"Winos and homeless people. All of them stabbed to death. Other winos and homeless people spread a rumor about a man who stalked them at night. Under bridges. In storm culverts. In parks and alleys, in abandoned buildings and junk-filled lots. The rumors were about this man kicking drunks awake or knocking cardboard boxes over and making homeless people crawl out. He gave them a knife and told them to fight. Then he went to work. But the patterns of the cuts showed that he took a long time to finish them off."
"Yeah," Russell said. "The prince of darkness."
Kim threw up again.
Chapter 2.
After the doctor left, Cavanaugh and Jamie studied Kim where she lay on the bunk.
"An ambulance is coming," Jamie assured her.
Pale, Kim managed to nod.
"The doctor says you're in stress from withdrawal."
"What time is it?"
"Two in the morning."
"Longest time I've gone without Oxy since last spring. At least, I'm not shitting my pants yet."
"The doctor says he's taking you to a detox clinic," Cavanaugh said.
Kim nodded weakly again.
"He says you asked to be taken there," Cavanaugh added.
"Hey." Kim ran her tongue along her dry lips. "I'm into withdrawal this far. I might as well go all the way."
Cavanaugh noted that Kim didn't qualify her statement by saying she would try to go all the way. "Don't worry about your job. It'll be there when you come back."
Kim crossed her arms over her chest and shivered. "I'm not worried about me . It's the two of you . . ." She shivered harder, asking Jamie, "Do you remember the computer codes?"
"You bet," Jamie said. "Your security's so brilliant, I can't get in otherwise."
"Nail the bastard who's doing this."
Chapter 3.
Lt. Russell arranged for numerous cruisers to leave the precinct at the same time, so many that Carl's operators couldn't follow them all. But if any tried, the sparse traffic of two a.m. would make the surveillance obvious and easily intercepted.
Cavanaugh and Jamie hid in the back seat of one of those cruisers. They got out at Central Park's West Drive, slipped into the trees, and headed north. From time to time, they paused among murky boulders and bushes to check if they were being followed. Only the park's usual predators stalked them, but Cavanaugh and Jamie gave off such strong don't-screw-with-us vibrations that just four kids made a move, and what happened to them was so swift and decisive that word spread quickly-- stay away .
Confident that they'd eluded Carl and his men, Cavanaugh and Jamie crossed Eighth Avenue and proceeded along West Seventy-Third Street. They reached a modest apartment building, outside which a man with a beer can in his hand seemed asleep behind the steering wheel of a car. Farther along, a man walked a dog. Still farther along, a van had a small air vent in its roof, the vent actually an aperture for a surveillance camera.
Outside the front door, Cavanaugh studied a list of tenants. He pressed the intercom button next to the name Zimbalist.
After a moment, a man's voice said, "This better be good. It's the middle of the night."
"Jimmy Lile sent us," Jamie said, mentioning a famous knife maker whose name they'd selected as a code.
A buzzer sounded. Cavanaugh opened the door and stepped into a warm, pleasantly lit vestibule. Halfway along a hallway, a door was ajar. A security camera looked down from a corner. They went up one flight of carpeted stairs and prepared to knock on door 2-C when it opened and Rutherford smiled.
"You two don't look so good."
"You don't need to seem so cheery about it," Jamie said.
"I'm just glad you're all right." He locked the door after they entered.
"What about William?" Cavanaugh asked. "Did he get back to his safe site okay?"
"Nobody followed the car."
In the living room, two men in white shirts had their suit coats draped over chairs, their holstered handguns visible on their belts. They watched a row of closed-circuit TV monitors that provided views of the street, the door to the building, the vestibule, and the stairs leading up.
"You ought to feel flattered," Rutherford said. "The Bureau maintains this place only for prized informants."
"The park." Cavanaugh rubbed his arms. "Cold."
"You've got your pick of two bathrooms to take a hot shower."
"Hungry," Jamie said.
"The pizza's already here," Rutherford said. "With pepperonis, right?"
"And anchovies and black olives."
"And salad and garlic bread. Everything you ordered."
Chapter 4.
"Are you okay?" Cavanaugh asked in the darkness of a bedroom
"A few bumps and bruises. Nothing serious." Jamie lay next to him.
"I mean, are you okay ?"
"Why wouldn't I be? It's just the usual, isn't it? Fear and trembling."
"You were talking awfully fast in the kitchen. You sound as if you're on speed."
"Adrenaline will do that."
"It should have worn off by now." The darkness seemed to compress around him.
"I guess I'm resistant," she said.
"I just want to make sure nothing's wrong." The darkness got even thicker.