He turned back as Glaviach shoved Fraina into the backseat of the Model M and stood on the running board. Nathan Bishop hopped up front. Bishop waved his arm frantically at Danny. “Come on!”

The shooter grabbed Danny by his ankles and pulled his legs out from under him. Danny hit the sidewalk so hard he bounced.

A police cruiser turned onto Columbus.

“Go!” Danny called.

The Model M squealed as it pulled away from the curb.

“Find out if he a White!” Glaviach shouted from the running board as the cruiser drove over the curb in front of the restaurant and the Model M took a sharp left out of sight.

The first two coppers on the scene ran into the restaurant. They pushed back the barmaid and two men who’d ventured out. They shut the door behind them. The next cruiser arrived on their heels and banged to a stop halfway up the curb. McKenna climbed out, already chuckling at the absurdity of it all, as Jersey Jerry Hamilton let go of Danny’s ankles. They got to their feet. The two patrolmen with McKenna came over and manhandled them over to the cruiser.

“Realistic enough, you think?” McKenna said.

Hamilton rubbed his forehead several times and then he punched Danny’s arm. “I’m bleeding, you fuck.”

Danny said, “I kept away from the face.”

“Kept away from the…?” Hamilton spit blood onto the street. “I should ram your—”

Danny stepped in close. “I could hospitalize you right fucking here, right now. You want that, mug?”

“Hey, why’s he think he can talk to me like this?”

“Because he can.” McKenna clapped their shoulders. “Assume the positions, gents.”

“No, I’m serious,” Danny said. “You want to two-step with me?”

Hamilton looked away. “I was just saying.”

“You were just saying,” Danny said.

“Gents,” McKenna said.

Danny and Jersey Jerry placed their palms on the hood of the cruiser and McKenna made a show of frisking them.

“This is bullshit,” Danny whispered. “They’ll see through it.”

“Nonsense,” McKenna said. “Ye of little faith.”

McKenna placed loose cuffs on their hands and pushed them into the back of the cruiser. He got behind the wheel and drove them all back down Harrison.

In the car, Hamilton said, “You know? If I ever see you off the job—”

“You’ll what?” Danny said. “Cry yourself stupider?”

McKenna drove Danny back to his cover apartment in Roxbury and pulled to the curb a half block up from the building.

“How you feeling?”

Truth was, Danny felt like weeping. Not for any particular reason, just a general and all-consuming exhaustion. He rubbed his hands over his face.

“I’m okay.”

“You shot the bejesus out of an Eye-tie terrorist under extraordinary duress just four hours ago, then went right into an undercover meeting with another possible terrorist and—”

“Fucking Eddie, they’re not—”

“What’d you say?”

“—fucking terrorists. They’re Communists. And they’d love to see us fail, yes, see this whole government collapse and cascade into the ocean. I grant you that. But they’re not bomb throwers.”