He had taken off the monster mask, and it was plain to see he wasnat still bleeding, but he kept exploring his jaw line tentatively, his eyes still wide in fright. Carella hoped he wasnat going to faint.

aYouare not bleeding,a Loomis told him. aGo put on some clothes, go get dressed for Chrissake! How many kidnappings have you investigated this year?a he asked Carella.

aNone,a Carella said. aThis year? None.a aHow about last year? How about the past five, ten years? How many friggin kidnappings have you ever handled in your entire life as a cop?a aOne,a Carella answered. aIn my entire life as a cop,a he added.

Loomis blinked at him.

aWell, at least youare honest,a he said.

aAt least that,a Carella agreed. aBut you donat have to worry. Iam sure the FBI willaa aWhoever,a Loomis said. aAll I want is Tamar back. Andfast !a aAllI want,a a womanas voice said, ais to get my tape on the air. Andfast !a They all turned.

Carella recognized the woman at once. He had met her in the Grover Park Zoo this past Christmas when she was covering the aLions Attack Womana story. He had spoken to her on the phone only recently, soliciting a possible job at Channel Four for his wife, Teddy.

ah.e.l.lo, Honey,a he said and extended his hand. aNice to see you again.a aI taped the whole thing, you know,a she said. aIn case anyoneas interested.a aInterested?aCarella said. aWhen can wea?a aBack off,a Honey said. an.o.body sees it till Channel Four airs it.a aGood!a Loomis said at once. aLet the whole d.a.m.n city see what happened here tonight. Let the wholeworld see it! That maniac hitting her!a aNo oneas broadcasting any evidence tape until I clear it with my superiors,a Carella said.

aEvidence tape? What?a aIall subpoena it, Honey.a aAshcroft notwithstanding, I thought this was still a free country.a aA girlas been kidnapped here, Miss,a Hawes told her.

She turned to look at him.

aThis is my partner, Cotton Hawes,a Carella said. aCotton, this is Honey Blair of Channel Four News.a aI watch you all the time,a Hawes said, and nodded.

Honey looked him over. She was seeing a tall, wide-shouldered man with blue eyes and flaming red hair except for a white streak some two inches wide over his left temple.

Hawes was seeing a blonde some five-feet-seven-inches tall, wearing a blue leather mini and an ice-blue, long-sleeved blouse and calf-high navy leather boots and looking infinitely more beautiful than she ever had on television.

Honey Blair and Cotton Hawes had met.

aRed, tell your partner hereaa Honey started.

aItas Cotton,a he said softly, and looked into her eyes.

aCotton, please tell your partner,a she said, returning his gaze, athat Iam sitting on the biggest scoop Iave ever had in my life, a live tape of a kidnapping in progress, and if he doesnat let me go in the next five minutes, Channel Four will bring suit against the city,a she said, and smiled sweetly.

aWeall slap a court order on the tape,a Carella said.

aI donat care what you do after we air it.a aIall seize it as evidence right this minute.a aMy crew wonat let you have it.a aThen Iall arrest them as accessories to the crime of kidnapping.a aAswhat ? Youallwhat ?a aFor withholding vital evidence,a Hawes explained.

Honey gave him a curt, dismissive look.

aAm I still bleeding?a Jonah asked.

aWill you go put on some clothes?a Loomis said.

aHowad I look on camera?a Jonah asked Honey.

aGorgeous, darling.a Jonah beamed and went off toward the changing room. The natives were beginning to get extremely restless, milling and seething and whiffling all around the ballroom deck as McIntosh and his crew continued taking names, addresses, and telephone numbers.

aSo whowill be handling this?a Loomis asked Carella. aYou or the FBI?a aFor now, itas us,a Carella said. aWe caught it, weall finish up here, and then go do the paperwork. Iall talk to my lieutenant as soon as we get back to the squadroom, see what he advises. Iam sure thisall go to them, donat worry. Meanwhile, weall want to contact the girlas parents. Do you know where we cana?a aForget it,a Loomis said, atheyare divorced. Her fatheras living in Mexico with his second wife, her motheras in Europe someplace.a aAre they people of means, would you know?a aHe used to sell vacuum cleaners, Christ knows what heas doing now. Her motheras a hairdresser. Iam sure neither of them is wealthy.a aThen why would anyone want to kidnap her?a Hawes asked.

aMaybe because Tamar Valparaisoaa Valparaiso, Carella thought.Not Valentino.

aais under contract to Bison Records,a Loomis said, and nodded in sudden understanding. aOf course,a he said. aThatas got to be it. Iam CEO and sole shareholder in the company. Theyare going to askme for the G.o.dd.a.m.n money.a aThen you better sit by the phone,a Hawes suggested.

