"Demp, I'm starting to get the feeling," Freddy said with a chuckle, "that you don't like anybody the first time you meet them."

"I don't trust anybody the first time I meet them. Not anybody in this line of work." He walked into the bathroom and filled a glass with tap water. "If anything goes wrong, that man is gonna talk. Even if things go right, I think he's gonna talka"to somebody." The water was cold. It felt good on his dry throat and helped refresh him into the day. He studied himself in the bathroom mirror briefly, not sure what to make of the reflection.

"All right," Freddy said. "What do you want to do about it?"

"Not much we can do, is there?"

The sound of birds for a moment.

Then, "Look," Freddy said, "you know I'm not going to steer you into some bum deal."

"I never said anything of the sort."

"I had a good long talk with Gardner the day you left Ohio. He understands the score."

"Understanding it and being a part of it are two different things," Dempster said, thinking back to his conversation with Sandra in Oklahoma about people who play tricks on themselves.

"He's a part of it," Freddy told him. "He's an integral part."

"I'm just saying is all." He drank down the rest of his water. "If he talks, if he blows thisa"and this doesn't just go for Gardner, it goes for the other guys as well. If I find out this thing is fucked, I swear I'll kill all four of them."

"It won't come to that."

"I hope you're right."

"It won't." A tense, uncomfortable pause, then, "I gotta go. We're heading out in just a few minutes. Charlie or I will call you this afternoon or evening, all right?"

"All right."

The moment he hung up, a confrontation broke out down the hall.

2.

"Jesus, man, let him go."

Clark stood in one of the bedroom doorways, face twisted in a disgusted grimace. When he saw Dempster he backed out, and in the bedroom Dempster saw Jimmy on his knees with Evan on top of him, a thick arm wrapped around his throat, the other arm over his face, covering his eyes, and he was pulling backwards, a knee pressed into Jimmy's back.

"What's going on?"

"Son of a bitch was going through my bag," Evan said through gritted teeth.

"I swear I wasn't." Jimmy choked, gasped for breath.

"Hell you weren't, I saw you."

"You got it wrong," Jimmy cried.

"All right," Dempster said stepping into the room, "let him go."

"Break his goddamn neck is what I'm gonna do."

"I said let him go."

Evan threw him a wild glare. At the very same second Dempster's fist cracked him in the eye. Evan's head snapped to one side and Jimmy fell away from his arms. Both men collapsed to the floor, Jimmy trying to swallow air, Evan with his hands on his face.

"You're not in a fucking schoolyard," Dempster told them.

Evan sat up, a small gash at the corner of his left eye.

Still sucking air, Jimmy rubbed his neck, glanced at Evan and then to the floor. "I swear I wasn't going through your bag," he said.

"Then just what the hell were you doing with it?"

"Moving it," Jimmy said, and Dempster saw tears in the man's eyes. "You obviously didn't notice, but you tossed your bag on top of mine this morning. You happened to walk in right when I picked it up to move it."

"Bullshit," Evan said.

"Why the hell would I want to go through your bag?"

"I dunno," Evan licked his fingers and brought them to his eye, "why would you?"

"The only reason I had for touching your stupid bag was to get it off of my bag."

Dempster studied Evan studying Jimmy. There was strength and confidence, a subtle yet sinister grin playing about his lips. Jimmy, on the other hand, was practically crying, still drawing deep breaths, his face red.

The dynamic these two had was scary.

Evan looked over at Dempster. He looked him up and down. His grin widened just the slightest bit, and his expression seemed to say, "Stay out of my business."

Dempster answered him with his eyes. "What's gonna stop me?"

Evan read it, checked it, and thankfully decided not to test it.

"Why so freaked about your bag, anyway?" Clark asked, then stuffed a cigarette between his lips and fumbled around for his lighter.

"My bag, isn't it? My personal belongings. My privacy. How would you feel if I was going through your shit?"

"I'd at least have enough sense to ask what you were doing first," Clark told him, and found his lighter. "I'd at least do that much."

"Well, maybe we'll just have to see about that," Evan told him.

Clark lit his cigarette. "The hell's that supposed to mean?"

"All right," Dempster said, "that's enough. Just shut the hell up, all of you. You're acting like goddamn third graders. Any second you're gonna start pointing fingers saying who started it."

"Now, hang on," Evan said.

"Shut up," Dempster snapped, then paused, and finally shook his head. "I thought you guys were getting better, growing up." The sigh that escaped him sounded like wind through trees. "Now I see that's all a crock."

"Jesus Christ," Evan said. "Who do you think you are? Big tough man steps into the picture and starts telling us what to do and what not to do. Big tough man wants to boss us around. Big tough man who screwed up and got nabbed by the cops and spent the last five years behind bars." He sneered. "Why should we be listening to you?" A long pause played out. Taut silence enveloped everything. Then, "But you're right about one thing," he said, "we're not in a fucking schoolyard, we're not in the third grade, so you"a"he pointed at Dempstera""stop acting like the goddamn teacher."

Dempster studied the man's cold dark eyes. To his surprise, it was the first time that he felt a genuine respect for Evan Wolfe. It also solidified in his mind the fact that somewhere down the line, there was going to be some very serious trouble.

