Hastings was leaning against the back of one of the police cars parked by the Preston house. Chief Grassino broke away from a group of police officers and federal agents and walked up to him. The chief was holding two cups of coffee. He held one of them out to Hastings.
Hastings took it and thanked him. Grassino leaned up against the car next to him.
Grassino said, “Where were you hiding?”
Hastings said, “I was on third floor of the house across the street. The place we were when we did our stakeout.”
Hastings held a cloth over a cut above his eye. The skin had been slashed open by the butt of Clu Rogers’s machine gun.
Chief Grassino said, “You had permission from the owners?”
“Yes.”
“What about Preston? Did he know you were there?”
“No. His wife did, though.”
“You asked his wife?”
“Yes. She said it was okay.”
“How long were you there?”
“Since about midnight,” Hastings said.
The chief said, “The senator’s not happy about this.”
“I don’t care.” Hastings lowered the cloth and looked at the chief.
“Well,” the chief said, “I do. It seems pretty clear to me you saved his life. But I wouldn’t wait around for a thank-you if I were you.”
“I don’t plan to.”
“How did you know, George? How did you know Reese would come here? That he wouldn’t try the assassination downtown?”
“I didn’t know for sure,” Hastings said. “But I suspected it. A Hinckley, a glory seeker, would have done it at the Soldier’s Memorial. Try to make a name for himself. But Reese wasn’t after glory. He just wanted to kill Preston. This was the smart move.”
“And you say he saved your life?”
“He did. I don’t know why.”
Martin Keough was striding toward them.
“Oh, here we go,” Hastings said.
Keough stood in front of him and said, “You’re finished.”
“Pardon me?” Hastings said.
“You heard me,” Keough said. “Your career is over.”
“Why is that?”
“To begin with, who the hell gave you permission to be here? Huh? You were not authorized. We’ve got two men dead.”
“I didn’t kill them. Reese did. And I’m glad he did.”
Keough leaned in. “What?”
Chief Grassino started to speak, and Hastings raised a hand to stop him. Hastings said, “I said I’m glad he did. One of them was going to kill me. Probably the other one, too. Reese saved my life.”
“I say you’re lying.”
“I don’t care what you say. I don’t work for you.”
Keough turned to Grassino. “What do you say?”
Grassino said, “I say it’s a police matter, and if you’re half as smart as you seem to think you are, you’ll move on.”
“Excuse me?”
“By the way,” Grassino said, “where do you get the idea that you get to determine what is or is not authorized by the police department? You got some special police badge in your pocket? Because if you do, I don’t remember deputizing you.”
Keough took it in. Then he snorted out one of his shitty little laughs and said, “I see. You’re going to protect your own, huh?”
“Whatever I do, it’ll be my decision. Not Preston’s and certainly not yours. Savvy?”
Keough looked at Hastings, then at the chief, and then at Hastings again.
“You’ll regret this,” Keough said.
Grassino gave him an up-and-down appraising look, then smiled and said, “I doubt it. Go on.” The chief waved his hand as if he were shooing off a child. “Go,” he said. And Keough went.
Hastings said, “You know, Chief, you’ve got quite a way with words. You ever think of running for public office?”
“Don’t fuck with me, George. Not now.”