Timothy Zahn - The Green And The Gray

"Yes, of course," Roger said. "I'm sorry."

"We don't ask for your sympathy," Aleksander said. "Just your understanding. And, if you choose, your presence at our side in this struggle."

"We'll do what we can," Roger said, wincing as a flurry of ear-piercing giggles erupted from the other end of the table. "Practicing the Shriek, are they?"

"It's more a lack of control over their vocal range," Iolanthe said, leaning forward to look that direction. "Yvonne, can you keep it down a little?"

"Sorry," the woman at the far end of the table apologized. She snapped her fingers twice. "Children: silent manners. Eat."

Instantly, the six children subsided, their chatter and quiet laughter replaced by the industrious staccato clicks of fork on plate as they returned their attention to their food.

"As you can see, they're not that different from Human children," Aleksander commented with a smile.

"You've definitely acclimated to life in middle America," Roger agreed, looking at the children.

"This setup reminds me of Christmas dinner with Caroline's family in Vermont."

"We're used to it, of course," Iolanthe said. "Do you have a large family, Caroline?"

"There are about twenty of us," Caroline said shortly, her voice studiously neutral.

Roger frowned at her. Her profile had a tightness about it, as if masking some emotion she wasn't interested in letting out. "You all right?" he murmured.

"Yes, you seem uncomfortable," Aleksander seconded. "Is something wrong?"

Caroline hesitated, then set her fork down and looked him squarely in the eye. "Yes, there's something wrong," she said. "We're all in here eating while Melantha's out there, alone and cold and hungry."

"I see," Aleksander said calmly. "And what makes you think no one's out in that cold looking for her?"

Caroline's expression cracked slightly. "Are you saying there are?"

"There are over eighty Greens right now walking the streets of Manhattan and calling to her,"

Iolanthe said gently. "Nearly everyone from Central and Morningside Parks, in fact. Does that ease your mind?"

Caroline's cheek twitched. "A little."

"Only a little?" Aleksander asked with a smile. "Please; speak on. What else can we do to quiet your concerns?"

Caroline took a careful breath. "Nikolos said you're leading the faction that wants to fight the Grays.

Is that true?"

"Absolutely," Aleksander said calmly. "Like Nikolos, I was there. I saw what the Grays did, and I don't believe there can be peace between us."

"But not all the Greens agree with you," Caroline said. "And if you're going to fight, you need all of them on your side. True?"

"Actually, I only need a majority," Aleksander corrected. "Once I have that, the rest will follow."

"The point is that you need a way to rally the other Greens to your side," Caroline said. "I was just thinking that supposed treachery by the Grays might do the trick."

" 'Supposed?' " Vasilis asked.

"I'm wondering if you might have snatched Melantha and are trying to blame it on the Grays,"

Caroline said.

Roger felt his stomach tighten. But to his relief, Aleksander didn't seem offended. "I see," the old Green said calmly. "And then?"

"And then what?" Caroline asked.

"How were we supposed to maintain the illusion of Gray treachery after Melantha had been brought back?" he asked. "Do you think Cyril and the others would ever follow me again after she'd told her story?"

Caroline swallowed visibly. "I suppose you'd have to kill her."

"Absolutely," Aleksander said, nodding. "And therein lies the flaw in your argument. Melantha is our key to victory in this battle, our ultimate weapon against the Grays. The last thing we would ever want is for harm to come to her." He shook his head. "No, Caroline. If I had Melantha, I wouldn't be pretending it was the Grays who had taken her. I would be reopening my argument and demanding another face-off with Cyril."

"We understand," Roger said quickly. "And I apologize for even suggesting you might do such a thing."

"That's all right," Aleksander said, his eyes still on Caroline. "Caroline?"

Her lip twitched, but she nodded. "I understand, too," she said.

"Good," Aleksander said, his voice almost cheerful again. "Then let's return to our meal, and hope that the searchers will find our lost child."

The sun was long gone by the time Fierenzo finally trudged out of the station house. The good news was that the report was finished: truthful enough to be legal, yet vague enough in the right places not to get him hauled in front of the departmental shrink.

The bad news was that the whole thing was little more than thin air tied together with fishing line.

And Cerreta was bound to notice.

He scowled as he strode down the sidewalk toward where he'd parked his car a block away. The really annoying part was that he had witnesses who could put substance to the whole thing if they wanted to. But Oreste Green wasn't talking, the Whittiers weren't talking, and Jonah wasn't talking.

Until one of them did, he wasn't going to be able to get much official traction on this.

He zipped his jacket a little tighter, hearing the faint crackle of the folded papers in his inside pocket as he did so. Now, though, maybe he had something to get at least one of those witnesses off the blocks.

He reached Amsterdam and turned north, looking through the tall chain-link fence beside him into the playground as he went around the corner. The place was undergoing some renovation, with a stack of long round timbers that looked like a Paul Bunyan version of Lincoln Logs piled near the fence. They were eventually going to be assembled into a new climbing structure, but up to now the only progress Fierenzo had seen had been the creation of a shallow pit entirely surrounded by orange mesh fences.

He was pondering the odd pace of construction in his city when two figures suddenly appeared in the middle of the sidewalk ten yards ahead of him.

Fierenzo slowed his pace, feeling his heart rate pick up, wondering where in hell the two men had come from. The chain-link fence didn't allow for any cover, there were no cars parked along the street, and the trees lining the sidewalk by the fence wouldn't conceal anyone over the age of two.

And yet, there they were. Friends of Jonah's, maybe?

They made no move as he continued toward them. They were both young, probably in their midtwenties, and wiry looking. The taller had short dark hair and a narrow face with a long aquiline nose, while his companion was half a head shorter and had an abundance of curly black hair.

"Evening," Fierenzo called. "Chilly night, isn't it?"

"Yes, indeed," Aquiline Nose called back. "Are you Detective Sergeant Fierenzo?"

So they weren't just random if gutsy muggers, working in the shadow of the 24th Precinct House, but had been waiting for him specifically. "Yes," he confirmed, coming to a halt a double arm's length away from them. "What can I do for you?"

"We need the sketches," Nose said.

"All of them," Curly added.

"Sketches?" Fierenzo asked, deciding to try the dumb approach first. That tended to make people angry, and angry people often talked too much.

"The sketches Oreste Green made for you," Nose said calmly. "The ones of the two Grays on Waverly Place this morning."

"You mean Halfdan Gray and his son?" Fierenzo suggested.

"Halfdan?" Curly asked, frowning. "Oreste didn't say it was—"

"We'd love to have a nice chat about this," Nose cut him off. "But right now, all we want are the sketches."

Fierenzo shook his head. "Sorry, but they're back on my desk."

"Fine," Nose said agreeably. "Let's go get them."

"Okay," Fierenzo said. He turned around, making a quick visual sweep of the area as he did so; but instead of ending his turn pointed back down the sidewalk, he made a complete three-sixty, coming around again to face the two men, his Glock ready in his hand. "On second thought," he said as he wrapped his finger around the trigger, "you two can walk in front."