A couple of heavyweights kicked in the door, and came into the room. They were tall, they were broad, and each carried a pistol with a silencer on it, the kind that goes phut. Domino and Anthony wheeled to face them, but they never got off a shot.

Phut. Phut.

Domino and Anthony went down. They lay without moving.

Ida squeaked, and went back under the blankets.

Vince laughed.

Lewis said to his men, "What the hell took you so long?" He said to Vince, "Stop that idiotic laughter."

Vince stopped, but not because he had been told to. Things just weren't funny any more.

"In all my years of practice, and at the fringes of government," said Lewis, "I have never seen an operation so misdirected and ineptly handled."

"It sort of got screwed up," Vince admitted.

"Sort of? I don't know what agency of the government you work for, and I don't want to know, but I'll tell you this. If this job is any indication of how your agency performs, I have serious doubts about the safety of the nation."

"I know what you mean. Sometimes I do, too."

"Under the circumstances, I think that you'd best leave the rest of this to me."

Vince threw up his hands. "Gladly. It's all yours."

"Did you really say that?" asked Sammy.

"Sure, why not?" said Vince. "It was his show by then, and I hadn't been doing so great, you know? Besides, my head still hurt."

"How is it now?"

"Better."

It was the next day, late at night, and they were alone in the Saloon. The place was dark, with only a single lamp burning over the bar. Sammy looked at his watch, and asked, "Time to call?"

"Give it another thirty minutes."

"So what happened next?"

"You wouldn't believe how efficient those heavyweights were. They got rid of the bodies like a pair of pros, which I guess is what they are. An hour later there were no bloodstains, the room was aired out, and everything was neat as a pin. By that time it was around six in the morning, and Holmes and Devereaux were due at eight. We settled down to wait."

"All three of you?"

"Just Lewis and me. Ida got dressed and went out to see if she could find a coffee shop open at that hour. It was awkward for her there."

Sammy grinned. "Putting it mildly."

"Don't make jokes. It seemed funny at the time, I was laughing my head off, but it really wasn't. We were three old friends, and it shouldn't have happened."

"But it did. What next?"

"Holmes and Devereaux showed up on time, and Lewis took over. I tell you, Sammy, those were two scared kids. They knew what was coming, and they didn't know how to handle it."

Lewis sat them down on the edge of the bed, and paced up and down in front of them like a courtroom lawyer examining a pair of hostile witnesses. "Let me introduce myself," he said. "My name is Lewis Whitney, I'm a lawyer, and I'm going to try to get you out of this mess you're in. Now, let's clear away some of the underbrush. We know for a fact that the two of you agreed to dump the game tomorrow night for twenty-five thousand apiece." Holmes started to say something, but a glare from Lewis shut him up. "Don't interrupt, I said it was a fact. The question now is what to do about it." He pointed a finger at Devereaux.

"You. How much did they pay you up front?"

The two kids looked at each other, then looked away. They were silent.

"Get it through your heads, it's over. You're cooked. Either you talk to me, or you talk to your coach, and then the police. Now, I'll ask you once more. How much did you get in advance?"

"A thousand dollars," Devereaux mumbled. Holmes nodded. "Thousand."

"When were you supposed to get the rest?"

"After the game."

"And I suppose that you took that thousand dollars and went out and bought yourselves some new clothes, a suit and some shoes, and maybe you took some ladies out for a big evening, right?"

Holmes looked Lewis straight in the eye, and said, "No, I didn't do anything like that."

"Just what did you do with it?"

"I put it in the bank. We both did. It's still there."

"The bank?" Lewis didn't try to conceal his surprise. "The bank?"

Devereaux drew himself up with a certain dignity. "I don't need any new clothes, and I already have a girlfriend. With respect, Mister Whitney, I think you've got the wrong idea about why we did this."

Lewis sneered. "Just a couple of misunderstood kids."

"No sir, I didn't mean that, but that stuff about clothes and women doesn't apply. Will is headed for med school next year, and that money was for his tuition. Me, my aim is to write poetry, and who ever heard of a rich poet? That money was for the future, Mister Whitney, not for having a good time."

"I'm touched." Lewis put a hand over his heart. "Thieves with hearts of gold."

"We're not thieves," Holmes protested.

"Thieves," Lewis repeated. "You throw a game and you're a thief, just like holding up a liquor store."

There was a pause, and Holmes said quietly, "That's something quite different, that involves violence. With something like this, nobody gets hurt."

"Nobody gets hurt, how many times have I heard that one? Look, spare me the morality of the nineties. You were ready to commit a felony, betray your team, your friends, and your family, and all for twenty-five thousand dollars. Think that over, and then tell me that nobody gets hurt."

"You tell 'em, Lewis," said Vince. "Tell 'em what it's like to justify the means with the ends. Tell 'em what it's like to turn your back on the ideals of your youth. You tell 'em, you should know."

Lewis scowled, but he didn't miss a beat. "As you can see, Mister Bonepart is a bit of a cynic. He doesn't think so, but he is. See that bag over there? There's a hundred thousand dollars in that bag, and he was going to give it to you to play the game on the level. He was going to outbribe you. And he talks to me about ideals."

A hundred thousand. Holmes and Devereaux looked at each other with widening eyes.

"Forget it," Lewis told them. "That was his approach, not mine. Mine is much simpler. I assume that you both have checking accounts?" They nodded. "Then you will each make out a check to me for one thousand dollars. That's Lewis Whitney, one thousand, and mark it legal fees." His voice cracked like a whip. "Now."

They fumbled in their pockets, fumbled for pens, made out the checks, and handed them over.

"Thank you, you have now been relieved of your ill-gotten gains, and none too soon. You've been incredibly stupid in three different ways. You were stupid enough to risk your futures this way. You were stupid enough to take only a thousand dollars down, because I can assure you that you never would have seen the rest of it. And you were stupid enough to put the money into a bank account, thereby making the transaction a matter of record. I understand that you both are honor students, but you don't have the brains that God gives to clams."

Vince applauded. "There speaks your moralist, gentlemen. Next time get it all up front, and keep it in cash."

"There isn't going to be any next time for these two. Mr. Holmes and Mr. Devereaux are now honest citizens once again. They have left the life of crime behind them, and tomorrow night they are going to play their fucking hearts out for dear old Polk. Aren't you?"

The two young men glanced at each other quickly, glances sliding away. Willy mumbled, "Not that easy."

"Easier than you think," Lewis assured him. "I suppose that the people you dealt with made the usual threats?"

"Said they would kill us if we tried to back out."

"And they meant it," said Devereaux. "Those were two hard people. I never saw people so hard. "

"A man and a woman?"

"Yeah."

"What would you do if I told you that those two people are out of your lives forever, that you'll never see them again, that they can't touch you?"