Sterling looked up, past the moon, past the stars, into eternity. Thank you. I am very grateful, he whispered.

No matter how late the hour, Dennis Madigan always read the New York Post before settling down to sleep. His wife, Joan, had long ago learned to sleep with his light on.

Tonight, however, he could not concentrate on the paper. He knew neither Nor nor Billy realized that their lives could be in serious danger. If the Badgetts were as bad as Sean O’Brien portrayed them… Dennis shook his head. When he worked in bars in Manhattan, he’d seen and heard a lot about their kind. None of it good.

Very. “Wery.” What is this reminding me of? he asked himself as he irritably flipped through the pages of the newspaper. Nor thinks the man might be someone who comes into the restaurant. He can’t be a regular, though, or I’d know him.

“Wery,” he said aloud.

Joan opened her eyes and blinked. “What?”

“Nothing. Sorry, honey. Go back to sleep.”

“Easy for you to say,” she muttered as she turned her back to him.

Dennis skipped to the Post’s television section and smiled as he read Linda Stasi’s funny review of a corny holiday special.

Still not remotely sleepy even though it was 3:30, he began to skim the restaurant pages. The write-up on a new midtown restaurant caught his eye. “We started with vichyssoise…,” the columnist began.

Sounds like a good joint, Dennis thought. Have to check it out. He and Joan enjoyed going into the city occasionally and trying new places.

He stared at the paper. Vichyssoise. He remembered a smart aleck waiter at Nor’s-one who didn’t last long-joking that a customer who ordered “wichyssoise” last time, now would like a cup of “wegetable” soup.

What’s the customer’s name? Dennis thought. I can see him. He and his wife always had a cocktail at the bar. Nice people. I didn’t think of him right away because that’s the only hint of an accent he had, and he hasn’t been around in a long time…

In his mind, he could see a face. He’s local, Dennis thought. And his name… his name… it sounds European…

Hans Kramer!

That’s it! That’s his name!

Dennis grabbed the phone. Nor answered on the first ring. “Nor, I’ve got it. The guy on the answering machine. Could it be Hans Kramer?”

“Hans Kramer,” she said, slowly. “That doesn’t ring a bell with me. I don’t remember…”

“Think, Nor. He ordered ‘wichyssoise’ and ‘wegetable’ soup.”

“Oh my God, of course… you’re right.” Nor leaned on one elbow and pulled herself up. Sean O’Brien’s card was propped against the lamp on her night table. As she reached for it she could feel adrenaline surging through her body.

“I know Kramer has something to do with computers, Dennis. Maybe he has a warehouse. I’ll call Sean O’Brien this minute. I just hope we’re not too late.”

As Sterling approached Marissa’s house, everything looked quiet and peaceful. All was dark inside except for a faint light shining through an upstairs window.

My mother used to leave the hall light on for me, he remembered. And she’d leave my bedroom door open a crack so I could see it. I was chicken, he thought with a smile. Never mind the light, I slept with my teddy bear till I was ten.

Noting a small sign that indicated the house was wired against intruders, he slipped inside, not bothering to open the door just in case the alarm was on. He had the feeling that the Heavenly Council wanted him to move around like everybody else except when it prevented him from doing his job, but he was very sure they didn’t want him setting off alarms.

He tiptoed up the stairs and stepped over Roy ’s safety gate, hoisting his leg high to clear it. How big does he think those kids are anyhow? Sterling wondered as he felt a tug on the cuff of his trousers. The next thing he knew he was tumbling onto the hallway floor.

Thank God I don’t make any noise, he thought as he stared up at the ceiling. His hat had gone flying. He got up slowly, aware of a faint twinge in his back. Retrieving the homburg, he resumed his attempt to visit Marissa.

Her bedroom was the last one at the end of the hallway. All the bedroom doors were slightly ajar. A light snore was coming from inside the master bedroom. As he passed the munchkins’ room, he could hear the sound of one of the boys stirring. Sterling hesitated and listened closely, but then the child seemed to settle down again.

Even though the night was beginning to cloud over, there was enough light from the heavens for him to see Marissa’s face clearly. She was curled up in bed, her hair soft on her cheek, the covers tucked around her.

A pile of boxes in the corner were testimony to the fact that she had received an abundance of presents for Christmas and her birthday. Not surprising, Sterling thought. I’d love to be able to give her something myself.

He sat in the same chair he would sit in next year, when he would talk to Marissa for the first time. From there he could study her face. She looks like an angel, he thought tenderly. If only she didn’t have to go through the change that is coming. If only I had the power to keep her world the way it is now. But I can’t, so next year I’ll do everything I can to put her world back together again. By hook or by crook, he resolved.

And not just because I want to go to heaven. I truly want to help her. She looks so small and vulnerable. Hard to believe she’s the same kid who was trying to call the shots at the restaurant today, and who didn’t waste any time phoning her father to get the lowdown on the party.

With a smile that ended in a sigh, Sterling got up and left the room. As he went down the hallway he heard one of the munchkins start to cry. Then the other one joined in.

Luckily, they don’t need me, Sterling thought. An instant later Roy staggered out of the bedroom and into the nursery. “Daddy’s here,” he crooned. “Roy Junior, Robert, Daddy’s here.”

Denise has him well trained, Sterling thought. My friends used to turn a deaf ear when their kids started howling in the middle of the night. But times have changed.

I was an only child, he thought as he descended the stairs. My parents were in their forties when I was born. I became the center of their universe. They were in heaven long before I arrived in the celestial waiting room.

It will be so good to see Mother and Dad again, he thought, once more glancing skyward.

Sterling consulted the map before he left the house, then made his way to Nor’s restaurant. As he walked through the quiet streets, he suddenly felt an acute sense of urgency. Even though it absolutely was not coming from anyplace nearby, he was beginning to smell smoke.

They did it! he thought. The warehouse fire has just been set.

Sean O’Brien had put in twenty years with the Nassau County Police Department. During that time he had learned to expect predawn phone calls if there was an important development in a case he was working on.

When his phone rang at 3:40, Sean woke up immediately and grabbed it. As he hoped, it was Nor.

“Sean, I just heard from Dennis. He came up with the name of the guy on the answering machine, and he’s right. I’m absolutely positive that he’s right.”

“Who is it?”

“His name is Hans Kramer. He lives in Syosset and has some kind of computer software company. He comes into the restaurant occasionally.”

“Okay, Nor. I’ll get right on it.”

Thoroughly awake now, Sean sat on the side of the bed. He was alone in the room. His wife, Kate, a nurse, was working the night shift on the pediatrics floor of North Shore hospital.

His first call was to police headquarters in Syosset. There was a chance Kramer was known to them.

It proved to be a good bet. Nick Amaretto, the lieutenant in charge, knew exactly who Kramer was. “Nice guy. He’s lived in town twenty years. Was on the zoning board for a while. Ran the Red Cross drive a couple of years ago. Has his own software company.”