Sun rolled his eyes. "What you want to know?"

"Anything."

"Okay," said Sun. "It was called the Twister Special when it came out. The factory put a decal on the side so you knew; it was supposed to look like a tornado or something, ran from the front to the rear quarter panels. It was a very fast car. The stock engine was a four twenty-nine, SCJ."

Stefanos smiled like David Janssen and scribbled in his notebook. "G.o.dd.a.m.n, Jerry. Anything else?"

"Ford only made ninety of that particular car. I'd call that a very limited edition. A car like that, it shouldn't be so hard to find."

"Keep going."

"I only saw it go by quick, but from what I saw the car was in perfect condition. Like it had been garaged. Or restored."

Stefanos looked at Sun with admiration. "Why didn't you tell me the first time around?"

"You didn't ask. Smart guy like you, I was wondering when you were going to get around to it."

"That car you saw. You know whose car that was, Jerry?"

"No idea. I'm serious about that, too."

"Tags?"

"Like I told you before. No tags."

"I guess Anna was right about you guys."

"Yeah, I been jacking off to Motor Trend Motor Trend since I was nine years old." since I was nine years old."

"Doin' your own viscosity tests, huh?"

"I gotta run, Stefanos."

"Okay. Say, I'm kinda hungry. How is is the steak and cheese here, Jerry?" the steak and cheese here, Jerry?"

"I wouldn't recommend it. Tastes like dog s.h.i.t, you want to know the truth."

Sun turned and walked back toward the rear kitchen entrance.

"Hey, thanks," said Stefanos. Sun waved over his shoulder and went through the door.

On Kennedy, Stefanos dropped a quarter and a dime into the pay phone slot. He lit a cigarette, got Elaine's a.s.sistant, waited for Elaine to get on the line.

"Nick, what's going on?"

"I talked to Terrence Mitch.e.l.l. It's not that he doesn't remember if Randy and his daughter went out the night of the murder. He does remember, but he won't testify to it. He'd rather get that drug dealer out of his daughter's life than get him off. He told me straight up that he'd lie."

"Nice. That means we're -"

"f.u.c.ked. It also means Randy Weston's innocent. I know that now. And the car thing? The Torino's real. I got a line on it from Jerry Sun, the guy who runs the Chinese joint down here in the neighborhood. The car's a special model, Elaine. We should be able to track it down, despite the fact that it was out there without tags that night."

"Give me the details. I'll get our people to run it through the system."

Stefanos read off the information Sun had given him.

"This could be what breaks this," said Elaine. "Nice work."

"Thanks. In the meantime, I can check with some mechanics. Ford restorationists, specialists. Car like that, they'd remember it."

"Hold on a second, Nick."

Stefanos dragged on his Camel. He double-dragged and watched his smoke dissipate in the wind.

"All right," said Elaine, "I'm back. Was looking for my address book.... Here it is. Marcus has this friend, Dimitri knows him, too, works on old Continentals exclusively. Genuine tough guy, a Truck Turner type, has a garage over in the Brookland area. I've got his number right here."

"What's his name?"

"Al Adamson," said Elaine. "Say Marcus hooked you up."

"There goes Strickland," said Marcus Clay. "Gonna go right in on Shaq, challenge his wide a.s.s."

"Man is fearless," said Dimitri Karras.

The crowd at the MCI Center cheered as Rod Strickland sunk the layup. Karras and Clay slapped each other five.

"Rod," said Karras with admiration. "Best point guard in the East."

"Might be the best guard in the NBA, you ask me. The man sees the entire floor. He can dish without telegraphing, and he can take it to the hole at will. And what I really like is, he's got the fire. The rest of the Wizards had that fire, we'd hear the fat lady sing again, you can believe that."

"Webber can do it."

"When he wants to," said Clay, "C. Webb can do it all. That young man's got more natural ability than I've seen on anyone in a long while. But look right there."

Webber had dropped away from the rest of the defense and was walking backward, slowly, toward the half-court line.

"He's always lookin' to leak out for that fast break," said Clay, "when he should be crashing those boards."

"You can't blame that on Webber entirely. That's a coaching thing right there."

Karras clapped at a Calbert Cheaney jumper that made the nylon dance. His elbow knocked Clay's, causing him to spill beer on his chin.

"Hey, watch it, man."

"Sorry."

"You just spilled about two dollars' worth of my five-dollar beer."

"Yeah, good thing you and I never did drink too much. We'd go broke in this place."

Clay looked around. "It's beautiful, though, isn't it? Finally got us our own venue in the city."

"Like the Garden. And these are good seats."

"The business pays for them, man. Midcourt, club level. You can't beat it, and I write it off. If you were to come back to the company, you'd get a third of the games."