BY FOUR A.M., McIntosh and his HPU team had gathered all the vitals from the pa.s.sengers, crew, and caterers, had pa.s.sed the list on to the detectives from the Eight-Seven, and had gone tootling off on their thirty-six footer into an early morning mist. The Mobile Crime Unit had arrived some two hours earlier and were examining the primary access routes. Half a dozen male and female technicians were still dusting and vacuuming the salon stairway and the small dance floor where most of the action had taken place. Another three were doing the same thing outside on the loading platform and boarding ladder, concentrating especially on latent footprints. And yet another three were searching for evidence on the second level c.o.c.ktail lounge, where it was presumed the perps had entered before moving down to the lower deck.

Disembarked and disoriented after their nocturnal ordeal, the weary voyagers dispersed in various directions, Captain Reevesa"as befitted his role as commandera"being the last to leave his vessel.

(aCaptainPeeved, a Hawes called him behind his back but within earshot of Honey Blair, who, he noticed with satisfaction, acknowledged the sarcastic sobriquet with a reluctant smile of approval.) The fog gathering around them, the detectives and the television people walked together in silence to where theyad parked in the AUTHORIZEDPERSONNELzone dockside. Carella had indeed seized the tape as evidence. Honey was indeed intending to bring suit against the city. Hawes did not think this was such a good start for a relationship.

Honey and her crew climbed into the Channel Four van; the two detectives got into their unmarked Chevy sedan. The streets were empty at this early hour of the morning. Carella and Hawes made it back to the squadroom in less than ten minutes.

There was still a lot of work to do before the shift ended.

aYOU SHOULDNaT HAVEhit her so hard,a Avery was telling Cal.

aCome on, it was only a slap,a Cal said.

aYou knocked her down. That was more than a slap.a aShe was making a run for it.a Tamar Valparaiso was still unconscious and draped alongside Kellie Morgan on the back seat of the Ford Explorer, her head on Kellieas shoulder, her hands and feet bound, a blindfold over her eyes.

Kellie, to tell the truth, was sort of overwhelmed to be in such close proximity to someone she perceived to be a rock star even though shead only seen her perform once at a club over in the next state, and that was at least nine months ago, before Tamar had got her recording contract.

They had left the Rinker at the Fairfield Street dock, all the way downtown in the Old Quarter of the city, taking with them only any personal items, and the masks, and the weapons, transferring all and sundry into the Ford. Avery was now driving. Cal was sitting beside him. They were moving slowly through the fog and the deserted streets, observing the speed limit, stopping at any red traffic light or full stop sign, but not traveling so slowly as to attract police attention. That was the last thing they needed at this stage of the game.

The tendrils of the fog embraced the car as if to crush it. Fog frightened Kellie. You never knew what might come at you out of a fog.

aWhen they pay the ransom,a Avery said, still on the case, aweare supposedaa aIfthey pay the ransom,a Cal corrected.

aTheyall pay it, donat worry. But then weare supposed to return her safe and sound. If we send her back with her face all bruisedaa aAinat no bruises on her face,a Cal said.

aGirlas face is her fortune,a Kellie said from the back seat.

aOurs, too,a Avery reminded her.

at.i.ts ainat so bad, neither,a Cal said and grinned.

aHey, cool that s.h.i.t,a Kellie said.

aThe way you hit her,a Avery said, refusing to let go, aher face is gonna swell up like a balloon.a aBlack and blue already,a Kellie said, looking over at Tamar and nodding.

aHowas she doing otherwise?a Avery asked.

aStill out like a light,a Kellie said. aWe got a blanket or something? Sheas half-naked here.a aThat ainat our fault,a Cal said. aShe stripped her own self buck a.s.s naked. They canat blame us for that.a aThey can blame you for swatting her,a Avery insisted.

aHowad you like my swatting the monster, huh?a Cal asked, grinning, turning to look at Avery. aOr didnat you like that, either? Him crouched and ready to spring for our throats, how comeyou didnat swat him, Ave? You were standing right there in front of him. How comeyou didnat take a swing?a aBecause we agreed no violence.a aThat was our agreement, yes,a Kellie said.

aYou go in with 47s,a Cal said, ayou got to expect violence.a aNot if we agreed beforehand.a aThat was before I knew anybody was gonna go for my throat.a aI donat think he was about to go for you,a Avery said reasonably. aHe was just a.s.sessing the situation. He heard you yelling, he naturally wondered what was going on, him being on the floor and all, where he couldnat see. So he lifted himself up to take a look. You shouldnatave hit him and youcertainly shouldnatave hit the girl. I donat want you hitting her again, Cal, you hear me?a aTell him,a Kellie said.

