“That’s of no concern to me,” Balazar said. “Why would it be? It was your money. What concerns me is whether or not you’re going to take us out back. If not, we’ll have to have our conversation right here, in front of the whole world.”

The whole world now consisted of Aaron Deepneau, one billy-bumbler, and a couple of expatriate New Yorkers none of the men in the bookstore could see. Deepneau’s counter-buddies had run like the lowbellies they were.

Tower made one last try. “I don’t have anyone to mind the store. Lunch-hour is coming up, and we often have quite a few browsers during—”

“This place doesn’t do fifty dollars a day,” Andolini said, “and we all know it, Mr. Toren. If you’re really worried you’re going to miss a big sale, let him run the cash register for a few minutes.”

For one horrible second, Jake thought the one Eddie had called “Old Double-Ugly” meant none other than John “Jake” Chambers. Then he realized Andolini was pointing past him, at Deepneau.

Tower gave in. Or Toren. “Aaron?” he asked. “Do you mind?”

“Not if you don’t,” Deepneau said. He looked troubled. “Sure you want to talk with these guys?”

Biondi gave him a look. Jake thought Deepneau stood up under it remarkably well. In a weird way, he felt proud of the old guy.

“Yeah,” Tower said. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

“Don’t worry, he won’t lose his butthole virginity on our account,” Biondi said, and laughed.

“Watch your mouth, you’re in a place of scholarship,” Balazar said, but Jake thought he smiled a little. “Come on, Toren. Just a little chat.”

“That’s not my name! I had it legally changed on—”

“Whatever,” Balazar said soothingly. He actually patted Tower’s arm. Jake was still trying to get used to the idea that all this…all this melodrama …had happened after he’d left the store with his two new books (new to him, anyway) and resumed his journey. That it had all happened behind his back.

“A squarehead’s always a squarehead, right, boss?” Biondi asked jovially. “Just a Dutchman. Don’t matter what he calls himself.”

Balazar said, “If I want you to talk, George, I’ll tell you what I want you to say. Have you got that?”

“Okay,” Biondi said. Then, perhaps after deciding that didn’t sound quite enthusiastic enough: “Yeah! Sure.”

“Good.” Balazar, now holding the arm he had patted, guided Tower toward the back of the shop. Books were piled helter-skelter here; the air was heavy with the scent of a million musty pages. There was a door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY . Tower produced a ring of keys, and they jingled slightly as he picked through them.

“His hands are shaking,” Jake murmured.

Eddie nodded. “Mine would be, too.”