Five days to get him out of it.

Marshall slid everything back in the envelope and closed the flap and placed the envelope in the center of the table. Like that small point of order was step one in bringing order to the bigger picture.

Vialoux massaged the bridge of his nose, dragged his hand down his face. ‘I didn’t sleep last night. Kept hearing break-ins, you know? People showing up early to collect.’ He shook his head. ‘Jesus.’

Marshall said, ‘If he’s not answering the phone, how do you tell him the money’s ready?’

‘He used to just call, I’d meet him in his car somewhere. It’s almost like a hobby for him, you know? Go for a drive, pick up a few k. Plus it’s harder for the law to keep an eye on him. Does business somewhere different every time. He used to have this bagel place, Neptune Ave, but I only ever dealt with him in the car.’

‘Who else have you told?’

‘No one. Just you.’

‘All right.’

Marshall picked up the pen and tested it on a napkin, and then flipped the napkin over to the clean side. He could see it wasn’t quite square. He laid the pen neatly on the principal transverse axis of the napkin with an equal pen length projecting on each side and slid the napkin across the table to Vialoux.

Vialoux said, ‘My writing’s not that small.’

‘I don’t need it in scenes with dialogue. Just give me the names.’

Vialoux didn’t answer.

Marshall said, ‘I’m not saying I’ll do anything. But I can’t make up my mind one way or the other until I know the players. So.’

He nodded at the paper.

Vialoux’s eyes dropped to the table. He fortified with some wine and then raised the pen. Up front, Paulie was fussing with the register, trying to be unobtrusive, making a stealth job of killing time. Beyond him on Fourth Avenue the nighttime traffic was just floating lights running back and forth, puddles picking up the tint, an electric mural with each passing. Marshall leaned to pull his billfold from his pocket, and as he moved he had a broadened view of the window next to them, and on the sidewalk beyond the weak reflection of the tablecloth and its candle flame, he saw a man in black, face hidden by a ski mask, gloved hands bringing up a shotgun.

The barrel swung to target Vialoux as Marshall rose from his chair, and as he came upright he grabbed the table by its edge and flipped it toward the window. The tabletop was vertical as it struck the glass, the pane dropping out as a curtain of white pebbles, and then the shotgun boomed.