The Green And The Gray

49

"So what exactly did Cerreta want from you?" Fierenzo asked as he maneuvered the car through the late-night Manhattan traffic.

"Mostly, he just wanted to yell," Roger told him, sitting close beside Caroline in the backseat. "In a quiet and very civilized sort of way, of course."

"Yes, he's good at that," Fierenzo acknowledged ruefully.

"But there were a few actual questions thrown in, too," Roger went on. "Mostly concerning our precise involvement in this."

"I trust you didn't tell him?"

"We pleaded ignorance and stupidity of the highest rank, which annoyed him no end," Roger assured him. "He got particularly miffed when Caroline tried to explain that it was all a mistake, that she hadn't really been kidnapped."

"He was a lot more than just miffed," Fierenzo told him. "He was aching to find something—

anything—he could charge Nikolos and Sylvia with that he could make stick. But half the Greens had already vanished, and the half who were still there didn't have any contraband or weapons or anything else he could use against them. Not even those metal disks that Messerling and a dozen cops swore had been thrown at them during the fight. Apparently, no one could find anything but some bits of really nice-looking jewelry."

"Amazing," Roger agreed. "And of course, Shrieks don't leave any marks, either."

"Or even any aftereffects, at least not at the levels they were using," Fierenzo pointed out. "Cerreta was so desperate he was actually talking about putting some divers into the Hudson to see if they could find whatever had made those big splashes."

"There's a great use for taxpayer dollars," Roger murmured.

"Yeah, and I think Messerling realized that," Fierenzo told him. "Either that, or he decided it would be better to just let the whole thing die as quiet a death as possible."

"Getting S.W.A.T. butts kicked by a bunch of unarmed men and women will do that," Roger said, gazing out the window at the lights and the people of his city. All the accumulated tension of the past week had drained away, leaving him unutterably tired.

But they'd done it. He, Caroline, Fierenzo, and the others had actually pulled it off.

"People do tend to remember that sort of thing at appropriations time," Fierenzo agreed. "Caroline, you're being awfully quiet back there."

"I was just wondering what Cerreta's going to do to you," Caroline said as she pressed against Roger's side.

"Oh, I think by the time I walk into his office tomorrow morning he'll have cooled off," Fierenzo assured her. "For all the hoops I made the department jump through on this, we did stop what everyone expected to be a major gang war. And no matter how much sod Messerling tries to heap over tonight's escapade, the fact is that the Greens amply demonstrated just how bad the war could have been. I think he'll take that into account."

"Yes," she murmured, and Roger felt a shiver run through her. "Do you think it's going to work?"

"No way to know at this point," Fierenzo said. "But bear in mind that except for the original refugees, all the hate on both sides has been toward an idea, not anyone or anything real. Now that they've got actual flesh and blood to deal with, I think a lot of the cliches and stereotypes will start to fade away. And don't forget there are now leaders on both sides who genuinely want to make a go of it."

"Though there are still those who don't," Roger warned.

"Sure, but I think most of them will eventually come around," Fierenzo said. "Halfdan will probably go along with his brother—grudgingly, maybe, but he'll go along. Aleksander was so rattled by Nikolos's play tonight that he'll probably keep a low profile for quite awhile, hopefully long enough to see it all working. Cyril, of course, was all for peace in the first place."

"And Nikolos?" Caroline asked.

Fierenzo shrugged. "Probably never," he conceded. "But at least he's a known quantity now. No, I think we've made it through the hardest part."

"It did come right down to the wire, though," Roger said, wincing at the memory. "If Torvald had listened to his brother when Sylvia was fighting with Nikolos, it could still have blown up."

"Definitely," Fierenzo said. "Especially since I'm not convinced Sylvia was nearly as helpless right then as she was letting on."

Roger felt his skin prickle. "Are you saying it was a test?"

"Why not?" Fierenzo countered. "She'd already made her move by calling off her Warriors. As long as Nikolos was attacking her anyway, why not play possum and see how the Grays would respond?"

Roger whistled softly. "Pretty risky."

"But very Sylvia," Caroline murmured. "I just hope Torvald is as committed to peace as she is."

"He is," Roger said firmly. "Because what nobody there knew was that he was in a lot better position than he let on. Part of the deal for pretending to fall for Sylvia's feint in Upper Manhattan was for us to let him quietly siphon off some of his people to position at the Central Park and Morningside Park homesteads. He insisted on having a bargaining chip in hand in case we weren't reading the Greens'

plan correctly."

"Why didn't he mention that when Nikolos was threatening the Gray children in Brooklyn and Queens?" Caroline asked, frowning.

"Because if he had, his hotheaded brother might have gone ahead and started shooting Warriors,"

Roger said.

"I guess your logic convinced him that was what his father really wanted," Caroline said, nestling back against his side. "He must really trust you."

"Mm," Roger said. "Almost as much as Sylvia trusts you."

"Whatever works," Fierenzo murmured. "Whatever works."

There was, for Caroline, a vague air of unreality as she and Roger rode up the elevator and unlocked the door to their apartment. So much had happened since she'd last seen it that she half expected to find a month's worth of dust covering everything.

But then, it really had been only four days since she and Melantha had hurried out that cloudy Friday morning, and the apartment looked pretty much the way she remembered it. "The trees probably need watering," Roger pointed out as they hung up their coats and walked into the living room.

"I'll get them later," she told him, picking up one of the throw pillows from the couch and sitting down in its place. "They've lasted this long," she added, hugging the pillow tiredly across her chest.

"I don't think another few minutes will bother them."

"You probably should knock first, too," he suggested, dropping into the chair across from her. "Who knows who might have moved in while we were gone?"

"We'll just call it our guest room for when Melantha comes to visit," Caroline said, gazing fondly across the room at him. "By the way, I want you to know how very proud of you I was tonight. For someone who doesn't like confrontations, you handled that wonderfully."

"Thank you, ma'am," he said formally, inclining his head in a little bow. "And if I may say so, your own relational way of thinking paid off pretty well, too."

"My own what?" Caroline asked, frowning.

"The way you think," Roger said. "Fierenzo explained it to me."

Caroline leaned back against the couch and closed her eyes. "Ah."

"So anyway," he went on briskly. "The night's still young. What do you want to do?"

She pried one eyelid open. "You must be joking," she said. "I was thinking bed and about ten hours of sleep."

"You sure?" he asked, his voice suddenly going all bland. "I hear there's this new play up at the Miller Theater—"

He was fast, and he was obviously expecting it. Nevertheless, she still managed to nail him dead center with the pillow.