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able to keep a partner for more than three days in a row. True, Tozzi was an asshole, a hardhead, and a hotdog who wouldn’t know how to follow an order if his life depended on it—and it frequently did. Still, Tozzi was better than every other agent Gibbons had ever worked with. Even though he did have his head up his ass most of the time, at least Tozzi’s heart was in the right place. Too bad he was Gibbons’s wife’s first cousin. Partnering with the guy was one thing. Being related to him was sort of like having a rash that wouldn’t go away.
    â€œBert?”
    â€œHuh?”
    â€œTozzi’s current status—what is it?”
    â€œHe’s teamed up with an informant, a mutt named DeFresco who’s connected to the Luccarellis. DeFresco’s introducing Tozzi as his partner in a porno video venture. They’re trying to borrow money from Buddha Stanzione with the intention of falling behind in their vig payments. Tozzi wants to get Stanzione’snumber-one shy to threaten him, maybe even rough him up a little, and get it all on tape.”
    â€œAnd who is this shylock?”
    â€œTake a guess. Tony Bells.”
    â€œBellavita? The person Petersen was meeting here tonight?”
    â€œNone other than.”
    â€œWhere’s Tozzi now?”
    â€œRight this minute?”
    â€œYes, right this minute.”
    â€œHome in bed if he’s got any brains.” Which is doubtful.
    â€œWell, call him and let him know what happened to Petersen. Find out if he’s been introduced to Bellavita yet. If he has, tell him to pull back until we find out what happened here tonight. We certainly don’t want him to be Bellavita’s next victim. In fact, let’s get word to all the undercover men working on Shark Bite. Pull back until we know more. In the meantime I’m ordering a manhunt for Bellavita. I want him in custody for questioning ASAP.”
    Gibbons’s eyelids drooped. Ivers sounded so tough and determined whenever he used words like manhunt. Like Tyrone Power in all those old war movies. Of course, the manhunt had to be done—that went without question. If they didn’t find Tony Bells, the mob guys sure would, and that would be the end of him. And from Gibbons’s point of view, life without parole was preferable to the death penalty. Better to make the son of a bitch suffer every single day for the rest of his life than to put him out of his misery in a muzzle flash. The only thing Gibbons had a problem with was calling Tozzi. He knew how Tozzi’s warped mind worked. You tell the guy to put it in reverse, he’ll put it in drive and floor it. If he finds out about what happened to Petersen, he won’t pull back and lay low. Not Tozzi. Putting Tony Bells’s head on a plate will become his personal crusade.
    But that was all right, Gibbons figured. He’d been looking for an excuse to shoot the dumb bastard in the foot to keep him from doing something stupid.
    â€œNow, Bert, I have a list of all the undercover men on Shark Bite. Tell me where . . .”
    Gibbons was listening, but all of a sudden Ivers’s voice started to fade out as another screamer started building up steam. It rumbled through his head like a B-52 coming out of the clouds with a full load. The bomb-bay doors were open, and the fat boys tumbled out, speeding through the sky, zeroing in on Gibbons’s tooth. The initial explosion made sweat bead on his freckled forehead despite the November cold; the ones that followed came so fast, they rolled together into one big annihilating wave of excruciating killer pain.
    â€œBert? Bert? Are you all right?”
    Gibbons held on to his jaw and kept his eyes squeezed shut until the pain finally went back to being a manageable dull ache. The first thing he focused on when he opened his eyes was that blue van. It was parked now, as close to Petersen’s car as it could get. The back end was open, and