“Why? Are the cops looking for you?”

“No. It was just instinct, I guess.”

“Are you dropping the lawsuit?” Stone prayed for a yes.

“Oh, no, I still want to sue the bastard. Can we reschedule the deposition?”

“That won’t be necessary. Luckily for you, Dattila’s lawyer decided not to depose you. I guess his client had already told him what to expect. We’ll get a trial date soon.”

“Great! I’m looking forward to the trial!”

“I can’t imagine why,” Stone replied.

“Because I want to see Dattila squirm.”

“Dattila doesn’t squirm,” Stone said, “and certainly not from anything you could say to him.”

“Just wait till I get on the stand.”

“It’s your word against his, Herbie. That is, unless there’s a videotape of Dattila telling his goons to kill you slow.”

Herbie reached into his inside coat pocket, pulled out a small dictating machine and pressed a button. There was what sounded like a chair scraping across the floor, then a male voice. “What do we do with him, Mr. Dattila?”

“Kill him slow,” Dattila replied.

Stone snatched the dictator from Herbie’s hands. “Why didn’t you tell me you had this?”

“I was going to spring it in my deposition and make Dattila shit in his pants.”

“I don’t think that would have been Dattila’s response,” Stone said, “but his lawyer might have done that. Herbie, I almost hate to say this, but the recording might actually give us a chance of winning this thing.”

Herbie beamed. “I thought so.”

“And if you’d given it to me immediately, instead of playing games, we might have already settled your suit.”

“I don’t want it settled, I want to win it.”

“Is that what they taught you at your Internet law school, Herbie? Never settle? Settling is a good thing, Herbie; you get money, maybe an apology, and Dattila doesn’t put a contract out on you, if you’re lucky. Hasn’t it ever crossed your mind that, even if you do win the suit and get a judgment, and humiliate Dattila in open court, that you’ll have a target on your back for the rest of your days? Or the rest of Dattila’s days, whichever comes first.”

Herbie looked sober for a moment. “I hadn’t thought about that,” he said.

“It’s time for some thinking, Herbie. Listen, can you get back into your apartment without anyone seeing you?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Well, then, go home, let yourself in, don’t turn on any lights or the TV, and don’t make any noise, and don’t answer the phone unless it rings once, then stops, then rings again a minute later. If it does that, it will be me.”

Herbie muttered these instructions to himself. “But what am I gonna eat?”