Just one hour to go. Hartigan's polishing his badge and working himself up to kissing it goodbye, it and the thirty-odd years of protecting and serving, tears, blood, and triumph that it represents. He's thinking about his wife's smile, about the thick, fat steaks she's picked up at the butcher's, about the bottle of champagne she's got packed in ice, about sleeping in till ten in the morning and spending sunny afternoons flat on his back. But with one hour left to go, he gets word about that one loose end he hasn't tied up: a young girl who's helpless in the hands of a drooling lunatic. Just one hour to go ... and Hartigan's gonna go out with a bang.