“Don’t do anything foolish,” Franco admonished as if reading Jack’s mind. “We won’t be staying long. And if we’d known that Dr. Montgomery was going to be here, we could have saved ourselves a trip to her place, not to mention the effort of going over the same message twice.”

“What is it you people are afraid we might learn that makes you want to come and threaten us?” Jack asked.

Franco smiled and looked at Angelo. “Can you believe this guy? He thinks we made all this effort to get in here to answer questions.”

“No respect,” Angelo said.

“Doc, how about getting another chair for the lady,” Franco said to Jack. “Then we can have our little talk, and we’ll be on our way.”

Jack didn’t move. He was thinking about the gun on the coffee table and wondering which of the men was still armed. As he tried to gauge their strength, he noticed that both were on the thin side. He figured they were most likely out of shape.

“Excuse me, Doc,” Franco said. “Are you with us or what?”

Before Jack could answer, there was a commotion behind him and someone roughly bumped him to the side. Another person shouted: “Nobody move!”

Jack recovered from his momentary confusion to comprehend that three African-Americans had leaped into the room, each armed with machine pistols. The guns were trained unwaveringly on Franco and Angelo. These newcomers were all dressed in basketball gear, and Jack quickly recognized them. It was Flash, David, and Spit, all of whom were still sweating from activity on the playground.

Franco and Angelo were taken completely unawares. They simply sat there, eyes wide. Since they were accustomed to being on the other side of lethal weapons, they knew enough not to move.

For a moment there was frozen silence. Then Warren strutted in. “Man, Doc, keeping you alive has become a full-time job, you know what I’m saying? And I’m going to have to tell you, you’re dragging down the neighborhood, bringing in this kind of white trash.”

Warren took the machine pistol away from Spit and told Spit to frisk the visitors. Wordlessly, Spit relieved Angelo of his Walther auto pistol. After frisking Franco, he collected the gun from the coffee table.

Jack noisily let out a breath of air. “Warren, old sport, I don’t know how you manage to drop in on such a timely basis in my life, but it’s appreciated.”

“These scumbags were seen casing this place earlier tonight,” Warren explained. “It’s as if they think they’re invisible, despite their expensive threads and that big, black, shiny Cadillac. It’s kind of a joke.”

Jack rubbed his hands together in appreciation of the sudden change of power. He asked Angelo and Franco their names but got cold stares in return.

“That one is Angelo Facciolo,” Laurie said, while pointing toward her nemesis.

“Spit, get their wallets,” Warren ordered.

Spit complied and read out their names and addresses. “Uh-oh, what’s this?” he questioned when he opened the wallet containing the Ozone Park police badge. He held it up for Warren to see.