"Yeah, yeah," said Myers, anxiously patting his pockets. "Let's do this."

Kurtz had just turned the corner a block from the hotel. The two detectives jumped out of the van and began quick-walking to catch up. Brubaker pulled his Glock from its holster and carried it in his right hand. He clicked the safety off.

Myers's phone rang.

"Ignore it," said Brubaker.

"It might be important."

"Ignore it."

Myers ignored Brubaker instead. Answering the phone even as he ran, he said, "Yeah. Yeah? Yes, sir. Yes, but we're just going to… no… yeah… no… right." He folded the phone and stopped.

Brubaker whirled at him. "What?"

"It was Captain Mill worth. We're to drop the surveillance on Kurtz."

"Too fucking late!"

Myers shook his head. "Uh-uh. The captain says that we're to drop the surveillance and get the hell over to Elmwood Avenue to help Prdzywsky with a fresh street killing. We're finished with Kurtz… his words."

"Fuck!" shouted Brubaker. An old woman in a black coat stopped to stare. Brubaker took three strides, rounded the corner, and looked at Kurtz approaching the hotel across the street. "We have the fucker."

"We go after him now, Millworth will have our balls for breakfast. He said not to mess with Kurtz. What's your hard-on for, Fred?"

Tell him about the money from Little Skag Farino? thought Brubaker. No. "That perp killed Jimmy Hathaway. And those Three Stooges from Attica, too."

"Bullshit," said Myers. He turned toward the van. "There's no proof for that and you know it."

Brubaker looked back toward the hotel and actually lifted his Glock as if he was going to shoot at Kurtz's retreating back a block away. "Fuck!" he said again.

Someone had been in Kurtz's room. Two of the tiny telltales on the door had been knocked free. Kurtz pulled his gun, unlocked the door, kicked it open, and went in fast Nothing. He kept the S&W in his hand as he checked both rooms and the fire escape. He didn't see anything out of place at first inspection, but someone had been in here.

A knife was gone. Just a sharp kitchen knife. Kurtz went over everything else, but except for the fact that his shaving kit and brush had been moved slightly in the bathroom and some books set back on the shelf not quite as he had left them, nothing else was missing or out of place.

Kurtz showered, shaved, combed his hair, and dressed in his best white shirt, conservative tie and dark suit. The black Bally dress shoes in the back of his closet needed only a buffing to be brought up to full shine. His trench coat hanging in the closet was old but well-made and clean. Slipping the.40 S&W into his belt and dropping Angelina's Compact Witness.45 into his coat pocket, he went out to the Volvo and drove to the Buffalo Athletic Club. On the way, he stopped at a Sees Candy, bought a medium-sized box of chocolates in a heart-shaped box, and tossed away most of the chocolates.

"You're late," said Angelina Farino Ferrara as he came into the exercise area. "And out of uniform." He was still wearing his suit and trench coat.

"No exercise for me today." He handed her the box of chocolates. The Boys looked over curiously from where they had just finished their work in the weight room.

Angelina untied the ribbon, opened the heart-shaped box, and looked at the Compact Witness nestled under the few loose chocolates. "My favorite," she said, eating a pecan cluster and closing the lid. "Did you still want to do lunch?"

"Yes."

"You're sure that today's the right day?"

"Yes."

"But nothing dramatic is going to happen there, right?"

Kurtz remained silent.

"We'll talk about this out at my penthouse," said Angelina. "I have to change before lunch. You can ride out with me. I'll have to introduce you to the Boys and anyone else who's interested. So far, you've just been the Man Hitting on Me at the Athletic Club. What did you say your name was?"

"Dr. Howard Conway."

Angelina raised an eyebrow and mopped her sweaty face. "Dr. Conway. How nice for you. Surgeon?"

"Dentist."

"Oh, too bad. I understand that dentists suffer from depression and suicide at an alarming rate. Are you armed today, Dr. Conway?"

"Yes."

"You know the Boys are going to relieve you of it as soon as we get in the car?"

"Yes."

Angelina Farino Ferrara's smile was predatory.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

They rode out to the marina in silence. Marco and Leo had shaken his hand in the parking garage and then searched him well.

"Why does a dentist need a gun?" asked Leo, slipping the S&W into his cashmere coat.

"I'm paranoid," said Kurtz.

"Aren't we all?" said Angelina.

Marina Towers rose twelve stories above an expanse of snowy lawn that overlooked the Buffalo Marina and the frozen Niagara River. From the parking garage beneath the complex, the four of them rode a private elevator to the eleventh floor, where the Boys lived—Kurtz caught a glimpse of desks, computers, teletypes, a few accountant types, and knew that this was where the Farino offices had been moved—and then Angelina took him up the final flight on a separate elevator. They stepped out into a marble-lined foyer, where she produced a key and let them into her penthouse.

The series of open rooms ran the full length of the building and filled the entire floor so that Kurtz could look northeast to downtown Buffalo and southwest toward the marina and the river. Even with low clouds on a gray day, the view was impressive.

"Very nice—" began Kurtz and stopped as he turned. Angelina was aiming the Compact Witness.45 at him and had pulled a second, larger automatic from a drawer.

"Can you think of any reason I shouldn't gut-shoot you right now, Joe Kurtz?"

Kurtz did not move his hands. "It might ruin your plan to surprise Mr. Gonzaga."

The woman's lips looked very thin and bloodless. "I can make other plans."

Kurtz had no argument for that.

"You humiliated me twice," said Angelina. "Threatened to kill me."

Kurtz could have mentioned the four men she had hired to kill him, but he didn't think that would be the best argument to make in these circumstances. If she shot him now, she'd earn points with her brother.

"Tell me why I shouldn't get rid of you and get someone else to go after Gonzaga," said Angelina Farino Ferrara. "Give me one good reason."

"I'm thinking… I'm thinking," said Kurtz in his best Jack Benny voice.

Maybe Angelina was too young to get the joke. Her finger curled on the trigger. "Time's up."

"Can I reach slowly into my suit pocket?"

Angelina nodded. She was holding the larger.45 aimed steadily at his midsection and had set the Compact Witness on the maple table under a painting.

Kurtz took the cassette tape out of his pocket and tossed it to her.

"What is it?"

"Play it."

"I hate games," said Angelina, but she walked five paces to a stack of stereo components built into a bookcase, slipped the cassette in, and punched "Play."

Her voice came from the speakers. "Oh, but I did. I did. A boy. A beautiful baby boy with Emilio's fat, rubbery lips, lovely brown eyes, and the Gonzaga chin and forehead. I drowned him in the Belice River in Sicily." Her voice went on for a minute, explaining how hard it would be to get to Emilio Gonzaga in his compound, and men came Kurtz's voice: "How did you plan to kill him?"

"Well, I sort of hoped you'd take care of that detail for me now that you know what you know," came Angelina's voice.

Angelina shut off the player and pocketed the cassette. She was actually smiling. "You miserable son of a bitch. You were wired that night out in Williamsville."

Kurtz said nothing.

"So," said Angelina, "in the event of your disappearance here, who gets copies of me tape? Emilio, of course."