“I don’t know,” Fire said. Ian was upstairs. “I haven’t heard from him since yesterday. So what should I tell him … in case I hear from him … that the police came and didn’t see him and will continue their search elsewhere?”

The answer piqued the fat one’s love of games. He reached into his pocket for a copy of the Gleaner and unrolled it on the table. Beneath the headline AIRING DIRTY LAUNDRY were pictures of Fire and Ian. For Fire there was a publicity shot, for Ian the picture from the cover of Time.

Less patient than his partner, the slim one cleared his throat and placed his hands behind his head. “Tell him to turn in himself,” he bluffed. His teeth were chipped like old dominoes. “If we decide fe look fe him, him mightn’t reach the station.”

“Anything,” the fat one added, “can happen on the road.” His overeagerness suggested desperation.

Fire placed his elbows on the table and cotched his chin on his knuckles. The arrogant casualness of the threat had sparked his indignation, and in a moment of anger he allowed himself to rationalize Ian’s behavior. Fuck the police, he thought. There is only one side, the side of my friend. Fire decided to exercise the power of his family name as he’d never done before. He would call the commissioner’s office and have the charges dropped. These fuckers sitting before him would not get a dime.

“What d’you mean that anything can happen?” he challenged. He heard in his voice the return of an accent he’d worked so hard to unlearn, the near-British cadence of old Jamaica, the vowels forming high in the back of the mouth, the lips barely moving. This was the voice of the legendary barristers and parliamentarians—of more than money. It was the voice of breeding, of people with family names like Manley, Hart, Matalon, Desnoes, Ashenheim, Issa, and Blackwell.

And for a moment the men couldn’t reply … didn’t feel they had the right. Then the fat one spoke, in a timid voice. “He didn’t mean it no way, boss.”

Fire turned his stare on the slim one, demanding without words a prompt explanation.

“I said what I have to say,” he muttered, trying to sound defiant.

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“That the road is dangerous … that’s all. Nutten more than that.”

“Let me tell you something,” Fire said, rising. “You don’t want the kind of trouble I can bring to your insignificant life. Considering who my family is, you don’t want that at all.” He held his fist in front of his chest and cracked his knuckles one at a time. “This is what you will do. You will go back to your station and say you searched as best as you could but you didn’t find that man. You’ll say you will keep on looking, but you won’t. And you will never mention this conversation to anyone. Also, and I really can’t stress this enough, you will never return to this house again; neither will you call me.” He paused as he heard Ian coming down the stairs. To Ian he said: “Come and have a drink.” As Ian swigged from the bottle, Fire said to the policemen: “Go now.”