"I thought Caroline was upstate when you met Torvald," Jonah said, frowning.

"I meant the first time," Roger said. "Friday afternoon, after I talked to Sylvia at Aleksander's."

"And you didn't mention it before?" Jonah demanded, stretching out his hand. "Give it to me."

"I didn't think it was important," Roger said, digging out the phone and handing it over. "He asked about Melantha, I didn't tell him anything, and then he let me go. Just like yesterday."

"Except that on Friday you still knew where Melantha was," Jonah pointed out grimly, peering closely at the phone as he turned it over in his hands. "Did Torvald or anyone else handle this?"

"No, it was in my pocket the whole time," Roger said, thinking back. "But it definitely wasn't working."

"That may not mean anything by itself," Ron said. "He probably had a suppressor going."

"General electronic damper," Jonah added. "Third cousin to the gadget Jordan and I used to knock out the streetlights Wednesday night. Torvald probably has his whole building blanked out to make sure no one can snoop on him." He shook his head. "I don't see anything here."

"I have a question," Fierenzo spoke up. He was holding the trassk close to his face, Roger saw, studying its back. "You said you set the frequency of these private tels as far from the general band as possible so there wouldn't be any interference between them, right?"

"I didn't do it personally, but yes, that's what Garth did," Jonah confirmed. "He was afraid that—"

"Hold it," Roger cut him off as a memory suddenly popped back. "Garth? Twitchy type, always fiddling with a pocket knife?"

"That's him," Jonah said, frowning. "Do you know him?"

"Only slightly," Roger said grimly. "He was waiting at the gate when Wolfe grabbed me outside the subway and hauled me in to see Torvald."

"Son of a bitch," Fierenzo said.

They all looked at him. "What?" Roger asked.

"Take a look." Reaching to the back of the trassk, Fierenzo peeled something small and filmy from the metal. "We've been outsmarted, friends," he went on, holding it up for everyone to see. "Looks like Garth built himself a bug and put it on Roger's trassk.

"Torvald's been listening to everything we say."

38

For a long moment no one spoke. Roger stared at the filmy patch hanging from Fierenzo's fingers, his stomach twisting in horror.

Velovsky was the first to break the silence. "You fool," he murmured, his eyes burning into Roger's face. "You stupid, careless fool."

"What do we do?" Laurel breathed.

"We start by not panicking," Ron said firmly, gesturing to his eldest son. "Jonah, take a look at the bug. Maybe it's just a tracer and not a complete listening device."

Gingerly, Jonah took the patch from Fierenzo, turning it over a couple of times and angling it toward the light as he looked closely at it. "You're right, it's just a tracer," he announced at last, a note of relief in his voice. "There's a carrier transmitter but no microphone. In fact—" He plucked at the film with his fingernails. "Yes," he said, holding it out for Roger and Fierenzo to see. "There are actually parts of two tels here, back to back but offset," he went on. "Two separate carrier transmitters."

"That must be how it can work as a tracer," Ron said. "Normally, you can't pinpoint a tel's position."

"That's a bit of good news, anyway," Fierenzo said. "Even if Torvald knows the trassk is here, he doesn't know who's in here with it. Or what's been said."

"Small comfort," Velovsky muttered. "They'll have the whole building surrounded by now."

"I don't know," Jonah said, his forehead creasing. "I didn't see anyone while I was up there."

"Let's find out," Fierenzo suggested, retrieving his coat from the back of Velovsky's chair. "Get the tracer, Roger, and let's you and me take a little walk."

"What about us?" Laurel asked as Roger gingerly took the tracer back from Jonah and slipped it into his pocket.

"Stay here until we call you or come back." Fierenzo caught Velovsky's eye. "That goes for you, too," he said.

"It won't make any difference," Velovsky said quietly. He had slumped in his chair, his eyes locked onto the carpet in front of his feet. "In here or out there, the Grays will get us whenever they want us."

No one was lurking in the hallway as the two men walked to the elevator. Roger felt his muscles tense as the doors slid open; but there was no one in the car, either. They got in, Fierenzo punched for the lobby, and they headed down. "Relax," the detective advised as the floor numbers on the panel slipped swiftly downward. "It may not be as bad as it looks."

"Of course not," Roger said bitterly. "I've only wrecked everything, guaranteed Melantha's death, and probably destroyed Manhattan in the bargain. Not that bad at all."

"Don't go melodramatic on me," Fierenzo said reprovingly. "Number one: even if they can pin down exactly which room we were in, they don't know who was in there with us."

"They'll be able to figure out that it was Ron and Stephanie who rented it."

"So?" Fierenzo countered. "I've already been seen with Jonah and Jordan, and you've already been seen with me. The critical question is whether or not anyone's made the link between us and Melantha's parents."

"And with Velovsky," Roger reminded him.

"And with Velovsky," Fierenzo agreed. "But it's a good-sized hotel, and there are ways of getting people in and out without being spotted. We should be able to sneak all of them out if we have to."

No one with an obvious Gray build was waiting when the elevator reached the lobby. Fierenzo eased them through a waiting cluster of people and led the way into the foyer. "Where are we going?"

Roger asked.

"We've taken our little walk," Fierenzo said as he pushed the door open and headed toward a line of waiting cabs. "Now it's time for a little ride. How much cash have you got on you?"

"I don't know," Roger said, frowning. "Maybe a hundred."

"Good enough," Fierenzo said, pulling out his own wallet. "Once we're on our way, give me fifty and the tracer."

He stepped to the first cab in line and opened the back door. "Columbia University," he told the driver as he gestured Roger in and then got in behind him.

"Where at Columbia do you want?" the cabby called over his shoulder as he pulled out into the traffic flow.

"It's the—where was Nikolos again?" Fierenzo asked, turning to Roger.

"The Faculty House," Roger supplied. "East campus, on Morningside Drive."

"The Faculty House," Fierenzo confirmed. Half-turning, he looked casually behind them, then held out his hand toward Roger and wiggled his fingers in silent command.

Pulling out his wallet, Roger selected two twenties and a ten and handed them over, setting the tracer on top of the stack. Fierenzo pressed the thin film onto the top bill, rubbing his thumb over it a couple of times. For a moment he peered at his handiwork; then, nodding in apparent satisfaction, he folded the bills into his hand, added a couple more from his own pocket, and turned to gaze out the side window. Roger tried to relax, wondering what exactly the detective had in mind.

Two blocks later, he found out. Leaning abruptly forward, Fierenzo tapped on the divider. "Pull over here," he called, jabbing a finger at an open area to their right. "This is ridiculous," he growled to Roger as the driver obediently pulled to the curb and stopped. "He's your father, not mine. You want to go all the way to Columbia just to take him home, fine. I'm going back to the party."

"Oh, come on," Roger argued back, not sure where the other was going with this but recognizing a cue when he saw one. "We promised. Anyway, he wants to see us."

"He wants a ride," Fierenzo said with exaggerated patience. "He doesn't care if you're even there. He sure doesn't care if I'm there."