Right under his nose. Into Bethlehem and then north onto the White-field road but off again almost right away onto one of the side streets, before pulling into a yard of old hemlocks. He knew the house although he’d never been in it. Only a few years old, a one-story bungalow done up camp-style with cedar shingles and green-painted trim. There were already four or five automobiles nosed in off the drive. The three men unloaded him and flanked him as they went up the short steps and into the house without knocking. The house all lighted up. As they went in Jamie heard the Carricks’ Ford cough and die outside but he didn’t expect them to follow in and they did not. Inside was a big room with a stone fireplace with a fire in it and electric fixture lamps from the ceiling and twig-style furniture with deep cushions. The four of them stopped there and the man whom Jamie thought of as the boss went on alone through a wood-paneled French door. The other two men stood just behind Jamie, one to each side. Jamie watched the paneled door.

The doors opened and a couple of men came out and left the house without looking at him although he recognized both of them, two of the men he’d become aware of over the past year. The door remained open and one of the men behind him shoved him gently. He shrugged the best he could with his hands done up behind him and walked through the doors. His minders came after him, pulling the doors shut.

A nice room. Leather upholstered chairs. A broad desk with a deep shine. The desk maybe a little too big. Deep green heavy drapes pulled over the windows. Polished hardwood floorboards with a Persian carpet over much of it. Electric lights but not too bright. A man behind the desk in a good crisp suit, better than any Jamie owned but not flashy. He’d expected a middle-aged man, someone heavy, jowled, thick-lidded. This man was a good half dozen years younger than he was. Maybe close to ten. Tight shave. His hair oiled, straight back flat against his head. That head cocked just off center, watching Jamie come in. The other man, the one who’d brought him from Carricks’, sat far down in one of the leather chairs off to one side of the desk. Looking at nothing. Enjoying himself.

Jamie went a third of the way to the desk and stopped.

“For chrissake Sammy, you got him tied up? You don’t need to treat him like that. What’s wrong with you.”

From his chair Sammy said, “Take the rope off him Lester.”

One of the men behind him undid the rope, working at the rough knot. Jamie waited until it was all the way off and clear and then slowly brought his hands before him. Wanted to rub them together but did not. Just let his hands rest before him.