Jesse knew he was so close that their bodies would be touching every time either of them moved. Jesse could feel how shallow his breathing was. Given the intensity of his feeling, it was surprising that the gun hand was perfectly steady. He squinted a little. He knew it was too far and too dark, but it was as if he could see the weave in the back of Tony Salt's thousand-dollar jacket. Jenn found the right key, and the door opened. She turned and gave Tony Salt a light kiss and stepped through the door. He followed her. With the door still open, they stopped in the lighted hallway and turned the easy kiss into a long embrace, Jenn slouching a little so that she wouldn't have to actually bend down to kiss Tony Salt. Jesse could see Tony Salt's hand move down to Jenn's butt. He had on a big ring that caught the hall light and flashed like Elliott Krueger's ring.

Then they broke the clinch.

The door shut.

"Bang," Jesse said.

TWENTY-ONE.

"You're the last piece," Macklin said to Freddie Costa.

They were sitting in Macklin's Mercedes in the parking lot near the wharf office on the town pier in Mattapoisett, about ninety minutes south of Boston.

"You need a Northshore guy," Costa said.

"Knows the waters. I never even been up there."

"I don't have a Northshore guy," Macklin said.

"You didn't know the waters in the Mekong, did you? Besides you're the best sailor I know who's dishonest."

"Thanks," Costa said.

"Then if I'm gonna do it, I gotta have time to go up there, cruise around, look at charts. Not only around Paradise but all over that part of the coast."

"Sure," Macklin said.

"That's why I'm talking to you early, give you time to plan."

"It'll cost money," Costa said.

"You got to spend money to make money," Macklin said.

"I gotta buy fuel. I got boat payments. I gotta leave my ex with some."

"Haven't you got anything ahead?"

Costa laughed.

"You talking to me about ahead?"

Macklin shrugged.

"Okay," he said.

"I haven't got too much ahead myself."

"Can't help you without something up-front," Costa said.

Macklin was silent. The harbor around the pier was mostly small sailboats. Some were at their moorings. Their masts bare, the boats tugging gently at the tether. Some were under sail, the mooring marked by the small boat they had rowed out to it. Two kids were fishing off the end of one of the two stone piers. A big old Chris-Craft with gleaming mahogany trim was refueling in the slip between the piers.

"Whatta they catching?" Macklin said.

"The kids? Scup if they're lucky. Blowfish, mostly."

"They good to eat?"

"Scup is, but not the blowfish. Kids like to haul them in, get them to inflate, and skip them on the water."

"There's a good time," Macklin said.

"You know what kids are like."

"No," Macklin said.

"I don't."

They were quiet. A rowboat pulled in to the pebbled beach to their right, and two men got out in knee-deep water and dragged the boat up onto the landing area above high tide. The men left the rowboat there and took the oars. The Chris-Craft finished refueling and began to inch out of the slip.

"Okay," Macklin said finally.

"I got five grand I can spot you."

"Cash," Costa said.

"Whaddya think? I'm going to write you a check?"

"I don't like to leave nothing to chance," Costa said.

"I could enter the notation: advance on robbery loot," Macklin said.

"You got it on you?"

"No."

"When do I get it?"

"You drive the boat up..." Macklin said. Costa began shaking his head before Macklin finished his sentence.

"And I'll pay you when you get there."

"Me and the boat stay right here," Costa said.

"Until I get the five."

Macklin had known Costa a long time. He was just as he looked. He was squat and strong with thick hands and dark skin that had cured darker in a lifetime on the water, and he didn't change his mind. Once his mind was set, he plowed right through anything in his way-including the law. Costa wasn't scared of Macklin. Costa probably wasn't even scared of Crow. You had the choice of his way or kill him, and Macklin wasn't prepared to kill him yet.

"I'll be here Monday noon," Macklin said.

"With the cash?"

"With the cash."

"Good," Costa said.

"When can you get up there?"

"To Paradise?"

"Yeah."

"You gimme the cash Monday noon, I'll leave Tuesday morning. Go through the canal."

"Good," Macklin said.

Costa nodded. He got out of the car and closed the door. Macklin put the Mercedes in gear, backed up, U-turned, and drove away.

In the rearview mirror he could see that Costa hadn't moved.

TWENTY-TWO.

Copley Place was a high-end, upscale, vertical mall in the middle of Boston. It looked like every other high-end, upscale, vertical mall Jesse had ever seen. When you were in Copley Place, Jesse thought, you could be anywhere in western civilization. He had been in Copley Place for three hours, trailing behind Jenn, carrying bags, feeling like a husband, and rather liking it. But he knew he would have to tell her the secret thing he had done, and he was afraid. Usually Jesse could put the fear away, know it was there, but function around it. This fear nearly paralyzed him.