Johnny Boy took his jacket off and laid it on his lap. He rolled up his sleeves. It was too hot to be outside, but this meeting needed to take place away from prying eyes, both human and electronic.

“How’s the hacking? Any great successes?”

“My mom’s really come down on me for it. But—”

“Ah, I knew it! Don’t leave me hanging, partner. Spill!”

“Well, put it this way: if Mister Pace wanted to take Mrs. Pace on a swanky little spa vacation with—”

“You’re kidding me.”

“With!”

“Oh, sorry. Carry on.”

“With some free car hire thrown in, then Melvin here may just be able to help you.”

“Melvin, you are one clever dude.”

Melvin sat back again, readopting his “yeah bitches” pose.

They both looked at the trees. An attractive woman jogged by. Johnny Boy watched Melvin out of the corner of his eye, to see if the kid perked up, checked out her ass. He didn’t. A small dog ran up to them, wagging its tail, wanting a stroke and some fuss. Melvin leaned forward, letting the dog sniff his hand. He patted its head.

Johnny Boy mused about how differently he and Melvin saw what was in front of them. Johnny Boy saw normal kids playing, kids who reminded him of his grandkids. He saw the sunlight shining through the trees, dappling grass and path. He saw retirement. Comfortable retirement. Wheels had been set in motion that would make this possible. He looked at Melvin and couldn’t figure out for the life of him what the kid was thinking.

“So what about, let’s see,” said Johnny Boy as if thinking aloud, “if I was to set you a challenge like, say . . .” Johnny Boy delved into the pockets of his jacket, found a piece of paper. “I got a license plate here. Unmarked cop car, probably DPD. If you could tell me who it’s allocated to, man, I would be so impressed.”

“But why? I mean, is he, y’know, with your wife?”

“My, uh, y’know, Melvin, you’re right. And all I’ve got is a license plate.”

“Maybe, I guess.”

“I’d be so goddamned impressed, Melvin. Tell you what. What was that model thing you liked?”

“Death Trooper Specialist? Dude, it’s like two feet tall. It’s fucking sex ninja.”

“How much?”

Melvin laughed. “Like, six hundred bucks.”

“OK, Melvin, you up to it?”

“I guess. If I can’t do it by myself, I’ve got a buddy who can help.”

“OK, well, that’s between you and him. I don’t like to meet lots of people, Melvin. You know that. You’re the best. That’s why I only meet you.”

He sensed Melvin swell with pride.

“Do we have a deal?”

“Sure, Mister Pace. Shall I message you like normal?”

“Nah, use my Facebook. One other thing. Can you do some research into the best suicide sites?”

“Huh?”