Jack led me to a phone booth, picked up the receiver and held it to my ear. Guess that meant I was doing the talking. I presumed he was holding it because he was wearing gloves and I wasn’t, but I was glad of it for any reason. The receiver was so filthy I could barely bring my lips close enough to it to talk.

He dialed. Evelyn picked up on the third ring.

“Hey, Auntie E,” I said, cranking my voice up a few octaves. “It’s me!”

Not so much as a beat-pause. “Deedee, why hello, dear. So good of you to call. And how’s Jackie? Taking good care of you, I hope.”

I looked around at the grunge-streaked walls. “You bet. He takes me to all the best places. So, auntie, remember how we were going to visit cousin Will? Before that thing came up? Well, Jackie and I thought we’d pay him a visit. But first, we wanted to see whether you wanted to join us, since it was your idea.”

“Oh, that’s very sweet of you, dear, but you kids don’t want to travel all the way over here to pick me up. Go and see Will, and give him my love. Then you can stop here on the way back. I’d love to see you.”

I glanced at Jack, who’d been listening in. “I’m not sure—”

“Really, I must insist.” Her voice was still light, but her tone had taken on a steel core. “We have so much catching up to do.”

Jack hesitated, then nodded. I told Evelyn we’d be there late this afternoon, then signed off.

“Jackie?” Jack said.

“She started it.”

He shook his head and led me back into the bar.

At the jail, Jack didn’t even bother with a cover story—just gave the guard his fake name and ID and said we wanted to speak to Nicky Volkv. Volkv agreed to see us. I guess after years in jail, he was just happy for a visitor.

From the moment we entered the jail, Jack became someone else, sliding into his aging-biker character as he hadn’t bothered to until now. His head went higher, shoulders squared, stride taking on a hint of a swagger.

We sat on the visitors’ side of the Plexiglas barrier for five silent minutes before the door opened and the guard ushered in a tall man with graying dark hair and a milky-white left eye. Volkv squinted his good eye at Jack.

“I know you?” he asked.

“You should.”

The briefest hesitation, then Volkv sat down. He folded his hands on the counter, gaze darting from Jack to me. It lingered on me, hungry.

“Leon Kozlov,” Jack said.

Volkv reluctantly pulled his gaze from me. “You know Leon? How is the old son of a bitch?”