Condley took out a pen and handed it to Marino. The hustler looked darkly around the room, as if for cameras. Then he wrote something on the back of one of the pictures and walked toward the door.

“Where are you going?”

“Stay away from me, man. I’m not kidding. I can’t see you again.”

Marino walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Marino ignored the others as he walked downstairs into the main room of the club. Muir, Van, Simolzak, and Father Mike were finishing a dinner of seafood, vegetables, and rice. Father Mike appeared quite drunk, on the verge of sleep. His head bobbed up as Marino approached, and he gave the hustler a hopeful smile. “And did we reach a sense of peace?”

“Give me my gun,” said Marino, taking his pistol back from Simolzak. He jammed the weapon back inside his ankle holster and headed for the door.

Simolzak called after him. “I owe you some money, Sal.”

“Mail it,” said Marino, not even turning back around. He pulled the door with one quick motion and was gone.

“Mister Personality,” said Simolzak, shrugging as he turned back to the others at the table. “I don’t even have an address.”

Condley appeared, pointing at Simolzak’s plate, his face masked with a small, forced smile. “Can I still order some dinner?”

“Of course,” said Simolzak, urging Sapphire off to the kitchen.

“Was he rude to you?” asked Father Mike.

“He has . . . issues,” said Condley, taking a chair. Then he hedged, inwardly disturbed by Marino’s cold warning. “But he wasn’t much help.”

Simolzak had moved his chair very close to Van’s, his face now animated with an unconcealed glow. Muir caught Condley’s attention and secretly raised his eyebrows, looking at the two.

“Ted was telling me about the mountains near Chiang Mai,” said Van with a look that was swimming with anticipation. “And the beaches at Phu Ket. He says that we should go to Phu Ket. Have you been to Phu Ket, Cong Ly?”

“Yeah, I’ve been to Phu Ket.”

“And he travels to Hong Kong once a month. Your city! Looking out onto the bay instead of the river, with all the boats. And the little streets filled with shops. Just like you told me, remember?”

“Yes, I remember,” said Condley.

“He is a good friend, isn’t he? And he has a wonderful life, doesn’t he, Cong Ly?”

“A great friend. Time to go,” said Condley, standing up and pulling on the back of Van’s chair.

“I thought you were hungry,” protested Van.

“Sorry, Van,” said Hanson Muir, picking up on Condley’s intentions. “I have to call Hawaii. It’s very important.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow!” said Simolzak, waving good-bye to them as they neared the door. He was looking at Condley, but it was Van who smiled delightedly and waved back.

“Yes!” she said. “Good night!”