“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.

29

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.”