“Bro?”

“Forget it. If we punk him right, I’m off the hook.”

“And if not, will I be scraping you off the street like I did last time we were here?”

“Most likely. You sure you can do what we need you to do?”

“A piece of cake. Two locks, both so old I could blow into them and align the pins. The only hard thing will be finding the right circuit breaker, so screw it, I’ll just use the master and shut everything down.”

“Ninety seconds, that’s it. Off and on.”

“I got a watch and a flashlight. I’m set.”

“Just be as quiet as a cat and keep the back door open so you can get the hell out of there.”

“No one’s as worried about getting the hell out of there as I am.” “And you’ll get home on your own?”

“As soon as I hit the back door, I won’t stop running till I reach Bubba’s.”

“Good. So what’s really with the gash on your forehead?”

“Nothing.”

“Are you in trouble?”

“Forget about it.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“I don’t know, maybe I’m in the middle of something I just want to get out of, but it’s not proving to be so easy.”

“Dude,” said Kyle, shaking his head.

“Skip it, all right?” said Skitch. “I know you told me so, and I know I’m a screwup.”

“I did tell you so, but you’re not a screwup, Skitch. I’ve been thinking about you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. You’re bold as hell, and I don’t think I ever told you how much I admire that.”

“Kyle?”

“I could use a little boldness in my life.”

“That tie must be cutting off your oxygen.”

“Maybe,” said Kyle. He picked up the loose end of his tie and stared at it. “How is it possible to wear this every day? You want to know why the world is so messed up? Too many ties.” Pause. “You think I should get something with a little more color?”

“Cyan,” said Skitch.

“Cyan?”

“It’s a tropical blue. Quite festive.”

“You’re watching way too much cable. Look, whatever you’re into, as soon as this is over, we’ll get you out of it.”

“Oh, yeah? How?”

“I’ll talk to your guys.”

“Really?”

“Sure, why not?”

“Because you’re a lazy fuck. And what would you say anyway?”

“I’ll make them see your point of view.”

“How?”

“Easy. First I’ll wear the suit. Then I’ll find something to squeeze.” Kyle checked his watch. “How long will you need to pick the locks?”

“A minute or two, tops.”

“Okay, get in position. In five minutes exactly, I’ll start making a racket. That’s when you start.”

“Good luck, bro.”

“Thanks, I’ll need it.” As Skitch quietly opened the door and started slipping out of the car, Kyle put a hand on his shoulder. “Dude, I owe you.”

“You take care of my problem, we’ll owe each other,” said Skitch, and then he was gone, the door still open.

Kyle flashed his headlights twice and waited one minute, two minutes, four minutes. Then he slid across the front of the car and out Skitch’s open door, slamming it shut so only one closing would sound. With a hop in his step and a swivel in his neck, he loped toward the beat old storefront.

At exactly five minutes after Skitch had slid out of the car, Kyle started banging at the edge of the door with the flat of his fist. A polite knock-knock would have been enough, but Kyle banged like a herald from some dark, hungry place.

“Stop all that hullabaloo,” shouted Tiny Tony Sorrentino as he unlocked the door from the inside and opened it a crack. “What are you trying to do, wake the dead?”

“If I have to,” said Kyle.

“You got it?”

“I can get it.”

“What the hell does that mean? I’m not here for my health. It was just supposed to be a handoff.”

“I have the file, but not on me,” said Kyle. “You don’t get it until we decide how it’s going to work out between us in the future.”

“How it’s going to work out between us? I’m already married.”

“Are we going to talk, or am I going to walk?”

Tiny Tony opened the door a little wider and stuck his head out, looked left, looked right. “Get the hell in here,” said Tiny as he pulled Kyle inside. Sorrentino took a final scan outside before slamming the door shut behind them.

CHAPTER 42

DID YOU SEE his face, boyo?” said Liam Byrne, peering into the car after Kyle had sped from the meeting to pick him up. “It was like someone had taken hold of his heart and squeezed the squirmy little frog until it leaped. Jumping Jehosaphat, I don’t remember whenever I’ve had so much fun.”

“Neither do I,” said Kyle, both astonished and delighted that it was true. “It was freaking bold.”

“Indeed it was, boyo. Truly it was.”

“Get in,” said Kyle, and when his father did, they sat there, side by side, not moving for a moment, thinking, both of them, about the appearance of Liam Byrne’s ghostly apparition in the corner of Sorrentino’s mysteriously darkened office during negotiations over the file. And then, in that car, starting with restrained, almost amazed, chuckles and ending with belly-jostling guffaws, they laughed together, father and son.

“Did he buy it all the way?” said Liam when they had caught again their breaths and Kyle started driving. “Was he as scared as he looked?”

“I think so,” said Kyle. “Calling him a ‘marinated piece of malfeasance’ from the grave and promising to ‘crush his skull like a dung beetle’ seemed to do it.”

“It was more the tone than the words,” said Liam. “I put the ringing tone of righteous retribution in my voice.”

“It even scared me, and I knew what was going on,” said Kyle. And then, in imitation of Tiny Tony’s deathly rasp, he said, “ ‘Lamb? Burnt lamb?’ ”

And the words set off another round of laughter. Before the appearance of Liam Byrne’s ghost, there had been a strange phone call with abysmal reception, as if the call had come from some nether region. “What the hell?” had said Sorrentino. “Lamb? Burnt lamb? Who the hell is talking about burnt lamb? This ain’t no Greek restaurant.” It had taken every ounce of his self-control for Kyle not to burst out laughing right there in the office.