“I really studied those pictures Maggie sent us. I memorized every detail. I studied them for hours because those people ruined my life.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that one. But how did you nail the woman?”

“She was pushing a baby stroller. She herself looked a little different, bulked up in sweats, but because I have the eyes of an eagle, I could see that it wasn’t a real baby in the damn stroller. Then she dumped it in an alley and took off running. After that, she swooped to the curb and grabbed a cab. She had a diaper bag over her shoulder. It had little yellow ducks all over it.”

“I’m impressed, Harry.”

“And well you should be.”

“How come you didn’t call Charles to ask for some of Snowden’s people to help out?”

“Because…Jack…Snowden’s people are the ones who blew it.”

“Okay, that’s a good point. So who’s coming?”

“My guys. These people are not going to get away again.”

Jack shuddered. He’d seen Harry’s guys in action. Skinny little guys with fifth-degree black belts. There was never enough left for identification after a melee.

“You wanna do lunch, Harry? Then we should go to the Watergate and tell the girls we have the situation in hand. Yoko is going to be so proud of you.”

“What’s that we stuff?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get all the credit. Harry, I really hate to ask you this, but how sure are you that the woman’s partner is going to show up?”

Harry tilted his head to the side and stared at Jack. He didn’t say a word.

“Yeah, yeah, I take that to mean you’re damn sure. Okay, so we’re waiting for your guys, who, I assume, know what to do when they get here. Do you think by any chance you and I might both be blowing this gig by standing here talking? Well, actually, I’m standing, and you’re sitting. Do you not think this is just a little suspicious?”

“Take a look around you, Jack. This is a mind-your-own-business neighborhood. I could be slitting your throat, and no one would come to your aid. People in this neighborhood lurk. We’re lurking. I’m not leaving here till the guy shows up.”

“Which guy, Harry?”

“The dog walker.”

“You’re that sure, huh?”

“Do birds fly, Jack?” Suddenly he looked down at the wide mirror on the right side of the Ducati. “Here he comes, and he’s still got the dog. Light a cigarette or something, but don’t look. Pretend you’re new to the hood, and try to look slick.”

Try to look slick. “Kiss my ass, Harry.” Jack fumbled in the pocket of his sweatpants for the cigarettes he always carried but smoked only when under acute stress.