"If you have a problem with me," Dempster said. "If you have a problem with the way things are, feel free to call Mister Skeele and talk to him about it. Or feel free to swing at me." He stepped closer. "If it'll make you feel better then go ahead. Hit me. Prove to yourself that you've got guts."

Evan clenched both hands into tight fists. His face flushed and his arms shook. Then, in the blink of an eye, his fingers relaxed. "Forget it," he said. "You're a waste of my time."

"I'm a waste of time? Barely out of diapers and I'm a waste of time?"

"Hold on," Clark said, trying to interfere.

"Shut up," Dempster told him. He looked at each of them individually, then as a whole, and sighed once more. "Pack your shit and get out."

"What?"

"You heard me."

"Now wait a minutea""

"I'm tired of waiting. Get going."

"Now come on," Jimmy said. "We have just as much right on this thing as you do. Mister Skeele hired us all. We need this job. We all need this job."

"That's right," Dempster said, "and you said you would do anything to make sure it goes right. So here's what we're gonna do." He poked his finger into Evan's chest. "You've been given a chance to split. If you stay, mark my word, I'll kill any one of you that doesn't do what I tell them, got it?"

"Yeah," Clark said stepping between everybody, the peacekeeper. "Yeah, we get it. Nothing like this will happen again, right guys?"

Evan and Jimmy glared at one another.

Then, "Right," Jimmy said softly, defeated.

That sinister grin returned to Evan's face, larger than before. "Right," he said, "no more trouble." He looked into Dempster's eyes. "I promise," he said.

Dissatisfied but forcing himself to let it go, Dempster stepped aside and watched Clark and Evan pass by, leaving the room like punks being herded from a classy restaurant.

Jimmy stayed behind, fingers fidgeting. He wiped his face, then rubbed his neck. "I really wasn't going into his bag. I was just moving it. I don't want anything to do with his stuff; I don't give a crap. Honest. Why the fuck would I care?"

Dempster looked at him. You really don't know what you're doing, man, he thought. You're way out of your league. This isn't the line of work for you. You're too good of a person inside, you dumb bastard.

"Jimmy, have you ever read Nietzsche?"

"Huh?"

"Friedrich Nietzsche. Ever read him?"

Jimmy moved his head slowly from side to side, then wiped his face again.

"'He who fights with monsters should take care that he himself does not become a monster'." He looked into the hallway and then to Jimmy, who stood confused and concerned, eyes narrowed, brow furrowed, face red.

You fool, Dempster thought. The dumb look in your eyes. Things can't go on this way for you. Get out while you still cana"if you still can.

He looked away and told him, "Get out of my sight."

Jimmy got up and stumbled out of the room.

Dempster stood there a moment and regarded the two bags, each nondescript and uninteresting. He couldn't help wondering about Evan's bag, though, given the man's reaction to it being touched. He left and made his way back through the hall to his own room, picturing in his mind the image of himself he'd seen earlier in the bathroom mirror.

"'When you gaze long into the abyss,'" he concluded, "'the abyss also gazes into you'."

3.

Hours later, after going over the escape route three times and checking out a couple of alternate routes, Dempster found himself pulling into the parking lot of De Vargas Mall without even thinking about it.

Stupid asshole, he said to himself, knowing exactly why he'd come here. He'd come to see his old friend Mike Goodman, like he said he would. His best friend since the first grade. The friend he'd smoked his first cigarette with. First discussed girls with. The same friend who once punched him in the face to get his car keys away when he was too drunk to drive. Who stayed up all night to help him with his math homework, and when he still couldn't get it right, let him copy his. Someone who had remained his friend over the years in spite of his many flaws. That's why he was here at the mall, he told himself. To see his best friend.

More powerful than this, however, though he tried not to admit it, was a desire to see the redheaded girl he'd seen the day before. A burning desire, like match heads flaring. He remembered exactly how she looked. Her soft, clear and pale skin, the only make-up a small bit of lipstick, red to match her hair. Her blue eyes tired and frustrated, giving them an air of indifference that Dempster found appealing. The way she moved, slowly and with a certain poise that went well with the rest of her presentation. She stirred something ferocious and primitive inside him, and he wanted her in incomprehensible ways that brought about an unsettling ache which started in his chest and went down to his knees.

Contradictory to this, however, he also felt fear. There had been something that drew him like a magnet, while at the same time repelled him.

He climbed out of the car, pocketed his keys, and made his way to Essentials.

The music hadn't changed since the day before. Still the same terrible dance song. The lighting was still awful, the atmosphere worse. Instead of heading straight for the book department, this time he took the long way around, through the video section, moving slowly, deliberately, browsing the new releases and others around him. Not a sign did he see of her.

Mike was in the literature section with some sort of beeper gun, using it to scan barcodes on the backs of books. When the gun made one sound, he placed that book back on the shelf, and when it made another sound, he tossed the book onto a cart.

"Hey, Perky."

Mike scanned another book, tossed it onto the cart and looked up. "Hey, Jerky. You have a good night?"

"Could've been worse." He pulled a copy of The Moviegoer from the shelf. "What about you?"

"Wasn't bad," Mike said. "Mostly spent the night watching TV."

"Anything good?"

"Is there ever anything good on TV?"