The car went silent.

The fog embraced it.

aAny questions?a Avery asked.

aYeah. How do you get out of this chickens.h.i.t outfit?a Cal said, and laughed at his own witticism.

n.o.body laughed with him.

IN THIS CITY,the facades of the buildings conceal a mult.i.tude of endeavors, many of them criminal. Wh.o.r.e houses flourish on any avenue or side street, blatantly advertising themselves in the trendiest magazines as ma.s.sage parlors, offering up to the tired businessman or the restless college kid a variety of pleasures to satisfy the most obsessive connoisseur. Here in this carnal candyland, the night stalker can find whatever he desires, at whatever price. Nor is this American flesh bazaar limited to the big bad city alone. Travel to the so-called heartland. Open the yellow pages of the local telephone directory, or surf the Internet in your hotel room. It is there. It is everywhere. It is available.

Many of the hidden warrens in this and other American cities now house drug pads to shame the ancient opium dens of China. Where not too many years ago, you could smoke a crack pipe in one of these places for a mere five bucks, this cheap cocaine derivative has now mysteriously fallen out of favor, to be replaced by heroin as the drug of choice, an ascendancy that no doubt thrills the poppy growers in Afghanistan now that theyave been liberated by American soldiers. A sharp loaded with a heroin hit now cost almost three times as much as a puff of crack used to cost. You lay on a narrow cot, and an attendant wrapped a rubber tube around your arm and serviced you. It was like getting blown by a Korean wh.o.r.e in a similar shabby little apartment two blocks away, only better.

Early Sunday morning, far from the sordid city scene, in a gray-shingled beach house on a fog-shrouded beach in Russell County, miles from where the abduction on the River Harb had taken place, Tamar Valparaiso was just regaining consciousness.

3.

SOMETHINGwas covering her eyes.

She could not open her eyes because whatever it wasa"a cloth blindfold, duct tape, whatevera"was so tight. Her first instinct was to reach up with her right hand to pull it free, whatever it was, but she discovered at once that her hands were bound behind her back. Her next instinct was to scream, but there was a gag in her mouth, as tight as the blindfold over her eyes. Run, she thought, run!, and tried to get to her feet, but her ankles were bound, too. She struggled for a moment, angrily, panicking in her helplessness, kicking out at nothing, and then lying still and silent, breathing hard, trying to figure out what was happening to her here.

All at once, she remembered.

Two men coming down the steps just as she was finishing the number. One of them hitting her. The other one clamping a sweet-smelling rag over her nose.

She lay still in the darkness.

Remembering.

She knew even before she began exploring with her legs, reaching out with her legs and her sandaled feet to touch the boundaries of the s.p.a.ce she was in, knew somehow even before her feet touched the confining, defining walls, that she was in a closet. Lying on the hard wooden floor of a closet, her shallow breathing seeming to echo back at her in a small airless cubicle.

She almost panicked again.

She kicked out at the walls, tried to scream again, almost choked, tried to cough out the gag, tried to force her eyes open, her lids fluttering helplessly against the blindfold. She tried to calm herself. Sucked in great gulps of air through her nose. Lay still and silent for several moments, regaining her cool, telling herself to relax, be still.

She eased herself up into a sitting position, her back to what she supposed was the rear wall of the closet. Exploring with her feet, she located what she guessed was a hinge, the thin sole of her slightly heeled sandal catching on something that jutted from the otherwise flat surface, yes, it had to be a hinge, yes, she was indeed facing the closet door.

Bracing both feet hard against the floor, she inched her back slowly up the rear wall of the closet, banging her head on what was obviously a recessed horizontal shelf, but easing her way up and around it, and struggling to her feet at last. Her hands tied behind her back, her feet bound, essentially blind and mute, she used her head and her shoulder to explore the hinged side of the door, locating another hinge higher up. Using her nose as a pointer, she zeroed in on a small protruding k.n.o.b at the top of the hinge.

