We drove back to the Ho Jo, got our things, and checked out. The waitress who had always wanted to visit California was in the lobby when we paid. She said that she hoped she would see us again soon. I said anything was possible. By the time we got back to Karen Lloyd’s, Peter and Dani were gone, Toby was in his room, and Karen had gone to bed. Twenty minutes after seven. Guess it had been a rough day all the way around.

At nine-forty-two the next morning Pike and I cruised past Clyde’s Bar on 136th Street, Pike’s head moving slightly to check out the fire escape, the alley, the street, the people. Luther and his buddy weren’t around, and neither was their Pontiac, but maybe sixty or seventy thousand black people were on their way to work or school or doctor’s appointments or the market. Pike said, “Be tough to maintain a low profile around here.”

“Maybe we could do the stakeout in blackface.”

Pike’s mouth twitched.

I felt as obvious now as I had before, but neither was the first time I had felt that way. The first time had been in 1976, not long after I had left the Army, walking with a man named Cleon Tyner in Watts. It was a feeling that everyone was staring at me, even though I could see that they were not. When I told Cleon, he said, now you know what it’s like to be black. Cleon Tyner had died in Beverly Hills ten years later, shot to death by an Eskimo.

I said, “Gloria Uribe is on the third floor, 304, up two flights of stairs, on the east side of the building.”

“What time is Santiago coming?”

“Four.”

“Let me out.”

I pulled to the curb, let him out, and drove around the block. My third time around, Pike came out from the alley and slipped into the car. He said, “Maintenance entrance in the back next to an old coal chute, but no way up to the third unless you come through the lobby. You can get up the fire escape in the alley, but a guy coming here for business wouldn’t use it. Thirty-foot drop to the roof from the next building.”

“So anyone who comes or goes is going to come or go through the lobby.”

Pike nodded. “We try to hang around here all day, everyone on this street is going to know it. So will the woman.”

I turned south on Fifth and dropped down Central Park toward the Village. “We can pick up Charlie. If Charlie doesn’t come, it doesn’t matter if Santiago shows up or not.”

Pike grunted and settled back in the seat. “Let’s do it.”