Out on the sidewalk, the two detectives stood talking for a moment or two, and then Neil took hold of Kevin’s arm. ‘Come on, kid, I’ll walk you down the block to Houston. You can grab a cab there. Your uptown girl won’t be mad at you, will she?’

      Kevin shook his head as he fell into step with Neil. ‘No, she’s used to me showing up hours late. She doesn’t like it, but she doesn’t take it out on me. Anyway, she’ll be pleased, no relieved, when I tell her I’m moving to the Crime Intelligence Division.’

      Neil threw him an odd look. ‘But it’s still dangerous work.’

      ‘You know that, Neil. I know it. But she doesn’t. And neither does my sister Rosie. Lately, they’ve both been on my back, wanting me to make a change, so I’m damn sure they’ll be happy to hear that I have. Crime Intelligence Division does sound like a desk job, doesn’t it?’

      ‘It could mean anything…I guess.’

      Shivering, Kevin shrugged deeper into his overcoat, pushed his hands into his pockets. ‘Shit, it’s freezing tonight, and there’s never a cab around when you need one.’

      That’s what they usually say about cops,’ Neil remarked, and let out a hollow laugh.

      ‘Why the hell did you have to pick a crummy bar all the way downtown? On the Bowery, for God’s sake!’

      ‘Because it’s as far removed from Little Colombia as I could get without goin’ to New Jersey,’ Neil explained, making reference to the Elmhurst section of Queens, where Kevin operated most of the time.

      ‘I can’t say I’m sorry to be saying goodbye to that neighbourhood,’ Kevin confided as they strode on down the street. ‘And thank God I’ll never have to darken the doors of Mesón Asturias again. I’ve grown to detest the place. And to think, thirty years ago that little cantina was a typical Irish neighbourhood bar, full of cheerful Micks downing boilermakers and telling tall tales about the ould sod. But the Irish fled long ago, moved over to Woodside like we did a few years before Mom died, and Roosevelt Avenue has become a little Colombia, and then some, when you really think about it. A jazzy strip where hundred-dollar bills are the normal currency and flashy suits and salsa clubs flourish.’

      ‘And where shootings are as common as they are in Cali, Medellín and Bogotá,’ Neil remarked, ‘as if you didn’t know that.’ He sighed under his breath. ‘It boggles the mind, Kev, New York is a city gone mad on guns and made even crazier by crack.’

      ‘You and me, Neil, we’re living in the belly of the beast. We see it all, and every day of the week…the homeless, the hungry, the desperate, as well as the demented, the junkies, the crazies, the criminals. And we know the score. The majority of folk don’t see it, or don’t want to see it, or turn a blind eye if they do. Tragic, but that’s the way it is, I’m afraid.’

      Neil stopped in his tracks, swung to Kevin, grabbed his arm. In the lamplight, the older cop’s face was suddenly stark. ‘A fifteen-minute drive from Manhattan over the Queensborough Bridge and you’re in South America, to all intents and purposes. And you’re taking your life in your hands, mingling with drug barons, pushers, users and every kind of sleaze ball there is. I’m sure as hell glad you’re moving over to my unit, kid, real glad.’

      ‘So am I…Let’s face it, I’ve probably just added a few extra years to my life.’

      Neil nodded, went on, ‘And then there’s Bushwick, a hellhole of the damned, if ever I’ve seen one…a shanty town filled with coke and crack heads, and heroin addicts pumping shit into their veins. Broken-down specimens of humanity who’ll mug, rob and kill you just to get a fix. It’s sickening.’

      ‘Only too true, compadre, only too true,’ Kevin said quietly, taking Neil by the elbow, forcing him to walk on towards Houston Street.

      ‘And this is America,’ Neil said in a bereft voice, ‘the richest and most powerful country in the world. It’s more than sickening, it’s horrific. Diabolical. Whatever happened to America the beautiful? And the American dream?’

      Kevin did not respond. There was nothing he could add. Neil had just said it all.

      Kevin let himself into her apartment with his own key.

      He stood in the hallway, waiting for her to make an appearance, the way she usually did when he came in. But tonight she did not.

      He hung his overcoat in the hall closet, slipped out of his shoulder holster and gun and carefully draped them over a coat hanger in the closet. It was bad enough that she knew he lived in a world of violence, without her seeing blatant evidence of it. Anyway, he preferred to keep his two worlds separate. Then, still puzzled, he cocked his ear, listening, wondering if something was wrong.

      It was quiet. Nothing stirred. But as he crossed the small entrance hall, walking through into the apartment, he heard the faint sound of the radio playing in the kitchen, and he knew she was home.

      He poked his head into the living room; the lights blazed, but the fire was dying in the grate. It looked to him as if it had been neglected for some time.

      Kevin went down the corridor, making for the bedroom. The door stood ajar. Pushing it open, he went inside. The bedside lamps had been dimmed and in the soft, muted light he saw that she was curled up on the bed, dozing; or perhaps she was sleeping soundly, he wasn’t sure.

      Reaching the bed, he noticed the pile of manila folders fanned out next to her on the eiderdown, some of them spilling their contents. Obviously she had been working, had grown drowsy, and had fallen asleep waiting for him to arrive.

      Bending over her, he whispered her name, not wanting to startle or frighten her, and touched her face lightly with one hand.

      Instantly, her eyes flew open. Relief and happiness flooded her face at the sight of him. ‘Kevin,’ she breathed softly. ‘Oh, God, I’m sorry, I must have dozed off.’

      ‘No problem, honey,’ he said, kneeling down next to the bed in order to bring his face closer, and to the same level as hers. Tm the one who should apologize for being late. I got caught up with Neil O’Connor longer than I’d planned. You remember Neil, you met him last year. Anyway, he needed to talk to me, and tonight was the only time he could make it. It was urgent.’

      ‘It’s all right, Kevin, really.’

      He gave her a direct look, and explained, ‘Neil has asked me to transfer over to his division. I’ve agreed.’

      Startled by this announcement, she blinked several times, half frowned. ‘Which division is that?’

      The Crime Intelligence Division.’

      ‘Is it a desk job?’

      ‘Part of the time,’ he lied, wanting to make her feel better, more secure about his safety.

      ‘And the rest of the time?’ she probed, her vividly intelligent eyes now focusing on him with sudden intensity.

      ‘I will have to be out on the street, of course. But this new job is much less dangerous than the one I’ve been doing. Honestly it is.’ Kevin paused, flashed a winning smile, then improvised quickly, ‘And listen, I’ll have more time off,