lieutenant was referring to the fact that in the not too distant past, Eileen had enjoyed an arduous but brief (well, brief in the annals of the Eight-Seven) relationship with one of his detectives. The look on Byrnesâs face indicated he did not want problems related to ancient love affairs. Eileen read the look, and registered his words, and didnât know quite what to say. She had not seen Bert Kling in a very long time, and she knew he was now involved with someone else.
Standing before her new bossâs desk, wearing brown slacks and brown low-heeled pumps, an olive-green crewneck sweater with a matching cardigan over it, sunshine streaming through the Lootâs corner windows and setting her red hair ablaze, she wondered what gave him the right to intrude on her personal life, wondered if he would give the male half of this prior romance the same warning, and was tempted to tell him to go to hell. He must have read the look in her green eyes, must have seen County Cork flaring; he was Irish himself, after all.
âNot that itâs any of my business,â he amended.
âIâm sure there wonât be any problem, sir,â Eileen said.
Byrnes noted the âsir.â They had worked together before, when Eileen had been loaned to him as an undercover decoy, and back then it had been âPete.â Now it was âsir,â which meant heâd got off on the wrong foot with her, something he didnât particularly wish. In apology, he said, âYouâre the first woman Iâve had on my squad, Eileen.â
âI know that, sir.â
âMake it Pete, can you?â
âPete,â she said, and nodded.
âYou may find it quiet around here,â he said. âAfter Hostage Negotiating.â
âIn this city, nothingâs quiet,â she said.
As a matter of fact, hostage-taking had cooled down a bit in recent years. Oh sure, you had the occasional nut who shot his wife and two of his kids and was holding the third kid at gun point in a ratty apartment someplace in Majesta while the cops promised him an airplane to Peru and three dozen Hershey bars, but for the most part the bad guys had bigger things on their minds. You didnâtâin fact, couldnâtâsend a negotiator to talk to some fanatic who had taken over an airliner. Maybe the Eight-Seven would seem a little tame after standing face to face with a hostage-taker holding an AK-47 on his grandma, but maybe Eileen needed a rest in the country. Besides, from the inter-departmental jive sheâd heard, the boys up here had recently been involved in a very big case involving the Treasury Department, the CIA, and God knew what else.
Byrnes was thinking he should tell her heâd try his best not to partner her with Klingâbut that sounded apologetic. He was thinking heâd tell her that very often the working relationship between two detectives made the difference between life or deathâbut that sounded corny.
âEileen,â he said simply, âweâre a tight-knit family here. Welcome to it.â
âThank you, sir,â she said. âPete.â
Which was when a knock sounded on the lieutenantâs door.
âCome,â Byrnes said.
The door openedâand speak of the devil.
Â
AT TWENTY MINUTES to nine that Wednesday morningâsome fifteen minutes after heâd stepped into the lieutenantâs office to encounter a redheaded ghostâBert Kling was at the wheel of an unmarked police sedan driving himself and Carella uptown to the Eight-Eight.
âI have to tell you the truth,â he said, âmy heart stopped.â
Carella said nothing. He had called the lieutenant the night before, and told him about Ollie Weeksâs offer of a fifty-fifty bust, if ever there was one. He had told the lieutenant that you had to grab this city by the balls before it grabbed you first. He had told him that opportunity knocks but once, and it