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〃I can't tell you that。〃
Joe Winder pressed the hurricane tape over Hawkins's lips…then fiercely yanked it away。 Hawkins yelped。 Tears of pain sprang to his eyes。 In colorful expletives he offered the opinion that Winder had gone insane。
The excruciating procedure was repeated on one of Billy Hawkins's bare nipples and nearly uprooted a cluster of curly black hairs。 〃I can do this all night；〃 Winder said。 〃I'm way past the point of caring。〃
The agent took a long bitter moment to pose himself。 〃You could go to prison；〃 he mumbled。
〃For assaulting you with adhesive tape？ I don't think so。〃 Winder placed one gummy strip along the line of soft hair that trailed southward from Billy Hawkins's navel。 The agent gaped helplessly as Winder jerked hard； the tape came off with a sibilant rip。
〃You…you're a goddamn lunatic！〃
〃But I'm your only hope。 Who's going to believe you were shot and abducted by an elderly widow？ And if they should believe it； what would that do to your career？〃 Joe Winder spread the quilt on the floor and sat cross…legged in front of the hog…tied agent。
〃Blaine； Washington；〃 Winder said。 〃Isn't that the FBI's equivalent of Siberia？〃
Hawkins conceded the point silently。 The political cost of prosecuting a grandmother and a pair of candyass burglars would be high。 The Bureau was hypersensitive to incidents incongruous with the lantern…jawed crime…buster image promoted by J。 Edgar Hoover； for an FBI agent to be overpowered by a doddering senior citizen was a disgrace。 An immediate transfer to some godforsaken cowtown would be a certainty。
〃So what can you do？〃 Hawkins asked Winder sourly。
〃Maybe nothing。 Maybe save your skin。 Did Molly make you call the office？〃
The agent nodded。 〃At gunpoint。 I told them I was taking a couple of sick days。〃
〃They ask about this Mafia thing？〃
〃I told them it wasn't panning out。 Looked like a bullshit shakedown。〃 Hawkins sounded embarrassed。 〃That's what she made me say。 Threatened to shoot me again if I didn't go along with the routine…and it didn't sound like a bluff。〃
〃You did the right thing；〃 Joe Winder said。 〃No sense chancing it。〃 He stood up and rewrapped himself in the quilt。 〃You'll have to stay like this a while；〃 he told the agent。 〃It's the only way。〃
〃I don't get it。 What's your connection to these crackpots？〃
〃Long story。〃
〃Winder； don't be a jackass。 This isn't a game。〃 Hawkins spoke sternly for a man in his ridiculous predicament。 〃Somebody could get killed。 That's not what you want； is it？〃
〃Depends。 Tell me the name of this precious witness。〃
〃Frankie King。〃
Joe Winder shrugged。 〃Never heard of him。〃
〃Moved down from New York after he snitched on some of Gotti's crowd。 This was a few years back。〃
〃Swift move。 What's he calling himself these days？〃
〃That I can't possibly tell you。〃
〃Then you're on your own； Billy。 Think about it。 Your word against Grandma Moses。 Picture the headlines： 'Sharpshooter Widow Gunned Me Down； Nude G…Man Claims。' 〃
Hawkins sagged dispiritedly。 He said； The flip's name is Francis Kingsbury。 You happy now？〃
〃Kingsbury？〃 Joe Winder raised his eyes to the heavens and cackled raucously。 〃The Mafia is ing down here to whack Mr。 X！〃
〃Hey；〃 Billy Hawkins said； 〃it's not funny。〃
But it was very funny to Joe Winder。 〃Francis X。 Kingsbury。 Millionaire theme…park developer and real…estate mogul； darling of the Chamber of merce； 1988 Rotarian Citizen of the Year。 And you're telling me he's really a two…bit jizzbag on the run from the mob？〃
Ecstatically； Joe Winder hopped from foot to foot； spinning in a circle and twirling Molly's quilt like a calico cape。
〃Oh； Billy boy；〃 he sang； 〃isn't this a great country！〃
They were thirty minutes late to the airport because Danny Pogue insisted on watching the end of a National Geographic television documentary about rhinoceros poachers in Africa。
In the car he couldn't stop talking about the program。 〃The only reason they kill 'em； see； what they're after is the horns。 Just the horns！〃 He put his fist on his nose to simulate a rhinoceros snout。 〃In some places they use 'em for sex potions。〃
〃Get off it；〃 said Bud Schwartz。
〃No shit。 They grind the horns into powder and put it in their tea。〃
〃Does it work？〃
〃I don't know；〃 Danny Pogue said。 The TV didn't say。〃
〃Like； it gives you a super big boner or what？〃
〃I don't know； Bud； the TV didn't say。 They just talked about how much the powder goes for in Hong Kong； stuff like that。 Thousands of bucks。〃
Bud Schwartz said； 〃You ask me； they left out the most important part of the show。 Does it work or not？〃
He drove into one of the airport garages and snatched a ticket from the machine。 He parked on Level M； as always。 〃M〃 for Mother； it was the only way Bud Schwartz could remember how to find his car。 He was annoyed that his partner wasn't sharing in the excitement of the moment： they were about to be rich。
〃After today； you can retire；〃 Bud Schwartz said。 〃No more b…and…e's。 Man； we should throw us a party tonight。〃
Danny Pogue said； 〃I ain't in the mood。〃
They stepped onto the moving sidewalk and rode in silence to the Delta Airlines concourse。 The plane had arrived on time； so the visitor already was waiting outside the gate。 As promised； he was carrying a blue umbrella； otherwise Bud Schwartz would never have known that he was the hit man。 He stood barely five feet tall and weighed at least two hundred pounds。 He had thinning brown hair； small black eyes and skin that was the color of day…old lard。 Under a herringbone sport coat he wore a striped polyester shirt； open at the neck； with a braided gold chain。 The hit man seemed fond of gold； a bracelet rattled on his wrist when he shook Bud Schwartz's hand。
〃Hello；〃 said the burglar。
〃You call me Lou。〃 The hit man spoke in a granite baritone that didn't match the soft roly…polyness of his figure。
〃Hi； Lou；〃 said Danny Pogue。 〃I'm Bud's partner。〃
〃How nice for you。 Where's the car？〃 He pointed to a Macy's shopping bag near his feet。 〃That's yours。 Now； where's the car？〃
On the drive south； Danny Pogue peeked in the Macy's bag and saw that it was full of cash。 Lou was up in the front seat next to Bud Schwartz。
〃I wanna do this tomorrow；〃 he was saying。 〃I gotta get home for my wife's birthday。 She's forty。〃 Then he farted loudly and pretended not to hear it。
〃Forty？ No kidding？〃 said Bud Schwartz。 He had been expecting something quite different in the way of a mob assassin。 Perhaps it wasn't fair； but Bud Schwartz was disappointed in Lou's appearance。 For Francis Kingsbury's killer； he had envisioned someone taut； snake…eyed and menacing…not fat； balding and flatulent。
Just goes to show； thought Bud Schwartz； these days everything's hype。 Even the damn Mafia。
From the back seat； Danny Pogue asked： 〃How're you gonna do it？ What kinda gun？〃
Lou puffed out his cheeks and said； 〃Brand X。 The fuck do you care； what kinda gun？〃
〃Danny；〃 Bud Schwartz said； 〃let's stay out of the man's private business； okay？〃
〃I didn't mean nothin'。〃
〃You usually don't。〃
The man named Lou said； 〃This the neighborhood？〃
〃We're almost there；〃 said Bud Schwartz。
〃I can't