"What are you saying?" Peta stared at the police detective in disbelief.
"I have no other way of saying it. There is absolutely no record of this case."
"That's crazy!" She realized that she was shouting, but made no effort to lower her voice. "I know the case was closed, but you'd thinksomebody around here would remember a bombing and death on New Year's Eve. Damn it, it was only a year ago - "
"Look, lady, calm down." He walked to the door, which she had left slightly ajar, and closed it. Returning to his desk, he sat on the edge facing her. "I'm sorry about this. Really I am. But there's nothing I can do."
Peta sat back and stared at him. Feeling utterly defeated, she took out the pack of cigarettes she'd bought in Miami, peeled off the cellophane wrapping, and took one out. A thousand disconnected thoughts seemed to be chasing each other around her head.
"You can't - ah, the hell with it."
He took a lighter out of his pocket and lit her cigarette. Still leaning forward, he whispered, "I'm going to tell you something, but if you repeat it, I'll deny I said a word." She started to interrupt him, but he held up his hand. "Listen carefully, 'cause I'm only going to say this once. Early last August, some NSA suits came in here and took away a bunch of records. They erased everything about them in our computers and told me that as far as I was concerned, that explosion that killed thedoc...it never happened."
"Why - ?"
"Hey, the Feds come in here waving writs around, you don't ask questions."
She nodded, though her mind was more confused than before. "So why are you telling me?"
The captain leaned back onto the desk and said, "Doc Marryshow, he saved my life way back when I was a rookie. I was burned real bad, y'know. He lived a couple of blocks from here. Used to pop in to see how I was. He was real interested in police work too. Always asking me questions..."
A few minutes later, Peta stood outside the precinct house. She had never felt more confused and angry. Sheltering herself against the old brick wall of the building, she pulled out her cell phone. Grateful that it was a multisystem unit and that she didn't have to search for a public phone, she dialed Ray's private number.
As she listened to it ring, she wondered what exactly it was that she was going to tell him - and why. There wasn't anything either of them could do at this stage.
She disconnected the phone.
Screw Frik. Screw the Daredevils, all of them. She really didn't give a damn about any of them.
All she cared about was going to Danny's to keep her promise to Arthur, and to herself. She pulled her gloves out of her handbag and put them on, wrapped her shawl around her neck and over her head like a hood, and dragged her case the eight city blocks from the Midtown North precinct station to Danny's.
George spotted her as she entered the small foyer. He ran toward her, put his arms around her, and held her, gently, as if she were fragile and might break.
He took the suitcase from her and led her inside. At the far end of the bar, the piano player recognized Peta. Smiling broadly, he switched gears into "Happy Birthday to You," played a few bars of "Hot, Hot, Hot," then segued, as he had done so many times before, into a lively rendition of "Dollar Wine."
I should have told George to tell him to cut that out, she thought, forcing herself to look across at the piano. Sitting there, his back to her, was a cafe au lait man about the same size and build as Arthur.
Where are you when I need you, David Copperfield? There is no magic and this was a terrible idea, she thought.
The man turned around to face her.
"You son of a bitch! How could you!" she yelled as adrenaline powered by a mix of untrammeled fury and profound joy propelled her across the room. She rushed at him, punched him full out, and knocked him backward onto the piano. "One whole year, you let me believe you were dead."
For a few moments, Arthur let her rant. Then she felt his arms around her. He held her so close she could hardly breathe. When the tears came, he kissed them away.
When they stopped, he led her to the corner table markedReserved .
"Would you give me a chance to apologize? To explain," he said, holding her hand across the white linen tablecloth.
"Do I have a choice?"
"I had to do it," Arthur said. "Ray helped me. We faked the whole thing."
Peta's mind flashed back to the bloody fragments on the men's-room floor. "If it wasn't you - "
"I assure you it wasn't." Arthur accompanied his weak attempt at humor with a kiss on her hand. "When I went out there, I opened a door near the bathrooms for Ray to bring in a body he'd 'borrowed' from the morgue's John Doe slab. We'd figured any male would do, given that he was about to be blown to bits."
"So you locked the corpse, with explosive attached, into the bathroom, and slipped out the rear door?"
"Right."
"But why, Arthur? And where have you been all this time?"
A part of their conversation a year ago struggled into Peta's consciousness.There's new trouble brewing in the Middle East, big trouble. After the meeting, I'm going to Israel. I'll be teaching medics about frontline emergency burn treatment .
There had been trouble all right, and it wasn't over yet. "It was the Israel thing, wasn't it?" she said.
He nodded. "That was part of it. But also, there was no other way I could properly investigate Frik. He's dangerous, Peta. It's not just the artifact. I still have to find proof, but I can tell you that he has his hands in a lot of other dirty business."
"Seems to be a proliferation of that around here," Peta said.
"Of what?"
"Dirty business. My guess is, it's reached epidemic proportions." She told him about her experience that afternoon with New York's finest. "They knew it was a setup, didn't they? The police."
"Yes. But not until the people I work for squashed the investigation."
"How long have you - ?"
"Been back? Long enough to have my contacts retrieve my piece of the artifact."
She pulled her hand away from him. "Why didn't you get in touch with me? I've been through hell - "
"Orders. There's still too much going on. My silence is part of the deal. I've already said too much."
"Will they ever let you tell me?"
"I'm working on it. That's all I can say - for now."
"I can be trusted to keep my mouth shut. You know that."
"That's not the point."
She looked him straight in the eye. In a monotone which held no vestige of emotion she said, "Tell me, Arthur. Whatis the point."
He leaned forward so far that his face was almost touching hers. "The point, my darling Peta, is that once I tell you...ifI tell you...you'll be as involved as I am."
Give it up, girl, she thought. At least for now. Leave the recriminations alone and delight in the gift of his presence. "Have you seen Ray?" she asked, making an enormous effort to appear normal.
"I was with him when you called to tell him you were coming to Danny's. I booked a seat here right away, and another back to Vegas on the flight with you. The plan now is to test the whole artifact's capabilities at the meeting, where we can keep Frik under wraps." He glanced at her neck. "I heard about the stunt he pulled in Grenada. And that you had to give him your pendant."
"Sadly, yes."
Saying nothing about the switch she had made with the pendant, Peta raised her glass. You want closemouthed. I'll give you closemouthed. "Happy birthday, Arthur Marryshow," she said. "Happy birthday to us."