“That does it,” Riff told the Jets. They were meeting in his flat because his mother and father were working overtime. “Nobody gets away with busting around Baby-John.”

“I’m a casualty,” Baby-John was proud.

“You’re branded,” A-Rab said. “Which sort of makes you PR property, I guess.”

Riff pounded the table with the heavy end of his spring knife. “Cut the chatter. You know the Shark that did it?” he asked Baby-John.

“One of them was Nibbles,” Baby-John said. “But you know those dirty bastards all look alike. They said they gave me this for stink-bombing the store.” Baby-John gingerly touched the lobe of his ear. “Are you guys going to let them get away with it?”

“We’ve had it,” Riff was emphatic. “Now we really go to work. Answer the door, Diesel,” he said because they had heard a knock.

Riff hoped that Tony would be at the door. For days he had been leaving messages for Tony in the letter-box, telling him how bad things were, how much he was needed. But it was Anybodys in the doorway, and she was able to slip into the kitchen under Diesel’s arm.

“How come you didn’t tell me about this meeting?” she challenged Riff.

“For chrissake, are you still around?” Action demanded. He rose from his chair which had been tilted against the wall and popped his lips in disgust; Anybodys gave him the creeps. “Want me to throw her out the window?” he asked Riff.

“Nobody’s throwing anybody out,” she said, and to prove it, she menaced them with a beer mug which she had broken so that the handle was retained and the rest was jagged glass. “Now who’ve I gotta mess up to prove I gotta right to be a Jet? Riff,” she appealed, “how about me getting into the gang official?”

A-Rab held his nose as he hooted and pointed at Anybodys. “How about the gang gettin’ in… ahhh, who’d wanna?”

“You dirty rat!” Anybodys lunged at A-Rab. “I’m gonna carve you!”

Moving quickly, Riff clamped a mugging hold on Anybodys, disarmed her, and tossed the weapon toward the garbage can which stood near the sink. “The road, little lady, the road.” Riff pushed her through the door which Tiger had opened. With the door locked and the chain in place, Riff turned again to his boys. “Are you guys in condition?”

“We’re in condition,” Action led the chorus.

“Good.” Riff returned to the table and looked around him with pride because there wasn’t a chicken in the outfit. “Now the way I see it,” Riff began, “we hadda do a lot of fighting for this turf, and I’m not gonna stand by and see some greaseballs take it away from us. They’re satisfied to hit and run, but that kinda fighting bugs me. Furthermore, I wanna get this over with. So we come to the conclusion. We take them on and clean them out in one all-out battle.”

“All of us against all of them?” Action bounced to his feet and began to throw hard looping punches into the stomach of an imaginary opponent. “This is what I’ve been waiting for.”