Jazik listened to every word without moving. He shook his head then, slowly. "That's not what you said."

"No?" Mitchell seemed surprised. "What'd I say?"

"You refused to talk to me, first."

"Until contract time. That's right."

"Then you said, we get in an argument, you threatened me, you said, we get in an argument you're liable to try and knock me on my ass."

Mitchell shook his head. "No, I said if we got in an argument I was liable to forget who you are and I would knock you on your ass. There's a difference."

Looking at Jazik he knew he was not going to stop now to be polite or waste any more time on him, dumb hotshot son of a bitch sitting there in his raincoat with the collar up and the blank cool look on his face-seeing the guy and, for some reason, seeing the one named Leo sitting in the chair in the nude-model office, a brief glimpse of him in his mind that was there and gone.

Mitchell said, "Now I'm going to tell you again. Walk out of here right now, or I'll knock you on your ass and throw you out. Either way."

Jazik, staring at Mitchell, took his time getting up. He was bigger than Mitchell, a little taller and heavier through the shoulders.

He said, "They heard you threaten me."

"You heard it," Mitchell said. "That's the main thing."

"I could take you to court, you know that? Threatening bodily abuse and harm."

"Hey," Mitchell said, "let's knock off all the bullshit. Are you going to leave or not?"

"What I want to see," Jazik said, "is you try and throw me out."

Mitchell hit him on the word "out," his mouth still slightly open. He hit him with a hard right hand. As Jazik came up off the table, Mitchell hit him with another right, not as solid as the first one. Jazik took it and came at him again. Mitchell feinted with the right this time, threw a left as hard as he had ever thrown one, and saw the men near Jazik jumping out of the way as Jazik hit the cafeteria table and carried it back with him five or six feet before the table turned over and he went down with it to sit on the floor.

Mitchell waited, to see if Jazik was going to get up or if anyone had anything to say. The first- and second-shift men there looked at Jazik and then at him, but nobody said a word.

"Somebody show him out," Mitchell said finally. He turned and walked away. They watched him head back through the plant toward his office.

Janet was straightening his desk. She looked up, surprised, as he came in. "I thought you'd left."

"Get me-what's his name?" Mitchell said. "The guy that's president of one-ninety-nine."

"Isn't it Donnelly?"

"Yeah, Charlie Donnelly. Get him for me, will you?"

Janet dialed the number, asked for Mr. Donnelly, said who was calling and handed the phone to Mitchell. He didn't sit down. He stood by his desk waiting, watching Janet go out of the office and close the door.

"Charlie? Harry Mitchell over at Ranco… Fine…Yeah, I know, in about a week, ten days. I'm looking forward to seeing you, Charlie, and I mean you, because I'll tell you right now I'm not going to negotiate with that stiff you assigned to us-Jazik. The son of a bitch walks in my plant-a sign says authorized personnel only-he walks in starts talking to my employees. A week ago he grabs me in the hall, threatens me with a slowdown… I didn't think you did… Right, so why should I have to take that kind of shit? Charlie, the guy's living back in the thirties. Where'd you get him anyway?" Mitchell paused for about a minute, listening. He said then, "If you got a maverick, you teach him. I'm not going to break the son of a bitch in for you, I'll break his goddamn neck first. I'm too old for that kind of bullshit. I've been there, Charlie, so have you. We don't need it. We can sit down and talk, right? Twelve years neither of us has ever raised our voice. You give me the contract, we change a few lines and sign it. What'd you send me this clown for? We could do it over a diet lunch." He waited again, listening, beginning to calm down. "Yes, that's fine. Listen, I'm sorry if I blew up. I got a few things on my mind, I don't need any-" He paused again, patient, letting the union president explain again how they liked the guy's enthusiasm, but he was new and maybe they'd have to sit on him for a while or send him to charm school. Everything was going to be all right. Mitchell would never see the guy again, or at least not for a year or so, if the guy learned anything and was still around. That was good enough. They took another minute getting to good-bye, see you soon, and Mitchell hung up the phone.

Going through the outer office he said to Janet, "I'll try it again. See if I can get out of this place."

13

Peggy was the only one in the lobby when Mitchell walked in. She had her coat on, ready to leave.

"You quitting already? It's only five-thirty."

"I've taken my clothes off eleven times," the girl said, "and put them back on again. That's enough for one day."

"Where is everybody?"

"You mean Doreen?"

"Well, now that you mention it."

"I don't know. I haven't seen her."

"How about the other girls?"

"Sickies. Leo lets you call in sick once a month."

"Is he here?"

"In back." She moved past him to the door. "If you see him, tell him I left."

"Yeah, maybe I'll stick my head in, say hello."

She took a moment to look at him again as she opened the door. "You don't have anything better to do?"

"Tell you the truth," Mitchell said, "not that I can think of." He felt dumb standing there waiting for her to leave.

"Well-" The girl gave a little shrug and finally walked out. The door swung closed behind her.

Leo Frank sat at his desk studying a list of job applicants trying to remember faces and match them to the names. They were mostly dogs: for some reason a lot of fat broads lately. He couldn't figure out where all the fat broads were coming from, or why they thought anybody would pay to look at them naked. Most of them would have trouble showing themselves for nothing.

He heard the front door close. Peggy leaving. Independent broad. Hire them, pay them good dough, they call in sick or leave anytime they felt like it.

He heard the footsteps in the hall, coming this way, and thought of Peggy again. But as he looked toward the doorway he knew it wasn't Peggy. It was a man. It was the guy. For some reason he was sure of it and had a moment to get ready, to prepare a pleasant expression before Mitchell walked in to stand in front of his desk.

"Well," Leo said, "our favorite customer. I hope what you're here for is to give me that picture you took. That wasn't very nice of you."

"No," Mitchell said, "I came to deliver the money." As he spoke, his hand came out of his inside pocket with the envelope.

"What money you talking about?"

"That I was supposed to leave out at the airport," Mitchell said. "I wondered if I could drop it off here."

Leo frowned and shook his head, wishing to God he wasn't alone. "Man, I don't know what you're talking about."

"Ten thousand," Mitchell said. "The down payment."

"You want to give me ten thousand?"

"It's all here." Mitchell took out the packet of hundred dollar bills and laid it on the edge of the desk.

"Wait a minute," Leo Frank said. "You want to give me ten thousand bucks? What for? I mean, man I'll take it, but what for?"

"I guess I was wrong," Mitchell said. "I thought you were in on it."

Leo was staring at the money. He had to take it a step further. "In on what?"

"Well, if you're not involved, there's not much sense talking about it, is there?"

"You see ten grand laid out," Leo said, "you can't help but be a little curious."

"I owe it to these three guys, but I don't know where to find them."