The hand got him from behind.

"Jesus," he gasped as he was pulled through the open door of the van at the curb, which he hadn't seen because he was staring into the alley. He gasped and started to call out for help.

But his assailant-Deputy Inspector Halston Jefferies, his eyes cold as the moon overhead-slapped his hand over the rookie's mouth. Somebody else grabbed Pulaski's gun hand and in two seconds flat he'd disappeared into the back of the van.

The door slammed shut.

The front door of the old grocery store opened and Marilyn Flaherty walked inside, closed the door behind her and latched it.

Unsmiling, she looked around the bleak store, nodded at the other officers and Wallace. Sachs thought she looked even more tense than usual.

The deputy mayor, playing it cool, introduced her to the IAD detective. She shook his hand and sat at the battered table, next to Sachs.

"Top secret, hm?"

Sachs said, "This's turned into a hornets' nest." She watched the woman's face carefully as she laid out the details. The inspector kept up the great stone face, giving nothing away. Sachs wondered what Kathryn Dance would see in her stiff-backed posture, the tight lips, the quick, cold eyes. The woman was virtually motionless.

The detective told her about Baker's partner. Then added, "I know how you feel about Internal Affairs but, with all respect, I've decided we need to bring them in."

"I-"

"I'm sorry, Inspector." Sachs turned toward Wallace.

But the deputy mayor said nothing. He simply shook his head, sighed, then glanced at the IAD man. The young officer pulled out his weapon.

Sachs blinked. "What…Hey, what're you doing?"

He trained the gun on the space midway between her and Flaherty.

"What is this?" the inspector gasped.

"It's a mess," Wallace said, sounding almost regretful. "It's a real mess. Both of you, keep your hands on the table."

The deputy mayor looked them over, while Toby Henson handed his own gun to Wallace, who covered the women.

Henson wasn't IAD at all; he was a detective out of the 118th, part of the inner circle of the extortion ring, and the man who'd helped Dennis Baker murder Sarkowski and Creeley. He now pulled on leather gloves and took Sachs's Glock from her holster. He patted her down for a backup piece. There was none. He searched the inspector's purse and removed her small service revolver.

"You called it right, Detective," Wallace said to Sachs, who stared at him in shock. "We've got a situation…a situation." He pulled out his cell phone and made a call to one of the officers in front, also part of the extortion scheme. "All clear?"

"Yep."

Wallace disconnected the phone.

Sachs said, "You? It was you? But…" Her head swivelled toward Flaherty.

The inspector asked, "What's this all about?"

The deputy mayor nodded at the inspector and said to Sachs, "Wrong in a big way. She had nothing to do with it. Dennis Baker and I were partners-but businesspartners. On Long Island. We grew up there. Had a recycling company together. It went bust and he went to the academy, became a cop. I got another business up and running. Then I got involved in city politics and we stayed in touch. I became police liaison and ombudsman and got a feel for what kind of scams worked and what didn't. Dennis and I came up with one that did."

"Robert!" Flaherty snapped. "No, no…"

"Ah, Marilyn…" was all the silver-haired man could muster.

"So," Amelia Sachs said, her shoulders sagging, "what's the scenario here?" She gave a grim laugh. "The inspector kills me and then kills herself. You plant some money in her house. And…"

"And Dennis Baker dies in jail-he messes with the wrong inmate, falls down the stairs, who knows? Too bad. But he should've been more careful. No witnesses, that's the end of the case."

"You think anybody's going to buy it? Somebody at the One One Eight'll turn. They'll get you sooner or later."

"Well, excuse me, Detective, but we have to put out the fires we've got, don't you think? And you're the biggest fucking fire I've got at the moment."

"Listen, Robert," Flaherty said, her voice brittle, "you're in trouble but it's not too late."

Wallace pulled on gloves. "Check the street again, tell them to get the car ready." The deputy mayor picked up Sachs's Glock.

The man walked to the door.

Wallace's eyes turned cold as he looked over Sachs and took a firm grip on the pistol.

Sachs stared into his eyes. "Wait."

Wallace frowned.

She looked him over, eerily calm under the circumstances, he thought. Then she said, "ESU One, move in."

Wallace blinked. "What?"

To the deputy mayor's shock, a man's voice shouted from the darkened back room, "Nobody move! Or I will fire!"

What was this?

Gasping, Wallace looked into the doorway, where an ESU officer was standing, his H amp;K machine gun's muzzle moving from the politician to Henson at the front door.

Sachs reached down and grabbed something under the table. Her hand emerged with another Glock. She must've clipped it there earlier! She spun to the front door, training the pistol on Henson. "Drop the weapon! Get down on the floor!" The ESU officer shifted his gun back to the deputy mayor.

Wallace, thinking in panic: Oh, Christ, it's a sting… All a setup.

"Now!" Sachs shouted again.

Henson muttered, "Shit." He did as he was told.

Wallace continued to grip Sachs's Glock. He looked down at it.

Her eyes on Henson, Sachs turned slightly toward Wallace. "That piece you're holding's unloaded. You'd die for no reason."

Disgusted, he dropped the gun on the table, held his hands up.

Mystified, Inspector Flaherty was scooting back in her chair, standing up.

Sachs said into her lapel, "Entry teams, go."

The front door crashed open and a half dozen cops pushed inside-ESU officers. Following them were Deputy Inspector Halston Jefferies and the head of Internal Affairs Division, Captain Ron Scott. A young blond patrolman entered too.

The ESU officers muscled Wallace to the floor. He felt the pain in his hip and joints. Henson was cuffed as well. The deputy mayor looked outside and saw the two other officers from the One One Eight, the ones who'd been standing guard in front. They were lying on the cold sidewalk, in restraints.

"Hell of a way to find out," Amelia Sachs said to no one as she reloaded her own Glock and slipped it back in her holster. "But it sure answers our question."

The query she'd referred to wasn't about Robert Wallace's guilt-they'd learned beforehand that he was one of Baker's partners; it was about whether Marilyn Flaherty had been involved too.

They'd set up the whole thing to find out, as well as get a taped admission from Wallace.

Lon Sellitto, Ron Scott and Halston Jefferies had established a command post in a van up the street and hidden the ESU sniper in the back room to make sure Wallace and the cop with him didn't start shooting before Sachs had a chance to tape the conversation. Pulaski was supposed to take the front door with one team, and another one would take the back. But at the last minute they learned that Wallace had other officers with him, cops from the 118, who might or might not be crooked, so they'd had to change plans a bit.

Pulaski, in fact, nearly walked right into Wallace's cops outside the storefront and ruined the whole thing.

The rookie said, "Inspector Jefferies pulled me into the command van just before those guys outside saw me."

Jefferies snapped, "Walking down the street like a Boy Scout on a fucking hike. You want to stay alive on the streets, kid, keep your goddamn eyes open." The inspector's rage seemed tame in comparison with yesterday's tantrum, Sachs noted. At least he wasn't spitting.