“It’s loaded,” Ian said. “So be careful.”

“Where did you get them?”

“A guy I know.” Ian looked away.

“What kind of guy?”

“Does it matter?”

“OK,” Alex said. “Jenn bought gloves and masks for all three of you. We went over everything the other night. No need to do it again, right?”

“Actually, I was thinking,” Ian said. “The timing. Why don’t we just go into the office and be waiting when Johnny comes in?”

“No,” Mitch and Alex said in unison. They looked at each other, a little smile playing on Alex’s lips. He nodded a go-ahead gesture.

“No. Johnny might go into the office alone. You and I have to come in when he and Alex are both there. That’s the whole point. Plus, if we’re waiting, the safe will be locked.”

“So? We know the combo.”

“But how would we? It will get Johnny wondering. We can’t afford that.”

Jenn said, “How do we know that Johnny won’t wait for these guys, whoever they are, to come in the front door of the restaurant, and then all of you head back together?”

Alex shook his head. “Not his style. Remember, he wants to be the big man. He’ll wait back there. A king on his throne, granting an audience.”

“You sure?”

“Trust me.”

“If you’re wrong-”

“If Alex is wrong, we won’t do it,” Mitch said. “The point is that there isn’t much risk. None of us are going to be stupid about it. Right?”

Ian’s eyes darted back and forth. “Wait a second. We have to do this.”

“Why?”

Ian wiped at his nose with one shaking hand. “Well. Yeah, you’re right.”

Shit. Of course. Mitch stared at him, said, “You OK?”

“What? Sure. I’m just, you know, excited.”

“Look, we do this right, it’s simple,” Alex said. “No danger to anybody.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“What?”

“Well, you’re not the one robbing the place, are you?”

“I’m in this just as much as you.”

“Sure. We’re carrying pistols, you’re filling pitchers.”

“Fuck you, man.” Alex stared hard and level. Mitch made himself stare back. It felt good.

“Guys,” Jenn said. “Stop. We’re in this together.”

Alex turned. Mitch blew a breath. “Yeah. Of course.”

“I better go.” The bartender bent, pulled his jacket from the arm of a chair. “I’ll see you soon.” He walked to the door, pulled it open, then stopped, turned back. “Good luck.”

Mitch started to say something sharp, then caught himself. Why was he coming on so hard? They were friends, the best he had. It was just the stress of the thing. “You too, buddy.”

Alex smiled, nodded, then stepped out. The door swung closed behind him. For a moment, they stood in silence. Then Jenn closed her fingers around the grip of the pistol, extended her arm, and sighted down the barrel at the city.

“Bang,” she whispered.

THE RENTAL WAS A FOUR-DOOR CHEVY that smelled new. It was also a bright metallic orange. “Subtle,” Mitch said.

Ian shrugged. “What they had.”

“I like it,” Jenn said. She opened the passenger door and slid in, tucking her skirt beneath her legs. Ian started the car and pulled out of his parking garage, fingers tapping a manic beat on the steering wheel. Nerves, she supposed. She knew she had them. Last night, laying in bed, she’d been socked with a tidal wave of fear. Miles from the pleasant shivers she’d been riding, this was pure, animal panic. She’d grabbed at the phone on the bedside table, started to punch numbers, to call the others and cancel.

It took all her will to hang up the phone, get out of bed, and walk into the bathroom to splash water on her face. And when she did, the woman in the mirror looked unfamiliar. She had the same cheeks, the same eyes and lips, but there was something different. She looked tired. Beat down. Someone who had never seized the chances life offered.

That won’t be me. I won’t let it.

So she’d forced herself back to bed and spent the rest of the night staring at the ceiling. And in the morning, the face in the mirror was just a face. But the nervousness remained.

In silence, they drove north, battling the after-work migration from the Loop to the neighborhoods. With traffic, it took almost half an hour to make it to the restaurant. Ian pulled to a stop and put on the blinkers. He was piano wire and static electricity.

Jenn sat with her purse in her lap. Her heart pounded fast and hard. She felt awake, slapped by life.

“It’s not too late,” Mitch said from the back. For a moment, she wanted to collapse, to thank him. To climb gingerly back down the steps of the high dive and tell herself it didn’t matter.

Instead, she reached for the door handle. Stepped out, heels clicking on the concrete. Mitch got out as well. His expression was complicated, concern and fear and something else. “I’ll be OK,” she said.

“Anything happens, anything at all… just be careful, OK?”

His concern touched her. He and Ian had the riskiest part of the plan, and yet here he was, worried about her. She stepped forward and kissed his cheek. He smelled like aftershave. She felt his arms tense, and then his hands slid around her back, fingers warm on her skin. For a moment they held it, then she moved back, not sure if she was embarrassed or not. “For luck.”

He nodded, said nothing.

You’re a Bond girl. You’re a heartbreaker with a pistol in your purse. She forced a smile, then turned and walked toward the door.

IAN HAD TRIED TO HOLD OFF. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew he was doing too much of the stuff. But about twenty minutes before the others came over, he gave in and chopped up four lines. Just a little pick-me-up to sharpen his edge.When this was done, he’d ease off. Maybe quit entirely.

“When do you think they’ll get here?” Mitch sounded nervous.

“Probably after dark?”

“They’re meeting inside. What does it matter if it’s dark?”

“I don’t know. Isn’t that when criminals do things?” Ian leaned forward, clicked on the stereo, then spun through his iPod. “You in the mood for anything?”

“Am I in the mood for anything?”

“Music.”

Mitch stared at him, shook his head. “Jesus.”

Neutral Milk Hotel it was, then. A little bit discordant with a lotta genius running through. Ian didn’t have the first idea what the singer was talking about, but he liked it anyway, liked the way it wove against his thoughts.

“How much did you do?”

“Huh?”

“How much cocaine, Ian?”

“You want some?”

“No.”

“Then mind your own business.” He tapped his fingers against the wheel, sang along, “The only girl I ever loved, was born with roses in her eyes, but then they buried her alive…” The light turned green, and he went right. They were swinging in wide blocks, circling the place every couple of minutes. “Anyway, relax, would you? This is going to be easy.”

“Easy. Sure.”

“I’ll bet you ten grand it goes fine.”

“I don’t have ten grand.”

Ian smiled. “You don’t have it yet.”

ALEX THREW HIMSELF INTO WORK. Most bars, Tuesday night was quiet, but the restaurant did enough business that they got plenty of overflow, yuppie happy hour, Internet daters who started with a drink before deciding if the other was cute enough to buy dinner. He filled the ice bins and wiped the back bar, replaced a couple of bottles that were running low.

“Hey, stranger.” Jenn flowed into a chair. She looked better than good.

“You want a drink?”

“I probably shouldn’t.”

“One won’t kill you.” He reached for a shaker, poured vodka, splashed vermouth.

She looked around, then leaned on her hand. Whispered, “Is he here?”

“Talk normal. Yeah, he’s in the back.”

“He say anything?”

“He fired a cook, then said that it was getting harder and harder to find good wetbacks.”