Fierenzo rubbed his cheek thoughtfully. "The cops at last night's Yorkville fiasco."

"Bingo," Powell said. "A violin or rubber-band sound, one of them said, just before they heard the tree limb come down. I'm starting to see some very interesting connections here."

"Does look that way, doesn't it?" Fierenzo agreed, keeping his voice neutral. Powell was right: it meshed very nicely with everything else they knew.

So why were his cop's instincts screaming like a Met soprano going for a high C? "You say you've sent the witness to the station?"

"Yeah, about ten minutes ago. Why?"

"Do me a favor," Fierenzo said slowly. "As soon as CSU gets there to deal with the car, you get yourself back to the office and keep him there."

"Sure," Powell said. "For how long?"

"Until I can talk to him," Fierenzo said. "There are a couple things I have to do first."

"Not a problem," Powell assured him. "I've gotten people lost in there without even trying. Just try to make it today, okay?"

"I will," Fierenzo said. "And get Smith tracking the Whittiers' latest cab."

"Right," Powell said. "Don't you want to know the witness's name?"

Fierenzo frowned. "Do I?"

"I think so," Powell said, sounding grimly amused. "He's a Mr. Oreste Green."

"Oreste Green?"

"That's right," Powell said. "Granted, Green's a common enough name. But it's still an interesting coincidence, don't you think?"

"If it's a coincidence, I'm a frog," Fierenzo growled. "I hope you didn't mention that his name sounded familiar."

"Don't worry, I played it cool," Powell assured him. "So I'll hang onto him until you get here?"

"Right," Fierenzo said. "And hang onto whatever sketches Carstairs comes up with, too."

"Got it," Powell said. "See you later."

Fierenzo keyed off the phone and slid it back into his pocket. Leaning his shoulder against the wall beside the window, he scowled out at the city below.

Green. Caroline Whittier had talked about Greens and Grays last night, suggesting they might be at least some of the thousands of New Yorkers Cyril had been threatening in his phone message. Up to now he'd been tentatively assuming that the Green reference was to the left-wing environmentalist political party, with Melantha's last name being just a coincidence, and the Grays being some kind of slang reference he wasn't familiar with.

But now an Oreste Green had popped up into the case, along with a Halfdan Gray. Could the references be to names, after all?

He looked over at the kitchen door. Jonah had never given him a last name, he realized suddenly.

Jonah Gray, perhaps?

Whether it was or not, it was definitely time to ask the man some questions. Detaching himself from the wall, he retraced his steps across the living room to the kitchen.

He was just reaching out a hand to push open the door when he heard a quiet voice coming from beyond it.

He froze in place, listening hard. Just one voice, which implied Jonah was talking on the phone.

Hooking his fingertips into the louvers, Fierenzo carefully pulled the door open an inch.

"—course not," Jonah was saying, his tone managing to sounding indignant and hurt at the same time. "I'm just wondering what in blazes I'm doing here."

There was a brief pause. "Because it's a waste of time, that's why," he went on. "No one's going to bring Melantha here."

Fierenzo felt a tingle on the back of his neck. Melantha. He was talking about the missing girl.

But who was he talking to?

"Because it would be stupid," Jonah said. "If they want her under Warrior protection, they put her in Central. If they just want her hidden, they pick any one of the five gazillion trees lining the streets."

Carefully, using the sound of Jonah's voice as cover, Fierenzo eased the door open a few more inches.

To find himself faced with an extraordinary sight. Jonah was still at the table, his back to Fierenzo, half a sandwich temporarily abandoned on his plate. But he wasn't talking on the kitchen phone, as Fierenzo had assumed. Instead, he was sitting with both hands up along the sides of his head, palms pressing against his cheeks and middle fingers poking into his ears in a classic hear-no-evil posture.

"If I had seen any, don't you think I would have reported it?" Jonah asked patiently. "What do you

—? Fine. You want a traffic report? I'll give you a traffic report."

He exhaled an annoyed sigh. "Okay. Vehicular traffic's pretty much the same as it has been all day, maybe picking up a little on Canal in the past hour. Not many pedestrians, what with the rain and all.... No, Bergan, I'm not being insubordinate. Trust me; if I was, I'd be doing a lot better job....

Because I'm being wasted here, that's why. I already explained they're not going to put her in some little pocket park. They're certainly not going to put her in a pocket park down here, with Torvald's crowd between them and Central. You want me to be of some actual use, send me to Riverside or Washington. Even Gramercy's a better bet than this place."

He paused again. Fierenzo peered closely at his hands, trying to figure out which of them held a radio or phone. But he couldn't see anything in either one.

"Yes, and I'm sorry," Jonah said. "But I have to sleep sometime.... Yeah. Don't worry—I'll call you the minute they show up.... Sure."

He lowered his right hand away from his head—his empty right hand, Fierenzo saw now—leaving the left still pressed against his cheek. The right hand's little finger twitched once—

"Okay, he's off," Jonah went on, his voice suddenly ominous. "You want to tell me where you were about ten this morning?... Come on, Jordan—this is me you're talking to.... Oh, terrific. Let me tell you something kiddo: that was Bergan himself at the third corner of this little conversation, and he's spitting granite right now.... Look, forget the Greens for a minute and concentrate on what Bergan and Ingvar are going to do if they ever find out that was you. And consider yourself lucky that some cop didn't see you climbing into that car."

A second tingle ran up Fierenzo's back Climbing into that car...?

"Yes, I understand," Jonah went on, his tone marginally more sympathetic. "But I really don't think there's anything to worry about. Even if Halfdan had gotten hold of them, there really isn't anything useful they can tell him. Same goes for the Greens.... Yes, even the Persuaders. Just quit with the impromptu heroics before someone catches you, okay?... No, I should be fine for awhile—I'm getting some food, and that's mostly what I needed. You just stay put and keep feeding me updates.

And start with the traffic report next time, okay? Especially the pedestrians. That's what Halfdan's looking for, and it's a hard topic to vamp on.... Good. And stay there this time."

He sighed. "I know," he said. "Don't worry, we'll find her. Look, I have to go. Watch yourself."

Carefully, Fierenzo eased the door shut. He ran a ten count, then stepped on the loose floorboard by the wall and gave it a nice loud squeak. Pushing open the door, he strode nonchalantly into the kitchen. "Sorry about that," he apologized, circling the table. "Business. How you holding up?"

Jonah was munching away at his sandwich again as if nothing had happened. "Finally starting to get filled up, I think," he said. "A nap's starting to sound better and better, though."

"Well, you should have plenty of time for one," Fierenzo said, watching the other's face closely. "I have to get back to the Two-Four. Someone nearly got run over near Washington Square a couple of hours ago, and I need to check it out."

"Really," Jonah said. He was trying hard to keep his voice casual, but Fierenzo could hear the sudden underlying tension. "Anyone hurt?"

"I don't think so, but the details are kind of confused," Fierenzo said. "That's why I want to talk to the witness personally."