"We won't know if we don't hear it. Joe?"

Speaking slowly and calmly, checking his watch only once, Kurtz told them the plan. When he was finished he stood, walked to the small refrigerator next to the sofa, and took out a bottle of water. "Anyone want one?" he said.

Gonzaga and Angelina only stared at him.

The male don spoke first. "You can't fucking be serious."

Kurtz said nothing.

"He is fucking serious," Angelina said softly. "Christ."

"Tonight?" said Gonzaga, pronouncing each syllable as if he'd never beard the word before.

"It would have to be, wouldn't it?" said Angelina. "Kurtz is right And we don't have much time to decide."

Kurtz looked at his watch again. "You have less than a minute to decide."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" snarled Toma Gonzaga.

The downstairs buzzer made its raucous noise.

The conference with Baby Doc Skrzypczyk—whose two men searched longer, harder, and more thoroughly than either Gonzaga's or Angelina's had—lasted longer than Kurtz had imagined it would. There were a lot of details. Evidently Gonzaga and Farino Ferrara wanted their money's worth in exchange for a mere three-quarters of a million dollars.

No one shook hands when Baby Doc's bodyguards left. No one spoke. Kurtz made no introductions. He doubted if the three had ever met, but they knew enough about each other. The powerfully built Lackawanna boss simply took off his expensive, camel-hair topcoat, hung it on the coat-rack, sat on the sprung couch, looked at Toma Gonzaga and Angelina Farino Ferrara, and said, "Have you decided that it's worth the money to you? Time's wasting here either way."

Angelina looked at Baby Doc, then at Gonzaga, and chewed her lip for a second. "I'm in," she said at last.

"Yeah," said Toma Gonzaga.

"Yeah?" said Baby Doc, sounding like a schoolteacher prompting a student. "What does that mean?"

"That means I'm in for my half. If you can provide all that stuff tonight. And if you don't have any more demands."

"I do, actually," said Baby Doc. "I want to be able to take over and run the Major's empire if I can."

Well, thought Kurtz, there goes the old ballgame.

Angelina shot a glance at Gonzaga where he sat on the far edge of Arlene's desk. "What do you mean?" asked Toma Gonzaga, obviously understanding but stalling for a moment to think.

"I mean what I said. I want you to acknowledge my right to take over the Major's business operations down there. I don't need help… I just need your word that if I can do it, you won't try to come in and take it away from me."

Angelina and Gonzaga looked at each other again. "You're going into sale of… the product?" said Angelina.

"I will if I can take over the Major's and Colonel's business," said Baby Doc. "It doesn't have to compete with yours. You and I both know that it's small potatoes… rural stuff."

"Several million dollars a year worth of small potatoes," said Gonzaga. The don was rubbing his cheek while he thought.

"Yeah," said Baby Doc. And waited.

Angelina shot Gonzaga a final glance, they born nodded as if they were using some sort of special Mafia telepathy, and she said, "All right You have our word. You manage to take over that network, you can have it. Just don't bring it north of Kissing Bridge."

Kurtz knew that Kissing Bridge was a ski area about halfway between Buffalo and Neola.

"Done," said Baby Doc. "Let's talk about how this gets done."

Kurtz had been working on a sketch of the Major's house and grounds, and now he moved to the photocopier behind Arlene's desk, got the machine warmed up, and made three copies. They all studied the sketch.

"How do you know the guard will be out here in this cupola near the little train tracks?" asked Gonzaga.

"I noticed when they were taking me into the house from the heliport that the cupola had a porta-potty next to it and one of those heavy-duty, gas-powered heaters inside it. It's the logical place for a sentry."

"Where else?" asked Angelina. "Here at this little gatehouse at the top of the driveway before it curls around the back of the house?"

"Yeah," said Kurtz. "One guy there. That little gatehouse doesn't have a gate or barrier. All that stuff is down the hill."

"Anyone on the terrace?" asked Baby Doc.

Kurtz shrugged. "I doubt it. No one's going to be coming up that stairway. Most of their people are down the hill."

They talked for another hour. Finally Baby Doc rose. "Any other details left, speak now… I've only got about five hours to fill this order, you know."

"A medic," said Kurtz.

"What?" said Angelina.

"I need someone along who knows how to give some medical treatment," said Kurtz. "If Rigby King is alive down there—and if we can keep her alive during the gun-fight at the OK Corral—I want to get her back to Erie County Medical Center. I don't want her to bleed to death on the ride back."

"Why?" said Angelina.

Kurtz looked at her. "Why what?"

"Why do you think she might still be alive? What reason would Major O'Toole and Colonel Trinh have for keeping her alive?"

Kurtz sighed and rubbed his head. He was very tired. Every part of him ached and he realized that he'd managed to screw up his back during his butt-first descent down the ziggurat. "They want me to kill Rigby," he said at last.

"What do you mean?" asked Baby Doc.

"They don't mind taking on the Five Families after they waste Gonzaga and Farino tomorrow in Neola," said Kurtz, "but I don't think their juice necessarily extends to Buffalo P.D. Homicide. Plus, they don't expect me there tomorrow at the sheriff's office, so they'll need to kill me as well. It's tidier if they rig it so it looks like I killed Detective King—probably in my own place up here. Maybe she'll get a shot off to kill me before she dies. They have both of our guns and they used mine to shoot her in the leg."

"M.E.," enunciated Gonzaga—meaning that the Medical Examiner would determine the times of death to within an hour or two, so the Major didn't want King dead days before the hypothetical shoot-out with Kurtz. They had to die at the same time.

"Yeah," said Kurtz.

"How romantic," said Angelina. "A regular Romeo and Juliet."

Kurtz ignored her. "Can you get a medic and some medical supplies on the list?" he asked Baby Doc. "A stretcher, bandages, an IV drip, some morphine? And a doctor?"

The standing man coughed into his fist.

"Is that a yes?" said Kurtz.

"It's a yes," said Baby Doc Skrzypczyk. "But a yes with some irony in it. The only doctor I can get who's guaranteed to take the risk and to keep his mouth shut is a Yemeni, like our mutual friend Yasein Goba. Is that acceptable, Mr. Kurtz?"

"Yeah, that's acceptable." What the fuck.

"Midnight then, at Mr. Gonzaga's place," said Baby Doc and barely nodded to Gonzaga and Angelina. He went out the door and down the stairs.

"Who's Yasein Goba?" asked Angelina. Kurtz shook his head and winced at the motion. He'd never learn. "It doesn't matter," he said through the pain.

A minute later, Toma Gonzaga said, "Midnight then," and went down the long stairs to join his bodyguards. Angelina lingered as Kurtz shut off the lights.

"What?" he said. "You waiting for refreshments?"

"Come home with me," she said softly. "You look like shit."

"What are you talking about, 'Come home with me? You kidnapping me at gunpoint again?"

"Knock that off, Joe. You really look awful. When's the last time you ate?"

"Lunch," he said. He didn't really remember what he ate with Rigby earlier this endless day, but he clearly remembered throwing up by the Pinto while the sheriff and deputy watched and laughed.