Whoa.

"Do you know the Taurus?" he asked.

"Sure."

"Is one o'clock OK?"

"One o'clock's perfect."

"Great! Well, see you then."

"OK, bye."

"Bye."

Eliot hung up and looked at the phone, thinking: A date! Kind of!

Then he thought: She's a married woman, and she is simply returning your gla.s.ses, and you are a loser.

But that did not stop him from feeling absurdly happy as he locked his door and-taking the back stairs, so as to avoid the building manager-headed for the bank to cash the Client From h.e.l.l's check, so he could buy lunch.

Henry and Leonard met with their Penultimate, Inc. contact at a pricey Brickell Avenue restaurant called Dunley's, which was decorated to look like an exclusive men's club, with lots of oak and fake old paintings. It was popular with business people who wished to impress clients by buying them steaks the size of Shetland ponies.

The Penultimate contact was a man named Luis Rojas, whose t.i.tle was director of special operations. They sat in a corner, next to a table of four lawyers who were talking loud about golf clubs. Henry and Luis Rojas spoke quietly; Leonard, still woozy from running into the wall, mainly chewed.

"My employer is concerned," Rojas said to Henry.

"Is that right?" said Henry, cutting off a piece of steak.

"Yes," said Rojas. "He is very concerned, and he wants to know when you intend to finish this job."

"I want to know some things, too," said Henry. "For instance, who is this guy running around with a rifle, and who is this guy jumping on me out of a tree?"

"What guy in a tree?" asked Rojas.

"That's what I'm wondering," said Henry. "You bring us down here, tell us this is a simple job, just like the other times. In and out, you tell us. No security, you tell us. Next thing I know, I got Geronimo running into the house, and I got Tarzan landing on my head."

"Plus the woman," said Leonard, between chews.

"The woman?" asked Rojas.

"Outside, by the wall with Tarzan," said Leonard. "A woman."

Rojas thought for a moment.

"Listen," he said. "Like I told you, my employer is very concerned that you should finish this job. But he is also concerned about who these other people are, why somebody else wants to ... be involved. So we would like to know anything that you can find out, in addition to doing the job."

At the next table, the four lawyers were drinking cognac and lighting cigars.

"OK," said Henry, cutting another piece of steak. "We can do the job, and we can see what we find out about Geronimo and Tarzan. But you tell your employer that, number one, we are gonna need sometime, looking around, checking in the trees, you understand? And number two, the price goes up."

The lawyers were puffing vigorously; a dense cloud of smoke billowed outward from their table.

"How much?" asked Rojas.

"Excuse me," said Henry, putting down his fork. He rose from his chair, walked over to the next table, and stood there, waiting, until all four lawyers had stopped talking and were looking at him.

"Gentlemen," said Henry. "Would you mind putting your cigars out?"

The lawyer to Henry's immediate left, Lawyer A, c.o.c.ked his head and a.s.sumed an exaggeratedly quizzical expression, as if he hadn't heard correctly.

"I beg your pardon?" he said.

"I asked you," said Henry, "if you would mind putting your cigars out."

"As a matter of fact, I would mind," said Lawyer A. This got smiles from Lawyers B, C, and D.

"The reason I ask," said Henry, "is, maybe you never thought of this, but when you light those things, everybody else has to smell your smoke. I got a nice New York strip over there, cost me twenty-seven-fifty, and it tastes like I'm eating a cigar."

"Listen, Ace," said Lawyer B. "Number one, there's no rule against smoking in this restaurant. And number two, you are way outta line."

"OK," said Henry, "Number one, my name is not Ace. Number two, I'm not talking about rules, here. I'm talking about manners. There's no rule says I can't come over here and fart on your entree, but I don't do it, because it's bad manners. It detracts from your dining experience, you know? I'm just saying, I don't stink up your lunch, you don't need to stink up everybody else's lunch. So, one more time, I'm asking nice, please put out the cigars, OK?"

"Are you serious?" said Lawyer C, across the table.

"Oh yes," said Henry.

"Un-f.u.c.king-believable," said Lawyer C, to his colleagues. "Do you believe this rucking guy?"

"Listen, Ace," said Lawyer D, to Henry. "We're paying customers here, and we happen to like cigars, and if you don't like it, tough s.h.i.t."

"That's right, Ace," said Lawyer A. He sucked on his cigar, then, holding the cigar between his thumb and forefinger, turned his mouth toward Henry and blew a long, thick stream of smoke into Henry's face. Henry did not move.

When he was done blowing, Lawyer A said, "So listen, Ace, why don't you uhhh ... "

Lawyer A was unable to finish telling Henry what he should do, because Henry had put his hand on Lawyer A's shoulder and squeezed it. He did not appear to be exerting himself, but Lawyer A had gone rigid.

