Giardelli nodded to Anthony, who moved to the telephone. "Order a lobster, and steak for the rest of us."

"Not for me," said Vince.

"Order for four, maybe he'll change his mind." Giardelli turned his attention to Vince. "So, go ahead, what's this fix got to do with me?"

"The people that I represent…" Vince paused, and Giardelli nodded an agreement that the people did not need to be named. "These people would be very happy if the scam doesn't go down."

"Very noble, very civic-minded. All they got to do is blow the whistle."

"Vince shook his head. "My people don't want publicity. They are very anxious to see that the game gets played, but that it gets played straight."

"How do you expect to do that?"

"I want to get to whoever put the fix in. I want it called off."

"And you think I can do that?"

"I was hoping that you could point me in the right direction."

Giardelli spent time with his cigar. He inspected the length of the ash, he drew, he inspected it again. He sighed. "After a while you get a kind of a reputation in this business. People say 'lay if off with Carmine. ' They say 'Carmine, he knows everything.' They say a quarterback in some jerkwater school in Oklahoma gets a sore elbow, and Carmine knows about it. They say the goalie in Calgary has a fight with his wife, and Carmine hears about it. They say all kinds of crazy things, but to tell you the truth, most of that is bullshit. Sure, I hear things, everybody hears things, but I don't pay much attention to that kind of talk. I can't afford to. I got enough to do just running my business, and this thing that you're talking about, it's not my business."

"You've heard nothing?"

"Nothing."

"And there's no way you could find out?"

Giardelli said patiently, "Let me explain something. If the fix is really in on this game…"

"There's no question about that."

"Okay, you come to me from Lewis, so I know that you're not some kind of a kook. So it's real, but if it's real there's only two ways it could happen. Either the guys who are pulling it are connected, or they're free-lance. If they're connected, I would know about it, and if they're not then there is no fucking way I would know who they are. So there it is. I got nothing for you."

Shelley went to a console against the wall, and flipped a switch. Loud music filled the room. She snapped her fingers, and swayed to the music.

Giardelli said, "Turn that off, we're talking."

Shelley ignored him. She did a little dance step, and twirled around.

Anthony went to the console, and turned off the music. Shelley glared at him, and kept on dancing.

Vince asked, "And there's no one you could send me to?"

"No one who would know more than I do. Look, Vince… okay to call you Vince?"

"Sure."

"Vince, even if I could do something like this, which I can't, once a deal gets started it has a momentum, you know? People put in the money, and you can't reverse something like that. Not once the money is in."

"My people understand that. They know that the bottom line is always money, and so they've authorized me to make you an offer."

Giardelli threw up his hands. "I just finished telling you…"

"Please, hear me out. They'd like you to act as broker on this deal. They're willing to guarantee a lump-sum payment to cover everybody's losses if the fix doesn't happen. The money would be paid directly to you, and you would see that it reached the proper parties, no questions asked. Your fee would be included. The only stipulation is that the game is played on the level."

Giardelli did his cigar routine again. When he was satisfied with the ash, he asked, "How much of a sum?"

"Half a mil."

"That's an impressive figure. Your people must be anxious."

"They're very… concerned."

"I can see that." Giardelli stared at the ceiling. "It's tempting, very tempting."

Vince waited.

"And I'd like to oblige Lewis."

"He would be grateful, and he'd show his gratitude."

"But I have to say no. I wouldn't know where to start. There's nothing I can do for you, Vince, nothing at all."

"That's final?"

"Final. No hard feelings?"

"Certainly not."

"Then that's it."

Not quite, thought Vince. It's time to tap.

He went into Giardelli's head. The old man was playing it straight. He knew nothing about the fix.

He went into Shelley's head. She was Domino.

He stood up, and said, "I want to thank you for taking the time to see me."

"You going? Those steaks'll be up in a minute."

"Sorry, but I have things to do."

"Whatever you say. I wish I could have helped you."

Shelley came dancing over, still without the music. "You going?"

Vince nodded.

"Come back any time," said Giardelli. "You'll be welcome."

"Table tennis next time," said Shelley. "I promise to take it easy on you."

"It's a deal, "said Vince, "but we'll have to play by my rules."

"You got special rules?"

"That's right. Gibraltar rules."

Her eyes narrowed, and she frowned. "I play American rules. That's good enough for me."

"We'll see," said Vince. "Maybe you'll like mine better."

He went back to his room. He stripped the top sheet from his bed, put it in the bathtub, and let the cold water run. When the sheet was soaked through, he wrung it out, and brought it back to the bedroom. He went to the bar, made himself a drink, and settled down to wait. He figured to wait at least an hour, but the knock on his door came after only twenty minutes. She stood in the doorway dressed for the street, a cape thrown over her shoulders. The cape hid her hands.

"We have to talk," she said. "Do I come in?"

"Of course."

He stood back to let her pass. As she came by him, he chopped at the base of her neck with the edge of his palm. She went down noiselessly, and the pistol in her hand slid out from under the cape. He picked it up, kicked the door shut, and carried her into the bedroom. He put her on the bed, and checked her eyes and pulse. She was still out, but not for long. He stripped her clothes off, and found another pistol tucked in the back of her waistband, and a thin blade taped to her thigh. He wrapped her in the wet sheet, rolling her over and over.

He left her head free, but the rest of her was trussed as tight as a Christmas turkey.

He waited again, watching her, and again he was struck by the apparent disparity between a youthful body and a middle-aged face. After a while, he decided that it wasn't just age. It was the face of a woman who had seen too much, and who had been marked by what she had seen.

Her eyelids flickered. Her eyes opened. Her eyeballs rolled wildly. She tried to move, and found that she could not. She strained silently against the wet sheet once, again, and then stopped trying. She breathed in deeply, and breathed out slowly to relax herself. She looked up at Vince, and her eyes were calm. It was an impressive performance. She had gone from unconsciousness to full awareness, and an acceptance of her situation, in a matter of seconds. It was more than impressive, it was wholly professional.

"Who are you?" she asked in an even voice.

"Just a messenger."

"You said something upstairs."

" Gibraltar rules. That was just to get your attention. Your mission is aborted. Your instructions are to discontinue the operation at once, roll it back. The fix is off, that game has to be played on the level."

"What are the chances of getting out of this straitjacket?"

"After a while. Right now I want you immobile. You came in here carrying."

"What did you expect?"

"Exactly that. Do you understand the message?"

"You're starting in the middle. I don't even know who you are. How about some ID?"

"You know better than that. I could show you all the ID in the world, and it wouldn't mean anything. Your code name is Domino, your mission is to kill the bulldog, and your orders came from David Ogden. That's all the ID I need."