"I don't understand."

"Security against break-ins? Telephone taps? Firebombing? What?"

"Oh, I see. I mean my personal security…say, if somebody wanted to injure me."

"Seems easy enough to me."

"How so?"

"I walked in here with my brother. We wanted to do it, you were a dead man once you came in the room."

He dismissed the possibility with a wave of his hand. "Forget that. What if you wanted to kill me without getting into the house."

"You ever leave the house?"

"Sometimes."

"That'd be the time."

"How?"

"There's too many ways to even talk about. Shooting, stomping, stabbing…"

"What if I had bodyguards. True bodyguards."

"Bullet-catchers?"

"If you like."

"So somebody pops you from a rooftop. Or blows up a car with everybody in it."

"If I stayed in this house?"

"Set fire to it, you'd come out quick enough."

Train rotated his head on the column of his neck, working out the kinks from sitting so stiffly. A glaze over his eyes. Maybe it was the rainbow. Finally, he nodded. "Do you know what we do here?" he asked.

"No."

"Do you care?"

"No."

"When we were talking before…about assassinations? You seem to be saying that if someone wants to kill you, there's nothing you can do about it…no way you can protect yourself. Is that right?"

"No."

"What can you do, then?"

"Hit them first."

He bowed his head over clasped hands. Like he was praying.

Looked up. "You are a man of your word. I will honor our contract. Come back tomorrow. Anytime after seven o clock in the evening. The girl you call Elvira will be ready to leave with you then."

He snapped his fingers again. The door behind him opened. One of the guards came out. I got to my feet. Bowed to Train and walked to the door I'd come in, the guard at my heels.

The street was dark as I stepped outside. I didn't look back.

I found the Plymouth, started the engine, waited.

The door opened. Max slipped inside. Shook his head. I hadn't been followed.

BACK AT the restaurant, I explained what had gone down to Max. His face didn't change, but I could feel the sadness. Wishing Train had refused me the girl. I made the sign of a rifleman on the roof, watching Train through a sniperscope. Max pointed his finger at me, questioning. I shook my head. I left the symbol of the rifleman in place with my left hand, walked the fingers of my right hand up behind it. Knife-edged the right hand, chopped at the symbol, flattened my left hand. Max pointed at me again. Did Train want us to do the job? No.

I didn't know what he wanted. We'd pick up the girl tomorrow and it would be over.

I FOUND THE PROF working the Living Room- what the army of homeless humans who live in the tunnels and work the corridors call the arena-sized waiting room at Grand Central. He was propped against the wall by the gourmet bakery, a thick blanket beneath his legs, single wooden crutch standing next to him, a paper plate half full of coins in front of him. I bought him a large cardboard cup of black coffee. Hunkered down next to him, back to the wall. Street people stopped by the Prof's station, talking their talk, dealing their deals. Cops strolled past, eyes working from the ground up. Drugs moved in and out faster than the trains. It felt like being back on the yard in prison.

"You know a guy named Train? Over in Brooklyn."

He sipped his coffee, buried inside a winter overcoat that tented around his shoulders, running it through his memory bank. "It doesn't scan, man."

"He's got some kind of thing going. Like a cult, only…I don't know. Woman asked me to bring her kid home from there."

"Runaway?"

"I don't think so. The deal was, I just ask him, okay?"

"Ask him hard?"

"No. And just once.

"If it's like you say, what's the play?"

"He asked me the questions."

"Show me a piece."

"Mostly about his security system…did I think it was good enough."

"For what?"

"To protect him, I guess. I thought he was trying to hire a body-guard at first, but he never really asked."

"He want a favor? Don't he know you only play for pay?"

I lit a cigarette. Told the little man about the lie detector Train used, the karate-man he had at the door, the layout of the house.

I wasn't watching his face but I could feel him nod. The words came out of the side of his mouth. "I ain't read the book, but I'll take a look."

I left him at his post.

I CALLED CANDY from a pay phone in the station.

"He said okay."

"You have my girl?"

"Tomorrow night. I'll bring her to you."

"See? I told you…"

I hung up.

A DOLL-FACED young girl was working the exit ramp to the subway at Forty-second Street. Soft brown hair in pigtails down the sides of her face, body buried in a quilted baby-blue jacket.

"Mister? Can you help me? I'm trying to get together enough money to go home."

"Where's home?"

"In Syosset- on Long Island."

"That's where I'm going. Come on, I'll give you a ride." She bit her lower lip. "Twenty bucks."

"What?"

"Twenty bucks. And you can ride me wherever you want, okay?" Before I lost Belle, I would have taken her with me. Called McGowan.

I walked out into the street.

THE NEXT DAY it was dark enough by seven, but we gave the night a couple of hours to settle in. I went to Train's place alone. A different guy let me in. I followed him upstairs. Took my seat. Waited.

The door opened and they all walked in. Train was with them. The woman who said I had told the truth came in last, leading a girl by the hand. A short, slender little girl wearing faded jeans with a rip above one knee. A pale green T-shirt with "Zzzzap!" across the chest, plastic strap of an airline bag across one shoulder, denim jacket in one hand.

"Do you know this man?" Train asked the girl. She shook her head no.

The lie detector opened her robe. She was naked beneath it. Took the girl inside, hugging her close, looked over her shoulder at Train. Nodded.

"This is who you asked for," Train said to me.

"If you say so."

"You don't know her?"

"No."

"But you've seen a photograph… had her described to you?"

"Sure."

"And?"

"I can't tell." The girl's yellow cat's eyes watched me.

"Do you want to ask her any questions?"

"No." I lit a cigarette. "If she's not the right girl, I'll bring her back."

His lower lip twisted. Hands went to his temples. The lie detector opened her robe. The girl walked over. Stood in front of me. "Let's go," she said, slipping one arm into her jacket.

I stood up. Nobody moved. She followed me to the door. The new guard stepped aside. We walked down the stairs by ourselves. Opened the front door and stepped outside. She didn't look back.