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gave was of someone boarding a subway for the first time in his life and finding something amusing in the phenomenon of a slum on wheels.
    He sat beside David Hudson and immediately snapped open Saturday's
New York Times
, coughing idly into his fist. As the subway rumbled forward, he crisply folded the newspaper into quarters.
    “You made the front page. Congratulations,” Laurence Hadford finally offered in a guarded, casual whisper. His voice was exquisitely controlled and as smooth as his expensive silk scarf. “I watched the intriguing spectacle on the six o'clock, the seven o'clock, the ten, and the eleven o'clock news shows. You've succeeded in totally baffling them.”
    “We've done reasonably well so far.” Hudson nodded in agreement. “The difficult steps are still ahead, though. The true tests of the plan's legs, Lieutenant.”
    “You brought me a present, I hope? Christmas present?” As Laurence Hadford slid closer, Hudson could smell the man's citric cologne.
    “Yes. Exactly as we agreed the last time.”
    David Hudson looked sideways for the first time. He stared into the pale blue eyes and mocking half smile of Laurence Hadford. He didn't like what he saw. Never had. Not now and not back in Vietnam, either, when Hadford had been a smug young officer.
    Laurence Hadford was impassive, cool. The well-shaved face might have been a door closed on private rooms. Hudson had a sudden impression of icy places locked away inside the man. Hadford was already a partner at one of the larger Wall Street investment firms and was said to be climbing to even higher rungs on the corporate ladder.
    Reaching deep inside his coat, Hudson handed over a thick, overstuffed manila business envelope. The package bore no external marking, nothing to identify it in case there was any problem, an unlikely slipup on board the subway.
    The envelope disappeared inside the rich softness of cashmere.
    “There's one small hitch. A tiny problem has come up. The amount here isn't enough.” Hadford smiled so easily. “Not considering what's happened. What you've gone and done now. You've made this a very dangerous business arrangement for me. If you'd told me what you actually planned to do-”
    “You wouldn't have helped us. You would have had too many doubts. You would have been scared shitless.”
    “My friend, I
am
scared shitless.”
    The subway train buckled slightly but only slowed minimally as it charged into the 110th Street station.
    Angry graffiti was scrawled on all the walls. It shouted at anyone who cared to look up from his early-bird edition of the
Daily News
. Most didn't look up.
    “We agreed on a figure before you did any work for us on Wall Street. Your fee, half a million dollars, has now been paid in full.” Hudson felt a familiar alarm sounding inside him. His control was slipping away. “Any information you've supplied us, any personal risks you took, were infinitesimal, considering your enormous financial gain.”
    Hadford's perfectly capped white teeth gritted very slightly. “Please. Don't tell me how well I've been paid. I know what you're all about now. You've got so much money, you couldn't possibly know what to do with it. Another half million is virtually meaningless. What's another million, for that matter? Don't be so uptight.”
    Colonel David Hudson finally managed a smile. “You know, perhaps you're right. Under the circumstances-what
is
another half million?… Especially if you're willing to do a little more investigation for us. We still need your help on Wall Street.”
    “I suppose for the right price I could be convinced, Colonel.”
    The next station David Hudson noticed was 157th Street. Between 110th and there, he and Laurence Hadford talked of the next steps to be taken on Wall Street, the kinds of additional information needed for Green Band.
    Stenciled numbers announced the train stop on mottled, pale blue standposts. A sullen black face slowly slipped past the spray-painted train