1975

Norm would have slept through a good chunk of Saturday if Lieutenant Railsback had let him. But the man was on the phone by eleven. By noon Cash was on his way to the station, his car loaded.

Tran and Matthew chattered in back. Beside him, Beth was being Miss Efficiency.

"I called your friend last night. Frank Segasture. He said he'd meet us at the airport."

The "us" slipped past Norm. "What? What did you tell him? He's one of those people who think that if you cross the New York City limit you fall off the edge of the world."

"I just told him what happened. He's really a pretty nice guy."

He saw the huntress's gleam in her eye. "But very married, babe."

"They all are."

He glanced at her sharply, then leaned, whispered, "What happened to Teri last night?"

"I took her home after John's wife showed up."

A ball of snakes began wriggling in his belly. "What happened?"

"Nothing. Your wife was cool. Just introduced her as a family friend who hadn't been around for years. I guess John didn't tell his wife about his premarital adventures. She didn't react to the name."

"Good for Annie. We've got troubles enough already."

For a moment he listened in on Tran and Matthew. Matthew was making pronouncements on Vietnamese issues with all the authority of a self-taught expert who had been in grade school and high school during the U.S. involvement. He just didn't know. Though some of his assertions came right off the wall, Tran didn't seem offended.

"I think your wife is on your side now," Beth observed. "I saw her packing your things this morning. And she said she'd just gotten back from the bank when I woke up."

"Good. Must have been the explosion that changed her mind. She'd already rung him in on me by then." He jerked a thumb at Matthew. He knew damned well that Annie had asked Matthew to come home to talk him out of going to Rochester.

"It's not hard to understand."

"I know. It's because she cares, because she's scared. But she makes me feel trapped sometimes."

The station was anything but normal for a Saturday morning. There were people everywhere, including some brass from downtown.

The Homicide office was besieged. Reporters recognized Norm as one of the principal investigators, began plaguing him for a statement. They filled the hallway.

Tom Kurland had come upstairs to stand guard on the office door. "Should have accepted Andy's confession," Cash told him.

"Should have." Kurland grinned, opened the door.

"What the hell?" Cash grumbled after he had shepherded his group inside and helped Tom close the door again.

"We made the network news," said Smith, passing.

There were more people in the office than at the height of the last Christmas party. Beth's desk had become a command center. Cash felt an urge to throw people out. But everybody appeared to have more right to be there than did either of his guests.

"That Norm out there?" Railsback called. "Tell him to come in."

The captain was there with Hank, but had nothing to say. He greeted Cash with a curt nod.

"Norm, we're getting it from downtown. Both barrels. They want some answers, and some arrests, yesterday. Must be an election coming up, the way City Hall is bitching and moaning."

"So? We knew it was coming. We've lived through it before." But he didn't feel confident. There was too good a chance that he would lose his job. The best he hoped for was a demotion to patrolman.

"Captain? "Hank said.

The man nodded, left. He closed the door behind him.

"Norm, I did some plain and fancy talking this morning. The division has permission to reimburse you for your travel, meals, and lodging. So get receipts. We'll pay off when we get next quarter's LEA funds."

"Huh?"

"For your trip to New York."

Once again Hank had taken him by surprise.

In a soft, cold voice, Railsback told him, "There wouldn't be many questions asked if it looked like self-defense."

Cash shook his head slowly. "No."

"I don't mean…"

"I know exactly what you mean."

They glared at one another for twenty seconds before Hank's gaze drifted to the window.

"Okay. But I'm telling you up front. You'd better come home dragging some coyote skins to hang on the gate."

"I will. That's a promise." Or I won't come home at all. Not on my hind legs.

He had a touch of that Ardennes feeling.

After another twenty seconds, during which he fidgeted with rubber bands and paper clips, Hank muttered, "Good enough. Pick up your loose ends. Give Tucholski anything he can use. He'll be in charge here. Then go hope and rest up. You should get there fresh."

"If they haven't hauled ass out of there while we've been farting around," Cash replied sourly.

"Why should they? You said she didn't know we knew about the brother."

Cash shrugged. "Murphy's Law. It's been going strong up till now. Why should my luck change?"

Railsback dipped into his desk for a colorful handful of pills. He took them dry, closing his eyes and grimacing as they went down.

"Try to get back by Wednesday. That's when we're planning the funeral." Hank took a deep breath, sighed.

Norm stared at the man's hands. They shook almost too much to manipulate the paper clips. "And be careful. You're taking Tran? Good. Listen to him. He's a pro."

"I will. I'm no hero. You know that."

"Okay. Get moving."

Cash started toward the door.

"Wait. Norm? Good luck." Railsback half rose to extend a hand.

Surprised, Cash shook. Hank's palm was moist and cold. "Thanks."

He left Hank staring out the window.

It was suppertime before he got home. There was so much to do, so many people to talk to. Time fled as if some light-fingered thief were stealing his life-hours while he was preoccupied.

Malone. He was the worst chrono-bandit. Every time Cash turned around, there the agent was, pushing him for that New York address. The man wanted the stalk for himself. Apparently there were points to be tallied with Langley.