'Why not? If they came after us? I bet you would. I know you would.'
'Well, luckily they haven't done anything physical to you or Vince yet, so we don't get to find out. I don't really want to find out. I'm plenty mad at them for what they've already done.' This time he couldn't stop himself from lying. 'But I really think this is pretty much over, Beck. Tomorrow night at this time we're back in our own beds. You'll see.'
'But what if we're not?'
'Then the night after.'
She frowned. 'Now you're just trying to make me feel better.'
'Not just now,' he said. 'All the time.'
'But I need to know what's really happening.'
'What's really happening…' He drew a deep breath, came out with a deeper truth. 'I don't know for sure what's really happening, Beck. I don't want you to have to go through this.'
'But I'm already in it, Daddy. We're here.'
'I know.' He gathered her back against him. 'I know.' The city lights blinked in the windblown dust outside. Hardy tightened his arm around his girl. 'I don't think I've been much of a help tonight, have
I?'
'I'm still a little scared, if that's what you mean.'
Hardy sighed. 'That's what I mean.'
'You can't protect me against my feelings, Daddy.'
'I know,' Hardy said. 'And that just breaks my heart.' He wondered anew whether he could protect her from anything at all, and a fresh wave of anger swept over him. All the words in the world to the contrary, he suddenly knew he would kill without mercy if anyone harmed his girl. And maybe it wouldn't hurt her to have some intimation of that, in spite of what he'd just told her to the contrary. 'You know how I said I wouldn't do anything if something happened to you?'
'Yes.'
'Well, if I could stop it before it could get to you, if it got to that…' He didn't finish. 'I'm speaking hypothetically, now, Beck. But there's absolutely no way I'd let anybody hurt you.'
Her tentative question nearly brought him to tears. 'So what are we going to do?'
'I'm not completely sure yet, hon. But your mother and I, we're going to take care of you, no matter what. Maybe,' he said, 'if I can get myself to abandon John Holiday…'
'But you can't do that. He's your friend.'
'Right.' Out of the mouths of babes, Hardy thought. 'I know. But maybe I can make them think I stopped.' He stopped himself again. He was about to say, 'Then set some kind of trap for them.' 'But look,' he did say, 'let's believe for a minute there's a really pretty decent chance that in a day or two they'll have these people in jail.'
'And then they won't be after us?'
'No.' He chucked her gently under her chin. 'But they're probably already not after you now, not really.'
She looked up at him hopefully. 'Promise?'
Hardy hesitated. They had a rule about a promise being a promise, sacred and unbreakable. 'I really don't think so,' he finally said.
He felt a small shudder pass through her. 'That's not a promise.'
'No, I know,' he said. 'But close.'
29
Hardy pushed open the street level door to the Freeman building. He crossed the foyer and got to the top of the staircase, then stood still a moment where it opened into the reception lobby. For the first time since the attack on David, he felt some sense of life here again. A half dozen people in the Solarium appeared to be taking depositions; three of the associates and a couple of paralegals stood by the coffee machine, deep in conversation; the steady whine of the copying machines filled in the background noise. Maybe he'd just happened upon a flurry, but the telephones kept Phyllis's head down and hands busy.
'Mr. Hardy. Dismas.' Suddenly Norma appeared at his elbow. 'We missed you yesterday. Is everything all right?'
He didn't know the answer to that. Certainly everything didn't feel all right. His family was still in hiding at McGuire's. He was going on less than four hours' sleep. Freeman was still unconscious. He hadn't heard that Sephia and Panos had been arrested.
'I mean, you never came in,' she said. 'Some of us were worried.'
'I had some work out of the office,' he said. 'It hung me up all day.' Smiling politely, he pointed across the lobby to the other set of stairs that led to his office. 'I don't even want to look at the clutter on my desk, but I'd better get on up there.'
'Of course, but I… I wanted to thank you.'
'For what?'
'For your inspiration the other night.' She gestured vaguely around the lobby, the steady hum of industry.
'Well.' In truth, after Hardy had finished his little speech on Friday night, the Solarium hadn't exactly exploded into wild applause. He'd told everybody good night and gotten out of there as quickly as he could, slightly embarrassed that he'd gotten caught up in the moment and exposed himself so openly as basically uncool. He felt sure that he'd given some of the younger people, especially, but also a few of the more cynical associates and paralegals, fuel for the fires of ridicule. He could easily imagine the snickering after he left. All in all, he wished he hadn't done it at all, or failing that, that he'd thought of something light and gotten everybody laughing.
But now Norma had her hand on his arm. 'You shouldn't be modest. Look what that did for everybody here.'
Hardy couldn't deny that the buzz was better, but… 'I don't really think that was me.'
'Well, be that as it may,' Norma said, 'everybody else does. And I just wanted to thank you again, to tell you how much it meant to me. And to the firm. It was the perfect note. You can see the results for yourself. Look around.'
Hardy had already seen enough, and it did gratify him. With David in the hospital, though, and so many other problems hanging fire, he wasn't quite ready to do cartwheels. Still, he gave the lobby a last glance. 'Well,' he said, 'I'm glad I could help. And now'-he pointed again-'the grind awaits.'
He crossed over to the reception area, looked a question at Phyllis, who held up a finger, asking him to wait. After an impressive trifecta of 'Freeman and Associates, would you please hold,' got the switchboard under control, she looked up and actually smiled as though she were happy to see him. New ground. 'Lieutenant Glitsky has already called three times this morning. He says it's urgent.'
Glitsky had found out about Thieu when he opened the morning paper and read about his apparent suicide. It didn't much convince him. Or rather, it finally did convince him of what he'd begun strongly to suspect. He decided on the spot that he wasn't going into his office again today. A sworn policeman with a clear duty, he was going to do some real police work at last, on his own if need be. Hardy had already talked to Holiday, continuing in his counsel that the client should stay out of sight, don't worry, they'd found strong evidence that might clear him before too long. He should just remain patient. By the time Gina Roake called, Hardy was on the other line with his second judge of the morning, Oscar Thomasino. The first one, this week's magistrate Timothy Hill, had shot him down about quashing Holiday's arrest warrant almost before Hardy got the question out. 'Surrender your client, Diz. Then we litigate. That's the process and you know it.'
And Thomasino, who'd known and respected Hardy for many years, told him he didn't see what he could do.