Karras ignored that and said, "Only thing I miss now is the Washington Bullets."

"You gonna go on that nostalgia trip again?"

"You wanna tell me why they had to change the name of the team? Because it encouraged violence? s.h.i.t, Marcus, basketball jerseys don't kill people -"

"They changed the name to sell sell basketball jerseys, man." basketball jerseys, man."

"It's like go-go music, Marcus."

"Now you're gonna get on that."

"I'm serious. Every time someone gets shot within a hundred yards of a go-go concert, the Post Post dredges up their old warhorse about how the music is related to the violence. Getting the public all paranoid about go-go, it's ridiculous. For what? So they can make a case for taking away the one thing the young people of this city can still call their own?" dredges up their old warhorse about how the music is related to the violence. Getting the public all paranoid about go-go, it's ridiculous. For what? So they can make a case for taking away the one thing the young people of this city can still call their own?"

"I hear you, man. And so does that family in front of us."

"n.o.body tried to stop rock and roll because of Altamont. Or after the stampede when the Who played Cincinnati."

"The Kids Are All Dead tour?" tour?"

"The Kids Are All Right."

"Gotta excuse me, I been out of the music business for a while. You want a hot dog or something?"

"Yeah, okay. Can I borrow twenty dollars?"

They watched another five minutes of game. Tracy Murray hit two free throws to further the Wizards' lead.

"The shots at the line are gonna win this game," said Clay. "The Lakers have made half of theirs. We made d.a.m.n near all of ours. It's like I'm always telling Marcus Jr.: fundamentals."

"How's M. J. doin', man?"

"Good. Made the honor roll at Wilson. You'll see him at my birthday thing. You are coming, right?"

"I'll be there."

"Course, M. J. would have liked to have made the game tonight. Wanted to check out Kobe."

"He'll see him - the kid's got a long career ahead of him."

"He's got, what, four points this evening? The way he's playin' tonight, I'd say the young emperor has no clothes."

"The Lakers are a year away in every department. Look at their talent. Van Exel, Horry. Eddie Jones is bad bad. And Kobe Bryant is only gonna get better."

"Anyway, I told M. J. that I had to save the Lakers game for my boy Dimitri. 'Cause I know how much you like the Lakers." Clay side-glanced Karras. "Goin' all the way back to Gail Goodrich, when you modeled your game after his."

"Aw, s.h.i.t, now you're gonna start that again. I told you a hundred times, my game was always closer to Walt Frazier's."

"Well, you used to wear those Clydes of his, anyway."

"And I could drive the paint like him, too."

Clay and Karras laughed and shook hands. Clay squeezed Karras's shoulder.

"It's good to see you, man," said Clay.

"Good to see you, too."

"You look different. Happier or something. Am I wrong?"

"No, you're right. My new job has helped. And so has time."

"You still seeing the bartender's wife?"

"Once a week for now. That's helped as well."

"What about Lisa?"

"I called her late the other night.... I don't know why. It was a mistake. Nothing's changed. Nothing's going going to change." Karras finished his warm beer and put the plastic cup down on the concrete. "I know now that there's two kinds of people in this world: those who've lost a child and those who haven't. I'll never be whole again, Marcus. I've accepted that." to change." Karras finished his warm beer and put the plastic cup down on the concrete. "I know now that there's two kinds of people in this world: those who've lost a child and those who haven't. I'll never be whole again, Marcus. I've accepted that."

"But you got to keep trying."

"I am." Karras wiped his mouth dry with a napkin. "Speaking of work, I've got this friend down at the Spot, dishwasher named Darnell. Smart guy, a good cook, and a really good worker. I think he's a good candidate to open his own small business. He's not looking for a bar, just the food side of things."

"I'll talk to him, that's what you want."

"He lacks confidence, I think."

"When the time's right, then. Maybe you could come in with him, make it less painful for him. Be a good way for you to ease back on into the company, too. Clarence was just sayin' the other day how we could use your people skills again."

"Like I said, Marcus. I need a little time."

O'Neal fought three defenders under the bucket and came up for a monster dunk. The hometown crowd had to applaud his effort.

"Now there's a guy whose game has come around," said Karras.

"You're not lyin'. Shaq is the real Raging Bull."

Karras looked over at his friend. Marcus had put on a few pounds, but it was natural weight gain and he kept it hard. His closely cropped Afro was salted with gray, and there were gray flecks in his thick black mustache.

"You still playin'?" said Karras.

"Still got that once-a-week thing over at the Alice Deal gym. My knees are gonna betray me one of these days, I know. And I can't run the court with those young boys anymore. But I'm doin' all right for an old man, I guess."