"Can't you get through this mess?" I lean forward and reach over the seat and tap my driver's shoulder. "We've been on this block for ten fucking minutes!" I was taking a risk as it was with Sherry along, but I had to catch an All-Canada to Jersey City to see Barker. Asshole is dropping hints he thinks I screwed him. He's got power and money, I have money and some power. Good sense tells me to see him and straighten it out.

"Sorry, Mr. Gideon, it's that cop up ahead there, see? I think somebody got run over or something."

I sit back disgusted. Sherry has her blouse off and is putting a red lacquer on her nipples. I kiss her. Beautiful kid. Which reminds me, I reach into my pocket and give her a new month of pills. "I still don't need those," she says. "Take 'em anyway," I say. "But Jack, I'm not menstruating yet." I wince at the word, seems so dirty out of her Betty Boop lips. "Take 'em."

A black Rolls inches up to my left. Windows tinted like mine. Something about it I don't like. Rolls Royce. A Rolls Royce? With the bent antenna. Barker! My God, I know right now we have to get out of there. His boys aren't following me to give me an escort.

"Gun it Freddy," I bark. "Get us out of here, stat!"

Freddy turns to protest and in a Straw Dogs I see his head explode against the door and the plasti-glass. Fucking Jesus H. Christ, goddamn Barker thugs. I grab Sherry and we jump out the passenger side. She screams "My blouse!" and I snatch it off the seat and we set off at a dead run. Most of the crowd haven't heard the shooting. Instead they're staring at this topless eleven year old with bright red shiny nipples that I'm dragging by the wrist. "My niece," I say, as if that explains her state of disarray. I pull her into a doorway and help her get the blouse on. She has her Riviera bag though. One thing about women, no matter what age, they keep their hands on their purses.

"What the fuck was that all about Jack?" Sherry whines, snapping her gum. "I need a drink." I look at her briefly, see a bead of sweat coursing down from her throat into the blouse. Very sexy.

"Too early, kid. That was Barker's people. We gotta run. Come on, I have a place close."

"Barker," she spits. "I hate that asshole! You know Jack the last time you had him over he wouldn't keep his hand out of my pants. Stinky old fart."

"Yeah, well, he's got money and drugs and has more men than Matsushita has police. Come on."

We take alleys and change directions several times. I find the old brownstone I use as a landmark, god awful early 20th century by the looks of it. The safe house is two blocks west.

Before turning the last corner I stop and wait for five minutes, checking everything. My heart is tripping and I'm out of breath, so I reach for my pack of smokes. Bad habit. At least they're ultra lights.

No sign of being followed. I go to the door, down the steps, knock three times. A woman looks out and I say "Versace." She lets me in. Wasn't a woman, just a kid made up heavily. Eight, nine maybe. I check out her butt as she leads the way. Cute. Wouldn't mind that one bit, no sir. Her swaying ass hypnotizes me. Obvious ploy, girls that age don't walk that way naturally. Goddamn, that white leotard couldn't be any tighter, it's dug into her butt so deep I can see her winker.

"Jack, Jack, come sit down," a fat old women says with a cackle. She's got a big fat cat on her lap. Cat is enormous, about 40 pounds, and has white whiskers. Old. Mrs. Adelaide Sable looks like she stepped out of a Russian village, flowsy formless dress, black clunker shoes. "Have some tea. Tired? You look sweaty. Come, sit by Mama Sable." ....(cont)