"I don't follow."

"France, in the First War, built a line of fortifications along its border, very heavy ones that they were absolutely convinced would keep the Germans out. The Krauts, however, immediately flanked the line and plowed right through, taking France in a matter of days. That miserable failure gave way to: 'What's the literal translation of Maginot Line?'"

"What?"

"Speed Bump Head."

Palasota laughed.

"Well," he said, and shrugged, "that looks like what's going to happen here, too."

"You don't seem to be too concerned about that."

"Look," Palasota said, "I learned a long time ago that I am nowhere near the sharpest knife in the drawer. But I am a survivor."

Yeah. A survivor just like your tough old boss.

But don't think you're conning me into thinking you're not bright.

You were damn quick and smooth with your little test to see if I really knew Joey Socks.

Jimmy Skinny went on: "I am biding my time until the Americans come. I can put together two and two and get, not four, but twenty-two, capiche? These Nazi officers are arrogant and love to brag. And I have ears everywhere." He waved his right hand above his head. "The girls, the waiters, the bartenders, everyone is listening. And of course certain rooms have been bugged."

You did learn more than a thing or two working for Charley Lucky.

The most important being: knowledge is indeed power.

Are you recording our conversation?

"I understand," Canidy said, then after a moment added, "This is none of my business, but that girl in here earlier . . . Maria?"

Palasota nodded. "A very nice girl. She is not available, but there are many others just as nice."

"That's not-"

"You want a girl?" Palasota interrupted. "Just pick one. Or two. On the house."

"That's not what I came for," Canidy said.

Jimmy Skinny laughed loudly.

"But that's what everyone comes for! And to be with one of these beautiful pinup girls for an hour, they happily pay fifteen lire."

Canidy did the conversion. That's fifty cents.

Palasota smirked and added, "When the Americans get here, the price is going up to sixty lire."

Canidy ignored that and instead said, "Maria is a beautiful woman. What I was going to ask is, who the hell hit her?"

Palasota looked at him a long moment, then nodded and said, "There's an SS officer, head of the Palermo office here-"

"Muller," Canidy interrupted, immediately understanding.

Palasota's face gave away that he was impressed.

"Yeah," he said, his tone now bitter and mocking, "Herr Sturmbannfuhrer Hans Muller. He really is a mean bastard. And the one who was scared shitless about the May eighteenth bombings."

Vito, at the mention of Muller, grunted contemptuously.

Canidy glanced at him, then back at Palasota as he thought: That's saying something coming from one who's known a mean bastard or two in his life.

"I'd suggest that that's the understatement of the day," Canidy said. "I've seen his work. He's the sonofabitch who had the fishermen tortured after the cargo ship blew up in the harbor, then hung their bodies by wire nooses from the yardarm to rot. And he executed a professor from the university-at point-blank in front of Professor Rossi."

And I think Mariano is some more of his handiwork-or at least his men's.

Palasota looked at Canidy a long moment, then said, "I remember the bodies. Muller was ten kinds of pissed off. At the blowing up of the ship and the villa. He decided to send a message with that."

"So I heard."

"With such a hot temper, I do not think you will be surprised that he likes to smack around the girls. Especially when he's been drinking; he's one mean drunk, too. So, I pay the girls extra. Because of the abuse. And because they become damaged goods and can't work. They are lucky if it's just a bruise or two. That is what just happened with Maria. One girl was not so lucky after he ordered those fishermen hung."

He paused to let Canidy consider that.

I hear you.

You're saying I'm responsible for that collateral damage.

But you do understand the big picture. Otherwise we would not be having this talk. . . .

"Muller got pretty rough with her," Palasota finished, "and she wound up cracking her skull on a table corner. He called it just an accident. But she'll never be right in the head again. She just turned twenty."

Canidy had a sudden mental image of the birthday dinner at Claridge's that he'd had only months earlier with Ann Chambers-when they celebrated her twentieth.

Jesus H. Christ!

Rationally, I shouldn't feel bad for a hooker. What happened to her is what's called an occupational hazard.

But I do.

Especially after having almost lost Ann.

"And there's no telling the sonofabitch no?"

Palasota grimaced and shook his head.

"The real bitch of it is that it would happen anyway. He would just do it at the threat of gunpoint. So, we pretend that it is part of our friendly business." He paused, then pointedly added, "But, trust me, his time is coming."

"Why not just see that he has an accident now?"

"No!" Palasota said quickly.

Canidy studied him.

That was a fast response-maybe too fast.

What is that about?

Palasota, trying to appear casual, said: "What I mean is, better the devil you know than the new SS bastard you don't. Follow me?"

Devil? An interesting choice of word.

They say it takes one to know one, no?

Canidy nodded.

"This might sound odd," Palasota then said as he looked at him, "but you look like you did not get a good night's sleep. You got a place to stay?"

Canidy automatically rubbed his chin, and felt the heavy stubble.

"Yes and no," he said.

"What is it? Yes or no?"

"We could do better."

"We?"

"I have another man with me."

One whose ankle will probably become instantly healed when he sees all these attractive women.

Palasota has to have a doctor who can look at that foot if it doesn't get better.

"Then it is settled. You will stay here at the hotel."

What? And have all your "ears" listening to everything I'm doing?

And where the hell would we run the wireless?

"That's not such a good idea," Canidy said. "I saw some SS in the lobby. That's a little too close for comfort."

Palasota nodded thoughtfully.

"I can find you something else, then."

Well, we don't need to be in that shithole any longer. Not with Nola's dead cousin. Damn! The body . . .

"That would be helpful," Canidy said.

"e cosa mia," Palasota said finally, dramatically touching the fingertips of both hands to his chest.

Canidy remembered Joe Socks Lanza declaring the same to him-"It is my thing, leave it to me"-and Canidy had done that and Lanza had delivered.

"The last I saw Frank Nola," Canidy then said, "was at his cousin's house. Do you know them, too? I believe it's Mariano and Nicole."

Palasota shook his head. "Does not ring a bell. Got a last name?"

"I'm not even sure I have their first names right."

"Sorry."

Canidy nodded, and thought, The Brothers Buda would recognize him, if that's who it is.

Canidy went on: "Frank had brought the Budas' baby sister there to that house to hide her from the SS."

Palasota raised his eyebrows in question.

"Her name is Andrea," Canidy said, "maybe nineteen years old, a beautiful girl with dark hair and eyes."

Palasota nodded. "Yes, that's Andrea."

"You do know her?"

"Yes, she's here."

What? She's a hooker?

That's why Tweedle Dee looked sad. And then got pissed off when he thought I mimed that I wanted to screw her. . . .

But then he said he didn't know where she was.

Or was that just one more miscommunication?

"What do you mean she's here?"

"She's here working."

Then that's what Tubes said when he told John Craig about screwing a whore? It was Andrea. . . .

"Andrea is a . . . working girl?"

"Oh!" Jimmy Skinny then said. "No, not that. She's in charge of the maids. And she keeps an eye on the girls when they get hurt. She studied to be a nurse at the university. Maria saw her this morning, before she came to see me."

No shit!

"I need to speak with her," Canidy said. "As soon as possible."

Palasota turned to Vito, snapped his fingers, and in Sicilian rapidly gave what clearly was an order.