“I haven’t seen a Broadway show since I was in high school.”

“Was it Cats?”

“How did you know?”

“It’s always Cats.” He laughed. “Don’t worry. It closed years ago. Cats can’t hurt you anymore.”

“Is this guy bothering you?” Nasser’s voice made her jump, and Kaveh turned to see his cousin approaching. “We can kick his ass for you. The whole crew is here. Just say the word. We’ll kick his ass.”

“Truth is, he might deserve it,” said Kaveh.

“No!” said Cora, laughing nervously. “No, thank you for the offer, but no. I’ll do it myself, later.”

“That’s good!” Nasser laughed. “I’m getting pretty old for that, anyway, but if you need me to kick his ass, let me know.”

“I will,” she said.

“I love that you’re a Denis Leary fan,” said Nasser. “That ‘I’m an Asshole’ song is hilarious.”

Cora’s expression grew serious. There was only one person who had the honor of “Asshole” as his ringtone. “Did someone call me?”

He handed her her flip phone. “Yeah, someone’s been calling you for the last five minutes. Thought it might be important.”

Cora snatched the phone from him, redialing the number. Kaplan answered immediately.

“What’s going on?” she asked. She received a short and to-the-point answer and looked at Kaveh urgently. “We have to go. Now.”

* * *

It was a forty-minute drive to Los Alamitos with no traffic; Kaveh made it in thirty-five. They ushered his car through without even requesting that he stop, which sent off even more alarms in his mind. He drove up to the building where Nikola had been quartered for the last few weeks, and they let him leave his Land Rover right out front. Another bad sign. Ghasabian was already waiting for them outside.

“What happened?” said Cora as she hopped out of the car.

“We’re still trying to figure that out,” said Ghasabian, power walking into the building and down the hall where Ampersand was being held. “This way.”

“Where is he?” demanded Cora, having to jog to keep up with him.

“His quarters are ahead and to the left, but—”

Cora dashed ahead; which room Ghasabian was referring to was obvious, as there were at least a dozen people standing around the door, looking inside.

“Cora!” Kaveh called after her, following her inside, preparing for the worst. It was the same room Nikola had tried to rouse Ampersand in. The translucent plastic sheets hanging from the ceiling were still there. That metal table was still there. Even the foam top was still there.

Ampersand was not.

“That’s just it,” said Ghasabian. “We’ve been trying to figure out what happened. But we’re at a loss. They’ve vanished. They’re both just . . . gone.”

Part 4: Happiness Is A Warm Gun

PART 4

. . . . . .

HAPPINESS IS A WARM GUN

April 15 2008