"Everyone makes choices."

"Everyone tries."

He put his fingers to his temples again. "Can we discuss this?"

"What's to discuss?"

"I'm interested in people. Why they do things. It helps me do my work."

I dragged on my cigarette.

"Are you interested in a proposition?"

"Enough to listen to it."

He leaned slightly forward. "I'm interested in you. Why you would do something like this. An hour or so of conversation. Just you and I. We'll talk. You'll answer my questions. And I'll answer yours, if you want. A dialogue. I will have to prepare the girl. You'll come back tomorrow. She'll leave with you. Fair enough?"

My face stayed flat. "Even if you don't like the answers I give you?"

"Yes."

I made a sign to Max. He flowed to his feet, approached the man sitting across from us. Train didn't move. The guards stepped in front of him. Max kept coming. I couldn't hear what Train said, but the guards parted when Max closed in. He took one of Train's hands in his, turned it over, examining it. Stepped back, nodded to me.

Train's eyes flickered in the artificial rainbow. "What was that about?"

"My brother is leaving now. I'll talk to you. Like you said. I'll come back tomorrow. For the girl. Like you said."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"Yeah it does. You keep your word, there's no problem. You don't, my brother comes back to see you. He'll know you when he does."

Train shrugged. Max stepped away from him. Stood behind his own chair. Thrust his fingers into the handholds and lifted the concrete blob off the ground. The only sound in the room was the whistle of air through the Mongol warrior's flat nose.

That wasn't like Max. Muscle-flexing. Maybe none of us would be ourselves again.

He gently lowered the chair to the floor. Bowed to Train. Walked to the door we used to enter the room. The guy in the white karate outfit stepped in his way, looking to Train for a sign. By the time Train shook his head, the guy was on the floor, face a black shade of red, holding his ribs gently so they wouldn't cut into his lungs. And Max was on the other side of the door.

I lit another cigarette. "Let's have that dialogue," I said to Train.

THE TWO guards helped the guy in the white outfit to his feet. Went out the same door, leaving us alone. Train put his hands to his temples again.

Silence.

"What do you call yourself?" he finally asked.

"Burke."

"Not who, what. You say you're not a private investigator…you're not a lawyer, not a doctor…all of us are something. You're…"

"Waiting."

His eyes stayed calm. "A dialogue. As we agreed."

I nodded my head forward, acknowledging. "I'm just a man. I guess you could call me a contractor."

"Could you explain?"

"I make contracts with people. I promise to do something for them, they promise to do something for me."

"Pay you money?"

"Sometimes."

"And other times?"

"It depends. I need certain things. Just like you or anybody else. I do my work to get those things. It's not always money."

"Are you for hire, then?"

"Only by people who know me. Or know my people."

"This girl you want…her mother hired you?"

"Yes."

"And you know her?"

"Yes."

"Do you ever work as a bodyguard?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"It's not what I do. A bodyguard does his job by getting hurt. Or dead."

His lower lip flickered. "And you're afraid of getting hurt?"

"Or dead."

The concrete chair was comfortable. I lit another cigarette. Train shifted his weight, leaning forward, elbows on knees. "Do you feel safe? Here, with me?"

"No."

"Why is that? Your…brother, you called him…seems very powerful. Is that why you brought him?"

"He's gone," I pointed out.

"That confused me. It seems that you told him to go as a gesture of faith. As I told my men to leave. We are the only ones here. Are you afraid of me?"

"Not especially."

"Then…?"

"I'm sitting in this chair. Your chair. It could be stuffed full of low-yield explosive. Wired for electricity. Sitting under a sniper's rifle…like that."

"But you don't think so."

"No. I don't think so."

"Would you feel more comfortable if we switched chairs?"

"No. It doesn't matter."

"Are you armed? You have a weapon with you?"

"No."

He leaned back in his chair. "Have you ever been arrested?"

"Yes."

"In prison?"

"Yes."

"Were you innocent?"

"Which time?"

A smile came and went so quickly I couldn't be sure I'd seen it.

"Do you mind if one of my people joins us for a minute?" he asked.

"Why?"

"She has a special skill. Something that would help our dialogue."

I shrugged.

"You sure you don't mind?"

"We have a contract."

"Ah…yes." He snapped his fingers, a brittle crack in the empty room. The door behind him opened and a woman stepped through. Long, thick dark hair gathered into a heavy braid hanging down the front of a pale violet robe. She stood next to Train, her eyes on me. Big eyes, tropic skin, a slash for a mouth. Dark polish on her nails. "This is Reba," he said.

I lit another smoke. Train rested the fingertips of one hand on the back of the woman's wrist. She was a statue.

"Have you ever taken a lie detector test?"

"Sure."

"Did you pass?"

I felt the ghost of a smile, thinking about it. "The cops never tell you."

"I will."

I raised my eyebrows, waiting.

"Reba has the gift. You know how a polygraph works, yes? Galvanic skin response, heartbeat, pulse rate?"

"Sure."

"Reba does that. With your permission…?"

"Okay."

The woman walked toward me, stepping out of the robe without moving her arms. She was naked, barefoot. I kept my eyes on Train as she crossed the room, the violet puddle of silk at his feet. She came to the right side of my chair, dropped to her knees, her breasts spilling against my forearm, pinning it to the chair. Her right hand slipped inside my jacket, unbuttoned my shirt, hovered over my heart, gently came to rest. I felt two fingers of her left hand against the back of my neck. My eyes flicked to the right. The dark hair disappeared over her shoulder, smooth line of her back down to the swell of her butt, the soles of her feet were calloused, deeply arched.

"You know how it works," he said. "Just answer yes or no."

I dragged on my cigarette, flicking the ashes with my left hand.

"Have you ever been in prison?"

"Yes."

"Have you ever killed anybody?"

I just looked at him, no expression on my face. He went on as if I'd answered.

"Have you ever broken the law?"

"Yes."

"Are you a professional assassin?"

"No."

"Do you pay taxes?"

"Yes."

"Did Elvira's mother hire you?"

"Yes."

"Did you ever hear my name before you spoke to her?"

"No."

"Do you mean me any harm?"

"No."

"Have you ever met Elvira?"

"No."

"Are you working for anyone now besides the woman who says she is Elvira's mother?"

"No."

I tossed my cigarette into the metal bowl. I let my eyes follow the arc of the smoke, swept them back across Train's face, let the sweep carry me to the right. A clear droplet of sweat ran down Reba's spine. Her head came up, lips against my ear. "You told the truth," she whispered. Her hand came away from my heart, brushed smoothly across my crotch as she rose to her feet. She walked over to Train, her back gleaming with sweat. His eyes shifted up to her face as she passed. She went through the door without picking up her robe.

Train's hand went back to his temples. "What do you think of my security here?"

"What security?"