“Don’t be an asshole. For one thing, I’m going to take you on walks so you don’t get fat. And I might chase something.”

“What would you like to chase?”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“No, I’m serious. What do you want to chase? Do you want to chase and catch or just chase?”

“I want to chase a pigeon, but I don’t want to catch it. Disgusting creatures. Imagine having one of those in your mouth. Good Lord, the feathers.”

“Trigo, are you worried about Eigen?”

“Yes.”

“I think she’s drugged,” I said.

“At the very least. I can’t believe we left her there.”

“I know.”

“What kind of a friend are you?”

“I know. By the way, I’m sorry I left you with DeMarcus.”

“Are you kidding? I love that guy. Vienna sausages, salmon treats, belly rubs. If you didn’t need me so much, I’d be with him in a second.” Trigo beetled his way over to the window and looked outside. “Those FBI fellows are out there. Or whatever agency they’re with.”

“That’s too bad.” I looked at my feet. “Trigo, we have to save Eigen.”

Trigo came back. “That’s true. Eigen is proof of one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“There is in fact an odd number that is perfect.”

I nodded.

“Professor Kitu. Professor Kitu.”

“Trigo, why are you calling me that and why is your voice so strange?”

“Professor Kitu, wake up.”

I opened my eyes and found Gloria’s face very close to mine.

“We’ve landed,” she said.

“We’re in Providence?”

“Yes.” She said only that. No eye contact. She walked away and I noticed that she was dressed in a pilot’s uniform. She opened the door, then without a glance back reentered the cockpit and closed the door behind her. I put Trigo in his carrier and walked down the stairs to the tarmac.

From the private hangar it was a long stroll to the main terminal and the public buses. I realized during the walk that I was wearing no jacket, only jeans and the thin Jethro Tull T-shirt. It was freezing. I at least had a small source of heat strapped to my chest. I boarded the bus headed to town center and was greeted by a familiar driver, all three hundred pounds of him.

“What say, Prof?”

“Hi, Harold.” I reached toward my pockets and realized they were empty, of not only money, but my wallet and passport as well. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have any money” is what I said.

“Don’t sweat it, Professor. I know you’re good for it. Maybe Trigo has a few quarters.” He scratched my friend’s chin. “Right, Trig?”

“Thanks, Harold.”

I sat in an empty row right behind Harold and looked out the window. The bus was heated and the blower was just above me.

“Where you coming from with no money or baggage?” Harold asked.

“Miami,” I told him.

“That’s why you ain’t got no jacket.”

“I suppose so,” I said.

“So, were you lying on the beach living it up? What do they call it? South Beach? You stretched out on South Beach?”