The Youth Guidance Center bailiff, Ray Cottrell.

The TAC unit police had wasted no time getting Cottrell up and taking him away, and now the room fairly buzzed with the spent energy and the detritus of chaos.

In the destroyed half of the apartment, Wu, Hardy and Glitsky went to almost robotic wordless motion, getting the shattered door to one side and leaning it up against the wall, setting the table back on its legs, righting the chairs, two of them still unbroken, picking up the larger pieces of plates and pottery.

At last, Wu sat heavily in one of the chairs. Hardy took the other.

Glitsky crossed to the dish counter and filled a glass of water from the tap. He went over to the table and handed it to Wu, then went back to the counter, cleared a spot and sat on it. "How did he get here?" he asked.

"I don't know. I had no idea he knew where I lived."

"But what did he want with you? You were- what?- twelve years old during his father's trial. You had nothing to do with it, did you?"

Seeming to notice the glass in her hand for the first time, Wu drank off half the water. She dropped her head and appeared to gather herself for another minute. Finally, she began to tell them what Cottrell had said he had wanted with her, as best she could explain it- her connection to the system that had mistakenly and tragically convicted his father.

"No, more than that," she said. "It wasn't just that I was another lawyer. He saw me as exactly like Allan Boscacci had been when he'd prosecuted his innocent dad and sent his dad up. I was doing the same thing to Andrew Bartlett, bartering away years of his life when Ray knew Andrew was innocent." She was coming out of her state of shock, and seemed suddenly to realize the import of what he'd told her. "Because he was the one who'd done what Andrew had been arrested for. Don't you see? He killed Mooney and Laura."

"We'd pretty much gotten to that ourselves," Glitsky said.

She raised her voice a notch. "But he told me he did it. He actually told me. He called Mooney by name." She turned to Hardy. "That's important," she said, urgency bleeding out of her. "It makes a difference."

"I know." He put a hand over hers at the table. "I don't think Abe's missing it."

Glitsky nodded. "We'll get his statement, then see where we are," he said. "But unofficially, I don't think you need to worry. It'll all come out."

"At least enough to clear Andrew," Hardy said. "Let's hope."

Wu let out a heavy breath. "But how did you know I'd open the door?" she asked. "I almost didn't."

"I didn't know that for sure," Hardy said. "That was Plan A. Plan B was the door comes down anyway about five seconds later. Abe and I both thought it was worth a try to get you out of the way first."

They heard noises from out on the landing, footfalls and voices on the stairs. "I'm going to want a more complete statement from you tomorrow," Glitsky said, "but we can let that go tonight." His eyes went to the shattered door leaning up against the wall, the empty door frame with its hanging hinges. "Are you going to need a place to stay?"

"She can come to my place," Hardy said, turning to her. "If you're good with that? Same spacious quarters and comfortable bed?"

"Same night chef?" she asked.

"It might be arranged."

At that moment, Jason Brandt broke from the ranks of police that were accompanying him up the stairs and stopped in the open door frame. "Jesus," he exclaimed at all the damage. Then, seeing her at the table, he closed his eyes and blew out heavily in relief. Hardy and Glitsky might as well not have been there. "Amy, are you all right?"

Her face lit up. "Jason. What are you doing here?"

"What's he doing here?" Hardy asked. "He's the hero, that's all."

Brandt shook his head in embarrassed denial, spoke to Hardy. "No. From what I hear, you're the hero. I just-"

Hardy cut him off. "You just figured it all out and called Chief Glitsky here and got us moving, that's all. Without which none of this happens."

Wu was staring at Brandt. "But I told you to get away, Jason. To get out of here."

"I know." He shrugged. "I snuck back up and listened at the door."

"But why? How did you know?"

"Because I know you, Amy," he said. "You wouldn't have just sent me off. Not that way. No matter what. That's not who you are."

Lanier and Ariola appeared from the steps, on the landing behind Brandt. Hardy turned back to Wu and saw that her eyes had brimmed.

Brandt stepped into the room, out of the cops' way. He hesitated, then came over behind Amy at the table. He put a hand on her shoulder, and Wu put her hand over his.

In the door frame, Ariola said, "If we're sealing this place up, we're going to want to get to it pretty soon, Chief."

"All right," Glitsky said. He motioned to the civilians. "When they're ready to go down, let's get that done."

Lanier spoke up. "Also, just a heads up, Abe, but there's some people waiting for you downstairs," he said. "Cameras."

Glitsky's face went dark. He took in the scene here one last time, said "Swell" and pushed through to the landing.

Out in the street, at the impromptu press conference, Glitsky stood in a circle of halogen and uniforms and spoke into a hastily assembled cluster of microphones. As usual at this type of event, he found himself on the defensive. "Well," he said. "Assuming that our sharpshooter could not take him out, which was always a viable option, there were really two main objections to simply calling him up on the telephone or using a bullhorn to tell him he was surrounded.

"The first was that we knew that he'd already killed seven people at close range and in cold blood. After some serious discussion downtown, we decided-"

"Who's 'we,' Chief?"

"Myself, homicide Lieutenant Marcel Lanier and Dismas Hardy."

"The lawyer?" A woman's voice. "What's a lawyer doing making police decisions?"

"Mr. Hardy didn't make the decision, Claudia. He had some detailed knowledge of the situation and it proved useful. In any event, getting back to the original question, in view of Mr. Cottrell's behavior in the past few weeks, if we announced our presence, we thought it extremely likely that he would simply kill the hostage and then himself. The second objection was that we thought we had a better plan."

"But one that exposed civilian lives to danger, isn't that true?"

"That's true, but it was only one civilian and Mr. Hardy volunteered, and his involvement was crucial. Ms. Wu is his business associate and friend. And let's not forget, if you don't mind," Glitsky said, forcing himself, "the operation was a success."

Another disembodied voice from out in the darkness: "Yes, but how sure are you that Ray Cottrell is in fact the Executioner?"

"Close to a hundred percent. He confessed as much to Ms. Wu. But now that he's in custody, you'll be hearing lots more about that, I'm sure."

"I understand he was an abused child who grew up in a succession of foster homes."

"Is that a question?" Glitsky asked. "If so, I have no comment."

"Chief? What part of your decision not to use your sniper in this instance comes from the tragic results of the LeShawn Brodie situation?"

"Well, first, that LeShawn Brodie decision wasn't made by me or anybody else in this jurisdiction. Second, as I thought I'd already made clear, Mr. Ralston, we never made the decision not to use our sharpshooter in this case, and in fact that option was on the table throughout the course of the operation, if the opportunity presented itself. Which it didn't."

"In other words, you approved the order to have Cottrell shot out of hand, but by the same token you elected not to give him a chance to surrender by letting him know that his options had run out and he was surrounded?"