A-Rab crawled along the floor until he reached Baby-John. “What’re we gonna do?”

“Wait here, I guess,” Baby-John whispered. “That’s what Action wants. Is he taking over?”

“I guess so,” A-Rab replied. He twisted Baby-John’s arm.

“Whatever happens, no deals with the cops? No tellin’ them anything we know about tonight?”

“Nothing, I swear.” Baby-John raised his hand. “The same movie is playing that I saw when them Sharks got me. So if I tell you about the action we’ve got us alibis.”

A-Rab mussed the younger boy’s hair. “Hey, you got a brain!”

“If we went to the movies what’re we afraid of? Why’re we hiding here?”

“Shut up and tell me about the movie,” A-Rab said. “And make it interesting.”

Caught up in the excitement of hiding from the police, the knowledge that he was no longer play acting, that A-Rab was depending on him, and that they were going to be told what to do by Action, who had never been afraid of anything, made Baby-John feel better and less dependent upon his heroes, busy elsewhere.

Suppose Action decided that they take over a roof, get a real arsenal up there, and see how long they could stand off the cops! Man, wouldn’t that be a way to go out like a man! If Action didn’t have a plan to get them out of this jam, standing off the cops was better than going to the reformatory. Baby-John could see it—cops all around, TV cameras and reporters all over the place, and there they’d be, up on the roof wearing gas masks so they couldn’t be smoked out by gas.

“We gotta get gas masks,” he said to A-Rab.

“Gas masks? What for?”

“To stand off the cops.”

“What the hell’re you talking about?”

“You’ll see.” Baby-John was cagey. “Things’re gonna get worse because they’ll be looking all over for us, like you said. So we gotta have some plan of action. So Action—I guess it’s Action now?”

“Either him or Diesel,” A-Rab agreed. “No, it’s gotta be Action because he’s got more up here.” He touched his head. “At least I think—hope so. So Action is gonna have to tell us what to do.”

“You think he can?” Baby-John was uncertain whether this made him feel good. If Action made the decisions, he would never get the chance to offer his plan. “Maybe he’ll ask what we think.”

“Maybe,” A-Rab agreed and told Baby-John to be quiet because someone was whistling a signal. “That makes six guys who’re here now,” he said. “Not bad.”

Gathered in the body of the truck, seated on cushions taken from other cars, they waited for more members of the Jets to show. Anybodys was talking her head off about the crowbar she had found which would be the greatest thing for prying open windows and doors, and could also serve as a weapon. But no one listened, for they were waiting impatiently for Action to finish his cigarette and tell them what to do.