“I knowed he looked at one,” Sanchez said. “A thirtieth anniversary Ultra Bagger. But I don’t think he buyed it.” To Decker, he said, “That is one mean mother bike—1340 ccs at 5000 rpm, 78 pounds of torque, and fuel-injected. Tops out ’bout ninety which ain’t bad considering all the shit it got on it. I remember Granddaddy was looking at a Victory Red.”

“Cool,” Decker said.

Polinski continued staring at the man.

Sanchez said, “Think we should go over and say somethin’ to him?”

“Like what?”

“I dunno,” Sanchez said. “Like hi or somethin’.”

Again, Polinski tongued his front teeth. “I don’t even remember his name.”

“I don’t, either.”

Polinski said, “Nah, I don’t want to talk to him.”

“Me, neither,” Sanchez said. “I was just thinkin’ that we should be…you know…like payin’ our respects.”

“We showed up and signed into the book,” Polinski said. “That’s enough. You know what? I’ve had enough. Let’s get the hell outta here.”

“Yeah, good idea.” Sanchez turned back to Decker. “You remember what I told you, right?”

“If you remember what I told you.”

“What did I miss?” Polinski said.

“I was just informing Mr. Sanchez that lynch mobs are against the law.”

Polinski waved Decker off. “He’s just frustrated. We all are. Too much tax dollars wasted on psychos. Too many laws restricting freedom of choice. The government should be catching criminals…real criminals. Not passing meaningless shit that the cops can’t enforce. I mean the drug czar, for instance. What a waste of tax dollars. I’m not saying drugs are good. I’m just saying the drug czar was a waste of money. No wonder people get mad and blow things up.”

“Because it’s meaningless,” Sanchez said.

“Exactly.”

Decker said, “You’re entitled to think a law is meaningless. Just as long as you obey it.”

Polinski said, “If the law told you to jump off a cliff, would you do it?”

“You’re speaking in absurdities, Mr. Polinski,” Decker said.

“That’s the point,” Polinski said. “The law’s absurd.”

Decker said, “Let’s talk bottom line, gentlemen. I don’t want any trouble with you, I don’t want you getting in my face. Do we have an understanding?”

“Hey, you do your job,” Sanchez said. “You get no trouble from us.”

Polinski hit Sanchez’s shoulder. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Before you two go, can I get your full names and addresses?”

Polinski said, “Stanislav Polinski, aka Sidewinder. He’s Emmanuel Sanchez, aka Grease Pit.”

“Addresses?”

“Right now we got a trailer in Canyon Country,” Sanchez said. “But that don’t mean nothin’. ’Cause we’re always on the move.”

“Where in Canyon Country?”

“Somewhere,” Sanchez answered.

Sidewinder said, “No sense giving you a place ’cause we move around a lot.”

“What about the shop?” Sanchez said.

“What about it?” Decker asked.