I figured Bobby for about forty. "How much further does he have to go?"

"Well, you know how it is. Some people never get there at all."

"He'd better be there tonight."

"Shit, you don't have to worry about Bobby that way. He's a good man on the job."

"It isn't a job for a middle-aged adolescent."

"Look, I've worked with him before. I'm telling you he's all right."

"If you say so."

"I say so." He was silent for a long moment. I didn't have to go into his head to sense his disapproval. "You don't like people much, do you?"

I didn't bother to answer.

"I guess it's that thing that you do, getting into people's heads, see what they're thinking. If I could do that, I guess I'd start playing God just like you."

"You know me better than that, Manny."

"I know you, and that's why I'm saying it. You see too much of the bad side of people, stuff that shouldn't be seen, except maybe by God. That's why you're down on people."

"You figure that God is down on people?" "I've known it all my life."

"Then how come I'm not down on you? How come I think that you're a mature, stable personality without a blemish or a flaw?"

"Well, shit, that's me. Everybody knows I'm perfect." He grinned in the darkness. "But you're down on people, that's for sure. I guess you can't help it. Like what you said about Ogden, about pissing on his grave. You shouldn't have said that." "The man was a prick."

"Maybe so. Bobby and me, we've got pricks in our outfit, too, but you'll never hear us say it in front of an outsider." "You just said it."

"That was just to make a point. You'll never hear me say it again." "I've got a different situation, Manny." "How?"

I wanted to tell him how. I wanted to tell him how his outfit was engaged in a clear-cut battle that allowed for simple loyalties. I wanted to tell him how the chessmasters at Langley, men like Ogden and Jessup, moved their pieces around the board with an icy precision, casually sacrificing pawns for the good of the game. I wanted to tell him how many of those broken pawns I'd seen swept off the board in places like Afghanistan and Nicaragua. I wanted to tell him all that, but just then a white El Dorado turned off the highway and into the parking lot.

Manny whispered, "Show time." He went into his crouch behind the Dragunov, his finger on the trigger and his eye fixed to the scope.

The El Dorado pulled up next to Bobby's car. There were two men in the front seat, which meant that they were breaking the agreement, but, then, so were we. The driver stayed behind the wheel. The dealer got out of the car and came over to Bobby's window. Bobby looked out, and grinned up at him.

"You got it?" asked the dealer.

"Sure, I got it," said Bobby. "You got yours?"

"I got it. Get out of the car and let's talk."

"I don't have to get out, I can talk from here." Bobby had the motor running, the gear engaged, and the clutch floored. He was ready to roll. "I don't see nothing. Where is it?"

"In the car. Come on, let's see your end."

"Hey, you crazy? You don't show me nothing, and you want to see my end?"

"Look, don't fuck with me."

"You're the one who's fucking around. Let's see the stuff."

"It's in the car."

"You said a barrel, so let's see the barrel."

"Get out of the car, I got to check you for wire."

"You check me once I see the merchandise."

"I check you, then I see the money."

"Bullshit, it don't work that way."

"You're jerking me off, you don't have any money."

"Hey, do things right. Show me the merchandise."

They were bellowing at each other. It sounded like the usual ranking, pushing for an edge, but by now I was into the dealer's head, and I knew it was a burn. I made a deep tap to be sure. There was merchandise in the El Dorado, but it wasn't for sale. It never had been. It had always been a burn, get the cash and run, and Bobby was due to go down. The dealer's weapon was in his belt, and he was ready to use it, but he wanted to see the money first. He was working himself up to it with all that shouting.

Manny whispered, "What is it?"

"A burn," I told him.

"You sure?"

I was sure. I was into the dealer's head, and I could see it clearly. "You don't have much time. You'd better drop him."

"Shit."

He didn't want to do it. Doing it would blow everything that they'd worked on for the past month, but he had no choice. He fired, and killed the dealer. The bullet went in through the top of the head. He didn't have to do it that way. He could have dropped the dealer without killing him, but his partner was under the gun, and he wasn't taking any chances.

The dealer went down, and when Bobby heard the shot he hit the accelerator. The car raced across the lot to the far end, skidded into a one-eighty, and came roaring back directly at the El Dorado. The driver of the El Dorado had a weapon out the window, firing. Bobby kept on coming. Manny put three shots into the roof of the El Dorado, and the driver popped out with his hands up. Bobby braked just short of hitting him, then he was out of the car and had the driver spread out on the hood. He was quick, and he was sure, and he wasn't thinking about teenage poon.

Bobby had the driver cuffed and his face in the gravel by the time that Manny and I got down to the lot. Manny knelt over the body of the dealer. The dealer's hands were empty; his pistol was tucked in his belt. Manny eased it out with a pencil, and dropped it into the dealer's right hand. He closed the hand around the butt, then let it go. The pistol dropped to the ground.

I must have made a noise, because Manny looked up at me, and asked, "You feel like playing God again?"

"No," I said, "but how do you know he was right-handed?"

"I don't. I'm just going with the odds."

Bobby came over and looked at the body. "The bastards," he said. He had a hard time getting the words out. He was breathing hard. He knew how close it had been.

It was time to bring in the local law, and Bobby was elected to drive into Houma to get them. Before he left, Manny took the satchel from the car. "The way they pay the cops around here," he explained, "they don't eat too regular."

When Bobby was gone, we checked to see that the driver was secure, and then we sat on the hood of the El Dorado to wait. The frogs started up in the stillness, masses of them croaking in the wetlands behind us. Manny said, "You ever go for frogs when you were a kid?"

"No."

"Didn't think so. Don't find many frogs in the big city."

"Wrong. Little town in north Texas, but no frogs worth going for."

"You don't talk like Texas."

"Not any more, it's been a while." I could have told him that he didn't talk like Cuba any more, but he knew better than that.

"We used to go for frogs when I was little. Not here, in Cuba. Big bastards, meat like a chicken leg. Catch enough and the whole family had frogs for dinner."

"Do you go for them here?"

"Not worth it. Too much work for what you get. I guess it's something for kids to do." And then, without a pause, "What do you think of Bobby now?"

"He did the job," I admitted.

"You see him come straight at that sumbitch?" He jerked his chin at the driver on the ground.

"I saw it."

"He didn't have to do that. He could have let me finish it, but that's the way he is. He gets the blood up and you can't stop him."

So Bobby was a slob and a cretin, but he could do the job. That didn't change my opinion of him, but it was the wrong time to say something like that. All I said was, "You were right. I had him wrong."

Manny nodded, satisfied. "What he doesn't know is that you saved his ass."

"Part of my job."

"Yeah, I know, but it's one hell of a job. I don't know how you do it, but there's nobody like you. You're one in a million, kid."