– Yeah.

– So, what this is about, your role. When we didn’t find Russ at home, we decided to take a peek at Roman, see what he’s up to. An’ what he was up to was you. So we took a peek at you.Followed you to that place on the West Side. Thought we’d take you for a ride. Got it?

– Sure.

– So now, the thing is, Hank, we need that key. I figureRoman, he told you that he’d do something bad if he doesn’t get the key, right? Killyou, hurt your people, whatever, right?

– Right.

– But you get him thekey, he’ll just leave you alone, right?

– Right.

– Well, fuckthat, ’cause I guarantee you that zombie fucker’s gonna kill you key or no key. That sound about right?

– Yeah.

– So, me an’ Paris, this is the deal with us: We don’t get the key, we’re gonna kill your ass, no doubt.Kill your ass an’ your family an’ your ancestors, kill your fucking house plants an’ all that shit.Right?

– Right.

– But you give us the key, not only are we gonna leave you breathing, but we’re gonna give you a nice piece of change.Sweet, huh?

– Sure.

– Know why we’re gonna give you a nice piece of change?

– No.

– ’Cause after you give us the key, you’re gonna help us set up Roman and the rest of his fucking freak show. Then we kill ’em an’ they won’t beno trouble for us or you or no one ever again. Sound good?

– Good.

– Allright. Now you take my card, you get the key, wherever it is, and you call me. Do it quick, Hank, an’ everything goes back to normal. OK?

– OK.

– We let you off anywhere special?

– No. Anywhere’s fine.

– Good enough.

Ed taps Paris on the shoulder and he pulls the Caddie over to the curb. I try to open my door, but it’s jammed. Ed touches my knee.

– Sorry, that door’s all messed.Gotta get out on this side.

He gets out on the curb and I slide across the seat and climb out. He reaches back into the car, pulls out my bag, and hands it to me.

He gets into the front seat, closes his door, and gives me a little wave and they drive off. I look at the card in my hand:Ed, followed by a cell phone number. I’m on the corner of 49th and Ninth. I walk about twenty yards down the street and into the first bar I see.

The kidney is an organ. It removes wastes from the blood. If your kidneys, or in my case kidney, is damaged and can no longer perform this function, you die. And yet, many people live long healthy lives with only one kidney because they love and nurture and respect that kidney. One of the best ways to disrespect your last remaining kidney is to raise your blood pressure by engaging in any of a number of activities, including excessive drinking.

I sit on the bar stool andcomtemplate the bottle of Bud. The bartender offered me a glass, but I like to drink my beer out of the bottle. There’s sweat all over the brown glass and the lower right corner of the label is peeling. I make a deal with myself: If I can peel the label away in one piece, I get to drink the beer. I tease the label a bit,then strip it away in a single smooth swipe and it comes off in one piece. I get off my stool and walk to the back of the bar.

The phone booth is one of those old-fashioned wooden ones, a cabinet built into the wall. I step inside and close the door and a little light in the ceiling flips on. I dial a long series of numbers, listen to some instructions and dial more numbers. Finally there is a ringing at the other end of the line and I sit on the little bench in the booth. Someone picks up the phone at the other end.

– Hello?

– Hi, Mom.

– Oh! Oh, there you are.

– I’m sorry, Mom.

– No, no, we were just. I was worried when you didn’t call. Is everything OK? Did you decide to stay at the hospital a little longer?

– No, Ma. I just. They gave me these painkillers.

– Painkillers? Does it hurt a lot? Are you OK, Henry?

– I’m fine, Mom, it justaches a bit,ya know?

– But you’re OK?

– Yeah, I’m fine, but the pills they gave me really knocked me out and I kind of turned off the phone so I wouldn’t wake up. I should have called right away, but I just listened to your message.

– Well, Dad told me not to worry, but he was worried too and I just.

It’s quiet on the phone for a minute. I lean my head against the glass of the booth’s door. My mom missesme, she has missed me for ten years since I came to New York. She doesn’t understand my life. Neither doI. So I can’t help her much.

– Anyway, I was just worried.

– It’s OK, Mom. I’m really OK.

– Are you sure I can’t come out?

– No, Mom. There’s no reason. I’m fine. I’m taking it easy and everything is fine.

– Is someone there taking care of you?

– Yvonne gave me some help, but I can take care of myself.

– How is she?

– She’s fine, Ma, but she’s not really taking care of me. She just ran a few errands.

– She’s so sweet.

– Yes, she is.

– I just wish I could be there.

– I know.

– I can’t wait to see you at Christmas.

– Me too.

– Did you ever decide what you want?

– Anything, Mom. I always like what you get me, and besides, it’s still a ways off.

– Well, you know I like to get things done.

– I know. So is Dad around?

– He’s at the shop today. Do you want to call him there?

– No, I’m pretty tired, I think I’m gonna get some more sleep. Be sure to tell him I love him, OK?

– I know. Oh, did you get the package I sent?

– No, not yet.

– That’s OK. It’s just stupid stuff I know you like.

– Thanks, Ma. Look, I’m gonna go and I’m gonna probably keep the ringer off. I’m still really tired. So if you don’t get me right away, don’t worry. OK?

– OK. I love you, Henry.

– I love you, too, Ma.

– I’ll talk to you in a day or two, OK?

– Great. I love you, Mom.

– I love you, Henry.

– Good-bye.

– Bye.

I sit in the booth for a while after that.

I sit in the booth and look out at the bar, at my bottle of Bud still sitting in front of my stool and the little pile of bills, my change, sitting next to it. I pump coins into the phone and call United. They can change my ticket whenever I like for a seventy-five-dollar fee, plus the difference in ticket price. Would I like to make that change now? Yes, I would, very much. But I need to get the key first, decide who to hand it over to and stay in one piece while I’m doing it. I know where the key is. Now, who do I give it to? I dig out one of the cards I have in my pocket and dial. He picks up himself.

– Roman.

– I have it.

Pause.

– Where are you?

– I don’t have it, I know where it is.

– Where?

– I’m not. Look, I’m not going to tell you.

– And so the purpose of this call is?

– I’m not going to tell you where it is. I’ll get it and then give it to you.

– When?

– I. I want to leave. I want to leave New York. I’ll give you the key right before I go.

– When are you leaving?

– I don’t have a flight yet. I’ll get the key and I’ll call you. I’ll meet you, I’ll call you…

– Yes?

– I don’t know how any of this works.

– Well, there aren’t any actual rules. But may I make a suggestion?

– OK.

– Get the key. Book a flight. Call me and tell me the airport, but not the flight number, and tell me what time you want me there. Pick a time before your actual flight so that I won’t be able to make a guess about which plane you’re leaving on. At the last moment possible before you board, have me paged and tell me what gate you are at. I will meet you there, in full view of the public and you can give me the key.

Wow, good plan.

– OK.

– And you might want to book a flight to someplace other than your final destination and fly to… wherever, from there.To discourage pursuit.

– Right, that’s good.