they?” said Liam Byrne. “More muscle from the senator?”

“No,” said Kyle. “Muscle from your old partner, Tiny Tony Sorrentino. They were sending a message.”

“And what message was that greedy little popinjay sending?”

“He wants the O’Malley file, and he wants it fast.”

“Of course he does. They all want a piece. Well, we’ll take care of him soon enough, but first we have a meeting to arrange. Now, you remember what I told you?”

“I remember.”

“You know what to say.”

“It won’t do any good.”

“It’s all in the attitude. Don’t slump in like a loser. You’re now a man in control, a man bound for glory, a man in a suit. Go in like the cock of the walk.”

“He’s a senator. I’m a nothing. He’s not going to meet with me.”

“Oh, he’ll meet.”

“He’ll come all the way up from Washington just for me?”

“He’s coming up tomorrow anyway. He has a fund-raiser. He’ll meet you before it. Just set it up like I told you, and he’ll show like a dog chasing a bone.”

“You wish.”

“No wishing about it. You need to shed your doubts, boyo. Doubters end up proving themselves right by creating their failures. It takes boldness to create the world. Be bold, Kyle. It’s the only way to cheat gravity. Are you ready to fly?”

“I suppose.”

“We’ve no time for such bland equivocation. Are you with me, boyo? Are you fully on board?”

Was he? Could he ever be? Kyle knew in his bones it was daft, this whole ridiculously convoluted plot of his father’s to expose the murderous machinations of a United States senator. To believe that it could possibly play out the way his father predicted, leaving a Truscott in jail, Kyle untouched, and his father returned anonymously to his second life in San Bernardino was strictly a fantasy. Not to mention the fact that he couldn’t shake the feeling that his father hadn’t been completely honest with him about . . . well, about anything. And yet his father had slammed Vern against the wall with the car and spirited Kyle out of there, his father had come to his rescue, and the glow of that truth illuminated his path here. The path would be trust. Despite their history, Kyle was choosing to trust his father.

“Sure, Dad,” said Kyle. “I’m on board.”

“No more doubts?”

“No more doubts.”

“That’s good. That’s grand. It touches my heart, it does.”

“But how will I get the senator to go along?”

“It’s just like any other piece of business. You need to make him see your point of view.”

“If I had a million dollars to donate, I could get him to listen, maybe. But what have I got?”

“You’ve got the file, boyo, which means you’ve got his sack in your hand. All you have to do now is squeeze.”

CHAPTER 37

DETECTIVE RAMIREZ FIGURED it wouldn’t be much of a trick to get a copy of Liam Byrne’s death certificate. She knew the year of death, and Kyle Byrne said it happened in New Jersey, so she assumed that after a quick drive to Trenton she’d be in and out. But of course she assumed wrong. She had forgotten she was dealing with a government agency. It took her forty-five minutes just to find the right desk.

“Name of deceased?” said the clerk.