"Leonid," Sam Strange said again.

"Right now?"

"Immediately."

"You know I'm trying to be aboveboard nowadays, Sam."

"He's just asking you to go and speak to this Lear woman. To make sure that she's all right. There's nothing illegal about that."

"And I'm supposed to tell her that Mr. Rinaldo is concerned about her but can't come himself?"

"Do not mention his name or refer to him in any way. The meeting should be casual. She shouldn't have any idea that you're a detective or that you're working for someone looking after her welfare."

"Why not?"

"You know the drill," Strange said, trying to enforce his personal sense of hierarchy on me. "Orders come down and we do as we're told."

"No," I said. "That's you. You do what you're told. Me-I got ground rules."

"And what are they?"

"First," I said, "I will not put this Tara's physical or mental well-being into jeopardy. Second, I will only report on her state of mind and security. I will not convey information that might make her vulnerable to you or your boss. And, finally, I will not be a party to making her do anything against her will or whim."

"That's not how it works and you know it," Sam said.

"Then go on down to the next name on the list and don't ever call this number again."

"There is no other name."

"If you want me you got to play by my rules."

"I'll have to report this conversation."

"Of course you do."

"He won't like it."

"I'll make a note of that."

He gave me an address on West Sixtieth and an apartment number.

"I'll be staying at the Oxford Arms Club on Eighty-fourth until this situation is resolved," he said. "You can call me there anytime, day or night."

I hung up. There was no reason to continue the conversation, or to wish him well, for that matter. I never liked the green-eyed agent of the city's Special Assistant.