"I knew from the discovery material you had turned over to Peter Robelon before the trial that Paige Vallis had accidentally killed a man. What's that about? Don't you think Peter's going to rip her to shreds on cross-examination?"

"Look, Graham, I'm sure you can understand why I'm reluctant-"

"I'm not a litigator, Alex. Strictly corporate law. Forgive me if you think I'm stepping on your toes. I'd just hate to see the jury find her less than credible, and throw out Dulles's case with hers."

I let Graham tell me about how he and his wife had bonded with the boy over the past years, how they wanted to help him-maybe even have him as a member of their own family. It seemed clear they had better expectations for his future.

"When we've got him safely back," Hoyt said, "I can probably persuade the people at the child welfare agency to let him sit down with you, as long as we can find a noninstitutional setting in which to do it-I don't want him subjected to another police station or courtroom. And on the condition, of course, that I can be present."

"I assume there's some quid pro quo for this, something you want from me," I said.

Hoyt straightened up. "I want you to offer Andrew Tripping a deal. A plea bargain. Something that will speed this along and have him sentenced so that he's in jail-immediately-and Dulles can breathe more easily. You can't imagine how this hangs over the child's head-this love-hate thing with his own father that the shrinks will testify about."

All the psychiatrists spoke of the same findings. The boy had a natural filial love for Andrew, but his fear was even greater. He knew that telling the truth could make him safe, but if the judge or jury didn't believe him, he would be back at his father's mercy and in more danger than before.

"Tripping's been offered a deal from the get-go," I said. "I talked to Peter about a charge of third-degree rape instead of first."

"Sorry. I don't know the criminal law. What's the difference?"

"The amount of time he'd have to serve. It's still a felony, but he wouldn't be exposed to as many years in state prison," I said. The case was complicated. The top charges in the indictment related to the rape of Paige Vallis. I had added misdemeanor counts of physical assault and endangering the welfare of a child-counts that involved Dulles's abuse-knowing that they might be taken more seriously in the higher-court forum where the rape trial would be heard. It was an unorthodox way to proceed, but I thought it was worth the chance.

"Can't we still-?"

"It's too late for that, Graham. I told the defense team that once Paige gave sworn testimony, once she had to go through the experience of telling her story publicly, the offer was withdrawn. The ball was in Andrew's court for months and he didn't want to play."

"But you'd save her the embarrassment of cross-examination. She can't be looking forward to Monday."

"You know something that I don't?" I asked. "You want to tell me what other surprises Peter has to hit her with?"

Was he bluffing now, I wondered, or did Robelon have more dirt on Paige Vallis, something else she had omitted from her narrative of events?

Graham Hoyt cocked his head and thought for a moment. For too long to make me comfortable. Why was it the prosecutor was so often the last to know?

"I've got a four-thirty appointment across town," I said. "I think we both agree there's nothing more important than Dulles's mental health. For that, I'll make almost any deal you want. But we've got to find him quickly or there's no point negotiating."

"Finding him, and finding him safe, is our first concern, of course."

We talked for a few minutes more about the police efforts and the fact that there had been no bad news as of yet. "It actually helps me to hear how optimistic you are about Dulles," I said, smiling as I stood up to leave.

"I have to be. Jenna is set on doing the right thing for this boy. It's broken her heart to be childless, and this seems like such a chance to solve both sets of problems," Hoyt said. His somber expression passed in seconds. "Want to have a look around before you go? J. P. Morgan's folly."

Maybe I could do some reconnaissance for Paul Battaglia on his future political opponent. It would behoove me to be sociable for fifteen minutes, especially if I could bring home some information about Peter Robelon, follow up on the hint Hoyt had dropped last evening. It never hurt to have some professional gossip for the Boss. "Sure. I didn't realize Morgan was responsible for this place."

"Not for the club, initially. That was started in 1844, on a yacht anchored in New York Harbor. But he was responsible for the acquisition of this great building. That's his portrait over the stairwell. And those are some of his yachts."

The painting of the Commodore was of minor interest compared with the models of his boats. "The Corsair II, " Graham said. "Two hundred forty-one feet."

"That's not a yacht," I said, "that's a-"

"A behemoth. Precisely. Do you know that when the Spanish-American War broke out, the government asked Morgan to turn over the Corsair to be converted into a gunboat, to blockade the Spanish at Santiago Harbor?"

I might not only get some scoops for Battaglia, but some trivia for Chapman. "Did he get the yacht back?"

"No, he simply built a bigger one. Corsair III. Three hundred and four feet. Faster and stronger, more than six hundred tons and twenty-five hundred horsepower. 'You can do business with anyone,' Morgan liked to say, 'but you can only sail with a gentleman.' I look at what's happened in boardrooms across the country these last few years, and I have to admit that he wasn't wrong. Do you enjoy sailing, Alex?"

"I like anything on the water. I've got a house on the Vineyard," I said, remembering Hoyt's reference to nearby Nantucket. I thought of Adam Nyman, and how, when we were engaged, he loved to take me out on his sloop. "I used to sail quite a bit."

"When this is all behind us," Hoyt said, talking about the trial, "I'll make it a point for Jenna to put a date together with you, on the islands. There are a few hurricanes kicking around in the Caribbean, so let's hope they blow past northeast without any damage."

"Well, this is the season for them. Is there a model of your boat in here?"

Hoyt walked me to a point on the far wall, below an ornate balcony, and pointed at a black-hulled vessel that looked as though it would have put him back a couple of million.

"The Pirate?" I asked. Not a very original name, but an exact translation of corsair.

"J. P. Morgan's my personal hero."

"A robber baron as role model. Is that the part of him you admire?" I asked, with a smile.

"No, no. The greatest collector of all times. That's what I love about the man. One of those passions you either have or you don't understand."

"I've got a similar taste for rare books-just a different budget." The Pierpont Morgan Library housed one of the most exquisite collections in the world.

"He had brilliant accumulations of paintings and sculptures, manuscripts, Steinway pianos, Limoges enamels, Chinese porcelains, snuffboxes, Gothic ivories. Imagine being able to indulge every one of your fantasies."

"And yours?" I asked. "What do you like to collect?"

"Several things. Pretty eclectic. Contemporary art, watches, medieval prints, stamps. Nothing out of my range. I imagine, when you're ready to leave the district attorney's office, that half the law firms in the city will be clamoring to take you on board, and pay you what you deserve to be earning. How do you manage to keep up a house on the Vineyard on a prosecutor's salary?"

"I get a lot of help from my family," I said. His question put me in my place. I hated being asked that kind of thing, and knew what great good fortune it was that my father's invention had provided me with such extraordinary rewards. I had been on the verge of questioning Graham Hoyt about how he'd amassed the money for such high living from a couple of lucky investments and the ordinary practice of law, but now-on the defensive-I thought better of it.