Eddie brushed his hands through his hair, crossed his arms briefly so he could scratch both arms at the same time, and said, “I think we better, because this is going nowhere.”

“Okay,” Andolini said. “No one has said nothing, and no one has ranked out nobody.” And without turning his head or breaking the rhythm of his speech he added, “Get back in the truck, dumbwit.”

Col Vincent, who had climbed cautiously out of the delivery truck through the door Andolini had left open retreated so fast he thumped his head. He slid across the seat and slouched in his former place, rubbing it and sulking.

“You gotta understand the deal changed when the Customs people put the arm on you,” Andolini said reasonably. “Balazar is a big man. He has interests to protect. People to protect. One of those people, it just so happens, is your brother Henry. You think that’s bullshit? If you do, you better think about the way Henry is now.”

“Henry’s fine,” Eddie said, but he knew better and he couldn’t keep the knowing out of his voice. He heard it and knew Jack Andolini heard it, too. These days Henry was always on the nod, it seemed like. There were holes in his shirts from cigarette burns. He had cut the shit out of his hand using the electric can-opener on a can of Calo for Potzie, their cat. Eddie didn’t know how you cut yourself with an electric can-opener, but Henry had managed it. Sometimes the kitchen table would be powdery with Henry’s leavings, or Eddie would find blackened curls of char in the bathroom sink.

Henry, he would say, Henry, you gotta take care of this, this is getting out of hand, you’re a bust walking around and waiting to happen.

Yeah, okay, little brother, Henry would respond, zero perspiration, I got it all under control, but sometimes, looking at Henry’s ashy face and burned out eyes, Eddie knew Henry was never going to have anything under control again.

What he wanted to say to Henry and couldn’t had nothing to do with Henry getting busted or getting them both busted. What he wanted to say was Henry, it’s like you’re looking for a room to die in. That’s how it looks to me, and I want you to fucking quit it. Because if you die, what did I live for?

“Henry isn’t fine,” Jack Andolini said. “He needs someone to watch out for him. He needs—what’s that song say? A bridge over troubled waters. That’s what Henry needs. A bridge over troubled waters. Il Roche is being that bridge.”

Il Roche is a bridge to hell, Eddie thought. Out loud he said, “That’s where Henry is? At Balazar’s place?”

“Yes.”

“I give him his goods, he gives me Henry?”

“And your goods,” Andolini said, “don’t forget that.”

“The deal goes back to normal, in other words.”

“Right.”

“Now tell me you think that’s really gonna happen. Come on, Jack. Tell me. I wanna see if you can do it with a straight face. And if you can do it with a straight face, I wanna see how much your nose grows.”