Wild Cards V by George R. R. Martin Page A

support from this office.”
    â€œThe cops are always complaining. You know that, Paul. They don’t understand that we have this Constitution thing we have to pay attention to when we haul someone into court. Good work on the Malerucci case, but you took a chance there. The jury could have gone either way based on that evidence.”
    â€œEspecially after somebody got to the Police Evidence Lab and destroyed most of the coke.” Paul crossed his legs on Rosemary’s desk and leaned back in the chair. “We haven’t been able to trace that leak yet.”
    â€œIn the future, please stick to my instructions on which cases to go after. I’d appreciate it, speaking strictly as your boss.” Rosemary smiled at him and leaned back in her own chair.
    â€œBoss, I’ve noticed a trend in the cases you okay, and I’m not the only one. Why aren’t we going after the Mafia? With this war going on, we could put a lot of nasty people away. Their resources are stretched too thin to protect all of their people.” He reached out and tapped the stack of papers with a rigid forefinger. “It’s all right here. I’ve even got a possible tax evasion on Chris Mazzucchelli. What do you say? Let me at ’im.”
    â€œNo.” Rosemary put on her best inscrutable madonna look. “I want to wait until the war has shaken out some more. The Mafia appears to be self-destructing anyway. We can just save ourselves the trouble.”
    â€œYou know that if we put some of these people behind bars we might just be saving their lives.” Paul was watching her closely. His scrutiny made Rosemary uncomfortable.
    â€œI make the decisions here.” The tone in her voice was meant to shut Paul up and it worked, but she still didn’t like the stare she got after she said it.
    After working out strategy for the twenty most urgent cases they had, Rosemary had relaxed and so had Paul. In many ways it reminded her of working with Chris. She came up with the plan and he carried it out. Only with Paul, everything was on the right side of the law. It was after six and she was leading Paul and his stack of cases to her door when he turned around to speak to her once more.
    â€œYou ever go to Holy Innocents?” Paul asked about her Catholic elementary school in offhand tones.
    â€œMe, are you kidding? That’s for rich Italian kids. I went to good old P.S. one ninety-two in Brooklyn.” Rosemary studied his face.
    â€œI didn’t think so. Friend of mind went there. He said the craziest thing the other night. Thought you looked just like Rosa Maria Gambione grown up. What a crock, huh? She died back in the early seventies. See you in the morning.” Paul nodded his farewell and Rosemary wondered if she had seen a warning in his eyes—or an indictment.

    Bagabond moved quickly through the subway maintenance tunnels, accompanied by the black and one of his kittens. The kitten, a mottled ginger, was even bigger than he was. She had watched Jack return to his old home in the nineteenth-century abandoned station through the eyes of a succession of rats. Bagabond waited to catch him when he was still underground. It always felt more natural talking to him here. When she met him above, he was different. They both were. She pulled the ragged blue coat farther up above her knees and hurried to cut him off before he could go. The black paced her while his daughter loped ahead to spot trouble.
    Bagabond reached the door and opened it onto Jack reaching for the knob. The compact, pale man smiled in surprise.
    â€œâ€™Allo dere.” He set down the box he had been cradling and knelt to let the black sniff the back of his hand. The other cat kept her distance, standing in front of Bagabond to protect her.
    â€œI haven’t seen you for a long time. I’ve been a little worried.” Jack stood up to face the woman in tattered clothing. “Come on in and sit