“What in the hell has gotten into you, Bubba?” Dan said loud enough for both of them to hear through their earplugs.

“I got pulled by the cops,” Bubba bent the truth.

“And getting a ticket took four and a half hours?” Dan didn’t buy it.

“He spent a long time warning me and then the radio was down or something. I’m telling you, I was pissed. There’s a lot of police bullying going on out there, Gig. It’s time some of us got involved and . . .”

“Right now, I just want you to get involved in your module, Bubba!” Gig Dan yelled above machines. “Our goal today was fifteen million and we were some 719,164 below that even before you decided to take your time smelling the roses!”

“I wasn’t . . .” Bubba tried to protest.

“So guess what? The latest readout has us at 3,822,563.11 this shift, which is exactly 458,272.0 below what we were gonna make when we were already below what we were damn supposed to make. And why? The tipping paper’s already broke twice, rejects is three times the usual because the circumference dropped below 24.5 and the weight didn’t hit even close to nine hundred and the dilution was minus eight percent, and then the glue got a bubble because there was air in the line, and why?

“Because you weren’t here to hand-feed five lousy cigarettes into the Sodimat. You didn’t inspect the quality. You didn’t check out the machines because you were too goddamn busy getting stopped by the police or whatever the hell it was you were supposedly doing!”

“Don’t worry,” Bubba loudly told him. “I’ll make up the slack.”

Brazil was late, too, through no fault of his own. He had jogged in the dark from his endangered car, back to Park Avenue, and when he reached West’s apartment he took a moment to settle down. He rang the bell and she wasn’t the least bit warm as she let him in.

“Where have you been?” she asked, standing in front of the foyer table.

“Trying to find a deli,” Brazil dryly said.

“What for?”

“A deli, a restaurant, a bank. Anyplace I could maybe park.”

“Obviously you succeeded,” she said.

“Depends on if my car’s still there after we’re done.”

She oddly continued to stand in front of the table, and he sensed there was something on it she didn’t want him to see.

“We’re in my office. On the left, just past the bedroom.” She waited for him to go first as she continued to stand in front of the table.

Brazil was already getting a sick feeling. He didn’t want to see what was on the table. He walked past the bedroom and refused to look inside. He entered West’s office and didn’t look around. Hammer was sitting close to the desk, reading glasses on, eyes fixed on the strange map on the computer screen.

“What were you saying to that woman in the Jeep?” Hammer asked him right off. “The one whose parking place I took.”