Located on East Seventy-second Street, on the Upper East Side, the Eighteenth Precinct had the swankiest address of any of Manhattan's twenty-three precincts.

In an effort to keep the exterior from looking like a blight on the fancy neighborhood, the building had a pair of heavy, ornate front doors flanked on both sides by antique gas lanterns. Inside, however, the place was as unappealing and overcrowded as any other NYPD precinct.

Shrader was already waiting outside Captain Holland's office when Sam arrived at noon on Saturday. He looked tired, disheveled, and moody "Damn," he said with a yawn, "I was hoping to get a day or two off while CSU went over the cabin. It felt good to sleep in my own bed last night. What time did Holland call you this morning and tell you to come in?"

"A little before eight," Sam replied.

"The man doesn't sleep. He's always here. He lives for his job," Shrader said.

In Sam's opinion, Thomas Holland was more likely living for his next job. Everyone knew there was going to be an opening for a deputy commissioner, and the rumor was that Thomas Holland was a top candidate.

"Steve Womack is coming back to work on Monday," Shrader added with another yawn. "He says his shoulder has healed up fine after the surgery, and he can't stand another day at home."

The news that Shrader's regular partner was returning meant that Sam would be assigned to someone else, and her heart sank at the thought of being pulled off the Manning investigation. "I guess that's why I'm here then—" she said aloud, "Captain Holland wants a verbal report from both of us and then he'll reassign me."

Shrader grinned. "You'd better put on a happy face, Littleton, or I'll get the impression you're gonna miss me."

Sam neither confirmed nor denied it. "I'm going to miss being on the Manning case," she told him instead, "—assuming there is a case."

The door to Holland's office opened suddenly, and he gestured them inside. "Thanks for coming in on your day off," he said, closing the door behind them. "I have to sign some papers, and then we'll talk. Have a seat," he added, nodding toward the two chairs in front of his desk as he walked behind it and picked up his pen.

As precinct captain, Holland had an office that was situated at the end of a long hallway, somewhat removed from the general chaos, and it was larger than the others scattered about the old building's four crowded floors. It also had some unusually nice personal touches, like the antique leather bookends on his desk and the centuries-old globe that stood on an ornate brass stand in the corner by the windows. The pieces weren't overtly valuable, but Sam knew they were, and they gave his office a subtle touch of elegance that was meant to be appreciated by those few visitors with enough taste to recognize their merit—and to be overlooked by everyone else. Just like the deliberately understated, but expensive, clothes he wore, Thomas Holland's office was as subtly distinctive as the handsome man who occupied it.

Like his uncles and his grandfather, he'd made law enforcement his career, but unlike them, he had a master's degree, a trust fund, and a feasible hope of becoming police commissioner. At forty-one years old, he not only had an outstanding record as a cop, and an even better one as an administrator, he also had the refined good looks and polished veneer that Mayor Edelman needed to enhance the NYPD's public image.

He signed the last paper, laid his pen aside, and looked at Shrader. "There's been a development in the Manning investigation," he said briskly, but there was an edge to his voice that made Sam think he didn't like the development. "Commissioner Trumanti wants a team of four investigators on the case, and he's handpicked the lead investigator. You and Womack will be on his team."

"Who's the lead?" Shrader said shortly.

"His name is McCord. Trumanti wanted to move the investigation to headquarters, but this is our case, and it's a potential bombshell. I persuaded Trumanti that we can keep a tighter control on leaks if the investigation stays right here. The Feds have never been able to make a case against Valente that sticks, but we are going to nail that bastard and send him away. Thanks to the press, the Feds already know he's involved in this case, and they're looking for a chance to get in on the investigation, but that's not going to happen. The one thing Trumanti and I agree on is that we want this case kept under tight wraps while we find out exactly how Valente is involved. Nobody—and I mean nobody," he emphasized, finally looking at Sam, "talks to the press, or to anyone else not directly involved in the investigation. Got it?"

Sam nodded.

"Got it," Shrader said.

"Whatever you need," Holland continued, "just ask for it and you'll have it—overtime, additional manpower, warrants, whatever. The DA's office will get us anything else we can't get for ourselves." He stood up, ending the meeting. "McCord will be using Lieutenant Unger's vacant office during the investigation. He's up there now, and he wants to meet with you at twelve-forty-five. Sam, I've recommended that McCord make you the fourth member of the team. If there's a case here, it's because of you; however, the final decision about you is up to him. Any questions?"

Shrader spoke before Sam could say thank you. "McCord?" he repeated. "You don't mean Mitchell McCord, do you, Captain?"

Holland nodded curtly. "The great man himself."

"Thank you, Captain Holland," Sam said formally.

Shrader headed out of the office, but Holland signaled Sam to stay behind for a moment. He waited until Shrader was out of hearing; then he lowered his voice and said with a smile, "Nice work finding that note Valente wrote to the Manning woman. Your father is going to be very proud of you."

"I haven't spoken to my stepfather about any of this," she said, subtly reminding him of her actual relationship to the man. "He and my mother are very busy this time of year, and I've been a little preoccupied."

"I understand," he said; then he dismissed her with a quick nod and another brief smile. "Close my office door behind you when you leave."

Sam closed his door as bidden.

Tom Holland decided to call her stepfather. He picked up his telephone and spoke to the clerk outside his office. "See if you can locate Senator Hollenbeck."