“I wouldn’t never do nothing like that.”

“Did you enter the room where Cheech and Gus were torturing Mr. Fisher and order them to, quote, ‘kill him slow’?”

“I’m afraid you’ve got me mixed up with some other guy.” Dattila turned to Finger. “Can I go now?”

Finger turned to Stone. “I don’t think you’re getting anywhere here.”

“I’ll make the charge of perjury at an appropriate time,” Stone said. “No further questions, until I get him on the witness stand in court.”

“Then I think we’re done here,” Finger said. “I’ll call you, Carmine.” The two men shook hands, and Dattila left.

“My witness is ready,” Stone said. “Wait here, and I’ll get him.”

“Oh, I don’t think that will be necessary,” Finger said. “I’m not going to sit here and listen to a lot of lies.”

“You mean, like the lies we just heard from your client?”

“Good day, Stone. I’ll see you in court.”

“You certainly will.” Stone got up and walked through the reception area to the empty office where he had deposited his client.

Herbie was gone. He checked the men’s room: not there, either. He went back to the receptionist. “Excuse me, have you seen my client, the young man I put in the empty office?”

“Oh, he left about five minutes later,” the woman replied.

“What about the two large men who were waiting on the sofa over there?”

“They left right after your client did,” she replied, then went back to her People magazine.

Back on the street, Stone looked up and down the block. Herbie, Cheech and Gus were nowhere in sight. He was crossing Third Avenue, with the light, when the car struck him.

Like a film clip on a loop, the scene played over and over against the inside of Stone’s eyelids. He felt some sort of blow, then flew through the air, looking down at the top of a dark blue car. When he was about even with the rear bumper, the scene repeated. “Stop it, goddammit!” he yelled.

“Well, you’re awake,” a low woman’s voice said.

Stone opened his eyes and saw a ceiling of acoustic tiles and fluorescent light fixtures. He lifted his head, but a soft hand on his forehead pressed it back down.

“Just relax. Do you know where you are?”

He had caught a glimpse of a pretty girl in a green garment with a stethoscope around her neck. “Hospital, maybe? Just a wild guess.”

She laughed and pressed a button, raising the head of the bed. “Right the first time,” she said. “Do you remember anything?”

“Flying over a dark blue car,” he replied. “That’s it. I left a law firm’s office, and I was flying over a dark blue car. Over and over.”

“Just once, I think. You feel up to talking to the police?”

Stone lifted the sheet and examined himself. “Two questions first: One, am I hurt? Two, why am I naked? Have you had your way with me?”

“That’s three questions. You have a hairline fracture of the left wrist, which will require a temporary cast for a week, and a bad bruise on your left leg, probably from the bumper of the car, but no fracture. You were very lucky. You are naked, because I and others removed your clothing. It’s a nice suit; you’re lucky we didn’t have to cut it off. And I haven’t had my way with you-not yet, anyway.”

“Well, that’s disappointing. Okay, I’ll talk to the police.”

Dino appeared at his side. “Anything to meet a pretty doctor,” he said.

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“Who cares?”

Joan appeared on the other side of the bed. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“That’s it, make it about you. And I’m lying here, injured.”

She laughed. “Don’t start faking; we’ve already talked to the doctor.”

Stone looked at the pretty girl. “You’re a doctor?”

“I am. You want to see my license to practice?”

“Later, maybe. You told these people everything before you told me?”

She strapped a blue plastic cast to his left wrist and secured it with Velcro straps. “You were unconscious at the time. Oh, did I mention the bruise on your head, under your hair, and the concussion?”

Stone grinned at Joan. “See, I told you I was injured.”

“Tell me what you remember,” Dino said.

“I saw a dark blue car, from above, as I was flying through the air. Or maybe that was a dream.”

“What kind of car?”

“I’m not good at identifying automobiles from above.”

“Well, you’re right. A guy abandoned a dark blue Ford Taurus a block and a half from where you were hit, then he ran like hell. It’s being processed.”

“Anybody get a description of the guy?”

“Young, old; tall, short; fat, skinny.”

“The usual eyewitness testimony.”

“Right. I suppose there are forty or fifty people who would like to run you down with a car, but can you think of anybody in particular?”

“Let’s see: Carmine Dattila, Bernie Finger, Bernie Finger’s girlfriend, who should feel grateful to me, anybody who works for Carmine Dattila.”

“That’s a start. Anybody else?”

“Yeah, a guy named Devlin…I can’t think of his last name; must be the concussion. He’s Celia’s former boyfriend, and she told me to watch out for him.”

“She should have told you to look both ways before crossing the street.”

“Daltry. Devlin Daltry. Lives downtown somewhere. Call Celia at my Connecticut house, she’ll give you the address. Tell your guys to beat him with rubber hoses when they question him.”

“We don’t beat people with rubber hoses anymore.”

“All right, beat him with whatever you’re using these days.”

“We don’t beat people at all.”

“Well, what kind of police work is that? What is the world coming to?”

The doctor spoke up. “Does he always talk this much?”

“Always,” Dino said. “Can’t shut him up. Is he ready to leave?”

“Normally, with a concussion, we’d want to keep him overnight, but he’s alert and responsive, so you can take him home-if he goes to bed immediately and stays there until lunchtime tomorrow.”

“I’ll see to that,” Joan said.

“I’ll get his clothes,” the doctor said.

“I think you should dress me, since you so sneakily undressed me.”

“I’m going to send in a big black guy named Roger to handle that,” she said, handing a card and a slip of paper to Joan. “Here’s a prescription for a painkiller and a sleeping pill. Call me if he misbehaves, and I’ll stop by and hit him over the head again.”

“I’ll fill your prescription and deal with the bill,” Joan said.

Stone grabbed the doctor’s card from her hand. “Gimme that.”

Roger appeared with Stone’s clothes.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Dino said. “Don’t be long; my car’s waiting outside.”

“I thought she was kidding about you,” Stone said to Roger.

“The doc don’t kid,” Roger said, tossing Stone’s clothes into his lap. “Get dressed; we need the bed.”

Stone awoke from a drug-induced sleep, tried to turn over, then emitted a girlish shriek. Every muscle and bone in his body seemed to be making an angry protest. He struggled into a sitting position, grabbed the pill bottle on the bedside table and tossed down a painkiller with half a glass of water. He steadied himself for a moment, then navigated his way into the bathroom, taking short steps, peed, and shuffled back onto the bed.

He managed to reach the phone and page Joan.

“Good morning,” she said cheerily. “Did you sleep well?”

“That wasn’t sleep, it was a coma,” he replied. “And stop sounding so chirpy.”

“Oooh, it’s going to be one of those days, is it?”

“I hurt all over.”

“The doctor said you would.”

“She didn’t say that to me.”

“She said it to me, when you couldn’t hear her. Apparently, she made a quick assessment of your character and decided it would be better if you didn’t know.”

“I always want to know what’s happening to me.”