The night air was warm, and the cab of Thad's truck smelled of him and of eggplant, both pleasing.

After a time, I said, "Thad, you don't happen to have a firearm with you, do you? In the glove compartment?"

"No, I don't own a gun."

"Mine is in Albany," I said. "I didn't anticipate a confrontation with violent people. At least, not without being in the company of the New York Police Department. By that I mean, being in the company of NYPD officers and with their being on my side in this thing."

"Of course, there's been some ambiguity about which side you're on," Thad said.

"Not really. Not when it comes to bodily harm. I'm against that, generally speaking."

"Oh, good."

"But self-defense might soon become an issue. I take it you have no problem with self-defense."

"I prefer to avoid situations where I might be called upon to employ, say, fisticuffs.

On the other hand, if someone is bent on causing me serious bodily injury, I suppose I could find it within my ethical means to eviscerate the poor soul."

"Great."

We sat some more, peering over at the Welch house.

"What I need to know," I said after a moment, "is who is in there, and are they armed? Being cops, chances arc they are."

"Right."

"I'm especially interested to know if Lylc is inside that house. And if so, what is his situation vis-a-vis the others inside?"

"Why don't you call him up and ask him?" Thad said. "You have his cellphone number. If he's in there, you don't have to tell him that you're sitting in a truck across the street."

"Hmm."

"Barner might not be willing to tell you where he is at all. Which would be a good indication that he's up to no good and is probably inside Welch's house. Actually, I could go over there and hide in the darkness, and I could listen for a phone to ring inside. It's so quiet around here that I'd probably hear it."

"I don't know," I said. "It's somewhat risky for you, Thad. Can you protect yourself if you have to?"

"I've got a tire iron under the seat. I can take that. But I won't get caught. All my old skulking skills will surely come back. I'll bet skulking is like swimming or riding a bicycle. Your body doesn't forget habitual sneaking around."

"Are you getting goose bumps again?"

"No, I think I'm too exhausted for goose bumps. I haven't been up this late since about 1980. Most farmers are just getting out of bed at this hour, not still up from the night before. But I've got enough adrenaline pumping now to do whatever it is we need to do. The caffeine should help, too," Thad said, and took a swig of his coffee.

"Okay, go ahead. When I've lost sight of you, I'll wait thirty seconds and then dial."

"Make it a minute," Thad said. "Let me get used to the sounds around the house."

"Okay. I'll dial sixty seconds after I've lost sight of you."

Thad reached under his seat, groped around, and soon came up with a tire iron. "Here goes," he said. He switched the cab's overhead light to the off position so the cab would not light up when he opened the door. He exited the truck quietly, then eased the door shut with a soft click.

Thad strode across Parsons Drive as if he belonged there and moved quickly along the sidewalk to Welch's house. He glanced my way once, then cut left into the darkness near the side porch. While I counted to sixty, I watched for lights to come on in the Welch house or in any others, but none did.

When a minute had passed, I retrieved the scrap of paper with Lyle's cellphone number, flipped open the glove-box door for illumination, opened up my phone, and dialed.

Even from where I sat, a hundred or more feet away, I could hear the phone twitter.

It was answered after one ring, and it was unmistakably Lyle who said calmly, "Hey, Strachey, I think your Amish sweetheart is taking a leak in the bushes about ten feet from me. That's not very sanitary, if you ask me. Or very polite."

"Lyle? Is that you?" What was he up to?

"Yeah, it's me. I'm stretched out on a lounge inside the porch you're looking at, having a well-earned refreshment."

"You're on the porch?"

"Yeah, the one you're lookin' at right now from the cab of Diefendorfer's pickup truck. I sat here and watched the two of you sittin' over there smoochin'. Then Thaddie gets out, and he ambles over here by where I'm relaxing. He's done taking a piss, it looks like, and now he's standing close in beside a big bush and I'm looking right at him."

"How did you know it was us?"

"I had a locator beacon placed in the truck. It's under the right front fender."

"I see. When did you do that, Lyle?"

"Three hours ago, back in Brooklyn."

"May I ask why you did that?"

"Two reasons. One is, I still wasn't certain I could trust Diefendorfer. The man is a known liar. The other reason is, I wasn't really sure myself what I was going to find when I arrived out here, and I needed to know if and when you might turn up and complicate my life. You were tracked all the way to Hempstead, and I was given updates every three minutes right up until the time you parked across the street from where I'm sitting. Two patrol cars from the Hemp-stead Police Department are parked a block and a half from where you are, and those officers are ready to move in on you if I ask them too."

"So then," I said, "Jay Plankton is not being held captive by Dave Welch and his cop friends in Welch's house? Or was Plankton there earlier, but you tipped Welch off and they all got away?"

Barner grunted, or maybe belched lightly. "Nuh-uh. None of the above, you stupid fuck. Why don't you come over here, Strachey, have a beer, and I'll show you around.

You can see for yourself, if that's what you need, what's been happening here tonight.

It's no kidnapping, that's for sure. It's all voluntary, involving consenting adults. Have a look, and tell your pal there, Thaddie, to come on inside, too. He looks to me like he turned into somebody in a wax museum out there, and he might want to come in and chill out."

Thad had to have heard Lyle's end of this conversation, but apparently he was waiting for some signal from me. Was this a trap of some sort? It didn't feel like one at all. I climbed out of the truck, shut the door, and walked toward the darkened porch, with the phone line to Lyle still open.

"There's a door on the back of the porch," Lyle said. "It's unlocked." Then he hung up.

A light drizzle was still drifting down. The grass in Welch's yard was wet and smelled of ammonia. I was unable to see Thad, but as I neared the porch, I said, "Thad, let's go on in," and he stepped from behind a lilac bush and joined me.

We found the door to the porch, opened it, and stepped inside.

"Welcome to Hempstead, guys," said a voice that wasn't Lyle's.

A match was struck and Dave Welch lit a candle on the table alongside the padded porch chair he was sitting in. Stretched out on a nearby chaise, Lyle was fully dressed, while Welch was clad only in gym shorts.

"Hi," Thad said, "I'mThaddeus Diefendorfer."

Not getting up, Welch extended his hand. "I'm Dave Welch."

"Pleased to meet you."

"I understand from Lyle that the two of you suspected me of kidnapping and tattooing Leo Moyle, and then kidnapping and mutilating Jay Plankton." Welch swigged from a bottle of Sam Adams.