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"No, there's gotta be more." He peered at her. "You screwed him, didn't you?" She stared back ferociously. Sure, that's it. Fonseca sized you up: ' tough, unmarried middle-aged female police executive.

No time for a lover or a relationship. All she needs is a good fucking.

I'll give it to her and she'll eat shit out of my hand."

"Stop it, Frank!"

"Sure, that's it." He nodded. "He fucked your brains out and afterwards you told him everything. You discussed it with him like you were… ha!

Colleagues."

She screamed at him: "Will you stop!"

He turned; he couldn't bear to look at her. "You never stopped to think why he would propose such a screwy deal. What rancid pile of goods he was selling. No, you just took the bait, same way DEA did. A guy like Fonseca takes in everybody. Except now, it seems, he may have gone too far."

"I was lonely, Frank."

She moaned the word. He refused to look at her. He didn't want to feel moved.

"I'm sure you were. So are we all at times. I'm sure Fonseca was a terrific lover, too. I'm sure the whole event did wonders for your complexion, made you feel ten years younger. So, tell me, Kit-how do you feel now?"

"You're enjoying this. And you're so bitter."

"Me?" He laughed. "Way back when the two of us… " He shook his head.

"You were a great kid then. Fun to be with, fun to kiss. You laughed a lot and showed a lot of vulnerability. I was crazy about you.

Maybe you liked me a little, too." He shrugged. "You had it all looks, guts, smarts and an ambition like nothing I'd ever seen. It burned in your eyes, Kit. You were going places, higher than I dreamed I'd ever go." He paused. "Well, you got what you wanted, became the first woman to make C of D. It cost you, though. You've become a tough little lady, the kind who sells out her oldest, most loyal friend." He moved away from her, to the other side of the room. Then he turned toward her again. "You got a nerve calling me bitter. I didn't betray you. You betrayed me. Or are you so far gone you can't tell the difference?"

When she answered her voice was humble. "I said I was sorry." She paused. "You know what they say-Mendoza makes you crazy." Sure… like that's a real good excuse. – "All right," he said, "let's cut the crap.

I got questions. I want answers." She nodded meekly, then sat in one of her leather easy chairs. "Was Angel for real?"

"He's her real brother. His arrest was a fake."

"For my benefit?"

"More for Dakin's via Baldwin."

"That was part of Fonseca's plan?"

"Well, most of it. We worked it out together." This is fucking unbelievable! "Gabelli?"

"He didn't know anything."

"What about Rampersad? Was she in on it? Or was she just another patsy?"

"She didn't know anything," Kit said.

Thank God for that!

"You could have tipped me off. I'd have probably gone along if you'd asked me. In fact, I would have insisted on it, just to find out what Fonseca was up to. That's what it's all about, you know. Or didn't it occur to you it was strange he was so interested in helping us close out Mendoza? Oh, sorry, I forgot. It was all just pillow talk, wasn't it?"

She wiped her forehead with her hand.

"Jesus, Kit! Was he such a great lay it never occurred to you he had his own agenda? Have you spent so many years playing headquarters politics, you've forgotten the most basic questions a detective has to ask: Who had what to gain and why? That's the job around here. But you didn't do it. You didn't do anything except… " He shook his head.

"Are you done insulting me?"

She's hopeless. But then something hit him: Could there have been a connection between Jake Mendoza and the Cubans? Why else would they have bothered? What did they care about NYPD internal politics?

"You may be guilty of obstruction of justice," he told her. She didn't blink. "I'd consult a private attorney if I were you."

But he could tell from her stare that she had no idea of how deeply she was compromised.

"All the stuff in Cuba-it didn't hurt me as much as I said. I'm a New York City detective, for Christ's sake. We're used to taking crap." He waited until she met his eyes. "What I can't handle is betrayal. That cuts too deep."

She studied him, her old tough self again, measuring him, trying to figure out what he was going to do.

"I want a transfer," he announced. "My whole squad out of here."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Shut up! You don't talk to me like that anymore."

She looked down at the carpet. "Okay, a transfer. Where to? Internal Affairs?"

"I want to report directly to the commissioner."

She started to protest, but he cut her off. "Shandy says you're going to have dinner with him tonight. That's when you'll arrange it."

"Tell me why?"

"I don't want to work for you anymore. Also, I'm going to solve Mendoza and I don't want to think about who might fall.,"

"Surely you don't think I-"

"I'm not saying what I think. I got one other case to finish up around here. I should be done with it tomorrow." He started across the room.

"Frank!" He turned. "Can't we, you know-?"

"Make it up?" He shook his head.

"Twenty years of friendship and now it's over-is that really how you want it?"

"Maybe someday I'll forgive you, Kit. But don't hold your breath."

He left without shutting the door.

The Snare That night he dreamed of mirrors.

He was wandering through a mirror maze like Gelsey's, but far more treacherous. As he made his way, the floors rolled like the deck of a ship, and the mirrors flexed toward him, sometimes touching above his head.

The reflections were different, too. Instead of giving back images of himself, they showed the likenesses of others: Jake Mendoza, Tania Figueras, Fonseca, Violetta, Dakin, Timmy Sheehan and Kit. These simulacra were threatening. They stared into his eyes with mockery.

Their expressions taunted: "You're lost, Janek. You'll never find your way out. Never!

Early the next morning he called Ray and Aaron at home, and explained his transfer request without mentioning Kit's duplicity. He told them that since, from a career point of view, it was probably a risky venture, they should feel free to transfer out of the squad.

Ray asked if he was serious. Aaron told him that he would regard exclusion from the Mendoza investigation as an act of personal betrayal.

When he called Sue, she responded with her own special twist:

"You friggin' kidding', Frank?" She was laughing. "You need a dyke cop like me who's, you know, politically correct."

After thanking her, he asked how Gelsey was doing.

"She's asleep. We were talking till late. She took me downstairs.

Geez! I never saw anything like that!" "Well, wake her up," Janek said.

"Bring her into the city. We're going to set a trap, but not in Jersey.

I don't want any jurisdictional disputes."

He stopped by Deforest's office, filled him in, requested arrest war-rants for Diana Cassiday and Stephen Kane. Then he told Deforest that he and his people were leaving the division. When Deforest heard what he intended to do, he soberly wished Janek good luck.

Back at Special Squad, he briefed Aaron and Ray, instructing them to find a good location for a trap. He also told them to sign out field videotape equipment and the best body-wire unit Special Services could provide. Then he called Netti Rampersad.

"Frank… " She savored his name with the warmth of a casual lover.

"Sorry, I don't have very good news. Sarah's attorney called to say she'll fight the alimony rollback. What I need now is that dossier you mentioned that shows how Sarah and Gilette are living high off the hog."

"I'll bring it right down."

This time when she greeted him, she was not wearing workout clothes but was dressed in an expensive, smartly cut pin-striped gray linen suit.