Nightmare F rederick fought down the shiver of rage that crept up on him. Payne betrayed us, and now he will have to deal with me. He picked up the pay phone outside a 24/7 minimart across the street from the Home Away Suites. A man answered with an irritated voice as if he resented answering the phone.

"Home Away, Toluca Lake."

It was difficult to hear with the passing traffic.

"Uh, I'd like to speak with, uh, a Mr. Payne Keller, please. He's staying with you, uh, but I don't know the room number."

"I'll see."

"I don't know which room -"

"We have no guest by that name."

"Uh, well -"

"Can I help with something else?"

Frederick read the man's impatience, but didn't know what to say.

"Uh, Payne -"

"Sorry, we have no guest by that name."

Frederick put down the phone, then bought a supersize Diet Rite and returned to his truck. Earlier, he had cruised the Home Away parking lot, but had not seen Payne's car. Frederick guessed that Payne had registered under another name, but he didn't know whom to ask for.

The Home Away Suites sat across from a Mobil station. Frederick pulled up to the pumps. He went into the service bay, and considered the service technician who was changing the oil filter on a Sentra.

"Hey, you got an old box? I need a little cardboard box about this big."

Frederick held his hands eight or ten inches apart.

The technician gave Frederick a discarded air-filter box, and didn't even charge him. Frederick dug around under his seat, fishing out a broken water pump and a work shirt he used to wear before he tore the pocket. The shirt didn't say Mobil or Payne's Car Care, but it was dark blue, grease-stained, and had a nice professional pinstripe. His name was stitched on the right breast: Frederick.

Frederick put the water pump in the box, changed shirts, then drove back to the motel. He carried the box into the lobby, and smiled at the desk clerk, a young guy with an inflamed rash of pimples on his chin. His name tag read James Kramer.

Frederick set the box onto the counter with a clump.

"I'm Frederick from over at the Mobil. I got a rebuilt pump here for the guy with the crosses, I don't remember his name. He said I should let him know."

Frederick made his eyes vague as he waited to find out whether or not Kramer would recognize the man with the crosses.

Kramer said, "Did he pay you?"

"Uh-uh. Not yet."

"You're screwed. That guy was killed. The cops been all over us."

Frederick stood motionless, smiling, giving the good ol' Frederick face with the simple, open eyes.

"What did you say?"

Kramer made his hand into a gun and clicked his thumb.