"Uhhh," he said, again.

With his other hand, Henry took Lawyer A's cigar and put it out in his cognac. The other lawyers shifted in their seats, as if preparing to get up and do something, but Henry met their eyes in alphabetical order-B, C, D-and they stayed where they were.

Releasing Lawyer A, who grabbed his shoulder and moaned, Henry walked partway around the table to Lawyer B, who flinched violently as Henry gently but firmly relieved him of his cigar and dropped it into his cognac. At that point, Lawyers C and D put out their cigars una.s.sisted.

"Thank you, gentlemen," said Henry.

Lawyer D, who was the farthest away, said, "You realize that you have committed a.s.sault."

"I know," said Henry, shaking his head. "Time was, you really had to hit somebody."

Then he went back to his table, sat down, and resumed cutting his steak. 'Tell your employer," he said to Rojas, "it's going to be another ten. Apiece."

Rojas pretended to think about this, although it was pretty much the figure he already had in mind.

"OK," he said. "Just keep in mind that my employer wants this finished as soon as possible."

"Believe me," said Henry, "we don't wanna stay in this town any longer than we have to."

"You got that right," said Leonard, between chews.

Puggy awoke to the sound of the angel's voice. "Puggy," the voice was calling, softly. Pogey.

Puggy rolled onto his stomach and stuck his face over the edge of his platform. There she was, in a blue uniform, looking up. She smiled when she saw his face. She was beautiful. Even from the tree, Puggy could see she had all her teeth.

"I bring you some lunch," she said. I breen you son lonch.

Puggy started down the tree, then, as Nina giggled, he scooted back onto the platform and wriggled into his pants. He started down again.

"Hey," he said, when he reached the ground. He wished he owned a toothbrush.

"For you," she said, giving him a paper plate with a sandwich on it.

It was turkey on white bread with mayonnaise, lettuce, and sliced tomato. It was the most elaborate meal anybody had ever made for Puggy.

"Thank you for help me," Nina said.

Puggy looked at the wonderful sandwich-it also had & folded napkin-then at Nina.

"Listen," he said. "I love you."

"So what you're telling me," Evan Hanratty, organizer of the Killer game, said to Matt, "is that her mom beat you up? Her mom?"

They were in the Southeast High School gymnasium, which, from 11:15 A.M. through 1:35 P.M., became the Southeast High School auxiliary cafeteria, which meant that the food tasted even more like unlaundered jockstraps than it would have ordinarily.

"She jumped me from behind," said Matt. "And there were two of them. And I wasn't gonna hit women."

"Looks like they hit you pretty good," said Evan, studying Matt's lower lip.

"Well, I got a lot of help from my backup man," said Matt.

"Hey," said Andrew, "call me crazy, but when somebody starts shooting, I leave."

"Are you guys sure there was a gunshot?" asked Evan.

"You should have seen the TV," said Matt. "It was, like, a bunch of TV molecules."

"s.h.i.t," said Evan.

They all reflected on that thought for a moment.

"So," said Matt, "this doesn't count as killing Jenny?"

"Nope," said Evan. "You gotta squirt her. That's the rules. If we start letting people get points for rolling around on the floor, we'd have anarchy."

"Speaking of rolling around," said Andrew, "how was it?"

"Yeah," said Evan. "How was it? I mean, if Jenny's mom looks anywhere near as good as Jenny ... "

"Which she does," noted Andrew.

"So, how was it?" said Evan.

"Shut up," said Matt.

"Hey, I'm just asking," said Evan. "You don't have to ... "

"I mean, shut up, here comes Jenny," said Matt.

Sure enough, Jenny was approaching. This was unusual, because Matt, Andrew, and Evan were sitting in the section of the bleachers traditionally occupied by Guys Who Were Smart but Didn't Partic.i.p.ate in School Activities and Tended to Be Wisea.s.ses. Jenny sat in the section for Pretty and Very Popular Girls; generally, a girl from that section would not be seen in any other section except the one for Guys Who Played Sports and/or Held Cla.s.s Office.

"Hey," Jenny said, to Matt.

"Hey," said Matt.

"Does that hurt?" she asked, pointing to Mart's lip.

"Not really," said Matt.

"Maybe," said Evan, "if you kissed it, it would feel better."

"Shut up," said Matt. To Jenny, he said, "Is everything OK at your house?"

"Well, my mom's still pretty upset about the bullet," said Jenny. "But the police guy thinks it was just some crackhead who was gonna rob us, and you scared him off."

"My hero," said Andrew, in falsetto, swooning.

"Shut up," said Matt.