"Some people. Just… some people. Very important people. Mr. Glass wouldn't want to upset them. And with the best intentions in the world, you busting in there—"

"You bet I'd bust in there." Nobbi was red and sweating. He leaned forward over the champagne glasses, the liver. "What do I have to do to get you to cough it up?"

"Now, Nobbi. Calm down. This isn't going to help. We don't want a scene."

"You know what I want, you Brylcreemed cretin."

Luke frowned with his entire face. Then smoothed the frown away. He was good with an iron.

"I'll forget you said that, Nobbi. You're tense. Have a drink."

"I don't want no drink."

"Have a drink and pull yourself together."

Nobbi sat back suddenly. He lost his redness.

"I'm sorry. I never ought to have said that."

"Forget it, Nobbi. You're under stress."

Nobbi drained the champagne. He watched Luke fill up his glass again.

A tall slim woman with sculpted hair and dangling earrings came across the room and stood over their table.

"Everything all right, Luke?"

"Sure, Stephanie."

"Would you like some company? I've got two girls who'd love to meet you."

"That's okay, Stephanie. Not right now."

"Ciao," said Stephanie, and drifted away.

Nobbi felt rough. The champagne had turned his stomach, and he should never have spoken like that to this ponced-up bugger.

Luke seemed to bear no grudge.

He said, soothingly, "You'll just have to be patient a little longer, Nobbi. That's all it needs."

"I don't see why," Nobbi said.

Luke finished another glass of champagne. He half turned his head, and the girl and boy began to get out another bottle.

"Did you happen to hear," said Luke, "about that accident over the river? Mulley's operation."

"Mulley's… Yeah. Gas main, weren't it?"

"No, Nobbi. It wasn't. And you remember Chas? Arms dislocated and lungs full of lemonade."

"Mr. Glass can't be happy about that."

"Mr. Glass believes that, in this case, it's better to turn a blind eye."

Nobbi absorbed this. He felt sore, as if he had been kicked. The world was full of shit. And she was only little.

"You mean some cunt blew up Mulley's place and this same cunt's got my bleeding daughter?"

The second champagne came.

They waited while the bottle was displayed and the cork popped and the wine poured, and the boy and girl left them.

"I don't want none of this."

"No. All right, Nobbi. Just take it easy."

"You take it easy. You fucking tell me what you mean."

"Tracy is perfectly safe. But yes, substantially. The same people. They're—strong. Mr. Glass won't touch them. That's all there is to it, Nobbi." Luke stared Nobbi out now. Luke's eyes were like brown marbles, faintly flecked with wine and cocaine. "Got to accept it, I'm afraid. Nothing we can do. Not a thing."

"My Christ," said Nobbi.

Luke leaned back. He wanted to be kind now.