Once it became clear that Darius wouldn't plead to the charge of reckless endangerment, Dougherty and Mullen decided to let him talk. He talked for two hours and seemed willing to talk indefinitely. He was cagey when it came to identifying collaborators or detailing certain methods whose secrecy was essential to his freedom of movement; otherwise, almost any question elicited long tales of his exploits that gave way episodically to ornate, unnecessary digressions. Once I asked Darius what he was doing at Fifty-seventh Street before his arrest. My question implied that he'd been in the station. His answer began like this: "No, no. I was mainly in the tower, not the station. Now: Towers are for what is known as train-traffic control. The board lights tell you where everything is at. All right? Okay. So every single train from Fifth Avenue, on the N and the R, down to Canal Street. Not only that but there's a communications box for listening to the crew on every train. You also have what is known as fire watch. I watch the board for any thing relating to a fire condition. Now, if it's something minute, I can hopefully go down and end the problem without having to call the fire department. If it's close to the third rail, use a dry chemical. If it's something major, call the fire department, call Command, have the power turned off for that section because otherwise the fire department cannot go on the tracks, that's part of their protocol.... And if need be you can have EMS on standby, just in case. So you always take all necessary precautions. Okay! Now on this particular day, I'm in the tower ..." Darius's obsession has always been concentrated on the subway, but a long interview with him will teach you how far beyond it he has roamed. He may describe his experiences as a substitute engineer on the freight trains of Conrail, Norfolk Southern, Delaware & Hudson, or CSX. ("CSX is definitely my favorite. Every single engine is freshly painted.") He may tell you how to manipulate the employee-transfer protocol of the metro bus system to get a job as a shifter (cleaning and prepping buses at depots), and how to use that position to take buses out on express routes. He might explain Job 179 (conductor) on the Long Island Railroad: what track you'll be on (17 or 19), how to let the crew know when you've finished preparing the train for departure (two buzzes on the intercom), how you return to Penn Station "as equipment" (without passengers). It is unlikely that Darius will omit the year he spent wearing an NYCTA superintendent's shield. While he was doing a stint as a conductor, he discovered that he could have a shield made in a jewelry store. He began wearing it on a vest he pulled over his TA-specified shirt and tie. He had a hard hat and pirated I.D. Darius considered himself a track-department superintendent, so he signed out track-department vehicles and radios and drove around the city, supervising track maintenance and construction projects and responding to emergencies. He was sensitive to the threat of close scrutiny by superiors, but given his high position and network of allies, that was rare. Darius worked regular hours: eight to four from Tuesday to Thursday, seven in the evening to three in the morning on Friday, and three until eleven on Saturday morning. That way he was off from Saturday morning until Tuesday morning. "Because of my title and my position," Darius told me, "I figured I had the seniority to do it."