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Croaker looked up； puzzled。 'What the hell are you talking about？'
Vegas laughed good…naturedly。 'What I gots downstairs in the wagon is one piece of high…priced property； man。 C'mon； follow me。' Croaker swung his jacket off the chair…back； followed Vegas down the hall。
'This better be worth it；' he said shortly。 'I ain't got time for any of your jive。'
'Oh； no jive； man。 No jive。' Vegas laughed again； stabbed the elevator button。 'What I got on ice down in the alley is goin' make your day。 Trust me。' He gave a hearty laugh and slapped Croaker on the back as the elevator doors opened and they rode down。 They shared the car with a uniform bringing a scruffy…looking Puerto Rican collar down for prints and pics and nothing more was said until they went out through the side entrance。
They came abreast of the police van in the cool dimness of the concrete alley。 In this tightly enclosed space； Vegas's body…size was magnified； he was as big as Paul Bunyan amid the White Mountains。
He put an enormous hand on Croaker's shoulder and Croaker was automatically reminded of one of the cases on which they had been teamed。 The Atherton thing。 Christ； he thought； but that was a bitch ！ Thought sure we were gonna float away on a sea of blood and never see this goddamned world again。 Jesus I He could see it as clearly as if it had just happened： he down with his shoulder shattered by a 。45 slug and Vegas rising from the shadows of the burned…out car like an avenging angel。 Croaker had fired on his assailant； spinning him around； his second and third shots a useless reflex aimed at the stars。 But there was this mountain of a black man with the tyre chain and the snub…nosed pistol the bastard had modified so that it could blast a hole in a brick wall at ten feet； and Vegas took him on with just his bare hands and I never saw anyone go down so hard or so fast 〃from one blow as that motherfucking hood。 There were three other corpses that night； Jesus； what fucking mess！ Croaker felt the pressure of the other's grip。
'Don't you worry none；' the big man said softly。 'We look out for each other； don't we？ I don't give a rat's ass for anyone around here； you know that？ They're all a bunch of goddamned
hypocrites。 I got my job to do； I do it。 The rest of them； well； they all got an axe to grind； one way or another。 There's always an angle to play out here； ain't that right。 War's a perfect place for angles； you know that。 The smart make out in wars。 They ain't got no conscience； they ain't got no emotion。 All they got to worry about is keeping their tails on straight； after that； they got all the time in the world to look for the gravy rollin' in under the dirt and the scum and the …' Vegas stopped abruptly； aware that his grip had tightened painfully on his friend's flesh。 He shook his head like a wounded animal。 'Sorry； Soldier； it's been a heavy day。' He smiled ruefully。 'Real heavy duty。'
'It's okay； Spook。' They had given each other nicknames long ago when they had first met； it gave them both a forting feeling of privacy amid the openness of their days and nights on the force。 At times； Croaker thought that this was the falsest feeling in the world； on those days when he felt pletely invaded by his job。 'We're two fucking heroes who think that shovellin' shit is heroic。' He laughed。 'But cheer up。 What the hell； it could be worse。 We could be the ones ma1（in' the shit。'
Vegas threw back his head and laughed； the rich sound rolling off the high walls。 'Now； look； here's the dope；' he said。 'We been working； like I said； on this Scarsdale bust for three months； no less。 We get a tip to move。 We move。 Lots of stuff there … enough pills to keep the goddamned Chinese Army awake for a year； a whole lotta horse； carload o' coke an' about a half a ton of reefer madness。 Okay； not so bad。 That's going on in the back of the place。 In the front they got a party going on and everyone gets busted； you know？ That's when I saw her。 Thought I'd bring her in myself； just in case。 I think she's clean but' … he shrugged … 'you know how that is sometimes。 Anyway； she's yours if you want her … I can straighten them out upstairs。'
'How can I know if I want her；' Croaker said； 'if I don't
know who she is？'
Vegas transferred his hand from Croaker's shoulder to the lever of the back door to the van。 'Sittin' in the。 dark right in here； man； is Raphael's elder daughter； Gelda Tomkin。'
Croaker felt a jolt race through him just as if he had been doused with ice water。
Vegas leaned on the lever； grinning； the reinforced…steel door swung outward and Croaker stepped in。 The door slammed shut behind him。
He stood for a moment in the dimness unmoving； letting his eyes adjust to the low light seeping in through the windshield； washed to a pale grey by the mesh screen dividing the blessed from the damned。
She sat on one of the plain metal benches riveted along either side of the van。 Her head was tilted back； resting against the wall。 This put her profile into prominence so that he could see the arch of her long forehead； the straight patrician nose； the flair of the highly sensual lips； the long cool sweep of her curving throat。 He knew without having to see them now the dark sparks of her eyes； the rather heavy torso with its thrusting breasts and ample hips。 Knew； too； the long sweep of the perfect legs from thigh to calf to slim exquisite ankle palely outlined as they stretched out before her； those magnificent legs which； quite inexplicably； made her heaviness an overwhelm…iogasset。
'Well 。。。' He felt a great weight about his body and an inarticulateness that obliged him to clear his throat and begin again。 'Well； Gelda； what have you been up to now？'
The sharply delineated profile dissolved into sweeping shadow as she turned her head to look in his direction。
'Who the hell are you？' Even in anger there was a rich lustre； a 〃silkine^s to her voice that made it seem as if he had spoken to her yesterday instead of several months ago。 Even alarm could not diminish its effectiveness。
'Croaker；' he said； moving towards her。 'Lieutenant。 Remember me？'
'Should I？' The tone had turned aqueous； soft and languid。 The air between them seemed to tremble。
'Maybe。 I met you once before。' He stood over her now； not seeing anything in the twilight except the pale sheen from the whites of her large eyes。 But he felt her presence acutely and it gave him pleasure to stand thus。 'I interviewed you at the beginning of the summer regarding the Angela Didion murder； we talked about your father。'
'That shit！' Even though she spat it out； there remained an
elegance to it。 He heard her take a breath。 'Yeah。 I remember
you。 Big dude with a face like Robert Mitchum's。' His laugh was a brief bark。 'How flattering！ Thanks。' 'Don't get cocky。 His face looks like it's waged World War
Three。 So does yours。'
He waited for a moment； then said； 'Mind if I sit down？' 'You mean I've got a choice？' When he didn't answer； he
felt her shrug。 'Suit yourself。 This isn't my house。'
'That'd be on Sutton Place； right？' he said； sitting down next
to her。
Abruptly her head came away from the wall。 'What the hell's going on； anyway？' s