The blindfold ended just above her cheekbone. She pressed the side of her face against the hinge, and tried to hook the edge of the blindfold over the k.n.o.b. She was about to give up, whena"on the eighth or ninth attempta"she finally snagged it. Yanking downward with a sharp jerk of her head, she pulled the blindfold loose, and opened her eyes.

A thin ribbon of light limned the lower edge of the closet door.

She waited for her eyes to adjust.

Duct tape.

It was duct tape.

The same thing that bound her ankles, and undoubtedly her hands, which she could not see.

She searched the closet floor and the shelf at eye level for any sharp object that might help her free her hands or her feet.

There was nothing.

She tried to hook the gag over the same hinge that had served her with the blindfold. But because it was a rag twisted an inch or so inside her mouth, and tied tightly at the back of her head, there was no slack to it at all, and she could not free it.

She did not know what to do next.

CARELLAwanted to know what they were supposed to do next.

He had waited till a respectable sevenA.M. before phoning Lieutenant Byrnes, and now the two men were discussing whether or not they should drag the FBI into this.

aFor all I know, Loomis has already called them,a Carella said.

aWhoas Loomis?a Byrnes asked.

In the background, Carella could hear a television set going. He imagined his boss at breakfast, sitting at his kitchen table over bacon and eggs, watching television as he ate. Byrnes was a compact man in his fifties, white-haired and blunt-featured. He had no particular fondness for the FBI.

aBarney Loomis,a Carella said. aHeas the CEO of Bison Records. He thinks the perps are going to ask him for the ransom.a aOh? How come?a aHer parents are divorced, one in Mexico, the other in Europe. Also, neither of them has any money.a aState line been crossed here?a Byrnes asked.

aWe donat know where the boat went after the s.n.a.t.c.h. Couldave gone across the river, sure, docked someplace there. In which case, yes, a state lineas been crossed.a aYou say this girlas a celebrity?a aPersonally, I never heard of her, Pete. According to Loomis, sheas the hottest thing around. But he owns the label, so what do you expect him to say?a aYou think he may have already called the Feds?a aI have no idea. He wants that girl back.a aWhatad you say her name was?a aTamar Valparaiso.a aCause here she is now,a Byrnes said, and got up to raise the volume on the television set. aCan you hear this?a he asked Carella.

aI can hear it,a Carella said, and nodded grimly.

aafrom a luxury yacht in the River Harb last night,a a television newscaster was saying. aAccording to U.S. Coast Guard reportsaa aHowad theyad get in this?a Byrnes said into the phone.

aHarbor Patrol called them.a aatwo armed and masked men boarded theRiver Princess at about ten-fifteen, seizing the talented young singer as she was performing her debut alb.u.m,Banders.n.a.t.c.h, for a hundred or more invited guestsaa aWhat channel is that?a Carella asked.

aFive,a Byrnes said.

aFouras gonna sue the city.a aaBarney Loomis, who says Bison has not yet received a ransom demand. In Riverhead this morningaa aThatas it,a Byrnes said, and lowered the volume. aSue the city? Why?a aCause I confiscated a tape of the kidnapping.a aOoops.a aIt was evidence. So what do we do here, Pete? Pursue this or phone the FBI?a aLet me talk to the Commish. Iall tell you the truth, I donat know. What Idonat want is for the Feds to use us as errand boys. Thatas the last thing I want. n.o.body called from them yet, huh?a aNot yet.a aLet me see what the Commish advises. I know he wonat want heat later on, anybody saying we dropped the ball prematurely. Youare about out of there, anyway, arenat you?a Carella looked up at the clock.

aHalf an hour,a he said.

aGet some sleep, you may have to come back in. I donat know how this is gonna fall, Steve, weall have to play it as it lays. Call me later, okay?a aYou coming in today?a aNo, itas supposed to be my day off. Call me at home.a aThereas the other line,a Carella said.

aIall wait. Maybe itas the Feds.a Carella put Byrnes on HOLD, stabbed at a b.u.t.ton on the base of his phone.

aCarella,a he said.

aCarella, this is Sandy McIntosh, HPU. You got a minute?a aYeah, hang on.a He switched over to Byrnes again. aItas the Harbor Patrol. Am I on the job, or what?a aStay with it for now,a Byrnes said. aCall me later.a Carella switched to the other line again.

aOkay, Sandy, Iam back,a he said.