Duke had always protected his little brother, done his fighting-it seemed logical to me that Brendan would go to him in the end when he needed the biggest favor of all.”
“Kill Amanda but keep the Keating fortune,” I said.
“What else would he have to give Duke but money? Trish probably found the stash after he was killed, cleaning out his apartment.”
“And Teddy O’Malley?”
“Playing two sides against the middle. Quillians and Hassetts-both families go way back in the business. I tell you it’s tribal with those sandhogs. It was a classic blood feud, and O’Malley wasn’t any damn good at choosing sides. So he gambled with each of them. He was ready to sell Quillian to the highest bidder, and he lost big.”
The train had cruised by the Bleecker Street and Astor Place stations, slowing through the crowded platform at Fourteenth Street, before speeding up again.
“I guess Peterson has the squad looking for Bobby Hassett right now,” Mike said to Mercer. “After the docs check me out, bandage me, you and I can catch up with them.”
Mercer shook his head. “By the time they’re through with you tonight-thin ankle, thick head, and all-I expect Mr. Hassett will be snug behind bars.”
“Screw the hospital. Want to take this damn thing all the way to the end of the line?” Mike asked. I could feel his relief, the tension easing in his body.
“Get me off this chariot, Mr. Chapman. I want to smell fresh air and see the daylight-well, moonlight-as soon as possible. I want to get your ankle taped up so you can take me dancing. I want to be sure that everyone Brendan Quillian hurt throughout his life knows he can’t ever do that again. I want to turn on my faucets every day and find the best-tasting water in the world still coming out of them, and be grateful to all the people who’ve been digging the holes to get it here. I want you to promise me that-”
“Go easy on me, Coop. Way too many demands. Do I have to apologize for taking you into the loop tonight, too?” Mike asked.
“Buy me two drinks and ask me then. If I can hold on to the glass without shaking, without spilling a drop of my Scotch-you’ll be forgiven.”
“What do you think, Mercer? I got the best seat in the house, don’t I?”
The train rocked from side to side and Mike squeezed my hand again.
Acknowledgments
Beneath the streets of New York is a multitude of labyrinthine systems, dug deep into the bedrock of Manhattan Island, which give life to the city above. Subway tubes, gas mains, housing for electrical wiring, sewers and shafts of every variety-as well as the two antiquated tunnels that have carried billions of gallons of fresh water daily, for almost a century, from upstate to the five boroughs-were all built by a small cadre of construction workers known as sandhogs. They have not only created this underground kingdom, but they are the only men ever to see most of it.
I first read about the plans for City Tunnel Number 3-and those who have died making it-in a riveting article called “City of Water” by David Grann, in The New Yorker magazine (September 1, 2003). Two years later, Lesley Stahl and her 60 Minutes crew took the Alimak cage dozens of stories down and went into the dangerous arms of the tunnel’s building site to explore this brilliant feat of modern engineering…and led the way for me to follow.
Nonfiction works that provided fascinating historical information include David McCullough’s The Great Bridge; Paul E. Delaney’s Sandhogs; Gerard T. Koeppel’s Water for Gotham; Lorraine B. Diehl’s Subways; and Edward F. Bergman’s Woodlawn Remembers.
I lost a great friend when Bohn Vergari died-way too young-and it was his beloved wife, Jane, who suggested to me that I research the lifesaving work of the medical teams at Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center. My special thanks to Dr. Ann Jakubowski for her wisdom and courage.
Thanks to everyone (and I do mean everyone) at Scribner and Pocket Books, and especially to Colin Harrison, whose guidance and insights are invaluable. Boundless gratitude to my great friend Esther Newberg at ICM, along with her trusty aides, Kari Stuart and Chris Earle.
This book is for Hilary Hale of Time Warner/Little, Brown, who found Alex Cooper shortly after her “birth,” and has introduced my books to readers in more places than I ever dreamed possible. Hilary’s intelligence and kindness, her editorial eye and firm friendship, have been a treasured partnership for more than a decade.
And once again, to Justin, who-this time-has truly given me his heart.
About the Author
LINDA FAIRSTEIN, America ’s foremost legal expert on crimes of sexual assault and domestic violence, led the pioneering Sex Crimes Unit of the District Attorney’s Office in Manhattan for twenty-five years, leaving in 2002 to write, lecture, and continue her advocacy for victims of violent crime. A Fellow of the American College of Trial Lawyers and a member of the International Society of Barristers, she is a graduate of Vassar College and the University of Virginia School of Law. Her first novel, Final Jeopardy, which introduced the character Alexandra Cooper, was published in 1996 to critical and commercial acclaim. All eight Alex Cooper novels also achieved international bestseller status, and her most recent, Death Dance, debuted at #4 on the New York Times bestseller list. Fairstein’s nonfiction book, Sexual Violence, was a New York Times Notable Book in 1994. She lives with her husband in Manhattan and on Martha’s Vineyard. Her website is www.lindafairstein.com.
