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'Is there a delayed telecast of the game later tonight?'

'I think so, yeah,' Wilson said.

Swain sighed again. 'I'll call you.'

----ooo0ooo------

Stephen Swain leaned on the steering wheel of his Range Rover as he pulled it to a stop at the traffic lights. He glanced across at the passenger seat beside him. Holly was sitting with her hands in her lap and her head bowed, her feet jutting out horizontally from the seat, unable to reach the floor. They weren't swinging wildly about as they usually did.

The car was quiet.

'You okay?' Swain asked softly.

'Hmmm.'

Swain leaned over to look at her.

'Oh, don't do that,' he said gently, reaching for a tissue. 'Here.' He dabbed at the tears that had run down her cheeks.

Swain had arrived at the school just as Holly was leaving the vice-principal's office. Her ears were red and she'd been crying. It was harsh, he thought, that an eight-year-old should get such a dressing down.

'Hey,' he said. 'It's all right.'

Holly lifted her head. Her eyes were watery and red.

She swallowed. 'I'm sorry, Daddy. I tried.'

'You tried?'

'To be a lady. I really did. I really tried hard.'

Swain smiled. 'You did, huh?' He grabbed another tissue. 'Mrs Tickner didn't tell me what made you do it. All she said was that the lunchtime teacher found you straddled on top of some boy, beating the hell out of him.'

'Mrs Tickner wouldn't listen to me. She just kept saying that it didn't matter what made me do it, only that it was wrong for a lady to fight.'

The lights went green. Swain put the Range Rover into gear and moved off.

'So what did happen, then?'

Holly hesitated, then said, 'Tommy Jacobs was calling you a murderer.'

Swain closed his eyes momentarily. 'He was, was he?'

'Yes.'

'And you tackled him and punched him for that?'

'No, I punched him first.'

'But for that. For calling me a murderer?'

'Uh-huh.'

Swain turned to face Holly and nodded. 'Thanks,' he said seriously.

Holly smiled weakly. Swain turned his eyes back to the road. 'How many lines did you get?'

'One hundred times: 'I must not fight because it is not ladylike'.'

'Well, since this was partly my fault, what do you say you do fifty, and I'll do the other fifty in your handwriting.'

Holly smiled. 'That would be good, Daddy.' Her eyes began to brighten.

'Good,' Swain nodded. 'Just next time, try not to fight. If you can, try to think your way out of it. You'd be surprised, you can do a lot more damage with your brains than with your fists. And you can still be a lady at the same time.' Swain slowed the car and looked at his daughter. 'Fighting is never the answer. Only fight when it's the last option you've got.'

'Like you did, Daddy?'

'Yeah,' Swain said. 'Like I did.'

Holly lifted her head and began to peer out the window. She didn't recognise this area.

'Where are we going?' she said.

'I've got to go to the police station.'

'Daddy, are you in trouble again?'

'No, honey, I'm not in trouble.'

'Can I help you!' the harried-looking receptionist yelled above the din.

Swain and Holly were standing in the lobby of the 14th Precinct of the New York Police Department. There was activity everywhere. Beat cops hauling drug dealers away; phones ringing; people shouting. A prostitute in the corner winked sexily at Swain as he stood at the check-in desk.

'Uh, yes, my name is Stephen Swain. I'm here to see Detective Dickson. I was supposed to see him at five, but I had some time, so I--'

'That's fine, you're on the list. He's up in his office now. You can go right up. Office 209.'

Status Check: Electrification systems ready.

Swain headed for the stairwell at the rear of the bullpen. As he did so, Holly bounded to his side and grabbed his hand. Swain looked down at the blonde ponytail bobbing madly up and down beside him. Wide-eyed and interested, Holly was taking in the pandemonium of the police station with the curiosity of a scientist. She certainly was resilient, that was for sure, and with her natural blonde hair, blue eyes, button nose and sharp-eyed gaze, she was looking more and more like her mother every day...

Stop it, Swain thought. Don't go there. Not now...

He shook his thoughts away as they ascended the stairs.

On the second floor, they came to a door marked: 209: HOMICIDE. Swain heard a familiar voice shouting from within.

'I don't care what your problem is! I want that building shut down, okay!'

'But sir--'

'Don't give me that, John. Just listen for a moment, will you. Good. Now look at what we have here. A security guard found lying on the floor -- in two pieces -- and a two-bit thief who's found sitting there next to him. Yeah, that's right, he's just sitting there when we arrive.

'And this thief, he's got blood all over his face and all down the front of his body. But it's not his blood, it's the guard's. Now I don't know what's going on. You tell me. Do you think this thief is from one of those crazy sects, who goes out, chops up a security guard, rubs the blood all over himself, and then manages to overturn a couple of ten-foot-tall bookcases?'

The voice paused for a moment, listening while the other man mumbled something.

'John, we don't know shit. And until we find out more, I'm shutting down that library. Okay?'

'Okay, Sarge,' the other voice relented.

'Good,' the first voice was calm again. 'Now get down there, set up the tape around all entrances and exits, and put a couple of our guys inside for the night.'

The door opened. Swain stepped aside as a short officer came out of the office, smiled quickly at him, and then headed down the corridor and into the stairwell.

Status Check: Electrification to commence in two hours.

Earth time: sixth hour post meridian.

Swain knocked softly on the door and peered inside the office.

The wide room was empty, save for one desk over by the window. There Swain saw a large barrel-chested man seated in a swivel chair, his back to the door. He was gazing out the window, sipping from a coffee mug, savouring, it seemed, a rare moment's silence.

Swain knocked again.

'Yeah, come in,' the man didn't look up.

Swain hesitated, 'Ah, Detective--'

Captain Henry Dickson swung around in the swivel chair. 'Oh, I'm sorry, I was expecting someone else.' He got up quickly, crossed the room and shook Swain's hand. 'How are you today, Dr Swain?'

'Gettin' there,' Swain nodded. 'I had some time so I thought I'd come in and get this thing out of the way, if that's all right.'